I was happy to find Jack seemingly waiting for me, ready to take me into his potent embrace and allow me to forget the pangs of unrequited feelings. I needed his no-nonsense manner, his one-tracked purpose. He was extraordinarily skilled in his craft, a deftness for which I was exceedingly grateful. It was quick, relatively, and I was left dazed, my head whirling, laughter springing forth from my gut, but no pain.
I woke the next morning with little memory of the night before, only a vague recollection of finding Jack and knowing where he'd take me. Slowly, I began to reconstruct the puzzle from translucent memories and email logs. As I plundered through the kitchen looking for something to take the edge off my headache, I caught a glimpse of my night's companion, and I could tell he spent himself entirely for my benefit. It was the first time I had ever sought so vehemently the comfort of someone like him. It was an awkward moment as I vascillated between being ashamed of my perfunctory actions and being thankful that he took me with such exquisite skill. Without much fanfare, I ushered what remained of him into oblivion and closed the door.
Thank you, Mr. Daniels, for your incredible prowess.