14th of June

I should have known. I should have known it was too good to be true. I am writing this with an incessant, infernal pulsing in my loins, fighting down the growing urge to just <u>touch it,</u> entertaining the thought of calling in sick at the institute and

Miss Blake knocks on the door, I will have to continue this entry later.

Good soul that she is, Miss Blake commented on my flushed, sweaty countenance and expressed her concerns about the state of my health. To my good fortune, talking to her distracted me from the sensations, breaking the loop threatening to overwhelm my restraint. To my <u>bad</u> fortune, Miss Blake decided to feel my forehead for temperature. The mere touch of her cool fingers on my slightly damp forehead send a jolt through my body that made my member give a hearty throb, making me groan and recoil from Miss Blake, giving her quite a fright.

I mumbled excuses as Miss Blake retreated and did my best to rein in my breathing.

Her touch... it reminded me of the dream... the ever-same dream, every night... there is something there, some<u>one</u>... touching, caressing me... my forehead, just as Miss Blake did... whispering to me, but... the words? I don't remember...

In the end, I was late for work, my mind abuzz with half-remembered impressions. I could only just focus on my work at first, particularly with me feeling slightly faint after having to skip Miss Blake's delicious breakfast and going into the institute with an empty stomach. Luckily, with the hours passing by, the dreams become ever more distant. I allow myself the faint hope of them not repeating tonight, but... it is <u>very</u> faint.

Presley Babcock has not visited me today, and I find myself disappointed at that fact. I wanted to ask him about his cologne, didn't I? It did smell good... Well, no matter. I am enjoying the dinner Miss Blake prepared and some of the brandy my late father left me. With luck, it will make me sleep deeper, dreamless...