The Email Staler

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This is a work of fiction.

All characters are over 18.

Any similarities to actual persons or places is entirely coincidental.

No electrons were harmed in constructing this story.

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The subject line was:

'Good Looking Suit.'

"How come that didn't go to SPAM?" he thought.

************

Arriving at his office, Ray had a routine. First, kick off the street shoes and slip on loafers he kept under his desk. Office is too generous a description. A glorified cubical in the corner of the tenth floor. Technically it was a corner office, but the six foot fabric and glass partitions and no door said otherwise.

As a project manager for the company, he rated an extended space. His work station was in one corner and a large conference table with six chairs dominated the rest.

His only satisfaction was the arrangement allowed him a great view of the city sky line and the river below.

Coffee first. No. Emails. He opened the IN box and let the subject lines scroll up. He kept one eye on the screen while he pushed the coffee maker button. He waited patiently for the coffee to fill and the last email to load.

Without looking, he retrieved the cup, tore open two creamers, dumped them in the cup and stirred it three times to the right with a ball point pen.

As a project manager, he was the center of the storm for a major project. One that required the coordination and work product of at least six different departments. Then there was the up-line communications to marketing, sales, engineering and higher management giving regular updates on progress challenges. Never any problems. Only opportunities. Looked good on a poster but didn't translate well to the real world.

He made a quick assessment of each subject line. Some to read later. Forward some. A few required immediate attention. One subject line stuck out: 'Good Looking Suit.' After dealing with more urgent matters and after retrieving a second cup of coffee he opened it. The sender was on a company email account. 'Arden.Ivers.'

'Hi. Just wanted to say

you looked good in that suit

Friday on the 32

nd

floor

.

Looked

custom made.

Smiley emoji

'

Friday, Friday? He pondered that for a moment. That was a meeting with the suits on the 32nd floor. Monthly meeting with big wheels about the project. He always wore a suit to those meetings so he would "fit in" and the MBAs wouldn't think he was an assistant something or other.

"I guess it deserves and answer," he thought.

'Hi back. Thanks for the compliment. Who is this?'

Send.

Naturally there was no immediate answer. He didn't think much more of it and went back to work.

After lunch a response was waiting: '

Hi Ray -- I'm Arden. I work in IT. I was on 32 Friday also working an issue and noticed you. For someone with so much on your plate, you looked unruffled. In control. I just admire that. Later.

'

"Huh," he thought. "A little odd but I'll take the compliment." Then he wondered if he should respond and if so, what to say.

At 47 he had been with the company 16 years. Which meant his career there lasted more than his first two marriages combined. He'd been single for three years and the dating, hook up, bars and on-line thing wasn't working. He worked 50 plus hours a week and came to terms with the single, non-dating life. His sexual frustrations were worked out with generous porn screen time and reading erotic stories when video failed to stimulate.

'Hello Arden. Thanks, but the calm exterior covers a multitude of irritations my position dumps on me. Probably the same for IT. Fixing things you didn't break. Cheers.'

Send.

Three days went by before a response. This one with a photo attached.

'Agreed. We are doing a major upgrade to the SEC reporting system and spend too much time fixing issues that are operator problems. They didn't pay attention in the training classes. LOL. I do yoga to relax. You like the pix?'

Fortunately, his desk faced the entrance to his office so the screen wasn't visible to a casual passerby.

"Holy shit," he thought. The very high-res photo was POV looking down her body from the top of a very flat and toned stomach into the dark cave formed by a bright red bikini bottom where the fabric is stretched from one hip bone to the other. The fabric was tight on her pubic mound and a shadow line showed just a slight hint of her clef.

"Fuck. How did she know I think that is one of sexiest things. Oh, the high hip cuts are great and the legs, but the mystery of what is just out of sight below the bikini waist band? Nice." He wasn't sure if he said that out loud.

"Now what?" he thought to himself. Obviously, this woman was way younger than him. And, so far had the makings of a smokin' hot body. "Steady boy," he thought. "This feels very weird. Someone on the floor is punking me."

Oh, what the hell,

'Very nice. Looks like yoga is working.'

Send.

