Pixies Place Forums - View Single Post - The Seduction of Mrs. Jones

The next morning there was a new letter and a fresh rose. And the next. And the next. Emily found herself looking at her desk before she did anything else when she got to the office.

On the third day, Emily had brought a small box to keep the letters in. It was black lacquer with an inlaid mother of pearl design in the top and sides and a tiny oriental lock to keep them safe from prying eyes. She placed it almost reverently in the bottom drawer of her desk, taking it out each morning to reread each in turn before adding the newest to the steadily growing pile. It had become a ritual for her in a way. As if she were the guardian of some grand treasure.

In a way, that's how she felt about the notes that continued to appear mysteriously on her desk. Emily still believed that they were meant for someone other, but slowly had begun to imagine that they were indeed meant for herself. She tried to picture him in her mind's eye as she breathed in the scent of his cologne that wafted up from the box each morning as she opened it. Wondered what his voice sounded like. Imagined the feel of his mouth on her neck. The touch of his hands.

There were now five perfect roses in the vase on her desk and she'd started coming in a little earlier to see if she could catch the person who'd been leaving them, but to no avail.

And now here it was -- Friday. The next two days she would be away from the office. Three days until the next letter. Or would he leave letters on Saturday and Sunday, too? Maybe he wouldn't leave one on Monday after all. His Emily had obviously not replied so why would he continue? Why did it matter so much to her if he did? She was a married woman, for crying out loud -- and certainly not the Emily these were intended for.

Not for the first time, Emily Jones felt a slight pang of guilt at having deceived the attentive lover whose romantic imagery had begun to fill her days. Regardless of the fact that he wasn't aware that the letters had been misdirected -- they had been, hadn't they? -- she felt as if she owed him an explanation. When all was said and done, she was nothing better than a voyeur. Eavesdropping on someone else's love affair.

Emily sighed. There was no reason to believe that there would be yet another love letter on Monday. If there was, she would reply. If only to apologize... and thank him for helping her to remember what it had been like to love someone the way that he loved.

She looked around the office one last time as she headed for home. Two days. No, three. Monday. For the first time in over fifteen years at this job, she was sorry to see a weekend come and longed for Monday to return.