You tell me what knickers to wear. It's a way of having control from a distance, even though we can't meet. I send pictures of the more exciting pairs I own, so you can choose. The rest are basic cotton briefs; I don't bother showing you these. Each morning you text me your choice, and I send a photograph of me wearing them. Sometimes you won't let me wear any. I could change afterwards, but we both know I won't. I wash t...

You manoeuvre through the black-clad crowd to stand next to me at the bar and, straight away, turn to me to ask why I always stare at you. Ah fuck, I think, he's noticed. And there was me thinking I'd been subtle. I have seen you a few times before, but only ever here at this goth night, and I suppose I have been staring, although I've tried not to make it obvious. There's something about you that I find incredibly attrac...