After a summer love affair, Phillipe, aged nineteen, and Emma, aged fifty-four, promised to post each other love letters. Once a month, they agree—no texting, calls, or emails. Phillipe wrote a dozen in the first week and tore up and threw away most. He sent none. He decided to play it cool; he waited until he received his first from her before he sent what he figured was one of his best of the, by then, over forty letters. It was almost a whole month before he received that first letter. The wait was agonizing. The moment he received her letter, he sent his. Phillipe changed into his birthday suit, settled comfortably into bed, and opened the letter.

Emma wrote:

Beloved Pip, although I now leave a fresh pair of panties on your pillow every night before getting into bed in your honor, I have put locks on the drawers for my panties. At least you do them more mischief on your next visit. I long for that day. When we make love again. Fuck again. Be in each other's arms. Or just be together, giving each other reasons to smile.

I had problems sleeping for days after you left. Wanting and missing you. So I acquired a surrogate. A new dildo, which most closely resembles your phallus. It's similar, but not the same as you, so please don't be jealous of Philippe, as I call him. He helps exhaust me. Answer my needs so I can sleep more restfully.

I must now share with you my heart's greatest secret. Hoping you won't see me for a crazy, foolish, love-drunk woman. I've been afraid to tell you this, but I must now confess. I met you before. Many times in my dreams, before you were even born in this world. You became my first love and have been my greatest love ever since. All those love letters, photographs, and magazine spreads were all for you. You were in my thoughts, my heart, as I posed and wrote prose. Hoping one day they might find you. Many times, I cried myself to sleep because you had stopped visiting me in my dreams. I missed you and, at times, felt angry with you. You promised we would be together again, and I waited so long. I tried calling you back to me with wild screams of passion as I shamelessly fucked myself with toys. I had nearly lost all hope. I thought I had gone insane. But then, like a miracle, I found you. Waiting naked, young, and beautiful. Cock stiff, ready for me, asleep in my bed.

Fearing you'd think me a complete nutter, I have kept this secret. I confess it to you now. Hoping the distance and time that have us apart will buffer these truths of my heart. Allow you and your soul to accept and know this bond of our love is as such.

My chest is flushed, and my face is painted blush. My heart makes me so when I think of you...dammit, I'm writing you silly fucking poetry.

Your lover and friend, Emma.

...

With the letter was an old photo. Phillipe knew it well. It was of Emma. Naked, laughing, with her hair all messed up. He kissed her and said, "Yes."

...

Phillipe's letter said,

Kisses. Emma, I don't know how to say this, but I will try. I've never known anyone like you before. I can say and do silly things, which I tend to do a lot, and you have only loved me when I do. I wanted to steal a pair of your panties, but wanting you to be okay with me taking them, I was pleasantly surprised when you gifted me some without hesitation upon my request. I keep them arranged between my pillow and its case. This way, I fall asleep and awake with the perfume of you. I have had so many dreams, I'm with you. I feel like we have known each other much longer. I'm not sure if I believe in reincarnation, but if it's true, we must have known each other in at least one of our past lives. Am I crazy? You probably just read it and smiled, wanting to kiss me. People here think I'm crazy. I keep having fits of laughter. Remembering the spare bed. You're asking me to fuck you on the squeaky bed. Every time I hear something squeaky, I can't help but laugh. You were right; it is an erotic, fun, lovemaking sound effect.

I miss the warmth of your breath when I kiss you. Having you sleep on top of me, your entire body's weight pressing itself close to me. I have stolen many kisses from you as you slept this way. Wishing to be with you, even in your dreams.

The night before you found me in your bed, I spent it lost in a fantasy of being with you. You've made that dream come true. See, I must be crazy, possibly just silly. Or should I be more honest with myself and admit I'm hopelessly in love with you? Always have been, and always will be.