The Seduction of Mrs. Jones

[Graybread]

(Closed for Maid of Marvels and Myself)


Emily Jones is a married woman, still in love with her husband of ten years, but sharing mostly space and time. Childless, she’s stuck working in a busy office with several dozens of other employees, male and female. It has become a rut, day after day, but today is different.

Today, on Emily’s desk is a single red rose, sitting on an unsealed envelope. The scent of a mans cologne mixing with the perfume of the rose. Inside the envelope, handwritten on fine linen stationary is this letter.

My dearest Emily,
My heart can no longer contain the feelings it has for you. I must tell you my thoughts my desires, my passions.
If I could spend just one day with you, I'd savor each and every smile. I'd hold your hand as we strolled through the park, and we'd talk, we’d talk about love.
If I could spend just one evening with you, I'd spend it looking into your eyes, and with a single smile, you'd see how much I love you.
If I could spend just one night with you, I'd show you what passion lives within my heart.
If I could spend my life with you, I'd bring you joy and happiness, days filled with passionate bliss.
Alas Sweet Emily, is this but the dreams of a lonely heart, a heart that weeps at your every passing.
Take this Rose my Darling Emily, for it is the only face I dare show you today. Hold it near so it may know true beauty, and you may know the scent of my love.


And so, the seduction begins.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The rose on her desk caught her eye immediately of course, but it was the envelope beneath that drew her attention. Finding it unsealed, she lifted the flap and drew out the letter that it held.

"What in the world?" she mused aloud as she read the letter. Despite the dawning realization that she was reading something so obviously not meant for herself, she read it a second time, turning it over to look at the back before reading it a third. Emily wasn't an uncommon name. It had probably been misdirected.

Emily Jones pressed the button on the intercom that connected to her secretary's desk. "Janet, do me a favor. Call personnel and ask them to locate any other Emily's employed here. Then have them send the names to me. Thanks. And yes, please. I will take that coffee you offered me earlier now."

While she waited, Emily's fingertips absent-mindedly traced over the uneven handwriting. Letter by letter. Word by word. Paragraph by paragraph. The cool, smoothness of the stationery. The faint scent of cologne intermingling with that of the rose. She was overwhelmed by a sense of bittersweet longing and couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the Emily whom this man loved so very dearly.

Her eyes wandered back to the rose and she picked it up gently, unable to resist inhaling the rich, heady fragrance. Its deep scarlet petals were soft as velvet where they brushed against her lips. Emily Jones smiled wistfully, remembering a time when she, too, had been in love this way.

 

[Guest]

This was the first time anything like this had happened to me...
Who was this letter from?
Was he tall? short ?
Is he someone who i will be attracted too?
my mind wanderes and wonders.
I stop myself abruptly! I'm 39 and married i do not not play aroun d period!

I stand look at my self in the wall mirror momentarilly flatterded by this approach and wondering what anyone would see attractive in my aging body...although firm and trim for my age.

I brush my brunette hair from my face as i look into my deep blue eyes, biting my bottom lip my hand rests on my stomach...

NO! This is silly i'm 39 not nineteen and these feelings of excitement are inappropriate for my age!

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Emily had finally returned the letter to its envelope and set it almost reverently on the corner of her desk, placing the rose gently on top. She didn't worry about it wilting, the stem was encased in one of thost test tubes florists used. Even so, she couldn't help thinking it was a pity not to have it displayed in a bud vase for all to admire.

The morning passed slowly. She struggled to keep her attention focused on her work despite the fact that her eyes and thoughts kept wandering. She wondered what he looked like and what the real Emily would think when she read her lover's words. She found herself feeling a bit possessive, in fact. Hoping that the other Emily (as she had come to think of her) would cherish his words the way she would do if they had been meant for herself.

Finally, unable to bear the waiting any longer, Emily pressed the button on the intercom. "Janet? Did you hear back from Personnel yet?"

