Because your selfies are sexy
There is a thing with dreams - they are yours, and yours only. And there is another thing with dreams - the dirtier they are, the more fun they are to remember. You can wrestle naked in the mud with your beau, and it seems the poshest thing ever. You feel like Woody Allen's heroine who can bare-it-all to show passion. Even I had a dream that was so sensuous my body temperature soared. It was with a man on whom I have a secret crush. And you know the best part - I'm sure he would approve of what all we did. But that's beside the point.
It has been two weeks since our illicit dream and it has been two whole weeks I'm thinking why my brain worked the way it did. I have no repressed fantasies. I have no urges either. Then, why! Oh, why! This dream has been giving me sleepless nights since. Even today, much before my feet touched the floor in the morning, his thought touched every pore of my body. I picked my phone from the bedside and scrolled the Facebook feed. I saw a glimpse. It was his selfie. My heart didn't pound. There were no butterflies in the stomach either. But there was strong urge to step out of my bed and step into his. Damn, he looked sexy. Then and there, while my body screamed ecstasy, my mind found the logic. I'm sleepless from the last two weeks because of you mister. Because your selfies are sexy. Because one look at them and I melt away.
Still, very ladylike, I pressed the like button on your selfie. And walked out of my bed feeling weak in the knees.
P. S. May I sleep well tonight. Or maybe not.