Tortured

I received this text.

Well.
Actually,
A,
Sext.

You know what,
Those are?

Good.

It was my first.

And there was,
More than one.

Several.

She was beautiful.

All over,
Beautiful,
And,
Well,
Beautiful,
All over.

Beautiful enough,
To give a guy,
Thoughts,
Ideas,
Dreams.

Of a certain sort.

And now,
There she was,
Looking straight out,
Of the images,
At me.

I didn’t,
Know her,
Very well.

We worked,
At the same company.

We spoke nearly every day.
Things like:
Hi.
How are you?
Having a good day?
Nice weather.
I like that blouse.
Yes, its a new sweater.
Did you see that TV show last night?

You know,
That kind of,
Chit-chat.

And at lunch,
We sometimes sat at the same table,
With 6 others.

We smiled at each other.

Laughed at the same jokes.

Never anything more.

I had thought,
Well,
Dreamed of,
More.

But it,
Never seemed,
The right moment,
To advance,
My interest.

Until now —

I had,
Of course,
Her number,
Because of the text,
I mean,
Sext.

I could reply,
To her.

My question —

And here,
Is the torture.

Should I send her,
A text,
Or,
A sext?