We met online

I am lying here on our bed. Content, but wide awake. The day is
ended, and outside I know the sun is setting. We are going out later...
dinner, music.. something or other. I have showered and I am still wet,
droplets of water still hang tenaciously from the hairs on my chest and
balance precariously on the smoother slopes of my body. I look at them
abstractedly as I listen to the sounds of your preparation. Every now
and then I catch a fleeting
glimpse of you through the partially open bathroom door. I smile with
familiarity. I recall those months ago when you were glimpsed through
frozen images on my computer. Your head in one picture, part of an
arm... I look back through the bathroom door ... a breast, a smile.
Just like then, I am impatient, greedy. Even then, I burned with
desire. With fascination. I wanted to see you all, a photograph for
every square millimetre of your body. In my mind I would bind them all
together, massage, fondle, caress and love you in the paradise behind
my eyes. And now I burn once more. I want to push open that door, let
my eyes drink you whole and become intoxicated by my adulation. But I
don't. I wait, to relive the agony of anticipation. To remember the
sweet feelings when each new millimetre arrived by email. But the agony
evades me now. I remember only the sweetness. Such is the paradise of
reality.