Another two days passed. He started checking his In Box more often. Scanning the dozens of real emails looking for her address in the From column. Day three came. Check the SPAM folder! Nothing. OK. Settle down. Take a beat.

One last look at 4 PM. Three times a week he bailed from work around 4 and headed to the company gym on 14. He would work out for ninety minutes, shower and go back to the office for a couple hours. Then grab dinner on the way home.

When he returned after the gym this time an email was waiting:

'Hi handsome. Looks like your work out routine is keeping you in good shape. Love the raglan shirt with torn off sleeves. Nice biceps! See ya!'

Whoa. What?

There was an attachment. Looked like it was taken at the beach. Side view from the waist down. Amazing tanned legs topped by exposed lovely hips in a very high cut white suit. He had to admit, it was a very arousing image. Gotta respond to this.

'Hi, very nice photo. Were you working out just now too? Should have come over.'

Send.

He went back to work, trying to focus. By 7 there was no response, so he packed it in and headed home. Even at home his curiosity got the better of him. He logged in to his work email. Nothing from Arden but a couple from across the pond. Work. That was a mistake. He downloaded the two photos to his home PC.

Ray considered his reaction to this unexpected email admirer. He realized his reaction was like a middle schooler finding out someone likes you. An element of excitement and curiosity emerged he hadn't felt in many years. His efforts at "dating" after the turmoil of the divorce damaged his ego. At first he thought being comfortably bi-sexual it would broaden his opportunities. As Elton John once put it, "Unless you're bi-sexual, you're missing half the fun."

He managed a few one night stands and had one woman and one guy who he internally referred to as "stops." They were fuck stops pure and simple. Zipless fucks. So the prospect of an encounter with this email admirer peaked his interest. Or it could be a stalker.

Two days later:

'Hey you -- I don't work out. Have access to all the CCTV cams in the company. This is the wrong job for a voyeur. LOL (leering simile face). Your turn for pix (winking emoji)

He looked at the clock. Three thirty. Close enough he thought and headed to the gym. She wants a photo? I'll give her one.

This time when he worked out, he did it assuming she was watching. As he did his usual circuit of machines, he kept an eye out for a station close to one of the three cameras in the company gym. Or the three that he knew about anyway. He choose skin tight bike pants to show off his bulge and a slightly tight tank top. He worked up a sweat and headed for the last bench. Before starting his final reps, he made a production of taking off his shirt.

Sadly, it did not reveal a ripped athletic body with a nice six pack and well-defined lats. Late forties and working a job behind a computer, the gym was his only exercise other than a walk to the bodega next door or the coffee shop around the corner. Since dating wasn't working, other than his irregular "stops," his physical workout was more for stress relief rather than conditioning. That and finding new variations for masturbating to his favorite porn site.

Workout over, he headed to the changing room and retrieved his phone from his locker. He stripped to take a shower but thought a sweaty body would photograph better. In a lull when there wasn't a lot of people around he placed his left foot on a bench, tightened his ass cheeks, held his phone out to the left so his thigh hid his cock and balls and clicked off several shots. The best went from waist to the bench. Almost muscular looking legs, the dimple on his ass was a nice touch he thought.

"Geez what have you come too?" he thought. It was sort of an equivalency. Her leg shot for his. For a bonus he included his ass cheeks. "Good Lord man. Your ego is out of control."

He contemplated sending the photo while he showered. He also carefully looked around the locker room for cameras. Remembering that she said 'There are cameras everywhere.'

After getting dressed he said "Fuck it," and sent the best image of the bunch. Just then the text chime rang. Work.

'Ray U R needed back here.'

No rest for the wicked he thought as he headed back to the tenth floor.

**********

Project management was like juggling a burning torch, a chain saw and two eggs at the same time. There was a lag of two or three days before he got a reaction from the leg photo. Truthfully, he didn't notice. Work was now ten or twelve-hour days leaving little time for recreational activities. He managed to get to the gym every other day and almost forgot how sexually frustrated he was. Almost. Some edibles, a little porn and good jerk off session Thursday night guaranteed a good night sleep.