"They only just called back, Mrs. Jones. It seems you are the only Emily here. Yes, I made them check and double check -- even the housekeeping staff. I'm sorry. What is this all about anyway?"

"Thanks a bunch, Janet. It's nothing important really. Just going on a whim. Say, Jan?"

"Yes?"

"Did you see anyone come into my office this morning before I got here? Anyone. Anyone at all?"

"No, ma'am. I've been here since eight as usual. No one gets past Eagle-eye Harmon. You know that. Ohh... " Janet paused as if a light bulb had suddenly lit up in her head. "If all this is about the rose and the note -- I've been dying to know myself who left it. It was already there when I came in this morning. Is it from your husband?"

"Yes. And no, it's not from Harvey. Thanks, Janet. You're a peach." Emily's fingers went back to the letter and the rose. It had to have been misdirected, she sighed. Since there was no card and nothing further to identify the sender, Emily Jones argued her right to take at least temporary possession -- just for safekeeping. She just couldn't let the flower sit there. No, the rose and the sentiment behind it deserved special recognition in the real Emily's absence.

Standing up, Emily opened the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet knowing she had a bud vase stashed there. It wasn't crystal, or even cut glass, but it would serve. She'd bring something more elegant to place it in from home tomorrow.

 

[Graybread]

The seduction contiues

With the beginning of a new day, an other single red rose sits on the desk of Mrs. Emily Jones. The letter beneath it.


My Dearest Emily,
If loving you is a crime, then I am guilty of this crime, guilty of this sweet taboo. I would spend a hundred years, five hundred, a thousand locked away in the darkest dungeons if I could spend just one minute locked in your sweet embrace. If it were a sin to press my lips to yours just once, I would spend all of eternity in damnation for that sweet pleasure. My heart aches at your every passing, but there is no cure for my malady. My heart needs no cure but to gaze upon your radiant face, to hear your breathless whisper, to touch your soft hand in innocent exchange. Your glance sets my passion ablaze that an ocean of waves could not quench.
Come Emily, let us run away, and escape the chains that keep us apart. I long for the day that I can lay my hand upon your soft cheek, to press my lips to your graceful neck and feel the pulse of your heart beneath them. Come with me Emily, let us run.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

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.

 

[Graybread]

Monday morning, another rose, and a special letter.


My Dearest Emily,

The weekends are so terribly lonely without the sound of your sweet voice, the light of your beautiful face, the fire in your sparkling eyes. Time crawls without your presence near me. But a new day has come, the long weekend over. Oh my sweet Emily, I long to hold you, to wrap you in my arms, and feel your warm breasts pressed against my chest. To press my lips just once upon yours and let you taste the love I have for you. I know there is passion in you, my sweet Emily, I see it in your every movement, your every glance, I year it in your every word. Run away with me Emily, let me take you to the exotic places of the world. The city of lovers, the temple of Aphrodite, the white sands of a deserted island where we could lay naked, and make love under the sun, and forget about time. Run with me Emily to the special places of the world. But alas, I fear that time is not yet, and so I give you a song to tell you of my passions. Dream of me sweet Emily, for my love is like a river flowing to the sea.


Ooh baby, mm
When you hold me
Oh oh, when you hold me
The sound

Is it possible I could feel this cool
I could really love you the way I do
Is it possible I could feel this good
I could really love you the way I do

See me (Within the light)
Flowing (Take me to you)
Like the river to the sea
You come down (I'm in the light)
You cover (Pull me to you)
And the waves rush over me

I feel a love light rush over me
I feel the love turn to me
And then your love just creeps over me
Over me

See me (Within the light)
Flowing (Take me to you)
Like the river to the sea
You come down (I'm in the light)
You cover (Pull me to you)

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The weekend had dragged on interminably. Emily busied herself in the garden and played catch up with laundry and cleaning, food shopping -- all the things she didn't have time for during the week. Harvey, too, was in and out -- golf and errands, mowing the lawn; basically doing his own thing as well. They rarely did anything as a couple anymore outside of mandatory family functions which didn't seem to come very often outside of holidays.

