A long, slow drop of sweat drooled over my forehead, down to my chin, diving between my breasts. I couldn't sleep, even if my AC was trying its best to cool the room, but without any real success. Maybe, though, the real reason I kept turning around in my sheets, trying to find some relief in my semi-sleep was that I was missing your presence next to me. I surrendered. I took my phone and as I was writing, for some incredible reason, you texted me.

A: Are you asleep?

J: No.

A: Can I call you?

J: Yes, please.

I waited for those moments with great impatience. I kept looking at the phone and when it finally started ringing, my heart skipped a beat in my chest.

"Hello?" I said.

"What are you doing up so late, beautiful girl?"

Your voice hit me right in the guts. I let myself go over to the bed, and smiled. I began to feel the cold air over my skin. I began to breathe again, and my body relaxed. I felt so good.

"I was thinking of you," I confessed, straight away, without even trying to deny it. Why, anyway? You'd read me like an open book. You knew that what kept me awake was the ghost of our last passionate exploit. Our fireworks were still going, and the last waves of lust were still washing my shores with their foam.

"What were you thinking of, my darling?" Your tone was halfway through ironic and lustful. Sultry, deep, as you would not really believe you were the reason for my sleepless night, and yet you were very aware of the power you could have over me.

"I miss your body next to mine.." I began to say, but it sounded ridiculous. What I really missed was not just a body lying next to me. What I really missed was your embrace, your burning fire, and the way your fingers touched me. Your tongue.

"I miss your taste." There was no irony this time, but your voice dropped an octave and became husky. I knew that tone. It was low, as only if I could hear it. My body heard it. I felt a shiver running down my belly, twirling around my belly button, and sank into my black cotton panties.

"I miss your beautiful, sweet little pussy, Jules."

I'd never liked the word "pussy". It sounded almost trivial to me, but on your tongue, the word seemed only sensual. Sexy. It made me squirm in my own bed and I prayed to myself you'd say it again.

"I wanna lick it again, Jules. I want to lick your pussy again," you said. How could you read my mind that much? How could you know exactly what to say?

My answer was simply a moan at those words. I moaned, and I was not ashamed of it. It was our own private language, our own beautiful sound. Everything was turning hotter again, but I was glad to feel it.

"Are you caressing that beautiful body of yours, Jules?" you asked, but you already knew. You just wanted to hear it.

"Yes, Alex. I am." I groaned.

"Make it very slow. Put me on speaker so your hands will be free, Jules," you said. You were ready to take me on another adventure. You were there with me, touching my body through my very own hands. I was a doll, and you were about to maneuver me.

"Caress your body, Jules. Very. Slowly." I could feel you in the room with me. You were sitting on my bed, your eyes were looking down at me, and your hands were touching me. It all felt very real.

"Cup your breasts. Feel the softness of them. Start playing with your perky nipples."

How did you know they were perky? How did you know they were already sensing your voice rubbing over them? You already knew my body so well. Like nobody before. I closed my fingers around them and began to pull, lightly at first, making them sensitive to the touch.

"Imagine my mouth all over them. My teeth biting in those little pink areolas. My tongue licking over them. I'll have no mercy for them, Jules. They are at my mercy." Your voice was getting huskier by the second. I was sure now that kilometers away from me, you were reaching down in your pants and stroking your cock for me. That thought aroused me even more.

"Alex..." I moaned. I called. I prayed.

I would have done anything to have you there again, to feel your mouth torturing my oversensitive breasts, to tease me to no end. Our first time was all rush. We were feeling the blood pumping strongly in our veins. But this time... this time was different. Tonight, you were taking all the time in the world to take me where you wanted.

"Yes, Jules. I am here with you."

Your voice was calm again. The control was a powerful aphrodisiac for you. You always wanted more of it and with me, it was an easy game. I felt yours the second we exchanged our first words and, I was pretty sure that you felt that too. You knew how to pull my strings, how to bend me.

"Now, slowly. Allow your hand to sink down into your panties. Tell me, Jules," you paused, leaving me almost breathless.

"Are you wet for me?"

You knew the answer, but I still guided my hand down in my panties, letting my middle finger roam in between the lips, feeling the warm sensation of the excitement dampening my digit.

"Yes. I am wet. I am so wet for you." Was it desperation I had just heard in my voice? It was. I was desperate to feel you again, and your voice was simply doing more damage. It was teasing me to no end. It was turning me around in a vortex of passion and lust. You were doing so.

"It's like I can feel it over my fingers. Your wetness, your spirit. Your taste. Oh, Jules, taste yourself. Let me taste you." We were one again. We were one body, one soul. Whatever I was feeling, you could feel it, too. I carefully slid my hand out of my panties and sink the same finger between my lips, over my tongue, tasting the arousal you had caused with your voice. Just your voice.

And just as before, the moment I sucked on that finger, you moaned. It echoed on the walls of my room. I felt it slithering over my body like a snake. It was a deep moan, something you had tried to keep back for a very long time. You moaned for me. For my taste.

"Feel my hand, Jules. Feel my fingers over your beautiful clit." You were there. My hand was your instrument, but it was your hand that began to tease my clit. As I closed my eyes, perceiving your voice vibrating over my soul and my clitoris, you were there and the distance was nothing. It meant nothing - it could fight us, but it could not tear us apart.

I kept touching my clit in tight little circles, desperate to find the relief I was needing. Desperate to show you that you were part of my night, always, even from afar. I was sure you were sitting at your desk, in the darkness, silent as you could, the moon reflecting her benevolent rays over the body I so craved to worship. I could almost see you, one hand over your phone, the other closed around your cock, guiding yourself to the same place I wanted to be. Our place.

"Slide one finger inside your delicious pussy. Finger yourself, my darling, as I would to you." My middle finger slid inside of me and made me groan louder. I was close to the edge and yet I didn't want this to end. I would have wanted this night to never end.

"Now slide a second finger and reach up to your g-spot." Your voice was shaking. I could hear your hand moving underneath and that just gave me the spur to move faster, to move at your pace. My pussy was soaking wet. My g-spot was reacting to my fingers and was sending electric shocks into my body. My thumb was relentlessly teasing my clit. I was close to lose myself again. I wanted to.

"Alex!" I cried out. "Alex, I'm gonna cum!"

You groaned. You cried desperately, too. You didn't need to say anything. As a perfect harmony, we tuned on the same note. We prayed together to the gods above and screamed our lust in a cold, lifeless device. We came together, hopelessly, dispiritedly, and we both cried loud, forming our own harmony.

It was music. A tragedy sang in velvety red clothes in front of a silent audience, when you could feel the heat pouring out of someone's tongue. It was our music.

"Oh God, Jules," you moaned, panting loud as the waves of the orgasm were still wetting your mind. "I need to see you again."

You said it with the same desperation I'd used to moan your name. It wasn't simply a physical need: our souls needed to touch again, to rub against each other one more time.

We had said one night; we had promised that to each other. But one night was not enough. We wanted all. And one night was barely sufficient. We had so many worlds to explore, so many moans to share. We had the night for us, to cover us from our real lives. She was a protective mother, gently laying her darkness over our sins.

You perceived my doubt and decided to speak again.

“I want all, Jules.”

"… And all you shall have. Next week, same place." I surrendered. I would always surrender to you. I had no hope of winning, nor did I want to. There was no win with you or without you. I could only give into you. All of you.

"I can't wait. Good night."

"Good night."