Friday arrived. Around noon an email popped up from Arden:

'Fine looking thighs and gluts there sweet man. When do we see it from the other side? Oooh. Caught last minutes of your work out yesterday. Great form. Woof.'

There were mixed reactions to this. Being admired was an ego boost. But she wanted to see all his good parts? He wasn't sure he was ready to go that far. At this point he could think of about four company policies he was violating.

After another couple hours he responded:

'Glad U find me entertaining. Pix are nice. Like 2 see more of you.

' Send. There. Let that hang in the air.

Twenty-minutes later:

'U have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Which way do you swing?'

Which way do you swing? He had been around the block. Ray's early days had included a fair amount of adventurous sex. He dabbled in restraints, gay sex, mutual masturbation with both sexes, even exhibitionism. He thought of himself as bi since college and wife number one. He had one friend at work who knew and occasionally invited him to play. Wife number one was a closet exhibitionist (if such an oxymoron is possible). Wife number two got enthusiastic with swapping for a couple years. But 'which way do you swing' sounded odd. It was an archaic expression form what? The 1970s?

Kinda personal he thought, but OK, I'll play, but I'm not revealing my work fuck:

'No friend to play with at the moment. U?

Send.

Nothing. Just before leaving at 7 he made one last check and still no reply. Around 11 that night his laptop dinged with a new email. It dinged all the time but for Arden's email, he changed the notification sound to a bell in a channel buoy. He had no idea why he chose that sound.

'Me either. I mean nothing real. A few people who play. keep it casual. U know'

Well. That's an interesting development he thought. 'People.' She's bi? 'Who play?' Interesting wording. Now his libido and overactive imagination kicked into high gear.

He took another swig of his favorite 15 year old Scotch, lay back on the bed and idly stroked his dick to life. He reached over to the desk computer and clicked on the two photos she had sent. The suggestive bikini bottom image filled the screen.

"Let's see, how shall this go? Her, another guy and me?" Ray closed his eyes and imagined his hand sliding down her perfect, flat stomach finding its way in that inviting space under the bikini stretched tight from hip to hip. Ahhh. Her warm, smooth, shaved pubic mound felt so good in his hand. His middle finger curled up and down her slit hoping to feel the first bit of moisture. Listen to her moan as his hand found the top of her clef and pressed in.

Ray goes into first person fantasy mode: A second hand joins mine. A man's hand. Large and strong. Both of of our hands work over her pussy lips as they bloomed and she moans softly. She closes her eyes to soak in the pleasure of two men attending to her body. Four hands caress her, pinch her nipples and slide up and down her curves. One hand on each thigh. Our finger tips lightly trace her tight legs up to her stomach, and back. Each time coming closer and closer to her pubic mound. We tease her and make eye contact. With her, then each other. We watch her hips rotate, pushing her blooming pussy higher in the air.

Ray is stroking his cock for all its worth with this fantasy playing in his head.

Two hands and four fingers spread her pussy lips at the same time. Our fingers intertwine as they sink deep into her. She moans and encourages us. "Fuck yes. Do that. Fuck. Deeper!"

I lean in and devour her right breast. The other guy presses his face into her pussy filled with four fingers. The other guy pulls his fingers out loaded with pussy juice and spreads it on a breast for me to enjoy. He feels his tongue between my fingers as he gets more aggressive eating her. I take a look at this trim, bearded twenty something guy and get immensely turned on feeling his tongue on my sloppy fingers now deep in her pussy. I can feel her lips throb around our efforts.

It's all in his imagination and it results in a nice, intense orgasm. The crown opened on Ray's hard stretched dick and two, long thick streams of cum land on his stomach. He is still hard and continues long slow strokes from tip to balls and back. He rubs the oozing cum into his penis. Then he considers the pool of white cum now sliding slowly off his stomach. Before it can touch the sheets, he scoops up a wad of cum and licks it. Still warm, he cleans himself up, now eagerly lapping cum off his fingers.

The advantage of living alone is being uninhibited. He lay naked, his cock beginning to deflate. He cupped is ball sack and rolled the balls around in his hand while reaching for another gulp of Scotch.

**************

Early daylight filled the room and he came out of sleep slightly disoriented.

