A Boo of Letters

Alex increased the setting on his treadmill to a six minute per mile pace. His breathing was labored, becoming almost ragged as he pounded out his fourth mile. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Looking out the window of his fifteenth-story downtown apartment, he could see the outlines of joggers running along the popular riverbank path. Alex knew the weather must have taken a colder turn overnight as all the runners appeared to be wearing jackets.

Alex would have preferred to run outside along the riverbank, but he was not ready to test Miss Becca's tracking system. He doubted her ability to follow his every movement, but for now he had decided not to push it, concluding it better to bide his time and wait, hoping for an opening to exploit. Alex was fully prepared to exercise the patience his teacher demanded. But his version of this virtue was most certainly not what Miss Becca had in mind. Hitting the limit of his cardiovascular system, Alex lowered his pace and ran one more cool-down mile.

Feeling energized by the run, Alex walked into his modern kitchen and made himself a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and a little brown sugar. He sat at the grey marble counter and ate, contemplating the last 36 hours of his life. Alex had slept soundly on Saturday night after a night of little sleep on Friday. After the initial shock of Friday, when Miss Becca had surprised him with her video and letter, he had regained the use of his analytical mind. The act of putting his mind to work had calmed him. This was another puzzle to solve, admittedly a complicated one with all sorts of limitations, restrictions, and moving parts.

He had written his first letter to Miss Becca with his own agenda in mind. Alex wanted Miss Becca to believe he had accepted his fate, so he had written it in a tone that was more submissive than he felt. Alex also wanted Miss Becca to believe he was afraid of her; thus, his questions about her identity and other expressions of concern. Alex did not believe for a second that she would give him this information, but he needed her to think that he was being a good, submissive little pupil. Perhaps she would let her guard down if he played the part well enough.

Alex had no idea what had motivated Miss Becca to go to the trouble of setting this trap for him, but he knew this was no lark on her part. Miss Becca had involved a third person in her game, Veronica, and of itself this told Alex she was highly motivated. No one would take the risk of involving a third person, particularly someone as young as Veronica, in an elaborate blackmail plan without some powerful impetus driving her.

Alex had also considered whether Miss Becca was simply a person driven by sexual compulsion, and that he had the misfortune of becoming the target of her obsession. That scenario was possible, but Alex thought it highly unlikely. There were simply too many safer ways for a person to get their rocks off. Miss Becca's motivations had to be deeper than this unless, of course, she was simply insane. However, her methods and planning so far did not suggest insanity. They suggested calculation. Alex knew he would have to lay the issue of motivation aside for the moment.

Alex turned his mind to the mental list he had spent yesterday afternoon preparing while sitting in his office, blankly staring at his architectural plans. Alex was a methodical person and liked to create lists, but he also knew that writing down his thoughts was a bad idea in light of Miss Becca's claim to be monitoring him. So he ran through the list of things he knew, or possibly knew about Miss Becca.

First, he believed her to be female from the writing style and her name. He could not exclude a male yet, but Alex leaned toward female.

Second, she might drive a beat-up, older silver Acura. Of course, Alex did not know the Acura was Miss Becca's any more than he knew Miss Becca was a woman. But he did know that someone had been in his office between the time he had gone to the bathroom to get paper towels to clean his own cum off the desk and the time he returned. Alex estimated this period of time to be 8-10 minutes, not much time for someone to write the post-script to the first letter and plant the journal and other items in his desk. Between that and adding the scene of him jerking off in the video, Miss Becca must have been in the building, unless she was working with even another person, a prospect Alex found unlikely. Whether it was Miss Becca who planted the journal or not, he knew that someone was in the building. And the only car in the parking lot had been the Acura. It was a lead, as thin as it might be.

Third, Alex had run through the list of all of the people who worked in his architectural firm and who he knew had access to the office. There were 29 employees, between the partners and other staff. He could not recall any of them driving an Acura, but he also had not paid much attention to their cars. Alex could only remember the cars of 11 of them, so there were plenty of people he could not exclude on the basis of a car. Nine of the employees were women, and he made another mental note of their names. He was not ready to exclude any of the firm employees, male or female, as possibilities, although he knew many of them well enough to seriously doubt that they could be Miss Becca.

