A Secret AdmirerbyMany Feathers©
It had been a while since my divorce. Unused to the dating scene, I'd refrained from going to any singles bars, not much of a drinker anyway. But there was another reason for that too. Standing in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror didn't exactly boost my confidence. Before I could really get serious about wanting to meet anyone, I knew that I had to do something about myself first. And so it was that I soon after joined a health club.
I'd been going three days a week for nearly two months. And though the change had been gradual, I actually began to see one. The reflection coming from my bathroom mirror no longer quite as hard to take as it once was. As I always worked out after work, I'd just finished up and was on my way out the door when the receptionist stopped me.
"Mr. Davis? There's a message for you," she said grabbing my attention.
I changed direction heading back to the front desk taking the small folded note from her hand.
"Thank you." I looked quickly at her name-badge on her polo shirt. "Melissa," I added. She smiled briefly, turning her attention back to whatever she'd been doing previously, allowing me a brief moment of privacy in which to read the small slip of paper I'd just been given. My name was on the outside of it. 'Jack Davis', it read. I unfolded the short note.
"You're looking good! Keep it up!"
I smiled, glancing up as though expecting someone to be standing there watching me read the message. No one was. Even so, I blushed still smiling, refolding the paper, and tucking it away inside my pants pocket.
I arrived home dumping my spare change onto the dresser along with the small note that I'd already forgotten about having. Reading it once again made me smile, so I took it into the bathroom, taping it on the mirror above the sink.
As I stood looking at it, I surmised that it must have come from one of the trainers. Hand printed, there was no way of telling if it had come from a male or female either. "Pretty shrewd!" I thought to myself. I wondered briefly if there wasn't a stack of 'notes' sitting around someplace, all hand-printed with the words, "You're looking good! Keep it up!" printed on them. It wouldn't surprise me. If the health spa was actually doing that, then I had to silently congratulate them for coming up with such a simple, yet novel idea. The note really had made me smile, feeling better about myself already. Perhaps it was part of their program to ensure that their clients kept returning by feeling better about themselves.
"Well, if it is...it worked!" I said still staring at the note. I was already looking forward to my next workout. Something I hadn't been quite as enthusiastic about until now.
Two days later I was once again headed home after a very thorough workout this time, passing by the receptionist, who again stopped me before I could leave.
"Mr. Davis? I have a message for you," she said.
It wasn't Melissa who was sitting at the desk either. Though this woman I knew as she'd been there the day I'd come in to sign up for my membership. "Thanks Chrissy," I told her accepting the same sized note I'd received the time before.
I almost laughed. If this was indeed one of the Spa's programs, they'd better review their procedures as two notes in nearly as many days was a bit of an overkill, and could have just the reverse results of what had originally been intended. Still, I turned away from Chrissy slightly unfolding the note, expecting to read the same six words I'd read previously. To my surprise, they weren't.
"I'm surprised I'm even telling you this. But I've watched you ever since you started coming here, and I was serious when I said you're looking good. Because you are. I've found myself thinking about you, perhaps in inappropriate ways, but felt I had to say something to you, just to let you know."
Once again the note was hand printed with no name attached to it. I nearly turned back towards Chrissy to ask if she knew who'd left me the message, but she was currently on the phone. Suddenly the thought of actually asking her about it seemed silly. It was after all just a simple letter from someone that for whatever reason had taken a liking to me. Once again I smiled, tucking the paper inside my pants pocket where it soon joined the second one on my bathroom mirror.
I'd pretty much discarded that it was some 'feel-good' program that the health spa was condoning, though the idea of it being one of the female trainers still persisted. I might have gone along with it being a 'feel-good' follow up even, if that last line of the letter hadn't been included.
"I've found myself thinking about you, perhaps in inappropriate ways..."
To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure what that meant. What was after all, inappropriate? Was the writer merely telling me that writing the note was inappropriate to begin with? That she was perhaps a married woman who'd felt it necessary, almost compelling just to give me a few words of encouragement? Or..."
