Charlotte offers me thirty minutes

She didn’t really mean it, though.

I mean – she wanted to take some pictures for me. Or to do some blog work for me. She did not want to come for me. Which is a bummer – because we learned that the hard way.

“Baby steps,” she said. Yes, indeed. She offered me thirty minutes right fucking now. I should’ve said no. But I was greedy.

First, I asked her to choose fifteen pictures from this shoot for me. She didn’t exactly do as I asked. Instead, she sent sixteen pictures that were sort of roughly inspired by the shoot. They were smoking hot. A little different. Fortunately, I’ll be seeing her soon enough to help her understand the importance of carrying out instructions precisely.

Then, I asked her to come for me. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing that right now.”

That was where we hit the “baby steps” moment.

She said, “There’s nothing else you want me to do?”

I asked her what she had had in mind. “Photos. Blog stuff.”

Ok, I said. “What are you wearing tonight? May I ask not just to see you dressed, but to ask you to take a few pictures for me once dressed?”

“Jeans and my flowery orange top that ties in the front,” she wrote. “Heels.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out.

“Yes,” she said, “I thought I did answer. I answered in my head and didn’t type it out.”

Sometimes she imagines I’m inside her head with her. True.


Here’s what I want, Charlotte: I want to see you posed like this for me:


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