Page 37 of Ardently Yours

To clarify, I’mnotbothered.

But ever since you started calling me “sir,” in that sassy way you do, I can’t stop imagining you in a pencil skirt bent over my desk. (And other far more graphic fantasies).

If you’re trying to turn me on, you should know it’s working.

Love, Sir

January 18, 1997

Dear Sir,

It’s been almost three and a half years for me. Do what you have to do. I know I am.

Love, Charlotte

Four Months Later

May 19, 1998

Hand-written letter from Jane Smith to Arden McRae III

Dear Sir,

This photo is for your eyes only. Don’t get too excited. I would never have the nerve to take naked pictures, let alone send them.

This is as close as you’ll ever get to a photo of me almost, but not quite, totally nude. I’m covered enough that I wouldn’t EXPIREif anyone else got ahold of it but would rather no one but you saw it. I printed it out at home, so it isn’t great quality, but there was no way I was letting some worker in a photo lab see it.

Nearly Nakedly Yours, Charlotte

May 20, 1998

Sweet Charlotte,

You are beautiful beyond comprehension. I’ve been staring at your photo for hours.

I’m generally an articulate man, but I have no words for the hundred things I’m thinking right now. (At least not ones I can put in an email.)

Unspeakably Gratefully Yours, Arden

Like a Prayer

Charlotte

Three Months Later

September 1, 1998

I lean against my bathroom door, click the lock, and blow out a long breath.

If I call him now, I’ll be interrupting his sleep. Won’t I?

I glance at my watch. 10:47 p.m. isn’t that late. Is it? Yes, it is. Way, way too late.

But his note said,“Call anytime. I’ll pick up.”

I set the two boxes from Arden on my bathroom counter.

One contains a burner flip phone that Arden’s note assures me has no paper trail that connects us to each other. It’s prepaid and programmed with one number: his burner phone.

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