Nina's message waited beneath the privacy settings we created together; reading it once produced heat; reading it twice revealed the choice she emphasized. She wanted me to know what desire existed without turning the withheld action into regret.
I placed the phone facedown, checked my locked apartment door, then reopened the conversation after deciding what I wanted to answer. Boldness could not become sending the most explicit thought available; her message invited honesty, not every image my body generated.
{Kofi: I wanted that too. I also wanted to slide my hand higher beneath your sweater when we kissed. I stopped because we agreed to stop.}
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then returned while I checked whether the answer carried pressure. Nina had already said she wanted my hand beneath her skirt, making equal specificity welcome; I sent nothing further until she replied.
{Nina: I like knowing you wanted more without needing me to allow more tonight.}
