A/N: Thanks for all the sweet comments! And a huge thank you to lizzylizbian who's not only the author of Unconventional Assistance, the awesome fic this little piece is inspired by, but who has from letter one on been nothing but sweet and encouraging and supportive.

I know I don't name my chapters, but if I was to give this chapter a name it would be "torn"... for several reasons.

Chapter 4:

Dear Brittany,

This will be my last letter to you.

Whatever is going on between us, or what's not going on, it doesn't matter. It's not real. There is no tidal wave coming, washing my doubts away and carrying me to some lost island with you.

This has to stop.

Yesterday felt so good, too good to be true. I know people use this phrase to express their hope. They are led by faith and have a basis to build it on. For us, though, that's not the case. We will never be together.

I have a reputation to lose, Brittany. I can't give up everything I've worked for, everything I've built, for a silly affair with my assistant.

I can't lose my head over someone who isn't even able to express what she wants.

What were you thinking? I am your boss. You can't approach me like that.

And I can't approach you.

Do you know what would happen if I'd made any advances on you? Hellfire would break lose, Brittany. And I'm not just talking about the media.

Do you know what happens to people who sleep with their assistants?

I'm not going to be Steve Phillips.

I'm no Bill fucking Clinton!

"It's okay?"

No, it's not. It's not o-fucking-kay to assault me and make me believe. And it's not okay to just leave me behind, to pretend nothing happened. Something happened, Brittany. Something did happen.

Why can't you at least tell me what that was? What it could be?

You have nothing to lose, so what is it that you want?

And what was I thinking?

Dreams are dreams for a reason, Brittany. They have to remain in one's head. They only feel right, because we can shape them to be anything we want.

Our thoughts, they are like modeling clay. If you add a little pressure here and carve a little piece out there you can form whatever, you can make your brain believe anything.

Even that your office is a safe spot.

Even that you're not alone.

You can create a surrounding that never lets you sleep, never quiets down, never lets your mind wander too far into the emptiness that is your life.

The office, that's where I can shine. There is no one wanting anything from me other than my professional advise, my orders. I can lose myself in work, in annoying phone calls and exhausting debates over contract details.

It offers me a shell made of paperwork and reputation.

It's different at home.

No one cares who I am when there's only me around. No one protects me from myself. And of course, you won't ever be protecting me, either.

When I don't have my home, I cannot lose the office, too.

I cannot let my dreams interfere with reality.

And I'm definitely not going to be on one list with James E. McGreevey and Jim West.

So, I'm sorry.

Goodbye.

- S.

Dear Brittany,

Not even a day has passed and, ugh, who am I kidding?

How could I hope that for once you wouldn't smile at me the way you do? How could I make myself believe I'd be able to resist your charm? Isn't it wicked how different everything seems at night? How the cool air of the next morning makes you fat-headed, makes you swim in false confidence? As if the rising sun would lift your ego, dragging it up into the sky with it.

And then the light blinds your eyes so you don't see the upcoming storm.

Just the slightest grazing of our fingers, Brittany, when you handed me my coffee and I'm right back in the depth of the second circle.

Sometimes I wonder: Would I be released if I managed to commit a sin even greater? I tried being angry and eventually couldn't.

Whilst a part of me knows I rightfully deserve the punishment for breaking all my vows, I would prefer any other hell over mine. Minos, you must have been mistaken! Come back and sentence me anew!

I should have said 'no' the first time. Or yesterday. Or any other day between. Instead I let the storm pull me into your direction, helplessly floating away from everything I've built my life upon.

I've given up my power when I sat down to write this first letter to you. With the first syllable I sealed my fate.

"Dear". That's exactly what you are to me. There is no going back from there. I cannot un-write it. I cannot un-feel us. These letters are proof of my weakness.

I let you be in charge. Not because that's what you ask of me, but because I have no choice.

But, Brittany, with my emotions and my body like cards on the table and with you holding on to your own hand so tightly, you are the only one who knows what's going to happen next.

Can't you just let me know?

- S.

Dear Brittany,

Help me?

Has a succubus ever offered anything before? Was there ever a time when Lilith considered giving? For all I know she abandoned Adam, who couldn't live with her demands, who couldn't live with her wanting anything. She didn't give, she took and that cost her paradise.

Or were you merely trying to make up for what you took? Brittany, please know that you don't owe me anything. I will never take more than you can give. I will never demand anything from you. I have never demanded anything from you, have I? You told me you know.

Oh sweet sweet innocent Brittany.

Are you my succubus or am I yours now? Am I haunting your dreams the way you've been haunting mine? The tremble in your voice when you pleaded with me, it suggested so much. Can I dare to hope?

We could be so much more than that. If it wasn't for my job, if there wasn't this huge risk I'm taking by even looking at you the way I do, we could be more.

Help me?

Or is this just my desire taking over once more, blurring the cruel truth until it seems soft and loving.

Help me.

Is that what you were trying to do? So after all this back and forth I've been struggling with, it has always been this easy for you. A business arrangement. You were only trying to be my assistant.

Loyal, discreet, enthusiastic and hard-working. Attributes that fit you so perfectly I wouldn't have to think twice about using them in a letter of recommendation for you.

I never expected you to take it this far.

"We can't". It slipped so easily from my tongue, so quickly with no time to think about it. I couldn't stop it. Maybe somewhere in the back of my head there is a "we" buried somewhere. I'm afraid, it's true, though: "we" really can't.

You can and I can, but there is no "we" for you, is there? And there is no "us" in my career.

So despite my believes, despite what I feel, I will do as you wish. I will lie to keep the us in us alive. I will act and hide within my shell, the shell you obviously like so much. The shell that you are working for.

If that's all I can have, if that is all you are willing to give me, I'll take it. I'll surrender, lay my life into your hands and I will trust that you know the responsibility that comes with that.

But even if I'm wrong, even if you are just my succubus and you're the one who's taking from me, I'll give up myself entirely. If it's my body and not me you want, you can have it. I will accept my fate and I'll gladly give myself to you. Again and again and again.

Sweet Brittany, oh sweet sin.

For I am long yours.

- S.