Dreaming a street-wise Hercules

The last sentence was written diagonally, starting on the left side correctly but then leaning downward, as if the hand was about to fall asleep and reacted that way to the author's writing will.

Tyrone realized that Emily had fallen asleep BEFORE she burned those papers. If she had wanted to write to him, she would have used the pc (the pretexts could have been countless): she had chosen pen and paper precisely to prevent the message from being delivered to him!

Most likely, Tyrone supposed that the scanning was done by Alcmena, the Greek cook/factotum who did not read the English alphabet well, especially cursive. She had made that mistake before. She had also scanned among the attachments the sports results of a Greek soccer team, the weather forecast for the weekend (a storm was predicted), and a list of song titles for a playlist, which evidently had nothing to do with accounting for the archaeological mission.

And probably Emily had found the sheets exactly where she had left them and had not realized that she had sent an attachment of several pages, unknowingly attaching the scan made by Alcmena.

Following this assumption, Emily was completely unaware that he had already read everything.

As per habit, ignoring the many timers on the pc screen, Tyrone looked at his wrist: he was wearing an expensive watch, a gift from his father. It was 11 a.m.

He was alone in the office: the menopausal female co-worker must have gone out to get a hot coffee down the hall: in this summer heat, a hot drink is a completely understandable necessity.

Tyrone's throat was dry from the words he had read and hoarse.

He picked up the phone and dialed the home number of his boss, Cathy Rizzo, wife of Professor Richard (aka Dicky).

"Cathy? Good morning, this is Tyrone. Am I bothering you? [bzz bzz] Ah, okay. Poolside, as usual, good girl. [bzz bzz]

Mm--okay. You say your husband writes Book chapters, much more than usual, and no one complains about his annoyances? See, I told you. [bzz bzz]

About Richard, I wanted to tell you -- I'm glad you put my suggestions into practice, and you'll see -- oh! Sure. [bzz bzz]

Listen, I just received an Instance of Indemnity Form ... hmm ... yes.

It comes from Emily Brown.

Oh, sorry, Miss Emily of course.

Miss Emily of MINE. Hehe.

You won't believe what happened, Cathy.

By mistake, one of the cooks, Alcmena, who is Greek and reads almost only the Greek alphabet, scanned all the sheets of paper she found on the desk ... and thus, a letter that Emily had handwritten (in fairly cryptic calligraphy) intending to burn it, i.e., without intending to send it. I mean, the letter has now arrived as a Instance of Indemnity attachment on my pc... [bzz bzz].

May you believe it, dear Cathy? Emily sent a love letter TO ME, complaining that she doesn't know how to confess to me that she's in love with me, but now she wants a caged boyfriend..."

Tyrone chuckled.

His hand gave a tap on his chastity cage, which he had been wearing for months. A key dangled from a chain that he wore around his neck, under the unfastened necktie. The other copy of the key was safely in the top drawer of the nightstand.

He was one of Cathy's main interlocutors in shaping the whole plan. He had started the Lifestyle years earlier with a girlfriend, then they had broken up by mutual agreement, but he had continued to wear the cage. Even during the day, even in the office.

No one in sight, he could keep talking.

"No, if you hadn't told her at Barbecue, she can't know... [bzz bzz]

I've been in love with Emily for a long time, but I didn't think she... "

Tyrone non riusciva a trovare le parole.

"This "never sent" and "never read" Letter is beyond any of my hope! She adores the Lifestyle and is also in love with me!"

He began to wave his arms like a happy child who had been told he could go visit a playground. Then he became serious again.

"Cathy... my old friend... you're the Head of the Accounting Office, only you can authorize a trip to Greece... I, as Expenditure Inspector, would like to visit Emily (and the Team) next week."

Cathy smiled into the phone. [bzz bzz]

Tyrone was already standing erect. He had to run to pack his bags.

"Approved! Thank you, Boss! And one last question -- Cathy, you have known me for many years, in your opinion, I could be labeled as «street-wise»?".

THE END.

********** TO THE READER. All the events narrated in the series "The 12 Labors of Hercules, caged", are pure imagination. There will be several references to male chastity, gentle femdom, facesitting, and (unreal) fantasies about cuckolding (never happening), but without indulging in humiliation, or sissification. Always after negotiation and consensual agree, with strictly observed safewords.

Handcuffs and other tools from the BDSM repertoire will appear from time to time, but without anyone being hurt painfully. All action takes place between consenting adults, including lesbians; the two protagonists are wife and husband, and they love each other very much, before, during, and after.

If this kind of story does not appeal to you, I strongly suggest you NOT read it.

If these kinds of stories intrigue you, I would be open to constructive comments.

Unfortunately, English is not my mother tongue and there may be some lexical or grammatical errors. ***********

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