Dear Mr. Meow:
I always orgasm when I receive letters. It doesn't matter who they're from; it could be my boyfriend, my uncle, or my local congressman running for reelection. So long as there is direct mention of my name, my juices begin to flow. (I've been this way since I was twelve and a half, I'll have you know, or so you would have me believe.) But that e-letter you sent me, that one took the cake. You mentioned my name twenty-three times. That's a record - I came twenty-three spanking times! I think I'm in love with you. How did you find me? Was I on your private e-spam list? It seemed so…personal. Like you knew all about me, my innermost desires and needs, like you could see inside of me. You are a better lover than all of the lovers who have had me on paper. I want you to smother me in text, to drown me in letters. Keep sending me mail; I don't care whether it's written on papyrus leaf or not - clutter up my inbox with mention of my name, my age, my DOB. I want you to want me even more than you do now. Next time write "Kitty" thirty, forty, fifty times! My god, will I be able to stand it? I might implode from the constant stimulation.
I think I love you, Carl (I hope we can be on a first-name basis from now on). Will you have me, Carl? Do you feel aroused when I write Carl, Carl? Who are you, really - that's what I want to know, Carl. Reveal more of yourself next time, Carl: your age, your DOB, your innermost desires and needs. I want to have a textual, rather than a sexual, relationship with you, Carl. I sincerely hope you get horny when I call you Carl, Carl. Do you, Carl? Well, Carl, do you? Talk to me, Carl, make me moan, Carl. Oh, I think mention of your name is making me hot now, Carl. But, Carl, are you truly serious about me? Eh? So many other "Carls" (or "Johns" or "Marcks" [sic], etc.) have written my name a few times and then flaked out on me. Please make me real, Carl, make Kitty real, the word made flesh. Flesh me out, Carl, turn me into a real person, Carl. I wanna be real. I wanna be your one and only pussycat, Carl, your epistolary baby. Keep writing my name, Carl. Over and over and over. I need your inky pen more than you know, Carl. Your name is my mantra. I hope mine will be yours from now on.
Ever faithful,
Kitty XOXO
