Lust Like Moonlight
I could barely figure out these online chat rooms, but there I was. There was a young man that my friend, Richard, said I’d have a good chance with. I was excited when he appeared in the chat room. As I stared at the picture of his face, I realized Richard hadn’t exaggerated about how handsome the boy was. His brown eyes were vulnerable and fawn-like, framed by beautifully curled lashes. He had a pretty mouth and chestnut hair just long enough to run my fingers through.
His screen name was EeyoreBottom, a moniker that made me imagine his skin was soft for some reason—maybe like a stuffed animal. It also made me think that, like the donkey, he suffered from low self-esteem, but Richard, who was the one who told me “EeyoreBottom” would like me, said he got the nickname
