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'I see that you are home again. I pray that your travels went well for you. Was it business or pleasure that took you away for a week? Perhaps it was pleasure, a tropical locale next to the beach where you could walk barefoot in the sand. I can well imagine that your feet and toes are as long and slender as your fingers are. But a steely strength lies under those fingers. A touch... A fantasy, A prayer, A kiss. Everything you feel, you express through your hands.
'What is it about you that enthralls me so? Would that I could conjure the bravado to come talk to you face to face, to hear your voice from your lips. What heavens could I touch if I were to look into your eyes, to hear a whisper from your lips. I would spend a year in silence just to better understand the sound of a whisper from your lips. From a throat so strong and over lips so tender, I would imagine your voice to be silky yet steely at the same time. Perhaps exotic to match your looks... But a whisper from your lips could at once melt ice and fan the flames of passion. Am I imagining things, my mysterious gentleman? Would that I had a name to put with your mouth, your eyes, your throat.
'Perhaps there is nothing to say anymore... Thinking of you, dreaming of your fingers grazing over my jawline, leaves me speechless. Here I am, writing long flowery letters to you... You who even without knowing it can leave me both breathless and gasping for more. Is this insanity that plagues me now? I don't know, I don't care. I must be insane, for what else can it be called? I dream about your fingers touching my skin, your breath fanning over my throat, my lips, and your lips touching mine.
'You must think I am mad. Perhaps I have finally crossed the thin line between admiration of you and making you uncomfortable. If I have, I beg your forgiveness. Perhaps, one day, I will work up the courage to knock on your door.
'With Hope'
Frank sat back in his bed, the letter drifting down across his lap. "No, dear Hope... I am not uncomfortable by what you have written. I am intrigued that you could know so much about me, yet never have met me." He slid out of the sheets and walked to the window. The light was still on as he leaned one arm up against the window frame and looked out at the night sky with it's thousands and thousands of dotted lights in the horizon.
"Where are you Hope? What is your name? I hope that you do not mind me calling you 'Hope' as that is what you have expressed in all of your letters. I am amazed that for someone you do not know, you are so entranced. You say that it is hope that guides you through the day, the hope of seeing me again through my window. Well, Hope, it is you that guides me through the day, the hope of finding another of your sweetly scented letters under my door, the hope that I can read your words and smile peacefully for once. Your words are the light in what darkness my day brings to me. You say that the thought of me leaves you breathless? Your words leave me breathless, dear Hope."
Frank turned around, looking at the letter that lay on the bed where he'd been sitting. Another smile crept across his lips as he turned from the window and walked into the next room where he had his desk.
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