Dear Richard,

Now that you’re sleeping, I finally have an opportunity to spend some quality time with the love of your life: your typewriter. I’d like to tell you a little about what’s been happening while you’ve been so busy.

Remember Marta, the girl I met at the gym? Remember me telling you about her? Of course you don’t. You were too busy writing “Sorority Sluts in Chains” to listen. Well, I invited her over one day (after waiting hours wearing nothing but those stripper heels you make every girl in your books wear, only to realize you’d never stop writing long enough to fuck me proper). Marta and I had a lovely conversation, but it was so damn hot (because you never fixed the air conditioner like you promised) that we just couldn’t continue in those stuffy, sweaty clothes. As you’ve written so many times, two women can’t be naked in the same room without something happening. And boy did it happen!

You were right, darling. Another woman’s touch is truly a wonderful thing. The way she caressed my nipples, the way her tongue thrashed my clit, the taste of her pussy rubbing over my lips, drove me over the edge. Of course, what we really wanted was a man. There’s simply no replacement, right?

I tried, in the days that followed, to get you to join us, but you were simply too busy writing “The Nympho Nurses of Lust General” to respond to my invitations. Thankfully, Marta has a lot of friends, and we were able to keep ourselves occupied with slumber parties every night. They were the kind of parties I know you’d like, Richard. We’d all sit around in our skimpiest nighties and talk about boys. Sooner or later, someone would tell a joke at another girl’s expense and we’d start slapping each other with our pillows. Marta makes a good living, and–wouldn’t you know?–all of hers are expensive feather pillows. I bet you can guess what happened next! With feathers flying all over the room, we would begin wrestling one another, and soon we were a tangle of legs and arms and tongues, our sweaty bodies sliding all over each other, and the air filled with moans and screams, each of us wracked by orgasm after orgasm.

I want to thank you, Richard, for encouraging me for all those years to be with another woman. You were right when you insisted I’d enjoy it. Of course, nothing can replace a man like you. I understand that. Thank God Marta owns a strap-on.

Sincerely,

Your Ex

–Paul J. Hanlon