Sasha: Comfort is overrated.
Well now I feel like a dick.
Sasha: Why?
Um, because I’m talking about comfort while you’re literally lockedin a cell.
Duh.
Sasha: Are you flexible?
What?!
Sasha: I guess I’m just wondering if you’re only flexible when doing the mental gymnastics you had to do to make this connection, or if this translates into real life as well
Oh my God! You’re impossible.
And it’s not like you’d ever find out whether I’m fucking flexible.
Sasha: Maybe not. But it would greatly improve the realism of my fantasies.
Right.
You don’t even know what I look like, so joke’s on you and your supposed fantasies.
I stared at the screen, unimpressed by how quickly my body had betrayed me.
Heat was racing through my body.Realheat, caused by a man I had never met, messaging me on an appso dubious, it might as well come with its own felony charge.
I told myself — very calmly, very reasonably — this was manipulation. Anyone with sense would uninstall the app, block the number and maybe light a candle for their sanity afterward.
Instead, I reread the message.
Then reread it again.
I should stop. I knew I should but the truth was, I wasn’t good at doing what I was supposed to do.
Sasha: Don’t I?
Sasha: How did my men find you then?
Yeah, about that … you’re aware this was kind of creepy, right?
Hold on, no!
Nice try but you’re not distracting me.
Sasha: Yeah, you caught me.
Are you saying you know what I look like?
Sasha: Of course I do. Do you NOT know what I look like?
Of course not.
It’s not like we’ll ever see each other in real life, so it’s entirely unnecessary.
Sasha: I know you’re probably trying to piss me off but it’s really not working. Quite the opposite, actually.