Perry:If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be texting you while my house is finally quiet.
My attention sharpens.The boys are asleep?
The message sits for a beat.
Perry:Yes.
Me:Then perhaps we should keep this quiet.
Perry:That was the plan.
Me:You said you keep thinking about me. In what context?
There’s a pause long enough that I feel it in my chest.In the context where you aren’t wearing scrubs.
My pulse responds before my brain does.That’s specific.
Perry:You started it.
Me:What are you imagining? Aside from my lack of scrubs.
Her reply takes longer this time.You. Me. A bed.
The clinical part of me stirs, trying to distract me from my prurient interests.You’re aware your body is still recovering.
Perry:I’m not doing anything reckless.
Me:Neither am I.
Perry:Prove it.
I don’t know where this is going, but I’m glad it is. I step into my bedroom, close the door, and sit at the edge of the bed.What would satisfy you?
A picture.
I consider the risk. Then decide I don’t care. I strip down to skin, then pose in the mirror and send my very first sext. It’s just my torso, but I work hard on it. I wonder whether this counts as an actual sext since it’s something I show off at the lake house.
Perry:Damn. Do you live at the gym?
She’s got me grinning like a fool already.Picture.
The response takes a little longer, but it’s worth it. Hers is a shot of her cleavage.
I take a beat before responding. I want to take this up a notch.If I were at your apartment, I’d ask for more than just cleavage.
What would you ask for?
A taste of you.
Her response is brief.What will you settle for tonight?
The sight of you. All of you.
Show me yours…
I take a quick breath and consider it. Sending a nude is a risk. But I trust her. More than I should.
I take the picture. It’s tasteful, as nudes go. I think. My thumb hovers over the send button, but I press it as soon as I get the courage. If I wait too long, I might back out.
