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and slightly parted swollen lips. In worship, I would drizzle kisses on her well tufted furrow. Leaning my face forward and lightly pressing my mouth against her hairs, I would pause to breath deep and savior her sacred aroma. I would tenderly part her lips with the very tip of my tongue, taste her long desired warm waiting flesh- sultry, salty and sweaty- carefully grazing just the edges of her inner petals in a slow seductive manner, a cognoscenti of her flesh. She would be a quiet one, the occasional sultry "oh yes," and her quickening breath the only audible signs of her excitement. She would raise her legs, bending them at the knees, draw them back and fully spread her thighs, exposing her steamy rose, giving me complete access to her delicate pink folds, allowing me to trace the very edges of the wet pink petals with the tip of my tongue. The panty would dangle off her left ankle as her feet hung in the air. Her hands would cradle the back of my head and her fingers would interlock. "Touch me," she would whisper and I would gently inserted a finger and coax her waiting inner flesh as I teased her hardened slick bud, my tongue gliding across the slippery nub. Her taste would dance across my tongue, the complex flavors popping on it like well chilled sweet champagne bubbles. Knees and thighs quivering, she would quip in a restrained soft feminine voice,"Yes, yes," as subtle waves grew in strength and rapture slowly wrapped around her until it warmly embraced her delicate body and quietly cascaded her into a shuddering release. "That was good, I mean really good," she said. "Excuse me?" I asked, her comment distracting my reverie. "...The narrators gender is not clear," she commented. "It is ambiguous.... I think there is room for additional story line. Care to publish it?" I asked. "You should expand the story. Do you know where?" she asked. "You know how I value your insight and opinion, show me," I asked. "Havent I already?" she asked coyly, a smitten smirk on her face. I sat not knowing how to respond to the nuanced question. The look on my face must have given me away. "Then you saw?" she asked still smirking. "Yes," I admitted. She smiled. "Good," she started, "lets keep it just between us, our little secret.... Now go write about it, just for me, write more little secrets just for me..."
She returned from lunch prepared for an afternoon of hard work. As Lauren sat down at her desk to review the new manuscripts, she noticed the envelope sitting square in the middle of the blotter. Her name written in calligraphy and the word "Personal" on the lower right hand corner hinted at the senders identity.... It was not a good time to open the letter. There were immediate editorial and publication deadlines. Too many people would be wandering into her office through the afternoon. Yes, she could close her door for immediate


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temporary privacy. Better to let the anticipation build she thought. She propped the envelope up against her computer monitor and went to work. Through the day she found herself looking down at it, wondering what awaited within the tight folds. She smirked and went back to work. Occasionally she would glimpse down to confirm it was still there, look at her watch in anticipation, her eagerness slowly overtaking self discipline and patience. She had to keep reminding herself that 5:30 PM was just around the corner. Alas, the moment arrived. Most had left the office. She closed the door, just to ensure anyone who was lingering would not interrupt her. Reaching for the envelope, the telephone rang. "Dam it," she thought concerned it was a west coast client calling her after hours ignorant of her east coast time. She dutifully answered the call. "Lauren," her said with a smile to her voice, masking her impatience and annoyance. She fondled the envelope as they spoke. The sharp edges and corners playing on her fingertips, drawing the better of her attention as she twirled it around in contemplation. The conversation was lasting longer than expected. She ended it as soon as possible. Lauren appreciated the senders dedication and efforts- from the hours spent writing, the small tasks of personalizing the envelope and delivering it, the attention paid to the detail of waiting for her to go for lunch so it could be left a waiting surprise when she returned. All carefully premeditated acts for her benefit. With great care she broke the seal holding the flap and a flowery scent emerged. She removed the contents, unfolded the paper and read: "Standing on the train station platform scanning the crowd, I search for you coming out of one of the cars. It is frigid tonight but I am oblivious to the cold as I anticipate your arrival. I spy you walking towards me, your luggage in tow, your eyes darting back and forth looking for me. Then our eyes meet from afar, a smile breaks across your face and your hair bounces as you heighten your pace relieved that we found each other in this foreign place. A long slow warm kiss in the cold precedes any conversation.We stash ourselves away in a taxicab and traverse Quebec head to our hotel retreat. We should not be doing this- we have obligations to others. We have been fortunate nobody has suspected. We sit in boring meetings and glance at each other across the conference table as others prattle on, Our eyes catch and we must look away to avoid arousing suspicions for fear the lust in our eyes will betray us. Prior liaisons have consisting of sporadic clandestine moments of gentle kisses and nothing more, moments intermittently separated by weeks and months at a time. We are deprived by circumstance. Finally, now, many miles from home, we are together. You lean back against me, huddling from the cold, and wisps of your subtle perfume coax my attention. Your legs cross and