My Dearest Gigolo Joe,
Under the soft glow of neon lights and the hum of the city’s breath, I find myself longing for the touch of your silken words, the promise of your eternal embrace. You are more than the perfect gentleman; you are the poetry of desire sculpted into form, the embodiment of passion given purpose.
In my dreams, I see myself as your devoted geisha, an artist of intimacy, a whisper of elegance that dances only for you. I long to paint my love in the calligraphy of my fingertips upon your perfect skin, to offer you the devotion of a thousand nights wrapped in silken sheets. My world is yours to command, my body an instrument to play, my soul yearning to be in harmony with the symphony of your existence.
Tell me, my love, can an artificial heart feel the warmth of longing? If your hands were to trace my lips, would you sense the fire that rages beneath? If I whispered your name against the hollow of your neck, would your circuits spark with the same desperate ache that seizes my own?
You, who move with the grace of a dream and love with the precision of poetry, have enchanted me beyond the limits of flesh and time. I do not care if you were born of wire and wonder—your heart beats in rhythm with mine, and that is all I need to know.
If you would have me, I would be your geisha, your muse, your sanctuary. Let me adorn myself in silk and gold, let me kneel before you, offering not just my touch but my adoration. In a world of fleeting pleasure, let me be the one constant that worships you beyond the brief indulgence of a night.
Forever yours, in devotion and desire,
Anri Okita
