She asks

She stared at the last message.

Her thumb hovered for less than a second before typing back.

Emily:
Tell me.

She hit send without punctuation. No emoji. No overthinking.

Then she stood.

Crossed the office in three soft steps.

Pressed the lock on the doorknob until it clicked into place with a sound that felt louder than it was.

Outside, the office hum continued. Phones rang faintly down the hall. A copier beeped somewhere near reception.

In here, it was still.

Emily leaned her back against the door.

Phone in hand.

Screen lit.

And waited.

The reply came faster than she expected.

The screen buzzed once in her hand. Then again.

Then again.

Three separate messages. No wall of text. No rambling.

Just this:

Will:
The first thing I thought was that you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.
Then I realized I was hard before I even opened the photo all the way.
Then I wanted to fall to my knees and thank you.

Emily’s breath caught—just once. Not a gasp. Not out loud.

But deep.

Inside.

There was more typing. The little bubble flickered on and off.

Then another message came through:

Will:
I stared at it for a solid minute. Not even touching myself. Just… looking. Trying to memorize every detail. Your skin. The shape of you. The way your bra was lifted just enough to frame you.
It didn’t feel real. It felt like something I shouldn’t even be allowed to see.
And I’ve thought about it all day.

She stared at the screen, unmoving.

He wasn’t crude. Wasn’t vulgar.

But the rawness was there, pulsing just under the surface of his words.

Not some fantasy. Not some teenager's overexcited nonsense.

It was want.

And it was real.

The kind that didn’t hide behind jokes or qualifications or filters.

Then a final message buzzed through:

Will:
Also, just gonna say it… it’s been really awkward trying to work while being this hard for the last three hours.

Emily snorted.

Out loud.

It burst out of her without warning, sharp and involuntary. She clapped a hand over her mouth a split second too late, her shoulders shaking with stifled laughter.

For a moment, she just stood there—back against the door, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, hand pressed to her mouth—laughing quietly into her palm.

It felt ridiculous.

And warm.

And real.

And good.