Forget Me Never by Sable Hunter (books successful people read txt) 📗

I enjoyed what you said about being hard.  Knowing that about you made me wet.  How is that for equal opportunity dirty talk?  I have never participated in sexting or explicit conversation online, but I have to admit I find it exciting.  What makes it exciting is because it’s with you.  I wouldn’t be able to do it randomly, but I have touched you and shared with you and that makes all the difference to me.

Please be careful on your mission.  I am so scared for you.  I’ll be counting the days till you come home.  There is so much I want to know about you.  Thank you for the details about your life.  Now it’s my turn.

My favorite ice cream is cheesecake.  I love Elvis Presley and bubble baths.  My favorite holiday is Halloween and I live to take walks in the rain.  I collect pottery from places I visit and if I had to pick a favorite author it would be Clive Cussler – I just love Dirk Pitt and those adventures he goes on.  Playing piano is the closest thing I have to a talent, and it hasn’t been developed.  Lessons weren’t available to me when I was growing up and all I have is a keyboard, but I can play something if I hear it.  Who knows if I’m doing it right or not, I just play what I feel. 

Your emails are becoming very important to me – as are you.  And about the secret - I’m trying to work up the courage to tell you.  Maybe someday.  I’m just not ready to lose you, yet.  So, I’ll keep it a little longer.  Take care of yourself, my friend.

Savannah

After hitting send, she set aside her laptop and got ready to greet the children.  They would like the project today.  She had bought glass jars and all the ingredients for chocolate chips cookies, plus a red gingham ribbon to tie around the lid.  One of the older girls who had a computer had volunteered to make small recipe cards that they could attach to the ribbon.  All she needed to do now was get the batch she had already prepared in the oven.  Fresh homemade cookies would bring a smile to all of their faces.  Cookies . . . – that reminded her, she’d have to ask Patrick about sending him a care package.  And she’d do that just as soon as the kids were gone.

She had just barely got started when her email alert sounded.  Unable to resist, she went and got her laptop and brought it to the kitchen.  Clicking on her account, she was thrilled to see Patrick’s name.

Savannah, Love

I have an idea.  I’ve been able to download video chat.  Would you try?  The link is below.  I’d love to see your face and hear your voice.  Let’s say we meet here in three hours?  You’ll have to register and send me your info so I can place the call.    I’ll be here, waiting – I hope you join me.

Love, Patrick

*****

“What exactly is your relationship with Miss Doucet, Fred?” Carlyle Randolph had known Fred March for about ten years.  He was an excellent teacher, but their greater bond was an appreciation of the female form.  The professor had turned him on to some excellent online porn sites.

“She won’t give me the time of day.  For some reason the little twit thinks she is too good for me.  And we both know that’s not true.  She’s not paper bag ugly, but she’s close.  If it weren’t for that fine ass and those magnificent tits she hides so well, I wouldn’t bother.”

Randolph chuckled.  He wasn’t blind.  “I’ve jerked off to the sight of those tits more than once.  There’s this one sundress that she wears to work and when she bends over, they hang down like lush ripe fruit.”  Leaning back in his desk chair, he ran his palm over his dick.  Later, as soon as March left, he would see to the problem.

“Damn.”  March wiped a bit of perspiration off his brow.  “Could you put a little pressure on her and get her to go out with me?  A woman will do a lot of things if she thinks her job is in jeopardy.”

Carlyle Randolph looked to the right and to the left, making sure they were alone.  “You really don’t want to go out with her.”

“Why not?”  March didn’t understand.  “I’m not interested in marrying her – I just want to diddle with her a little.”

Leaning near, Randolph whispered.  “She was a Carville baby.”

“A what?  I don’t know what that is.”

“Lepers!  Her parents were lepers up at Carville.”

Fred March began frantically wiping his hands on his pants.  “Shit!  I’ve touched her!”  His voice was carrying over the Cultural Center by now; March wasn’t even trying to be quiet.

“No! No!” Randolph tried to hush him.  “I didn’t say that.  She’s not sick.  Savannah had to pass a physical to get this job.  What I mean is that if word got out about her past and it was common knowledge that you had dipped your wick into questionable territory. . .” he let his voice trail off.  “Most folks don’t understand leprosy and they would lump you in the same unclean category that they put her.  Working with her is one thing, socializing with her is something else entirely.”

“But, Randolph,” he sputtered, “people know of my interest.  I haven’t tried to hide it. Damn!”  He got up and paced around.  “How many people know about this?”

“I don’t know,” Randolph answered frankly.  “She told me and Davis when we interviewed her.  And I would have recommended that we turn her down, but political correctness would have bit us in the ass.  She doesn’t offer the information freely, but I’m sure there are others that know.”

“She should have warned me.”  Fred March was seething.  He was red faced and his fists were clenched at