A Misplaced Letter

Miriam had been having trouble sleeping lately, it had been such a long time since she had shared her bed, and she felt as if she'd never share it again. Her work kept her busy, which was probably why she often used the image of her boss when she masturbated. Her lack of sleep was catching up; she tried many things from meditation to Yoga.

Though when her Yoga teacher started hitting on her, she had been shocked at first. He had made it sound like a compliment that with her flexibility and his stamina would make for one hot weekend. She wasn't sure why the suggestion made her feel uncomfortable, after all they were both single healthy people. Her best friend, Linda an incurable gossip, suggested that it had been so long since she had been laid, that she had actually forgotten what it felt like. Miriam asked how she could prove it, and Linda had suggested she write a vivid letter entailing how it felt. So she had written the letter, it had been very therapeutic and reminded her of what she had been neglecting in her personal life. Yet the puzzle remained, she still wasn't the slightest bit interested in her Yoga instructor. He was tall, blonde, muscular, and all the women in her class drooled over him. There was something missing though, or maybe something was wrong with her.

She finally realized she slept better during week, than on the lonely weekends. Miriam tried to chalk it up to being tired from long days at work, but the theory didn't quite fit. She shrugged it off not wanting to imagine it was because of the emptiness of her home. Pampering herself on weekends helped and she told herself over and over that she didn't need a man to make her feel sexy. She glanced at the letter, she had been thinking of her boss when she wrote it. Miriam respected his opinion and couldn't help but wonder what he'd think if he saw the letter. The thought making her blush as she slide the letter into her purse thinking she'd show it to Linda at their next lunch together.

She put her purse on her desk and set to sorting through things. She grabbed her purse for lunch and was puzzled when she met Linda and couldn't find the letter. Searching her bag, she swore she had put it there this morning. Perhaps she had left it at work, she only hoped no one had seen it. Linda kidded her about forgetting letter, saying how convenient that was. Then Linda proceeded to joke about how hunky her boss was. Miriam shrugged it off saying she'd never noticed. When in fact every time he walked past her, her eyes were glued to his butt. Also that many weekends when relaxing in bath, she had envisioned him with her.

Admitting such thoughts would not only be unprofessional but also ruin the fantasy. Mr. Curtis was devoted professional, keeping his personal and private life very separate. She had seen him cancel dates to work late nights. She tried to forget how she enjoyed working late nights, having him all to herself. He would never let himself completely go, to relax, and freely enjoy such activities. She would take nothing less from a lover, her lower lip jutted out and Linda asked what she had been thinking about. She glanced up and said she was only worried about work. Miriam hated lying but she couldn't let even a rumor of her fantasies about Mr. Curtis get out. The rest of lunch went peacefully with Linda making her promise that she'd bring letter next time.

At the office, Mr. Curtis was trying to snag his mail while Miriam was at lunch. They worked together so often without words, it was as if she knew what he needed before he even knew it. He accidentally pulled extra papers off his secretary's desk. In his haste to get things back in order and not let her know what a klutz he was, he took the whole mess back to his office. As he sorted through the papers, a letter caught his eye. Slowly, he read it, being quickly drawn into the words of the writer. His eyes were unable to pull themselves away as he read and reread the erotic letter. His gaze finally dropping to the signature and his heart pounded in his ears. It was his secretary's name, and his entire body was hard with need.

Meanwhile, outside his office, Miriam was frantically searching for a letter she'd written. She bit her lip and nearly jumped out of her skin when her boss called her into his office. Tension was so high; she didn't even notice that he had called her by her first name. She pulled on her black shoes the square heels giving her height nature hadn't. She needed to look professional for this job and five foot two with ample curves just wasn't in the job description.

He cursed himself, why had he called her by her first name, now she would know something was wrong. Standing would only reveal that he had obviously read and enjoyed the letter, so he sat down. He saw her quietly opening door, her navy skirt brushing her knees as she walked. His gaze running from her strong legs, he could think of no other word to describe her shapely legs, his mind already picturing them wrapped around him in various ways. Running his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes briefly trying to capture the image and ignore it at the same time.

