Match 1: Are you one of those women who freaks out about porn?
Jane: No. I enjoy watching porn.
Match 1: It shouldn’t be possible that you could get me aroused by that simple, little sentence.
He’s givingme an opening to take this conversation to a higher-level heat index and I’m grabbing it. I just want to be reckless right now.
Jane:Does that mean you’re aroused?
Match 1: Would you be mad if I was?
Jane: No, not at all. I think I’d like to hear how much you’re aroused.
My cheeks flameas I press send. I don’t know why I’m doing this. After getting off the phone with Dex, how is it possible I want to talk about arousing another man? I don’t even know this person. But I just want to feel…something. Something other than this numbness—this sadness that swells in my chest and aches through my bones. I just need to stop thinking and just do something.
Match 1:I’m aroused just by thinking of you. You sitting in your bed with your wild hair and your open jersey. Tell me you’re wearing that jersey again.
Jane: I am.
It’s true.It’s fresh from the laundry and soft and warm against my body.
Match 1:Is it open?
Jane: Do you want it to be?
Match 1: I need it to be.
Jane: Okay. I unbuttoned it.
A dull achethrobs between my thighs. I don’t know who Match 1 is, but I just want…I need him right now. I need him to make all the shitty things running through my head to just go away. Take my mind off everything. I want to be reckless.
Jane:Do you want me to send you a picture?
Match 1: Fuck, yes.
I anglemy phone down and snap a picture of my jersey, hanging open. I crop the picture so all you could see is the round edges of my breasts, the jersey hiding my nipples, and my belly button. Then I send it to him.
Match 1:Jesus. You’re gorgeous.
Match 1: Be honest with me, how drunk are you that you just sent me this picture?
Match 1: I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.
Jane: No regrets. I promise. I just need out of my head right now.
Match 1: Then show me more. Show me the rest of your body. Open the jersey wide and let me see your nipples.
Three sentences,and my heart is pounding. I don’t want to think it over. I don’t care if this is a bad idea. I want to feel wanted—like my body hasn’t been broken and devastated. I pull my arms out of my sleeves and fling Dex’s old jersey on the floor beside the bed. I arch my back and snap a few images of my bare breasts until I find one that looks suitable to send. Again, I crop out my face.
Match 1:You’re perfect. I’m so hard right now.
Jane: Show me.
The next messageis a dark closeup of a very hard, very thick cock.
Match 1:I’m going to touch myself while we talk. Are you aroused too?
Jane: God, yes. Messaging you like this is making me so wet.