Fourth, he considered the possibility that the Acura belonged to another tenant. In addition to Alex's firm, there were as many as 20 different businesses in the building, mostly professionals of varying sorts. Alex knew very few of the employees of these businesses. He knew those only in passing, from occasional greetings in the hallway or the parking lot. He estimated there might be as many as 300 people working in the building. The thought of working through all of those names caused Alex to shake his head, temporarily daunted by the challenge. The Acura could belong to any one of them. And even if Miss Becca was another employee in the office building, this did not explain how she had a key to his firm's office.

Fifth, Alex considered that Miss Becca might be part of the cleaning staff, which would explain the keys. Alex began laughing in a half-hysterical manner at this thought because the regular janitor was an overweight, 60-plus-year-old-man named Chuck. Chuck was a good guy, but Alex did not relish the thought of Chuck being his secret admirer and blackmailer. The thought of Chuck jerking off to a video of him wearing women's panties made Alex cringe.

Finally, Alex knew that Miss Becca had some connection to Veronica, having used her as the chief prong in Alex's ensnarement. Looking into Veronica might be the key to all of this, Alex knew, but that was going to require access to the outside world, access Alex lacked until he could adequately test Miss Becca's security system. So, for now, Veronica would have to wait.

Alex decided he would begin with the Acura. To do that, Alex needed help. Alex trusted no one just then, but he needed at least one person to trust. He had carefully considered who that person might be and had settled on her. Tomorrow, he would test her. The consequences of being wrong could be disastrous. But Alex felt he had to take the chance.

After finishing his breakfast, Alex went to his bathroom to shower. Alex removed his running shorts, shirt, and socks. Alex had not worn his panties to run despite his promise to Miss Becca that he would wear them until receiving her next letter. He figured that Miss Becca had given him permission not to wear them after Saturday, and in any event, he assumed Miss Becca would appreciate his respect by not dumping a gallon of his own sweat into them.

Alex stood in front of the mirror naked. He wondered if Miss Becca was watching him. Alex looked good for a 45-year-old. He had a touch of gray in his dark brown hair, although his beard was more gray than brown these days. Alex had the body of a long-time runner, lean, with very light muscle-tone. He was 5 feet 10 inches tall. His face was handsome, but not overly so, and without his beard he looked ten years younger. Alex wondered again what it was that had attracted Miss Becca's attention.

After a long hot shower, Alex stood at the bathroom sink and began washing the panties. He did so gently, just in case Miss Becca was watching. He tossed them in the dryer and drank a cup of coffee. While he waited, Alex thought about his dream of Veronica from two nights ago, the dream where he discovered Veronica with a stiff cock under her panties.

Alex had told Miss Becca about this dream in his first letter, but he had left out a few parts. He was unsure whether to include any of the dream, not wanting to exacerbate an already difficult problem, but he decided to give her a small taste. Alex had learned through the years that you have to play to the audience, to give them what they want, but only insofar as it does not conflict with your own purposes. So, Alex gave Miss Becca what he thought she wanted, a sexy little story revolving around his new panties. There was no way, however, that he was going to tell her the rest of it.

Veronica did have a dick in that dream. And Alex had initially recoiled from it, after which Veronica had begged him to suck it. But rather than the dream ending with her plea, the dream actually ended with Alex servicing her and Veronica cumming in Alex's mouth. The details of that part of the dream were hazy, but the memory of Veronica's hard but silky shaft filling his mouth and throat had been distinct. Alex could not get enough of it. He remembered taking his mouth off of her for just a second or two, holding her shaft in his hand, with spit and Veronica's pre-cum dripping from his lips. And then returning Veronica's plea with his own, "Please don't cum, please baby, don't cum." Alex did not want to ever stop sucking her hard cock, but Veronica had not complied, instead filling his mouth with her warm seed, which he hungrily gulped down.