I dared not wonder. It had been too fucking long since I'd been with anyone other than my own hand. It had gotten to the point where I'd begun buying expensive hand-lotion, as though giving my hand a gift. Had I reached the point where I was gift-wrapping it too, or including a card, I'd have been seeing a therapist instead of a trainer at the spa.
On my next scheduled day, I found myself looking at every person I came across. I must have looked like a blithering idiot as I grinned at every single person who even appeared to remotely be looking in my direction. Most smiled back before looking away, some few others however, shot me concerned looks as though I was there with no intent of working out, just there to try picking them up as I'd learned a few clients had actually attempted to do. Regardless, by the time I had showered and dressed, I was feeling more than a little moody, and a whole lot ashamed at myself for allowing my curiosity to get the better of me.
This time when I passed the front desk, I actually caught Melissa's attention first. I waved, said something stupid like, "See you day after tomorrow," and headed towards the door. Melissa, sweet girl that she was, waved back picking up the ringing phone. I made it as far as the door, actually pushing it open when I heard her calling out to me.
"Mr. Davis? I almost forgot, there's a message here for you!" she yelled out towards me, one hand over the receiver of the phone, the other waving a very familiar looking piece of folded paper at me.
This time, I stood at the counter holding the unread message waiting for Melissa to finish her call.
"Yes?" she asked after hanging up.
"Excuse me, but do you know who gave you this message?" I asked.
"No, I'm sorry. We have a message box located here at the front desk just for our customers who might get phone calls while they're off showering or getting dressed. Maybe one of the trainers took a call for you and placed it here," she said honestly.
"I don't think it's from one of the trainers," I said confusing her further. "Would anyone else have access to this message box?" I questioned further. Melissa leaned sideways across the desk pointing towards a small wooden tray sitting on the corner of the counter. It read: "Messages".
"Oh, I guess so," I said feeling a little dumb. But I had to ask one more question, even though I knew it would sound stupid. "Would you mind keeping an eye out for anyone who might be leaving messages with my name on them in the box?"
Melissa tossed me a guarded look. "Sorry no, for starters, I'm too busy to do that. And for another, if someone is anonymously leaving you messages, then I don't think it's my place to be spying on them for you. Unless you're concerned that it's some sort of a threat or something, in which case I'd invite you to speak with the manager."
"Ah no...no threat," I assured her feeling a bit sheepish. This time I drove all the way home without opening the letter. I'd changed out of my clothing; my eyes frequently turning to where I had thrown the small simple piece of paper on the night stand earlier. I was almost afraid to open it for one thing. And for another, I was trying to put myself into a better mood before I did.
When I finally got around to picking it up, I noticed for the first time that it had been carefully taped, an indication that whoever had sent it to me, didn't want anyone other than the reader, which was me...to read it.
Now very curious, I quickly peeled off the tape though careful to keep from destroying the note.
"I'm almost embarrassed to tell you this," the writer said. "But when I saw you today, you appeared more animated, more talkative than you've ever been before. You seemed to be looking everywhere at once, speaking to anyone that even came close to wherever you were working out.
Once, our eyes even met, but you soon turned away as that large chested blonde came over to see if you needed any fresh towels. Admittedly, when you looked at me, I felt almost giddy.
Later, alone in the shower, I had to relieve the pressure that had been building. I hope that doesn't embarrass, or even anger you. I doubt you'll ever know who I am anyway, so it probably doesn't matter. But that's something I haven't done to myself in months, let alone in a public place. You've brought out the naughty woman in me. Sincerely, S.A."
"S.A.?" I wondered aloud, finally a clue perhaps to her identity. I tried thinking backwards. Tried to remember all the women who I had locked eyes with, even briefly. Especially just before the blonde she had mentioned had asked me about the towel. But even that I couldn't place exactly. I did recall one brunet who was pressing more weight than even I could. She had enormous, obviously fake boobs and was one of the few who looked at me with disdain when I smiled at her. I had visions of her placing my head in a leg-lock, and not for fun either. I shook off that image, once again trying to remember those women who had even remotely smiled back at me. Unfortunately, none came to mind.
