It gave him a whimsical look that belied his attention to detail. He was holding an opened postal package. Everything was opened nowadays. The anthrax...scares had seen to that. ‘More problems?’ she asked, indicating the package. Sam smiled, something rare on his face. He was usually overly serious. ‘Something not unpleasant, I think,’ Sam said. He placed the package on her desk and uncharacteristically stayed for her reaction. She pushed aside the protective wrapping paper to reveal a stained. Very hot conversations, about our likes, our fantasies. It became addictive; we looked for every chance we got to find time to talk.He lived about four or five hours away. He would often say how good it was that I didn't live close, because he would be very tempted to ask me to meet him. And I would have. In a heartbeat. I didn't share his view about the distance being a good thing.After chatting like this for about a year, he told me that his work would be bringing him to about a half hour. More

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