Alex had woken from this dream and found himself hard. Alex was definitely not gay. He liked fucking women a great deal, so that part of his letter to Miss Becca was true. He was not quite as sure about the bi-sexual part. Alex had never been with a man, but he sometimes had fantasies involving other men. Alex had never told anyone this, and he was not about to share it with Miss Becca.

Alex finished dressing in a comfortable pair of jeans and a university sweatshirt, and retreated to the study in his apartment. This was his favorite room, which he used for reading, music, rest, and reflection. He had this room custom built after buying the apartment following his divorce. Built-in cherry bookcases covered the far wall. The floor-to-ceiling windows, with a magnificent eastern view of the river and the city-scape, stood on the left. A leather chair and ottoman faced the windows, next to a small wooden table for his books and drinks. Alex had installed a high-end audio system with speakers in strategic places throughout the room. Against the doorway wall sat a work desk with a computer. Finally, on the right wall, Alex had an antique, standing writing desk, which he had purchased at auction several years ago.

Alex cracked open an import beer and turned on his stereo, bringing up a Chopin nocturne. He reached for the biography of George Washington he had been reading, settled into his chair, and lost himself in the book, stopping periodically only to grab another beer. Many hours later, Alex realized he had not eaten lunch, and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Alex liked to cook and quickly put together a light dinner of pasta with olive oil and a dash of parmesan cheese, with fresh asparagus on the side.

While cleaning the dishes, Alex heard his phone beeping to indicate he had received a text message. Not thinking much of it, he casually picked the phone up from the counter-top. His heart began racing as he knew that his peaceful Sunday had come to a close. The screen read only: "Miss Becca." She had sent him a text. Alex knew then that she was not completely overstating her access to his personal electronics, as she or someone else had obviously programmed in her phone number. He looked at the screen for a moment, adding one more item to his mental list - a phone number to investigate. Then, he swiped the screen to pull up the message.

Hi, Alex. Hope you are having a good day at home. I sent you an e-mail. I want you to open it and watch the video. Love, Miss Becca.

Alex thought to himself, "Shit, what else have I done," wondering what new compromising situation the video would show. He was surprised she would communicate with him this way. Alex considered whether he should send a return text and then thought the better of it. Instead, he went to his study and turned on his computer, pulling up his e-mail. His inbox contained the promised e-mail from Miss Becca, and again, he noted the address for later investigation. The e-mail had no text, just an attached video file. He nervously clicked on the video to play it.

The video showed the bottom half of what was apparently a woman, sitting in a hard-backed plastic chair, like the chairs Alex remembered from elementary school. Music played, some kind of electronic beat he did not recognize. It was a sideways view, with the woman's back to the left, and legs to the right, filling the screen. Just the hemline of a red dress showing at the top of the screen. Her left leg, the furthest from the camera, bent at an almost 90 degree angle, her heel planted on the floor. Her right leg stretched out, just a small bend in her knee. She has on black, sheer stockings, with the tops and a small portion of the garter straps peeking from under her dress. Her black stiletto heels are tall, probably 3 inches or more. The black patent leather sheen of the shoes contrasted with their bright red soles.

The woman's hands are moving up her right leg, slowly, seductively. Her fingernails are painted black, and a ring with a large purple stone graces the right hand. She starts at her ankles, slowly caressing them, moving up to her calves, circling them. Her hands move to her knee, then her thigh, lightly brushing the sheer fabric of her stocking. Despite the feeling of nervousness he felt, Alex could feel his cock hardening, pressing against the satin and lace of his panties. The way the woman moved, her attention to her long, beautiful legs, was erotic.

As the woman's hands make it above the stocking tops, now touching her bare skin, she begins toying with a garter strap, lightly lifting it with one finger. To the right of the screen, what appears to be the bottom half of a man appears. He is wearing a pin-striped suit, well-dressed. His black shoes are finely polished. The man falls to his knees, and now his face is visible. He is handsome, young, with a light black beard. His hands go to the woman's legs, one on each thigh, stroking them. His hands move to her inner thighs and he pushes them apart, his hands disappearing up her dress, only for them to reappear with a pair of black panties in his fingers, pulling them down over the woman's stockings, over her shoes.

