E is for Envelope
Timmy licked the seal on another envelope and firmly pressed the flap closed before adding it to the growing stack upon his desk.
Some sort of company mail, staff-wide. Only another hundred or so to go. Another job requirement well beneath the scope of his education.
"Aren't you done yet? C'mon, I wanna see you work that tongue."
Timmy paused mid-lick, tongue pressed firm against the next envelope, eyes locking with those of his boss upon what he presumed a quite unintentionally homoerotic declaration. He allowed a final drag of his tongue along the length of the paper, in spite of the fact that Russell was watching his moves with an unsettling sort of intensity.
Yes. In spite of this fact, most assuredly.
He then released the envelope back to the desk, and grimaced slightly. "Disgusting. If I'm going to do this, I'm not going to keep at it this way." And he left his desk, towards the hall.
"Where are you going?! You've got a job to do, these envelopes aren't gonna seal themselves, you get your tongue back here!"
"I'll find a sponge. You have a tongue as well, you should know, you certainly wag it enough."
"What did you just-"
"Nothing!"
Russell grumbled in Timmy's absence and mocked him, looking to the mess of mail upon the desk. "'You certainly wag it enough,' neh-neh-neh, fine, whatever, I can lick a stupid envelope."
And he snatched the envelope Timmy had been holding, placing his tongue upon the seal...and he started to lick.
And he paused, tongue pressed against the paper in realization.
The seal was wet.
Russell's eyes widened very slowly; his breathing slowed as he looked around the empty office.
'Oh god, oh god, oh god.'
Timmy had already licked the envelope.
For a moment Russell panicked, but never did he think to retrieve his tongue. No, it seemed easier to hyperventilate, envelope poised delicately between his fingers, lingering between his lips.
'Timmy germs! Ah damn it, it's like you're frenching the guy, what are you doing?! Spit it out, already!'
And his eyes closed down; his breathing steadied.
And slowly, very slowly, he licked. Russell's tongue ran the length of the seal of the envelope with a careful, calculated precision.
A long, slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue against the smooth, wet seal where shortly before had rested the mouth of another.
The movements of a man thinking deep, forbidden thoughts.
Imagining.
If he really concentrated... maybe... he... could... taste...
"Hey, Russell."
Russell jumped, eyeing Adam with uneasy breaths as he thrust the tool of his imaginings back upon Timmy's desk. He looked back to the envelope with a sudden disdain, reaching down, pounding the seal shut.
He spoke not a word to Adam as he walked swiftly past, all the way towards his office, and closed the door firmly behind him.
When Timmy returned shortly thereafter, Adam turned to him.
"Uh, hey, what's up with Russell?"
"What do you mean?"
Adam glanced back towards Russell's door, then to Timmy. "Huh...nothing, I guess. Hey, those ready to mail? I'll take 'em down for ya."
"Why yes, just-" Timmy looked to his desk, and touched the freshly sealed envelope curiously, sensing something off. He quickly shrugged the thought away. "Yes, of course."
As Adam took the stack of mail for delivery, Timmy chanced to notice Russell peering out his office window; he pulled back quickly upon their eyes meeting.
Most curious.
The next day, Timmy found a box on his desk. He opened it up to find a grand supply of envelopes.
Self-sealing envelopes.
"Give your tongue a break," muttered Russell as he walked past Timmy's desk, eyes locked to the ground as he made a beeline straight for his office.
Yes. Most curious indeed.