Sunday night she'd begun counting the hours until work. Harvey gave her a few questioning glances, but he didn't ask and she certainly didn't tell. There was something intimate and deeply personal about the letters that made it seem almost sacrilegious to discuss them with anyone. Including and especially Harv.

Emily tossed and turned all night, finally waking three hours early for work. She showered and dressed, fiddling over toast and coffee until six thirty; putzed around with the computer for another half hour and finally headed out the door when she decided it wouldn't look too strange if she were only an hour and a half early for work.

The building was virtually empty when she arrived, so Emily didn't have to stop and make small talk on the way to her office. Ridiculous as it seemed, her heart was pounding with anticipation as she neared the door. Had he left another letter over the weekend or had he realized they had gone to the wrong person? Something deep inside her hoped that he had left one -- even if they weren't meant for her.

Emily paused, hand on the doorknob, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning it. When she opened them and stepped in, the first place she looked was her desk.

Had he?

He had!

Pushing the door closed behind herself, Emily hurried to her desk. This was utterly ridiculous and she knew it -- but she just couldn't help herself. Doing as she had done for the last four mornings, Emily inhaled the fragrance of the rose before reverently picking up the envelope and removing the single sheet from inside.

She read it slowly, savoring every word and nuance. Then she read it again. She didn't recognize the lyrics and set the letter aside while she did a quick online search. Flow by Sade. She would pick up the CD at lunchtime.

And now it was time to go back to the others. What had become a ritual demanded she complete it.

Emily unlocked the drawer and removed the ornate box she kept the others in. She'd discreetly penciled numbers under the flaps to keep them in order, though she knew she'd never forget which was the first and which was the sixth, their every word so indelibly etched in her mind.

She could smell a trace of his cologne as she unlocked and lifted the lid. It was rich and musky. Manly yet sensuous. She knew that he was passionate from his words alone, though she wondered what he looked like. Not that it mattered -- but she wondered all the same.

Emily Jones sighed wistfully, adding the newest missive to the steadily growing stack and gently tucked them back into their box for safekeeping. Now she would add the rose to the vase and she could begin her day.

 

[Graybread]

Sitting on the desk of Mrs. Emily Jones, another letter, another rose.

My Dearest Emily,

I wish I had the gift of rhyme, Emily, for my heart is filled with poetry for my love for you. But I fear I cannot, for you are the poem, and I have not the words to compare to you. You are a ballad, sweet Emily, a ballad of love in your every move, you every smile and glance. You are, as they say, ‘Poetry in motion’.
I watch as you move by me. The swing of your hair, the sway of your hips, the bounce of your breast. I long to hold your naked breast in my hand, to feel the heat of your passion, to suckle your rigid nipple and taste your desires. I dream of you in my bed Emily, my hand along your silken thigh, your hair spread across my pillows, your eyes dreamy with your passions. You are the poem Emily, my poem of forbidden passion, my sweet taboo.
Come to me Emily, let us find our secret place in a world of heated love and passionate desires.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Emily was riddled with guilt. At the office she was coming dangerously close to missing deadlines despite the fact that she went in early. Okay, it was to try to discover the man who was leaving the love letters, but even so. She'd been skipping lunch meetings, forgetting to return calls; and she was preoccupied at home, too. She'd burned more than one dinner this past week, forgot the dry cleaning. She seemed always lost in daydreams of deserted islands, laying naked under stars, lovers surrounded by the mysterious shroud of various ancient ruins, poetry and wine by firelight, quiet walks and loud, desperately intense lovemaking.

She considered just throwing the letters away unread. They had become an obsession that was ruining her life. She lived and breathed for each successive one, not unlike a junkie craving her next fix. Emily Jones was addicted... to words, ideas, images. To things that had no place in her life -- her married life. One thing that hadn't passed her attention was Harvey giving her strange looks, though he never asked what was wrong. And that made her wonder if what she was doing could be considered cheating...

