I'm going to give you a list of 6 possible scenarios to write on.  You can pick 1 or more than one or none.  You gotta give it everything you've got though, become the person in the scene.

1. You work as a general errands and household person for this rich, eccentric, mysterious guy who uses very few words.  One of the perks of the job is that you get to use one of his huge TVs, his pool, his spa.  You have the run of the house for a few days a week as long as you get small chores done like pick up all the magazines he likes at the store and sort his Emails and such.  One day he says he's going away for a few days and can you stay to watch over the house.  He then advises you to make yourself at home except don't open the folder on his PC called Soulfood, that's private.  Of course the next day you're there all alone and tempation and the forbidden is driving you crazy until you finally open it.  This exercise involves describing how crazy this forbidden thing is driving you and what you actually find in the folder and please, no cute or clever, something heavy and your reaction.

2.  You are a female singer/songwriter who is wily, opportunistic, and very manipulative.   You also are quite attractive, based on your photos, but your music is, well, in a style where there are many others with very similar talent competing.   Anyway as it turns out, you get a private Email of a music industry mover/shaker as he's written you a subtly flirtacious letter saying he came across your music and he'd like you to send him more.  You can tell he's attracted to you but you also know he's a family man, but what you really want to do by your Email is lure him to contact you by phone and meet because you know you could have your way with him, career-wise.

3.  You are a 40 year old woman, married, content and your life is pretty together.  You tend to have 2 modes with the people you associate with.  Either you're pretty detached from them (most people), or you're involved with their selves to the point that you're sort of locked in beyond any tangible choice on your part.   A man from your past contacts you, somebody you had a temptuous thing with a few years before you met your husband.  Anyway, you start exchanging correspondences with him and while you like talking to him and still have some feelings, he's affecting your concentration, making your existence too complicated.  You have a talk with your husband and now you want to write him an Email and tell him this has got to stop, leaving him and you no openings for further contact.

4.  ok, this one is more of a .. trippy one based on the fact that you are a real stickler for precise grammar (funny the person I was working with before was also this).  It will take some work to get into the head of this person.  She is somewhat plump and lives in a trailer park.  Anyway, she does have a PC and has for years had all kinds of cyber boyfriends, some of which evolved into phone sex.  She's had a few realtime relationships in her life but all were guys that just used her.  Anyway, she's not bright, an absolutely atrocious (laughably bad I mean) speller and is selfish and obvious.  So .. she lost her job at Walmart, is already one month behind on the lot rent and she is writing an Email to the guy who runs the trailer park who is a 50 year old bald guy.   Anyway she's still caught up a little in her online sexual persona when she writes the letter which is a no holds barred attempt at begging for more time to catch up.  In the back of her mind she has considered trying to work a .. discount for herself with the guy.

5.  You yourself applied for a job that you were eminently qualified for.  The woman who got the job wouldn't be able to handle it if her life depended on it, it was that far beyond her.   You worked with her for years and she never pulled her share of the load, but she had shamelessly politicked your immediate supervisor, another woman, for the job, and word got back to you that she spread a lie about you being a nosy sneak when really that was her in a nutshell..   Anyway you need to compose an Email to the GM who is the higher-up to your boss to explain and confront this situation. 

6.  the temptress.  ok, you're a very smart divorcee who really needs a man in your life.  You are bottled-up, reserved in real life but you found a whole new world of expression on the internet.  You are also a professional woman who clears 6 figures and supervise over 100 employees, and have made investments that have you so financially well off that you could probably retire and live high on the hog for the rest of your life.  You meet a man on the internet that fascinates you beyond any previous sexual/mystical infatuation you've had in your lifetime.  You are jaded against marriage from your last relationship, simply don't respect the institution AT ALL.  Anyway, the online boyfriend is married, makes a fair income but hates to work.  He's not that happy, has no kids conveniently enough.   His wife is bitchy as hell, and he's told you that she at one point found one of your correspondences and said you're just a whore.  You know he's hooked on you as much as he maybe could be under the circumstances, but he's cozy just being involved with you on the internet as a little escape.  You want more, you need his essence badly, and one day, you conclude that it's really a good thing to want to save him from his shitty life not to mention your own more selfish reasons.  Anyway, you become determined to do whatever it will take to lure him to come be with you, in your love nest.. heh, with a pool, a jacuzzi, and where you can take a year off just focusing on him when you know he hasn't had any of that kind of attention for years.  You want to tempt him so much, in a cagey way, that his feet get up and walk out the door for him.  So you write him to set the stage for the life he could have with you.

