His voice was a deep rumble laced with sexiness. He spoke lazily with purpose, with flirtation. He’d breathed into the phone as he asked his questions, and I tried to think coherently to answer them.
I hung on to each word, each breath, each sound wondering what it’d feel like to run my fingers through what I imagined was his dark hair, to look into his sky blue eyes.
Then, he asked me a different kind of question. Did I want to meet him? I wasn’t sure.
What if he isn’t how I pictured him? It sounds ridiculous and petty. But what if we meet and there’s no chemistry. Sometimes fantasy is better than reality.
On the other hand, what if we meet and he exceeds my expectations? What if we meet and his lazy, slow voice rumbles against my skin as he plants kisses on my neck, my collar bone, my breasts, my… What if he takes his time with me the way he takes his time enunciating each syllable of a word?
To meet him or not?
That is The Question.