The chime of the elevator as its doors slid open signalled that Emily had reached her floor and she stepped out, hurrying toward her office, all thoughts save for wondering whether there would be another letter, another rose waiting for her as she let herself in.

 

[Graybread]

Sitting on Emily’s desk was a yellow rose this morning, as sweetly scented as any red rose. And beneath it, an envelope the same vibrant yellow.

My Dearest Emily,

You are the sun upon my face, the warmth in my day. The first thoughts of you each morning brings life to my lonely heart. Oh sweet Emily, your smile is the radiance in my everyday, you are the sunshine of my life. Fly with me Emily, fly with me into the sun where we shall be consumed with love and passion. You are the heat of my soul dear Emily, fly with me to the ends of the universe. Let us escape the confines of this bitter world and find passion among the stars. Let us fly to heaven, where you are the fairest of all the angles. Escape with me my love, before my empty heart is clouded with your absence.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Inhaling the heady fragrance of the rose, Emily sank down into her chair caressing her lips with its velvet soft petals. What would his lips feel like against hers? Her mind wandered much as she imagined his mouth would... stopping at the hollow of her neck, brushing downward, suckling at her nipples before resuming the trek. Lower and lower still. Over her mons, ever closer to the center of her private garden. Parting her own dew-covered petals before finally arriving at the fragile bud nestled within.

She gasped aloud as her body was consumed by the swelling, undulating, crashing waves of an orgasm. She hadn't even touched herself!

Sitting upright, Emily pushed the letter aside and set the rose beside it. This was getting completely out of hand and only she could put an end to it. It was time to wake up from this flight of fancy her overactive imagination had taken her on. Vicarious or not, she was having an affair -- even if it was only of the mind. Then again, that is where all affairs began, didn't they? Inside the mind.

As much as she was loath to end her solitary tryst, Emily knew that she must set this man straight. Let him know that she, Emily Jones, was not same Emily that he believed was reading these billet-doux and enjoying the sweet-scented blooms he was leaving every morning. Knowing that she was nothing better than a thief, she took out a sheet of her own stationery and began:

Good Morning... For it will be morning when you read this.

I am afraid that I have let this case of mistaken identity go further than I should have allowed. I am not who you believe I am.

Albeit your ladylove and I share the same first name (mine is Emily also), my surname is Jones -- thief, larcenist, filcher, cheat and fraud. I have read, saved and reread the missives you have left daily, delighted in and kept each pristine bloom, held my silence despite the fact that I knew they had been misdirected. I am, kind sir, nothing more than a Peeping Tom.

The box on which this note to you rests, contains all of the letters you have left. I am sorry to say that I cannot replace the roses as well. And I will never be able to regain for you the time you took composing these words for a woman who truly deserves them.

If I spent the rest of my life apologizing, it would not be enough. I am so very, very sorry.

Emily (Jones)

Folding the letter, Emily slipped it into a matching envelope before retrieving the box she'd kept the letters in from its sanctuary.

There would be no more mooning over something or someone she had no business even taking an interest in. She had a husband at home who loved her very much, she was certain -- even if their passion had faded over time. That is where she needed to concentrate her energies now. Not on some fanciful chimera. A foolish schoolgirl crush on a person she would never meet. Never know. And should not have hoped to.

Centering the box on her desk, she placed the letter on top of it in the same spot that he always left hers. No! Not hers, dammit!

Picking up the phone, she dialed Harvey's cel. No answer. Okay, it was just as well. New day. Old love. Emily Jones was bound and determined to revive her own flagging marriage instead of substitution fantasy for what she lacked at home.

Picking up her bag, she paused only long enough to let Janet know she was leaving the office for home and would not likely be back that day. Possibly not tomorrow either. Somehow, she just couldn't bear the thought of never receiving another of those... Enough! she chided herself. Enough.

"Cancel all of my appointments for the next couple of days will you, Janet? I'll phone in later and let you know what's going on."

