Mail time...

He was expecting the usual messages from his girls, from his agent, his family, some friends. Being on the other side of the world, he'd found that email was really the best way to keep in touch. He logged into his mailbox, his fingers drumming softly against the mouse while he waited for the page to load. "You've got 12 messages" the laptop beeped. The drumming stopped as he set down to business.

Some time later the whisky glass was empty and only one message remained to be opened.

Sean frowned, puzzled. He'd left this for last because he had no clue who it was from. The sender's name rang no bell and there was no subject, but this mailbox was a highly secure private one, very few people had this address and spam filters were in place, so this must be from someone he knew.

He clicked to open the message and started reading. After going through a couple of lines he jumped up as if a bee had stung him and went to refill his glass. He took a hearty swig, staring at the computer screen from the other side of the room, puzzled. He took another large gulp of whisky and walked back to the laptop, sitting down and starting to read the message.

Sean, watching you is good, but watching you makes me wants to taste you. I look at you in the mirror and I want to lick it, to lick your reflected image while you watch and imagine me licking you, biting you, my tongue teasing your skin in that spot under your left ear you kept scratching today. Feel me there, Sean, feel my tongue tracing a path from behind your ear, exactly from the line where your hair starts to grow, down along your neck to the the hollow at the base of your throat. I'm there now, sucking on your skin, leaving a mark. Can you feel me Sean? Yes, I think you can. Goodnight, Sean.

Holy mother, he could. Sean's hand reached for the whisky glass and brought it to his mouth before he realized the glass was empty. Hell, how could his throat have dried up all of a sudden, he wondered, his hand reaching up to absent-mindedly scratch the mosquito bite under his left ear, while his other hand massaged the base of his throat as if it stung.

Who the fuck could this be, he wondered, shocked, perplexed and, yes, aroused. It was clear this was someone who'd been around the trailer that day, but that more or less covered half the main cast and a goodly number of make-up people and other assorted staff.

And how the fuck had this person got hold of his email address? he wondered. He shook his head, as if with the movement the images and feelings that mail message had brought with it could be shaken off and sent away.

He closed the message, his hand guiding the pointer to the delete button. He hesitated for a moment, then moved the pointer on without deleting and logged out.

***

All day Sean had been fighting the urge to go home, switch on his laptop and check his mail. And now that he was seated in front of it, he was almost afraid to log onto the mail server and see what messages were waiting for him. Was he afraid of finding one specific message or was he afraid of not finding it? he mocked himself.

He logged on to the mailbox and looked away from the screen, more eager than he was ready to admit to himself.

The beeping sound came and his hand gripped the mouse tightly and painfully.

Yes. It was there. Another one. Same sender.

Sean, you are a tease.. You know I'm watching you, so do you think it is wise for you to strip down to nothing when there's other people around? I held myself in check today, but next time I will act. Do you know what I wanted to do to you while you stood there naked in front of the mirror? I wanted to put my face in the hair at your nape, start there and then move down. My nose would follow the indentation down your back, travelling down so very slowly, inch by inch, my mouth slightly open leaving just a faint hint of moisture on your skin. Then I would stop, my nose and mouth resting just above the point where your buttocks begin, my chin snug in the cleft, and you would start begging me to go on, to go down, to taste you. To get you ready for me. Can you feel me Sean? Yes, I think you can. Goodnight, Sean.

Sean swore. He'd slipped down into the chair while reading and his thighs had spread, to make room for a raging hard on and for the hand that had unconsciously gone to palm it and rub it and go along with the fantasy.

A man, it had to be a man then. And one who knew exactly which buttons to push to get a reaction from him.

Fuck! He didn't even know who this was, what he looked like, and yet he wanted him like he hadn't wanted a man - or a woman - in a very long time. Yes, he didn't know him, but this man knew him, knew what he wanted, knew how to take care of him, how to fulfill desires he hadn't known he was harboring.

Sean's hands went to rub his face, hard, as he tried to think. There was nothing he could do but wait, and play along with the sender's game. And wonder.

***

Sean would have found all this ridiculous if it weren't for the fact that his longing to go and check his mail had been steadily rising hour after hour, blotting out everything else, making his temper short, making him snap at everyone for no apparent reason, making him look at everyone with hungry, considering eyes.

He drove home like a man possessed, unlocked the front door and went straight for the computer, cursing the time it took to for the system to load up and for the connection to come through.

He logged on.

Yes. He could stop holding his breath now. It was there.

Sean, can you feel it? The time for waiting is through, we can't wait any longer. Now the time has come, time for me to take you, time for you to lay yourself down on those green sheets that match your eyes and wait for me. You'll be ready when I come to you, your legs will be spread for me, your knees will be raised and pushed back to make my way quick and easy, your cock will already be weeping for me. Go Sean, get ready, I'm coming.

Sean didn't even bother to turn the computer off, he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, shedding clothes as he went, and laid himself down on the green colored sheets. Ready, waiting, hungry.

He heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He heard steps coming up the stairs.

He smiled at the man who had stopped, framed in the bedroom door, taking in the sight of the man waiting for him on the green sheets.

He licked his lip and spoke, his voice low and husky.

"Viggo... I've been waiting for you."