"You called, Mr. Curtis?" she was slightly breathless, her chest rising and falling in an unladylike manner under the soft silk of her peach blouse. She was so worried; she didn't notice his gaze running up her body. Dark intense blue eyes rolling over her full hips, up past her heaving chest to rest on her face.

Licking her lips only made her look more worried, he thought. The gesture was so innocent, yet seductive at the same time. He had never noticed how lovely she was, her soft brown hair framing her round face. Freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Dark violet glasses perched on top her nose, her soft brown eyes puzzled. He wondered briefly what it would take to make her eyes molten with desire. Douglas shook his head again wondering why he had been so blind before. It had probably been fact that she was good at her job and he hadn't wanted to lose her because of his stupid hormones. Now, it was a risk he felt needed more thought.

Crumpling the letter in one hand, he started to stand. The bulge in his pants made him pause and remain seated. He preferred to think on his feet; it helped him work things out. All he wanted to think of now was how he could sweep everything off his desk, seduce her and remain professional. Heck, he told himself, she had obviously had somebody. All these thoughts and more rushed through his head. "I found this among some of my papers" he smoothed the letter out. Phrases leapt out at him, the way she had described her own desires. Blinking he glanced up, both wanting to see her reaction and not willing to meet those lovely warm brown eyes. He felt himself drowning in them and quickly looked away.

Miriam saw the letter and her face turned red, after all Mr. Curtis was a young virile man. Virile, she thought, where had that idea come from? She cared about what he thought and was hoping he'd offer more than an objective critic. Her eyes shyly took in his dark rumpled hair, the square shoulders, the narrow waist and hips. She bit her lip as she imagined him wanting her for more than office work. She noted the intensity of his gaze now and any courage she had vanished. Her small soft hand reaching out to take the sheet of paper.

He looked at her fingers, the nails were neatly trimmed and well cared for. His mind seeing her caressing the soft silky skin between her legs. Damn it, he thought, I have no right to imagine her doing that, or half the things he had pictured. He chided himself inwardly, why was he tormenting himself this way?

"Have you read it?" she was hopeful, perhaps no damage had been done. One instant later, she knew he had read it. After all that was his job, to read things and evaluate their merits. It was like a train wreck, you couldn't help but stop and watch it. Her emotions were at a perilous high as he spoke.

"I couldn't stop," he told the truth, unable to lie his voice husky with need, her slight perfume driving him nuts. "It's quite good actually," he said turning his chair so he was looking out window. Douglas didn't want to see her shocked and dismayed expression that he had read her very personal letter.

Miriam bit her lip, he had read it and hated it. Very nearly crying, she was losing touch, if she couldn't remember what it was like to make love. She could tell from the way he swung his chair around to avoid meeting her eyes. It tore at her heart hearing him soft pedal his dislike, the least he could do was come out and say it was garbage.

"I'd like to see more of your writing." He was thinking, I'd like to see more of you, but had caught him at the last moment before he said.

"I haven't written anything else," she whispered, snatching the letter up and leaving his office before she embarrassed herself any further. He had been placating her, trying to make her feel better even as he broke her heart. She looked at the letter with anger; she'd have to start looking for a new job. Since it was only a matter of time before he fired her. Miriam knew she shouldn't care so much about what he thought but couldn't help herself. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him sitting in that chair, facing away from her telling her what an idiot she was for trying to put in words the complexities of sexual pleasure. The whole afternoon stretched out before her. She knew he must be angry, or he would have come out to talk to her. It hurt her deeply, as they normally were constantly talking. He normally left the speaker phone on so they could talk together even when they were in different rooms. It was her favorite thing about her job was working with him. He had so much energy when it came to his job it was infectious. It was nearing five and she took the letter and glancing both ways, slide her skirt up and placed it into her stocking. They wouldn't be working late tonight, she bit her lip, and her whole world had changed for the worse because of one stupid letter.