Without a backward glance, Emily headed for the bank of elevators, planning out how to revive the missing links in her marriage and hoping it was possible.

 

[Graybread]

Sitting on Emily’s desk was a dozen long stemmed roses, and written on the back of Emily’s letter.


Ah my dearest Mrs. Jones, you are indeed a thief, for you have stolen my heart, my very soul. Each word, each bloom was meant for you and no other. Silence may be yours, but my heart sings in your very presence. Escape with me dearest Emily and know no sorrow, for a life with you would bring only sweet pleasure, sweet ecstasy. The letters are yours as is my heart, the roses too, to show the passion that grows within me. Run with me Emily, run with me while time is still ours.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Emily stopped off at the grocery store on the way home. Salad greens, baking potatoes and a crusty loaf of Italian bread later, she was on her way to the butcher where Mr. Micelli greeted her fondly. "Special occasion?" he asked when she ordered filet mignon. A bit puzzled by her reply, he merely shrugged when she said, "I'm looking for a couple who somehow lost their way, one from the other."

Keeping an eye on her watch, she set the table while the food was cooking, then ran upstairs to shower, putting on a simple black sheath that Harvey had always said looked great on her. Emily wanted everything to be perfect.

Both of them were at fault, she mused thoughtfully as she set a lovely Bordeaux to chill. Between work and everything else they'd simply allowed complacency to become the norm. She wanted... no, needed... to get back what they had lost.

At half six, the phone rang and she picked it up. It was Harvey. "Em? It's me. Sorry to spring this on you last minute, but I have to travel. There's a client in Omaha... Emily?" She hadn't said a word while he spoke. "I'm sorry. I won't be home til Monday evening."

Tears streaming down her face, Emily whispered, "I love you," but he had already hung up. "The best laid plans of Emily Jones... " she murmured, returning the handset to the cradle before walking into the kitchen where she promptly threw the meal she had prepared into the garbage.

Despondent, Emily decided to take the next couple of days off anyway. With Harvey out of town and her intentions to resuscitate the romance in their marriage derailed, she had Janet drop off some files and worked from home though she didn't reschedule any of the appointments she'd had her secretary cancel. Mostly it was mindless busy work, but still not enough to keep her from thinking -- thinking and Emily was sometimes a volatile combination.

By the time Sunday night rolled around, Emily had convinced herself that Harv was having an affair. He hadn't even phoned once. As for the mysterious man with the letters and roses, she was relieved that it was finally ended. The note she'd left for him ensured that. In her current state of mind, she knew what was likely to happen.

For the first time in ages, Emily took her time going to work. "Morning, Janet," she called out as she passed her secretary's desk carrying a box of files. "Set up meetings with... "

The box fell to the floor with a crash that brought Janet running. "Everything okay?" she asked, scrambling to pick up the paperwork that had scattered all over the floor.

"Yes. No. I'll pick that stuff up. You go do... " Emily's voice trailed off as she stared at her desk. A dozen roses and what appeared to be yet another note.

"Who?"

"Dunno," Janet shrugged, continuing to place papers and folders back into the box. "They were just... there. I'll... umm... take these to my desk and sort them out there, okay?"

Emily nodded, waiting for the other woman to leave before picking up the flowers and the note and tossing them into the wastebin. Two minutes later, she had rescued them and was carefully opening the envelope.

She hadn't expected to see what she read there, and just couldn't shake it from her mind, no matter how hard she tried. He knew who she was! He loved her! Run away with me. Run, he said. Maybe it was a joke, maybe it wasn't, but by the end of the day, Emily had written a reply.

Where and when?
I'll be there.
Yours,
Emily​

Damned if she did and damned if she didn't. Emily knew that Harvey didn't want her, so why the hell not.

 

[Graybread]

Harvey walked into his wife’s office a few minutes before she was to leave for the day.

