From the author: David knows there’s no harm in drafting unsent (but explicit) emails to Jason, his boss and office crush. Until he accidentally prints them out. How can David (“I think about fucking three hours a day. Is this normal?”) salvage their professional relationship?
[Content warning: the below story contains profanity and graphic references to sex.]
The first unsent email of the day went like this:
Can't make it to the meeting this morning. I keep thinking of you pounding me from behind, and I've got to stay at my desk to hide the concomitant woody.
The second unsent email, written about an hour later, was more like:
Would you like to get a drink with me after work, so I can pretend we're on a date?