Walking to the large glass doors, it was hard not to marvel at how successful my father had become. Especially with the large metal sign that was held securely above the door. 'Luckwood Estates- turning your dream house into a reality' the cheesy tag line never failed to amuse me.
I entered the tall building looking at all of the smartly dressed men and women that were dotted around the lobby, waiting to see my father and to spend far too much money on a house with too many rooms. The thought of spending that much seemed ridiculous.
"Ahh, Verity you're here." A voice spoke softy. I turned around and saw Claire, my secretary, with a peaceful smile on her lips. She was rather pretty and still fairly young, even though I thought of her as a second mother. I admired that she could manage a demanding job and a small child and still manage to look effortlessly graceful. Something that I hoped one day I would also manage.
"Hi Claire, how are you? Is Lucy doing well?" Claire's smile instantly widened at the mention of her five year old. I remember meeting Lucy for the first time, her blonde pigtails the exact same shade as her mothers glossy locks. Her rosy cheeks hidden by her podgy baby hands.
"She's fine Verity, thank you. And how are you? She paused taking in my chirpy grin. "Finished that book I see? Please just tell me no one died?" I laughed as she shared some of the excitement I felt.
"No, no one died. Thank god! But the ending was beautiful. They fell in love and got married and Genevieve found out she was pregnant! It was so wonderful" I squealed, the sudden urge to go into huge detail hard to ignore.
"Well tell me more later, right now you have to go to your office and prepare to show around the Wilkins that 6 bedroom not to far from Primrose Hill."
"Okay, Bye Claire. See you later."
I began to walk over to the elevators, hoping that one would hurry up, my patience non existent.
Just as I was about to press the 'up' button, another hand beat me to it. A rather masculine hand at that. I looked up to see a handsome young man, his browny-blonde hair neatly styled over his forehead. The young man, who must have been about my age, smiled at me, gesturing for me to move forward into the now open lift. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment as I noticed his crystal blue eyes glaze over with laughter. A small thank you past my lips as I entered the elevator, wanting nothing more than to be in the familiar and less suffocating confines of my office.
As I entered the large room, I suddenly felt relaxed and could feel the embarrassment leave my face and chest, the red colour no longer prominante.
I walked over to my desk, deciding that I should look through the tower of unopened mail, however the stack was seemingly just a pile of bills. Although one item did catch my attention. A small envelope was poking out of the pile, it's slightly pink tint causing it to stand out. I pulled the envelope from out of the stack, careful not to knock anything on the floor.
There was no address, neither send nor recipient, only a name. My name, all three of my names in fact. 'Verity Elizabeth Luckwood' was written in a mixture of messy and neat writing, giving nothing away as to who send it. I placed the pinky-white envelope onto the table, far away from anything else. The piece of paper that sat in my hands was neatly folded in half, and smelt faintly of vanilla and old books. I opened the paper to see a mass of words, written in identical writing to that of my name, slightly different sizes and little consistency. Taking a deep breath, I began to read the strange letter.
'Dearest Verity,
To say that you are beautiful would not do yourself nor my eyes justice. Your long brown hair that shines a faint reddy colour in the sun shine and your perfectly shaped lips are amounts the many things I admire about you.
I know you cannot see me and you don't even know who I am, but I'm watching, making sure that you are never hurt. For you may know nothing about me, I hope that you soon will, baby.
I dream about what I would do to you. I dream of kissing those small pink lips, gently tugging your hair whilst you whisper my name...'
I paused, his words become too much as hot feeling began to crawl from deep down up to my stomach.
'...we would be so happy, Princess. I dream about kissing your milky skin whilst you writhe underneath me, begging for release. Profanities spilling from my mouth as you finally come undone.
Oh, Princess! We will be happy and in love.'
I quickly placed the paper into the envelope, scared of what would be said if I read on. The letter was detailed and went to far, listing what the writer would to to me if I was his. I found it highly inappropriate, but at the same time romantic as though it was slight reminiscent of a Shakespearean love letter. A small part of me wished it went further, the heat within me had still not left. Although that part was soon forgotten when my alarm went, notifying me of my meeting.
I grabbed the letter and dropped it into the last draw of my desk, the one that needed a key to open. I locked the draw and smoothed out my skirt, trying to appear less flustered for my busy day of work.
