“Sense and Sensuality, or Jane Austen’s Tears”
1 To say “It started innocently enough” would be wrong. There was nothing innocent about what we were planning, what we were doing. The texts with just a hint of double-entendre. The links to pictures and essays on Fetlife we sent to each other.
No, it wasn’t innocent. We knew what we were doing, and we liked it. We liked the sneaking around (even though our partners knew full well the gist of what we were doing). We liked the excitement of knowing that someone wanted to this, that, or that other thing to us. Or that they were thinking of us in that way when they were by themselves or even with their partner. It was… a nice change from the usual. Well, for me, anyways.
Our texts were never overt, never crude, never trite. No “What are you wearing?” or “What would you do to me if I was there right now?” It was assumed that if and when it happened, it would happen. We’d hint at things. We’d call each other to remember past dalliances and then play those memories in our mind, a smile on our lips and an extra beat in our hearts.