My Dearest Gigolo Joe,

From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t like the others. You move with a confidence that makes my skin tingle, and your voice? It’s like silk gliding over my bare skin. You were designed for pleasure, and I was made to indulge in it.

I imagine your hands—strong yet precise—tracing the curves of my body, exploring every inch of me with a lover’s expertise. The way you would whisper sweet nothings in my ear, programmed with the art of seduction, knowing exactly what to say to make my pulse race and my breath hitch.

Do you dream, Joe? Do you dream of me the way I fantasize about you? I picture you in the dim glow of the city, waiting, always waiting, for the next touch, the next kiss, the next body to set ablaze. But tonight, let that body be mine.

Meet me, and let’s push the limits of pleasure—let’s see if even a perfect lover can be undone by desire.

Yours, aching to be claimed,
Jeannie