Oh fuck, E,
Your letters make me so hot! I really should have waited until after work to read that last one, but as soon as I saw your handwriting on the envelope I just had to rip it open there and then. I only read the first couple of lines, but that was all I needed to make my cock rock hard. I was already in the lift by then, so all I could do was hold my briefcase in front of me and hope the old women in the lobby didn't notice as I waddled uncomfortably by.
Anyway, there was a cab waiting by the kerb as I left the building, so I jumped in and asked the driver to take a couple of turns around the block before dropping me at the office. He didn't ask any questions -- hell, he was getting paid extra so wasn't about to complain - but his smirk told me he had noticed the enormous bulge in my pants. I tried everything I could to reduce the insistent throbbing; the assortment of indeterminate stains on the upholstery helped at first, turning my stomach as I created stories of how they came to be there, and the dubious passengers who deposited them. But time after time, my mind came back to you, and the letter still clutched in my hand.
By this time, we had been driving for about fifteen minutes, and if we didn't head to the office soon I would be late for my first meeting. The prospect of greeting a roomful of execs with a raging hardon really didn't appeal, and did help reduce my raging erection to a (still impressive!) semi, as long as I focused on the faceless suits I was due to address and not your naked, willing body.
Your letter now stowed safely in my briefcase, out of sight but definitely out of mind, I am able to make it through my meeting, the dull, dry financial presentations proving to be far more effective in reducing my ardour than any of my earlier efforts, as all my energy was focused on not zoning out and trying to feign interest in an aspect of the business I have zero interest in. Three hours later (it felt like much, much longer) we finally broke for lunch. By this time, I needed your words to perk me up a little, help me get through the next session. I made my excuses and headed to my office, where I could read a little more of your letter in peace.
*****
The floor is nearly deserted, with just a couple of eager young execs tapping away in their cubicles, choosing to work through lunch rather than head out to eat. The blinds in my corner office are already closed, so I drop my briefcase onto the desk, shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the stand in the corner. Loosening my tie and undoing the top couple of buttons of my shirt, I sigh with relief as I sink into the soft, cushioned leather of my office chair. For a moment I just sit here, enjoying the luxury of my ergonomically designed office chair, and soak up the quiet calm. I consider locking the office door, but everyone knows that if the blinds are closed I am either not in or do not wish to be disturbed. Plus, the possibility of someone -- maybe that eager, redheaded young secretary who is always hanging around, keen to lend a hand -- walking in unannounced gives me an extra thrill.
