I wonder where it all came from... this sudden and deep connection with her. I don't know her. I have never seen her face. All I have are words. And yet these words have reached somewhere deep inside me and touched a place never realized. The witty banter... the sexual innuendo... the subtle erotica. Heh... her words, that are so true. Eagerly awaiting each reply that forces me to look further into myself, to see and feel and think about possibilities never imagined.
How has she done this to me with mere words? The immediate understanding between us? The words. The very act of writing. The writing is our safe little world, where there are no constraints. Our little secret. To have a collaborator, so intimate. Like whispering in each others ears. We awaken these things in each other. Hers, lost and now found through my words. Mine uncovered, like curtains being drawn back and revealing what was always there but hidden. Sweet and gentle discovery! Sudden and intense rediscovery!
We have our secret, safe place. Outside of it, we go through our lives. Never to meet, never to look into each others eyes. It need not be. We have already looked into each others souls, and found kindred spirits... understanding... intimacy. Lovers in words. To meet would shatter the connection, destroy the safe, free, secret, intimate place.