“On your couch?”
“Yes.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes. It’s just me here.”
“What are you wearing?”
I snickered. “Sorry. I just got a flash of some skeezy guy saying that to a scantily clad woman in a movie I saw ages ago.”
He laughed, the sound as rich and appealing as his speaking voice. “Not sure if you’re calling me skeezy or if you’re implying that you’re scantily clad right now.”
“Neither.” I huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “My brain is weird sometimes.”
“Mine is too. How about we try this. Are you wearing jeans?”
“Sweats. And a tee. Can I ask what you’re wearing?” I asked, my voice catching on the last word.
“You can ask me whatever you want.”
“Wait.” I hadn’t asked him about his trigger words or limits. Was I supposed to? What if I said the wrong thing to him?
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just don’t know if you have any limits or trigger words.”
“I don’t,” he assured me.
“Is that what no limits in your bio means?”
“Not in this case. It means I don’t have limits for who I’ll talk to. As long as they match with me and want the same thing, then I don’t have any preferences about age, ethnicity, body type, none of that.”
“Oh, so it’s like on Grindr.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Um, where were we?”
He chuckled. “I believe you were about to ask what I’m wearing.”
“Right.” I laughed, relaxing again. “What are you wearing?”
“Sweats and a tee.”
“Are you at home?”
“I am. I’m on my bed. And I live alone.” He paused. “Are you ready to start?”
“Yeah.”
“I want you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” I let out a soft sigh and sank into the couch cushions.
It was easier to do this when I didn’t have to look at my empty living room. It stripped away the last of my self-consciousness and made me feel safe, like I could truly let go.
“Now I want you to picture me in front of you.”