Email

The extreme unlikeliness of a reply to this email allows me to be completely honest. Quality that would also be present if a reply was imminent, but at least I can justify myself by pretending I never expected you to read this in the first place.

So, to the point:

After reading some of what you wrote, I feel an incrdible urge to give you a long, candle lighted foot massage.

Don`t missunderstand. It`s not that I would start by your feet to make my way up in a very sleazy (yet effective) manouver. I simply want to give you a foot massage. Please note that I am not a fetichist, so this is simply an expression of affection to a total stranger, a kind of non-sexual caress, like a pat in the back, but in a female-compatible fashion.

I felt inmediatly bonded to what you wrote, to the point that I decided to stop reading, so I would not spoil the experience by running out of your words too quickly.

Are you as lovely as I imagine? Are you bold and misterious and decieving and frightful and loving and caring and violent and beautiful as I seem to remember you?

If there is heart, which I know there must be, even if only for biological reasons, you shall reply this email with truth. Not the "2+2=4" kind of truth, but the "I`m only happy when it rains" sort of revelation.

In case you are wondering, the answer is no. I am neither a freak nor psycho or canadian. I just can`t resist a good pair of unseen imaginary feet.

Truly yours untill heaven falls and all the bells crack