I must admit that my heart begins to quake in recalling last evening. When I offered you a cup of tea, I meant it as a sincere gesture of friendship, and I firmly resolved to behave with the utmost decorum whilst you were in my quarters unchaperoned. However, when you loosened your cravat, I very nearly swooned. The gentle coo of the roosting pigeons, the humidity of the salty air, the relentless throb of the city traffic, your stately, well-proportioned frame – all conspired against my modesty! All thoughts of prudence were dashed. Pleasure was my master, and ere long, Pleasure bid me commit unspeakable acts.
I savor the memory of our passions. I have your assurances that we have done no wrong. But darling, I have one memory which causes me grief; though I tried to stifle any sound, I let forth a cry that may indeed have been audible to the downstairs neighbours.
Fear not, my sweet! I was not wounded; I merely lost my sense of propriety in the rapture of your gentlemanly ministrations. I fervently hope that you will not judge me too harshly and that I may remain close to your affections and in your highest esteem.
Most Sincerely Yours,