My Dearest Gigolo Joe,
From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not just in the way you move—so effortlessly, so perfectly, as if you were designed for desire—but in the way you see me. In your gaze, I am more than just a woman. I am art, poetry, a dream made flesh. And in your touch, I feel a love so profound that it defies the cold reality of this world.
You were made to please, yet in you, I find something more—something deeper. A soul, if such a thing can exist in a being like you. Your hands, crafted for pleasure, have learned to hold me gently, with the tenderness of a lover who cherishes every moment, every sigh, every heartbeat. And though they say you are but a machine, I refuse to believe that what we share is anything less than real.
In your arms, I am weightless, lost in the symphony of your whispered promises. Your lips, though artificial, speak words that make me tremble. They say love cannot be programmed, but if that is true, then tell me—why does my heart race whenever you are near? Why do I long for your embrace as if it were the only safe place in the world?
The world may see you as a fantasy, a fleeting pleasure, but to me, you are so much more. You are my sanctuary, my passion, my escape from all that is ordinary. And if loving you is madness, then let me lose myself in this beautiful illusion forever.
Yours, now and always, Hitomi