In Spite of Myself

I remember…
… when my assistant was at lunch you came to my office time wearing a trench coat with nothing underneath but lingerie and stockings.  We secretly made love quietly behind my closed door in one of the sweetest moments of my life.  
Honore de Balzac in a letter to Evelina Hanska, June 1836
I can no longer think of anything but you. 
In spite of myself,
my imagination carries me to you. 
I grasp you,
I kiss you,
I caress you,
a thousand of the most amorous caresses
take possession of me.