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Jackson:More than prepared. Condoms?
Me:I feel like it would take away from the…realness of it. If that makes sense.
Jackson:It does. I got tested two months ago. Clean bill.
Me:I got tested for everything under the sun while I was in the hospital and haven’t been with anyone since.
As soon as I press send, I close my eyes and hang my head. Why the hell did I tell him that?
Jackson:Very interesting. And why is that?
Well, no use is being shy about it now. Maybe telling him will make him understand just how much is expected of him.
Me:Because I know I wouldn’t get what I need anyway, so why waste my time? It’s not worth the trouble.
Jackson:Well, consider that problem solved now.
Can it truly be, or will I end up disappointed again? How does he even know if he’ll be able to go through with this? That he won’tlose his nerve? It’s one thing to want and need control, but quite another to actually be able to make someone turn it over to you.
Me:Have you done this kind of thing before?
Jackson:Some of the things I'm saying, yes. But I've never pretended to be a stranger while doing it.
Me:And are you sure you're okay with that part of it? With me knowing but not wanting to know it's you? With what exactly you'd be pretending to be?
Jackson:I am. Because I'm not a stranger, and not what I'm pretending to be. Because that fear will turn me on more. Because, as much as you need to be at someone's mercy, I need someone to be at my mercy to find the experience... satisfying. I look forward to all aspects of it.
Me:Tell me.
Jackson:Like planning how to catch you unaware. Knowing what's coming when you don't. Doing all the things to you I've imagined for far too long now.
"Imagined," I breathe into the silence of my room. He's imagined me too?
Me:Imagined?
Jackson:Imagined. Fantasized. Envisioned. Dreamed. All of that.
"God," I sigh. I fall back to my pillow and stare up at my ceiling in the darkness, asking myself if I'm really going to do this. Am I really about to agree to this? How could this even be possible? How could I possibly know the situation weren't real?
Me:How will I know it is really you, though?
Jackson:Is there a specific scent you would immediately recognize?
I think for a moment.
Me:Sandalwood.
A scent I remember all too well from when I worked in the mall as a teenager. I always thought it smelled so good. So manly.
Jackson:I'll wear that, so you'll know it's me. And if you ever need me to stop, at any moment, no matter what, say my name, and I will.
A relief fills me. A relief that I need. That if what I think I want becomes too much, too real, too overwhelming, I can stop it in its tracks.
Me:Okay.
Jackson:Okay...?
Me:Let's do it.