There was only one thing I could think of doing. Sitting down at my computer, I began to type out a letter to her. One in which I hoped she'd discover the next time she decided to leave me a note of her own.
And there I sat for nearly an hour trying to decide what I should say, and how I should say it. I finally decided boldness was the best bet, and began composing my letter.
"Dear S.A., I have enjoyed receiving, and reading your letters. I am in hopes that this letter reaches you. I would very much like to meet you. Perhaps we can go out for a drink somewhere after working out one evening, if you're willing. I can assure you, I'm not a pervert, or some kind of sexual deviant. But your letters have been provocative to say the least. I too have had to relieve a little pressure as you say, especially wondering who you are, and if perhaps we might indeed eventually spend an evening together. If you're interested, please respond and let me know when and if you would be available. Sincerely yours, Jack."
I knew I had to find a way of reaching her of course. I couldn't simply leave a letter as she'd been doing for me, not knowing who she was. Thus I addressed an envelope, carefully folding and tucking the typewritten letter inside. I addressed it:
From Jack Davis, To S.A. Personal and Confidential, purposely making the letters large and bold enough that she couldn't miss it. When I entered the health club on my next visit, I placed the sealed letter purposefully inside the message box standing up so whoever came to drop off any messages couldn't fail to see it. Even Chrissy smiled at me, though turning her head away moments after I'd deposited the envelope.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me whoever it is that picks this up would you?"
Chrissy laughed. "Nope! Sorry...if she wants you to know, she'll tell you herself," she added still laughing. "And besides, I think its kinda sweet," she said.
I grinned back at her, and walked back towards the dressing room in order to change and begin my workout. Once again my eyes were everywhere, but I didn't see anyone that struck me as at all interested in who I was. I'd even returned to the front desk mid-way through my workout to discover that the letter was still sitting in the message box. Which told me that she either wasn't there yet, or that she hadn't left me a note, thus not yet discovering that I had left one for her.
When my workout was over, I swung by the desk, noticed that my letter had indeed been picked up. Melissa was now working the desk, so I stopped by to ask. "Anything for me?"
"No, sorry," she said simply.
Since it was Melissa, and not Chrissy, I decided to ask another question.
"I left a letter in the message box earlier. By chance, did you see who it was that picked it up?"
"Chrissy said you might ask me that. But no, I didn't see whoever it was that did. And if I had, I wouldn't tell you who she was either," she said grinning just as wickedly as Chrissy had done earlier.
"Ok, thanks," I said dejectedly, yet happy that whoever S.A. was, she'd at least taken, and was hopefully reading my letter.
My next workout night was miserable. I received no message by way of response back from my letter and began to think I had crossed over some imaginary line. Two days later however, there was a letter waiting for me sitting inside the message box when I arrived. And even more interesting, this one was enclosed inside an envelope, addressed to me also marked 'Personal and Confidential'. Like a schoolboy with a crush on the redheaded girl with pigtails, I headed into the locker room to change, entered one of the bathroom stalls and tore open the envelope.
"Dear Jack: I'm sorry I haven't responded back until now, but I wanted to take some time to think about what you asked me. I am afraid that for the moment I must decline your offer to meet for drinks. I am sure that by now you have imagined me to be some glamorous attractive looking woman. I'm not. And I would hate to shatter whatever fantasy you may (or may not) have of me by actually meeting me in person.
Also, I have recently come out of a very messy divorce and am not sure I am even ready to begin seeing anyone on a serious level. I also think it might have been a mistake for me to have written to you in the first place, as it wasn't my intent to coerce you into meeting, nor into having a relationship.
The fact that I find you attractive, and (obviously) have found myself fantasizing about you was something I thought exciting to be sure, and had hoped that perhaps you would enjoy the same through knowing that. I have already probably been too forward, and too bold with admitting those things to you. If you're interested in simply continuing this type of communication, and perhaps sharing whatever intimate thoughts or desires you might have. I'd enjoy that.