"Damn, I slept thru the night." He looked himself over and played with some of the now dried cum in his chest hair.

The cell phone chimed while an alert on the computer brought him back to reality. After quickly viewing the texts and emails from work, he showered, ate and headed to the office.

His work station greets him with a pile of phone messages and more emails to scroll through. The diversion of the night before is quickly erased with the crushing reality of project management

One of the emails is from Arden. It was almost ten when he got a chance to check Arden's message.

'Hey. You have a good night? I thought thoughts about you. Hope you felt them in the night. (Devil face emoji.')

OK, I'll play,

'You could say that. I need to change the sheets.'

Send.

Within moments a new email appeared with a photo of a smokin hot body in a revealing body suit showing very nice B cups with extra hard nipples.

"Geez, this woman is killin' me," he thought.

Around 10 AM he felt secure enough to get down to the gym for an early vigorous thirty-minute workout. Now hot and sweating he quickly striped and headed for the showers. On the way back to the locker he dried off and looked around the corners of the room for cameras.

Ray's friend Gerry, his sometime play friend, was sitting on the bench near his locker getting ready for a work out.

"Damn Ray, you look tasty today." Gerry leered at Rays ample cock, now warm and slightly extended from the shower. "You want to get dinner tonight? I'm making pork loin."

The new found sexual interest from the inappropriate emails were reviving a level of horniness Ray had not felt for some time. He readily agreed.

"I think that would be good for me," Ray responded. "A good pork in the loins might be nice."

Now standing naked next to Gerry, his cock at face level the temptation was too much. Gerry quickly slid up the inside of Ray's thigh ending with a light squeeze on the balls.

"Shit, dude, there's fucking cameras everywhere," Ray said, pulling away and scanning the walls.

"Really?" Gerry stood and looked around. "Hope they get my best side." Gerry stripped off his shirt revealing a well defined chest and the start of what will become six pack abs.

"You're fucking impossible," Ray responded as he got dressed.

"You know very well I'm not impossible," Gerry dropped into his fake swish intonation and leered at Ray. "Gotta boogie, see you at eight dear." He kissed Ray on the cheek, turned and left.

Ray turned beet red and was going to call after Gerry that he was an 'asshole' but immediately knew Gerry would have a sexual comeback.

**************

On the way up the elevator his phone dinged several times heralding the arrival of emails and text messages. One email stood out. It contained a full-frontal naked photo of himself obviously just taken in the locker room.

"Fuck," he thought. "Where the fuck? I didn't see any camera pods."

He stepped out at his floor scrutinizing the image. Wasn't from the ceiling. It was low angle, like from a person in the room. He thought hard about who he passed in the locker room.

The message with the photo said,

'so do you do Madge Calls when you want an adventure?'

"Madge Call? What the fuck is a madge call?"

Clearly Arden way elevating the game. At his desk Ray searched Madge Call and read the results. "Oh, it's a Madge Cull.... an 18th century English term for homosexuals looking for a hook up, or 'culling' for other men. Mostly in parks in the evening."

He tapped out a response:

'Would you like a closer look? How did you get that image?'

Send.

There was a quick response:

'We can access any cell phone on the Wi-Fi and collect photos. I just tracked one that was near you in the locker room. Too bad no one carries a phone in the shower LOL (leering devil emoji).'

Moments later another email arrived with a close up of Gerry seated at dick level, his hand clearly holding Ray's ball sack.

The message read:

'I love that you are open to things with men. Do you dominate? Or is catamite more to your liking?'

"WTF is a catamite?" he thought. A quick search revealed yet another archaic term. Today we would call a catamite a bottom. The older use was generally derogatory, especially if it was an older gentleman.

Ray thought, "This is getting out of hand. HR is going to find this and valuable or not, I'll be out."

'This has to stop on a work email. We're both going to get fired. Give me your private email.'

Send.

Ray picked up his cell and searched his contacts for another long-time employee of the company, Kelly Daves in Human Resources.

"This is Kelly," the voice on the phone answered. All business.

"Hey, Kelly, its Ray."

"I know, I have caller ID. It is the 21st century. Haven't heard from you for a bit."