You Don't Send Me E-Mail's Anymore.

"FUCK," that was all I could scream inside my head.

My face was flushed, I was already sweating and I felt the throbbing in my head reaching an all-new level of intensity.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," my mind screamed at my hands.

How absolutely stupid could one person be? My hands flew over the keyboard, issuing the recall command, but I was already receiving an incredible volume of read-receipts.

I cried inside my head, "didn't these people have better things to do, then read me e-mail right away?"

I thought, no I swore I had just sent the story off to the Literotica.com website, but now my racing heart and mind were already telling me that I was not that lucky and that in fact, I had sent my latest story not to literotica.com but to the entire distribution list at work and to those on my personal mailing list as well.

The recall worked on some messages in-house, but I knew the damage was done.

My heart leapt into my throat when I heard the RING of the phone on my desk and saw the name Charles Davees x3294 appear in the display.

"Yes Mr. Davees," I sort of whispered.

"Please come to my office right away," was all that the authoritative voice on the other end of the phone said.

I was barely able to let out the words, "of course Mr. Davees, right away sir," before I felt my throat choke off sound altogether.

I stood up leaning on the table to steady myself, not knowing how I was going to make it down the hallway to the Vice Presidents office without crying, or falling to the floor. I felt like just running out of the building, never to be seen by these people again.

So here I was, an outwardly shy, 19 year old who had barely even conversed with another person about anything but business, walking down the hallway, getting stopped along the way by men and women alike who were all saying things like 'thanks, I enjoyed that,' or 'wow, I never knew.'

In fact all of those that I walked by had big smiles on their faces.

I also got winks and the occasional swat on my behind. Well OK nobody actually winked or slapped my behind, but it sure felt that way to me.

I hadn't remembered the walk from my office to the Vice Presidents office being more than 4 doors down from mine, but today it felt like I had to walk past at least 200 cubicles and 50 closed doors, while my face got redder and more flushed.

What could I say, what would I say, would I even be allowed to say anything? Was I going to be fired on the spot?

As I stood in front of Mr. Davees door, I remembered not only the internal people that got my e-mail, but also the people on my personal distribution list, all of them who once thought I was quiet, almost sexless, thinking how perverted and how sexual I really was.

They all knew from my latest story that all I wanted to do, in fact my deepest desire was to enter my boss's office, lock the door and give him the biggest, wettest blow-job he had ever had.

I decided to try and calm down, I thought about all of the stories I had published on-line, and all of the stories I had read, and I realized while standing in front of the closed door, that the worst that could happen is that people would now know me for who I really am, and who knew, maybe I might even have a few more stories to tell after this visit to the Vice Presidents office.

"Now is the moment of truth, now is when I put my writing to good work!" I thought to myself.

I had decided right then and there to walk into Mr. Davees office, walk right up to him and slide down his body, and let Mr. Davees know I wanted him, like I wanted my boss in the story that I just had sent to him and the world.

I screwed up my courage, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," was the response I got from the other side.

I entered the room stridently, and there was Mr. Davees sitting on the edge of his desk, legs sort of spread apart, his jacket off and hanging over the back of his chair. He seemed so hot, so absolutely ready to pounce; it froze me in my tracks.

I now knew that he wasn't going to fire me. He wanted me. He wanted me the way I wanted my boss in my story. I could smell it, I could feel it in the air, and I could almost taste him. I saw rivulets of sweat forming on his forehead and I swore I saw a bulge and a small dark spot in his pants.

---

"So that's why I need a new job," I concluded to Sally at the employment agency.

"You mean you changed your mind? You didn't want to ravage him any longer?" queried Sally in a sort of short breath.

"Oh, I wanted him, I still do, but I guess he really didn't want me." I sort of sighed.

"You see, he got my e-mail and everything, but when I attacked him and dove for his crotch, he sort of jumped back and screamed at me to get my things and get out."

Sally sat there perplexed and asked, "But your story, didn't he get your e-mail? Wasn't he turned on by it? Didn't he want you too?"

I sat in silence for a minute, and then I finally weakly let out, "Oh, the e-mail, I sent it out all right, and he and everyone else got it too. But as I was packing up my office, someone came by and asked me why I sent out my grocery list to the whole office."

The mind, it's a terrible place sometimes.

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I hope you enjoyed this short story. If you liked it let me know. Thanks for reading.