The camera slowly pans out, still not showing the upper body of the woman, but more of the lower half of her dress. The dress is tented, and Alex now knows where this is leading. The man pushes the dress up past the woman's waist to reveal her cock and shaved balls. The man begins licking the head, and then slowly down the left side of her shaft. His mouth reaches for one of her smooth balls, and sucks it between his lips, with his right hand moving to her shaft to begin a slow stroke. He gently releases the first ball from his mouth, pulling her cock up to reveal the underside of her scrotum. He licks the underside with long strokes of his tongue, up onto the bottom of her shaft and then down, moving to the other ball, taking it between his lips. His hand stroking her cock again in long slow movements while he attends to her balls.

The man begins stroking her faster, more urgently. In a swift movement, the man moves his mouth onto her cock, taking half of it in, apparently not just licking, but now sucking. The man continues taking it deeper into his mouth until his nose is touching her pubic bone, and then slides it out. His hands are under the woman's thighs, stroking her bare skin and the tops of her stockings. His mouth plunges down her shaft again, now giving her quick strokes with his tongue, his head bobbing on her. She is pushing her hips into him.

Her cock jerks out of his mouth and she is firing a load of cum onto the man's face, coating him. Her own hand, with the black-painted nails, guiding her shaft so the jets hit him in different spots. When she is spent, her left hand reaches to the man's face, dipping an index finger into a line of cum. She slowly feeds her finger to the man, and then withdraws it. The video ends.

Alex turns off the computer screen. He feels somewhat grateful that the video did not feature Alex himself. But Alex feels an almost desperate urge to masturbate. He feels certain that Miss Becca is watching him, somewhere behind a desk enjoying his torment, and he knows he cannot risk it. Not merely because of her prohibition on masturbation, but because he does not want to show her what a turn-on that video was, that her games are having that kind of effect. Alex returns to the kitchen and pours himself a shot of vodka, gulping it down.

It takes Alex some time to settle himself, but eventually he manages to return to his book and get his mind off the video. He is grateful to wake up sometime after midnight, having fallen asleep in his leather chair. Moving to the bedroom, Alex removes his jeans and sweatshirt. Wearing only his panties, he settles into bed.

The next morning, Alex gets in another run, washes his panties, and arrives at the office. Alex quickly shuts his office door and checks the drawer of his desk to look for the journal. He finds himself strangely disappointed that Miss Becca has not returned it. Wanting to appear normal in case Miss Becca is watching, he turns to his computer and begins working. Around 10:30 a.m., Alex picks up the phone and calls one of the firm's office assistants, Olivia Carson. He asks her to bring the file for an office building his firm is designing.

Olivia walks into Alex's office and gives him a smile. "Good morning, Boss," she intones with a sweet, almost too cheery inflection for a Monday morning. Olivia, who is 27-years-old, has worked at the firm for two years. Olivia has served as Alex's primary assistant for most of that time, and Alex likes her a great deal. She is smart and capable, and it is a bonus that she is also incredibly attractive.

This morning, the first cool fall morning of the year, Olivia has dressed the part. She is wearing a brown plaid skirt with a mustard colored sweater, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. The sweater is tight enough to perfectly frame her full breasts. Olivia also has on tall, light brown boots, and Alex can see she is wearing darker brown tights from the few inches of knee and leg showing between her skirt and boots. Olivia is a vision this morning, and Alex smiles back at her, in part because he knows she is fucking with him by calling him "Boss," a term she started using not long after she started.

Despite the rules against such things, Alex had flirted with Olivia at the beginning. Having a charming and likeable personality, Olivia had flirted back a little, and Alex had hopes of getting somewhere with this girl. Those thoughts were dashed at the firm Christmas party however when Olivia showed up with an equally attractive date who also happened to be a beautiful woman. When he saw Olivia making out with the woman after a few drinks, the conclusion that she was a lesbian was inescapable. The next day at work, Olivia gave Alex a sly grin and began calling him "Boss," knowing she had ended his plans of conquest. The attempt at conquest was over, but the nickname stuck.