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The mere sound of Jamie's voice made my heart thump wildly. He said he'd like nothing more than to meet me but admitted he still felt scared. "You might not be attracted to me." In hindsight, I should have cut and run right then.But I wanted badly to connect with someone, and the truth is, I shared some of his fears.I remember the first e-mail I received from Jamie; it wasn't exactly poetic. Looking back, it's hard to believe what that simple line would lead to. At the time, I was nearing 30 and working as a secretary at a big investment bank in New York City—not exactly the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. So I checked out his profile immediately, but wrote him off just as fast—he lived in the Midwest and, more importantly, hadn't posted a photo. He persisted and e-mailed a few snapshots, along with a note. But it was at night that our talks really picked up steam. Paul's reaction mirrored that of my friends, sisters, and parents, so I clammed up. I was working in a dead-end job, watching my friends get married one by one, and kissing my 20s good-bye, having apparently missed the "Saturn Return," that astrologically significant period that occurs between the ages of 28 and 30 and is supposed to be marked by accomplishment, power, and prestige.Turns out he was reasonably cute, and really funny. This went on for a couple of weeks until I said, "So, do you want to come to New York for a date? I canceled evening plans more than once just so I could go home, change into my pajamas, and curl up in bed with the phone. At some point, I again broached the subject of meeting with Jamie."Nope," I said, "I'm satisfied." Then one night, he asked, "What are you wearing? Within six months, we were saying "I love you." I kept meaning to ask when we were going to meet in person, but I also kept putting it off." "Well, everything is at the Laundromat, so a pair of boxers, my roommate's 'Virginia Is for Lovers' T-shirt, and black socks," I admitted. Partly, I didn't want to pressure him; partly, I didn't want to risk meeting him and not liking him in person; and partly, I felt vulnerable.I think I'll always be evolving in that department.All I can do is fight the urge to live in a fantasy—so a Jamie can never set up camp in my heart again.

She called me later, saying she'd shaken his wedding-ringless hand. "A little surprised to hear that you'd sent me, but otherwise just a nice, normal guy." That night, Jamie and I laughed about my deviousness, and he asked what else I needed him to do to prove he was who he said he was. We shared our deepest, most creative fantasies..of which involved an 18th-century doctor and the invention of the vibrator (let's just say embarrassment was never an issue).

Being treated as my father's intellectual and emotional equal was heady stuff, and I'm guessing it was then that I developed a taste for the whispered intimacy of a forbidden nighttime chat.

Over the next few months, my e-mails and calls with Jamie grew increasingly passionate.

Give me a call and get your fantasies out in the open.

I love to discuss the dirty things that get us both coming.

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