End March 1919
Tired after having driven home Mrs Crawley, Miss Swire and Mr Crawley, Tom Branson opened his door and made a beeline to his bed, not caring to light a candle and hardly undressing from his uniform: he just took off his jacket, waistcoat and boots, and then collapsed on his bed.
The morning after, while preparing for the day ahead, he saw an envelope lying on the floor by the door. A sole brownish footmark was printed on it: he had probably stepped on it before taking off his boots and going to bed.
Knowing full well whom the missive was from, he tore the envelope opened and begun to read.
My dearest,
I was so thrilled to discover in your last letter that you had bought a typewriter! It looks very professional and serious. I'm sure it'll help you find a new position.
I was also intrigued that your typewriter had a key specially made for a heart-shaped symbol! I didn't know such a thing existed on the market… Is it what made you decide on this particular model, or is it sheer chance?
Don't feel bad for buying it, like you I think it's a sensible investment. Money well spent. So don't apologise, there's nothing to forgive.
In fact, there really is nothing to forgive. I blush to admit it, but I too did have some thoughts about you that are certainly not very ladylike, and it is very probably even less ladylike to tell you of that. I hope I'm not shocking you too much; you may judge me quite bold for it, but I also hope it won't tarnish your view on me nor your idea about my person. I can't help but have you in my thoughts, in my mind, and very much under my skin. And talking about skin, I can't help but dream about yours, wondering how it feels, and even sometimes how it tastes…
At this point in his reading of Sybil's words, Tom had to stop and draw a sharp and deep intake of breath. He noticed it was a rather hoarse and shaky breath, and at the same time his free hand had clenched slightly into a fist, while his toes had curled a bit. The effect and power that woman's mere words had on his being were surreal.
I'm well aware it's not entirely proper from me either to have such thoughts, but I tell you this to let you know you don't have to feel bad nor apologise for your thoughts, or else I have to as well. Well I suppose we'll both have to apologise to each other, and preferably in person and in a manner that we both find satisfying, yet seemly, at least for the time being – alas!
He smiled at that: he was feeling rather satisfied that he could get her a bit hot and bothered, as much as she was making him. His rather smug nature couldn't help but feel proud of it. What's bred in the bone will come out in the flesh. Well, better not think about 'flesh' right now.
Until then, I can only send you all the kisses and caresses this mere paper can hold and deliver.
Tenderly yours,
S
PS: Interesting book, maybe we should try to pass it around downstairs…