Teil Eins

I have this sort of fantasy that I'll be walking down the street or around in a bookstore or really anywhere, and I'll be striking to someone. Someone will think to themselves "Who IS that girl?"
And tonight...tonight it'll be "THERE'S my girl." He'll know who I am, he'll recognize me by my tattoos if nothing else. And I have...words. Now, I love words. Love the way he puts them together and the thoughts he projects. But I'm not going to recognize words. Not tonight.
You know what I'd love? I'd love for him to come up behind me and put his hand over my eyes so I can't see him. I'd love for him to whisper in my ear to come with him, for him to take me...anywhere, and do...whatever he wants to do with me. And I'd love if I never saw him, if I only knew the shadow and the words. And the weight of his body on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock in my cunt.
Am I, perhaps, TOO fascinated by the mystery?
Laters