“Hi,” he said as he sat the large bouquet of two dozen red roses on her desk. “I ran into some guy in the hallway. He said these were for you, and this note.”

He sat on the edge of her desk and opened the envelope, pulling out the note.

“Hmmm, that’s odd,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “It’s blank.”

He turned to Janet who was standing in the doorway grinning from ear to ear, and nodded to her. She stepped to her desk and whispered into the phone. In an instant the music changed on the overhead speaker system.

Me and Mrs. Jones
We got a thing goin'on
We both know that it's wrong
But it's much too strong
To let it go now

“Maybe the note should read something like this;” he said, looking back at his wife, tossing the blank paper on her desk.

“My dearest Emily, my heart can not wait any longer. It bursts with the love I have for you, it aches for the mere smile of your face.”

We meet every day at the same cafe
Six-thirty and no one knows she'll be there
Holding hands, making all kinds of plans
While the juke box plays our favorite songs

“It longs for the touch of you gently hand, the shy glance of your eye. Run with me my precious Emily and let me fills your nights with unknown bliss.”

Me and Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones
We got a thing goin'on
We both know that it's wrong
But it's much too strong
To let it go now

“I will never let it go my sweetest Emily, never until I hold you in my arms and taste the passion on your lips.”

We gotta be extra careful
That do we don't build our hopes up too high
Because she's got her own obligations
And so, and so, do I

“I have but one hope, one obligation my dearest Emily. That you will escape with me into Paradise. Let us spend the days on the white sands and the nights in candle light.”

Me and Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones
We got a thing goin'on
We both know that it's wrong
But it's much too strong
To let it go now

“Nights filled with passion as red as this rose,” he continued, plucking one of the roses from the vase and handing it to her, the music continuing to play overhead.

Well, it's time for us to be leaving
It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside
Now she'll go her way and I'll go mine
Tomorrow we'll meet
The same place, the same time

“Yes Mrs. Jones, it’s time for us to be leaving, but we will be going the same way.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an other envelope, tossing it onto her desk. “Paradise Mrs. Jones, cruise tickets to Hawaii, Tahiti, and other places in the South Pacific, places with white sandy beaches, thatched huts and moonlight over the ocean. It’s a conspiracy you know,” he said, glancing quickly toward the doorway, where he knew Janet would be standing behind. “You have four weeks vacation accumulated, it starts tomorrow, it’s already worked out.”

He nonchalantly crossed his hands across his lap as he sat on the edge of her desk, giving her just a moment, the corner of his mouth turned up in a sly grin.

“Run with me my dearest Emily that we may find our deepest passion, our unfulfilled love, and fill our lives with ecstasy, I think that’s what the note should say.” he added.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

A gauntlet of emotions tore through Emily as she slowly realized that her mysterious stranger had been her husband all along. A flush of shame spread over her face as she accepted the rose, an enormous lump materializing in her throat as she struggled to stanch the flow of tears that were welling up in her eyes.

"I was going to leave you. I... "

Harvey's arms encircled her waist, pulling her body gently into his as his lips covered hers, softly, gently, before breaking away and looking into her eyes. "It's my fault, Em. I got so wrapped up in work and... "

Emily covered his lips with her finger. "No, Harv. I was so stupid! I should have tried harder. I wanted... "

Her words were lost as Harvey reclaimed her mouth, Emily's hands curving gently over his shoulders, twining around his neck as her body melted into this sweet man whose love she'd been so foolishly ready to discard. Returning her husband's kiss with bittersweet fervor, Emily fed from the sweetness of his mouth mindlessly, passionately, murmuring... "Take me away, my dearest heart. Take me."

Neither of them heard the door to the office close quietly beyond them, all sounds deafened by the music coming now from their hearts.

 

[Graybread]

And so ends the Seduction of Mrs. Jones.

I want to thank all of you that followed this story, you are my motivation.

And a special thank you to Maid for indulging me. She, as always is my inspiration, and a joy to write with.

Just to let you know, she and I have something else in the works in the near future.