She is far from me. I get to know her slowly, slightly. Part by part, she lets me learn who she is. First, her words. Then, her eyes, her lips, her hair. Her breasts, her ass, her thighs, her leg. And her voice.
What is it about her voice? There’s power, and intimacy, in it. Power over me, to evoke a response as strong as (stronger than?) actually seeing, actually knowing her would or could.
The sound of someone’s voice can definitely let the mind run wild. Real life can either surpass the fantasy or imagination, or deeply dissapoint.
Real life? You mean, meeting. Because what I describe is real life.