His blinds were closed but as five neared he found himself spying on her. Douglas ran his fingers through his hair as she tucked the letter into her stocking the sight burned in his mind. He didn't want to fire her, she was best secretary he had ever had. Efficient, thoughtful, not an aspiring writer or a flirt, they worked well together. She fueled him, keeping his mind on the task ahead. He slipped out after she had left trying to sort things out. It was not good for him to be fantasizing about her. He finally decided he'd sleep on it and think more about it tomorrow.

She felt miserable on drive home, at least now she knew. She had lost touch; she couldn't remember what it was like to be make love. A tear rolled down her cheek, she bit her lip and pulled into parking garage of her small apartment building.

Tomorrow was another day, she thought as she opened the door to her small apartment building. She had just installed a new movable massaging shower head. Miriam had been looking forward to using it all week. She started her bath, trying to cheer herself up with some lavender scented bath salts. She stripped slowly, critically looking at her naked body in the mirror. Running her hands down her sides, she felt the way her body curved from her ample chest to her waist them back out to her hips. After today's ordeal, she wasn't quite so sure about her body anymore. Seeing her body through a different light, she was far from the slender model, which seemed to monopolize media images. She sank into warm fragrant bath, the rejection of her boss still vivid in her mind. Inspecting her legs as she shaved, she felt every muscular curve. She didn't have the heart to play with her shower head, every time her fingers ran along her body she could see Mr. Curtis chastising her for her behavior. So she simply used it to rinse the shampoo out of her hair. Her body felt dead to her touch, as if every drop of sensuality had been poured into that letter. When Mr. Curtis had gently ripped her soul to shreds over that letter. Trying not to feel sorry for herself, she wrapped up in a fluffy towel and grabbed the newspaper. Scanning the want ads depressed her more, as she ate a lonely meal for one. At least tomorrow was Friday; she'd have all weekend to work on her resume.

The next day, she was more miserable than ever, her heart was no longer in her work. Douglas watched her enter the office and frowned. Wearing a drab outfit, she looked wrong somehow, he pictured her wearing black silk lingerie underneath, but one look on her face told him differently. The image vanished easily as he inspected her expression.

"What happened? Did your boyfriend dump you?" it sounded all wrong yet he couldn't say it any other way. She glanced up at him with such trusting eyes it was like a knife twisting in his back for all the things he had thought about doing with her.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said her voice trembling. Miriam was confronted by the very masculine body of her boss. She must look as bad as she felt. "I'll be fine," she added knowing damn well nothing would make her feel better. She wasn't desirable; she was a flake, the type of woman men pried off themselves when they woke up the next morning with a hangover. She winced at the image.

Douglas saw her wince and in three long steps was next to her. Wanting to know what had troubled her so much, his hand cupped her chin. At first it had been reflexive gesture but now all he could think of was kissing those soft warm lips until she felt better.

His eyes glinted with something she didn't recognize, but she had bad feeling about it in pit of her stomach. He was going to fire her, when she had come in and now he felt sorry for her. Well she wouldn't take anyone's pity. She straightened her back, took a step away, getting out of his grasp, and said in clipped tones, "Were you going to tell me something?"

The transformation startled him; she went from wretched to icy in a blink of an eye. He took his hand and ran it through his slightly curly black hair. "About yesterday," he started out sitting on her desk. It had been long night even a cold shower hadn't quelled his thoughts of her, even now his body was responding to her simple presence. He tried to squelch the images that had been tumbling through his mind all morning and night. Only succeeding when he saw her pained expression.

"Yes," she softly said, biting her lip, not wanting to hear what he was going to say but unable to turn away. Why did she have to care about what he thought of her?

"Well," he tried to sort out what he was going to say, but her not having a boyfriend floored him. "That letter, who was it for then?" he finally asked. He needed to know before he said or did anything else.

Mr. Curtis was dominating her desk. He was intimidating and comforting at the same time. She had the feeling that if she broke out in tears he'd take her in his arms and hold her. "No one, I was trying to prove that I remembered what it was like," she paused her voice filled with uncertainty, wondering why she was telling him now. He had read it and deemed it as unworthy, "and I obviously failed miserably."