But for the time being at least, I would prefer to remain anonymous beyond our actual meeting one another. If you feel you'd rather not, I will certainly understand and won't bother you again. Sincerely, S.A."
I reread the letter again, feeling somewhat discouraged, disappointed on the one hand. But on the other, also excited as well as curious as to what she had meant by sharing intimate thoughts and desires.
I immediately responded back to her that same night, letting her know that I was indeed interested in doing that, and respected her wishes for the time being, to remain anonymous. I assured her I wouldn't make any attempt to discover who she was, provided she was willing to be as open with her 'intimate' thoughts as I promised I would be for her. Once again making my way up to the counter, I smiled at Melissa and dropped the note I had written into the message box, returning to finish my workout. I was pleased to see a much larger letter waiting for me when I arrived two days later.
"Darling Jack, You have no idea how thrilled I was to hear that you were still interested in continuing this communication, even though I am still hesitant for you to ever meet me in person, or discover who I am.
As much as I would love to describe myself to you, doing that would no doubt refuel the fires of your curiosity. And too much information would obviously narrow things down sufficiently for you to eventually figure out who I am. But I will at least do this much. I will describe that which you cannot see, let it stimulate your imagination and desires perhaps. And, I will even take that one step further by describing for you in detail a fantasy I enjoyed while thinking of you last night."
I'd begun undressing, sitting down on the edge of the bed while reading her letter. Feeling my erection swell, I hurriedly stripped off the rest of my clothes, fluffing up my pillow sitting against it while slowly beginning to stroke my cock with one hand, holding her letter with the other.
"I don't consider myself as necessarily having large breasts, but they are still round and full though gravity unfortunately has had its way with them, so they're not nearly as perky as they perhaps once were.
My nipples are also large, rose colored I guess you would say, and very, very sensitive. I have often played with them, nearly reaching orgasm on several occasions, but still needing that most intimate of all touches to finally put myself over the edge.
As far as my pussy goes, I have begun shaving it altogether. I'd discovered quite by accident one day while trimming it in the tub, that the experience of doing so was fairly erotic. Placing myself beneath the faucet in order to wash away both the shaving cream as well as the loose hair I'd taken off, I discovered the joy of feeling the water splashing against my mound.
And it is this, which I again did last night while thinking of you. I imagined your hard beautiful cock inside my mouth. I imagined licking, and sucking it, feeling it throb and pulsate while I did. By this time of course, the full force of the water was teasing and caressing my pussy driving me towards the inevitable.
I continued on...as my clit began to become more and more sensitive, I imagined your tongue licking and teasing it while I continued mouthing your beautiful prick. When I came, you came with me, bathing my mouth, face, and breasts in torrents of your hot wonderful cream.
Needless to say, I will be curiously interested in hearing what you have to say about this. PLEASE tell me if my openness has offended, or gone too far. I will be most anxious to hear from you if it has. Though if I don't hear from you, I will thus know that it certainly has, and again, will not bother you further. As I write this, I am most wet, and very, very horny. Yours truly, S.A."
I read her letter again, stroking my prick far more vigorously now until spewing a gusher of jisim that landed well up on my chest, as well as pouring down to coat nearly my entire hand. After cleaning up, I headed over to my computer and immediately composed a letter back to her.
"Dear S.A., for the moment, I will continue to respect your wishes of anonymity.
Do not be surprised though if I periodically express my wishes and desires to still meet you. I also wanted you to know how much I truly enjoyed reading your letter. As you have been candid with me, so shall I be with you. After arriving home this evening, I removed my clothing, lay back on the bed, and proceeded to read your erotic 'naughty' letter all the while stroking my cock, enjoying your words. Like you, I will not make any attempt to exaggerate anything about myself, for if we ever do meet, and I still hope one day that we will, I too would not want you to find yourself disappointed.
Though I have never actually measured myself, never finding a reason forever doing so, I would go so far as to say that I am perhaps slightly above average. My cock isn't exceptionally long, but I do feel it is certainly most adequate, as I've never had any complaints. (Ha Ha).