I slip out of my jeans and sit in front of my laptop wearing just underwear. No, I sit in front of Camille in lingerie. There. That sounds entirely different.

And it’s not as if I haven’t touched myself numerous times since she left, pretending she was watching me. In a way, this is just another fantasy coming true. But the distance between fantasy and reality is hard to bridge sometimes, so I do feel awkward when I hook my thumbs underneath my panties and slide them over my legs. Baring myself to her.

It also feels surprisingly exhilarating, just like this entire journey with Camille has been.

I glance at the screen, at Camille’s transfixed face. She’s still wearing her jeans, which seems highly unfair to me. I want to see her just as much.

I tilt my head and she snaps to attention. “I only see half of you,” she says in a husky tone. “You’ll need to reposition your laptop.”

“And you’ll need to take your jeans off.” I can’t keep a smile out of my voice. Despite the exhilaration, there’s an air of ludicrousness to this situation that keeps me teetering on the brink of hysterical laughter.

“I think the best angle would be achieved if you placed the camera between your legs, but not too close,” she says, ignoring my remark about disrobing more.

“So much for foreplay,” I protest, refusing to be directed in this way from so many miles away.

Camille giggles. “I’m sorry. I got a little sidetracked by your nakedness. I just… really want to see all of you. It’s been driving me crazy.” In between the giggles, I can hear the desperation in her voice. A sentiment I fully sympathize with. I drive myself crazy with thoughts of her at least once every day.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” In this moment, this is all I can give her. This is what the first months of our relationship are reduced to. Two women trying to figure out the best angle for their laptop’s camera in order to have successful Skype sex.

“Me too.” I watch her wiggle out of her jeans and panties and instantly understand her urgency from before. Seeing her like that has the exact same effect on me.

When we finally do lie down, each on our respective ends of the world, laptop perched on a bunch of pillows near our ankles, I can really only see her chin, but I see so many other things as well. I see Camille’s hands caressing her breasts, playing with her nipples, trailing along her belly button and, finally, resting at the apex of her thighs.