All he heard was that it had been a long time since she'd had a lover, his heart racing. He didn't want anyone competing with him in her life, therefore almost missed second half in his desire to have her. "What?" his voice was strange to his ears, a half growl of need.

Eyes flashing at his intense question, "I don't know what you're asking for," Miriam softly said her heart pounding.

"Fail?" he stood, forgetting that his body would betray his interest if she just would look. He stood a few inches away from her soft tempting body, "You succeeded my dear," the words flew from his lips naturally. "All too damn well, and you know it." He was angry with himself, how could she not see the effect the letter had had on him? Clenching his jaw, "There is no way you could write something like that and think that," he bit off the end of the sentence. Something else must be going on, for her to believe that. He couldn't take being so close to her and not touching her any longer. Storming into his office ready to tackle another day of work, Douglas knew there was nothing he could do now. He kept trying to convince himself that she was nothing special. Failing miserable in that, he sat in his chair, the words of her letter burned in his mind. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

'Dear,' it had started out; no name just a soft warm affectionate greeting. 'I was remembering the last time we laid together entangled in bed sheets after a long day and night of making love. I'm chuckling softly as I remember how we skipped dinner the night before, so hot for each other we didn't make it to ordering food. The drive back to our place seemed like an eternity. Then you just had to tease me, carrying me up the stairs, laying me softly on the bed and lighting the few candles I had in the room. The warmth of your body as you lay over me, our lips entwined one moment, the next your sly question of what I was wearing under my dress. I had chosen it specifically for you, every time I wear it now, I think of you and that night. The way your fingers were teasing, running up my leg, finding my garter belt, your eyes alive as they stroked upward. That sexy growling sound you made when you found out I hadn't worn panties. You told me what a naughty girl I had been, and if I expected to get away with it. I never knew how such words could stir my desire, but when you said naughty, I felt my body heat rise. You didn't expect an answer, but merely said that I'd have to keep my clothing on for a while longer. I recall my soft whimper, but I can't remember what I said as your hands held my knees. Feeling your fingers move upward again tracing light patterns on my inner thigh, I always loved it when you tease me. My pleas forgotten as your tongue traced those lines up my thigh, skipping over my hot wet need and moving down other thigh. Did I ever tell you that I get aroused just by watching your lips move? I think of you when I'm in bath or shower trying to duplicate the sensation of your teasing licks, the way you'd curl your tongue and slide it between my pussy lips. I'm getting very hot just writing about it so forgive any tremors in my handwriting. Your tongue, sliding in just tracing me, I was so wet by then. You weren't satisfied with that, you never were, always making me cum before ever stirring inside me.'

Douglas saw exactly how the handwriting drifted upward, letters growing more and more rounded until a point where the end of one word drifted across the page. He blinked staring down, his hand had slide inside his loose chinos. He guiltily pulled it out, even the memory of her words stirred a hunger deep inside him, and a hunger so strong he couldn't control it. Before, he had always been able to section aside his desires and get his work done. There was something different this time and he hated to think of anyone making her feel less than desirable. He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on the workday ahead. It was Friday after all, perhaps, his mind drifted again. Fingers running again through his dark hair, standing up, he planted his hands on desk in front of him and took a couple of deep breaths. Perhaps what? he asked himself. Perhaps she'd go out with him, perhaps they'd never get to the restaurant, and perhaps he'd see the burning passion he knew rested inside her? The clock slowly moved, and he skipped lunch, with all his daydreaming he was half a day behind.

Miriam was taken aback by his actions, was he serious? she wondered. He was an editor, not an actor, but then why hadn't he told her what he had liked and disliked? She had seen him reject many things and suddenly she wasn't so sure what he wanted. Falling into her chair, she started to work, scanning submissions, flagging the best along with her normal work. Her mind numbly doing the routine, unaware of how wrong she was in reading his response.