Whichever one you pick, at the proper moment I want your words to pop right out of the page at me.

HOLY shit.  Of all the things I was expecting to find when I finally gave into my gnawing curiosity, this was not it.  Make yourself at home, he says.  What's mine is yours, he says.  I'll be back in five days---- All I had to do was keep the place picked up, bring in the mail, and make sure no one absconded with the silver while he was gone.  Not so difficult a task, since I spend most of my time here anyway.  I'm sure the neighbors think we're doing the nasty, but unfortunately (for me or him, I've yet to decide) we're not.  I'm more like an assistant.  Sort of.  Hell, I don't know what my title is, but obdurate and intrusive are probably not listed in my job description.   Again....holy shit!  This isn't like me eating his last pint of Chunky Monkey and not replacing it.  It's not even like screwing my ex in the guy's bed and leaving the stains.  No.....   This?  This is goddamn HUGE.  This is the kind of goddamn huge that gives you nightmares for the rest of your life.
The whole damn thing started like this.........

"The place is yours for the next 5 days, help yourself to anything." said The Guy.  That's how I thought of him. 'The Guy'.  I had been working for him for over a year now and I still couldn't think of him any other way.  Of course, I never said this to his face.  To his face, he was Mr. Black.  I felt pretty damn sure that was not his real name but who was I to question him?  With the nice, fat paycheck he gave me each week in return for an absurdly small amount of actual work, I'd call him Mr. Can I Kiss Your Ass Some More if he wanted me to. 
"You're welcome to anything here.  I'll be back next Wednesday."  He stepped out onto the porch hefting a huge carry-on bag, his hand on the door knob.  Seemingly almost as an afterthought, he stopped and leveled his dark gaze at me. 
"One more thing....if you get on my computer, do not, under any circumstance, access the file folder labeled Soulfood."  And then he was gone.    
Well shit.  What the hell kind of thing was that to do to someone?  Here is everything I own, you can do with it what you will...OH.  Except for that huge white elephant in the middle of the living room.  Just ignore that will ya?    I immediately headed for the study  to sit right down in front of his computer and look for the file.  I was half way down the hall when I pulled up short.  What if he was watching me?  Through a window or on some fancy hidden surveillance system he had rigged up to his laptop?  What if this was a trick?  Something he had cooked up to test my loyalty and ability to follow instructions?  Hell, I could have told him straight off that my ability to follow instructions was for shit.  Tell me one thing and I'll damn sure do the exact opposite.  I had managed to curb this particular little personality flaw working for The Guy because I loved my paycheck.   I lived in fear of the day when my resolve collapsed and I told him to kiss my ass when he asked me to run out and pick up 2 extra copies of Rolling Stone.   What the hell does a man need 3 copies of the same magazine for anyway?
I stood rooted to the spot in the hallway, wondering if I was being watched.  If I was, and I went in and opened the folder, I would no doubt be fired before I could get my ass up out of his leather desk chair to apologize.  Out the door, carrying all I had arrived on his doorstep with---my backpack, a faded jean jacket and a list of fake references.  On the other hand, if I turned my insanely curious self around and went out to the pool instead, I'd probably be safe.  But then I wouldn't know what was in the folder.  In the folder labeled Soulfood.  The folder labeled Soulfood that was probably saved right on the desktop of his computer.  I wouldn't even have to go hunting for it.  Why would he have even mentioned it if the damn thing wasn't somewhere out in plain sight?  He wouldn't have.  It was right there on the desktop, blinking SOULFOOD, SOULFOOD, SOULFOOD big as day, just waiting for me to open it, I was sure.  I swear, I could even hear it calling my name.  DAMMIT I wanted to go into that study.  I couldn't believe I had actually lasted the 5 minutes it had been since he left already.  If I could just be sure he wasn't watching me.....
SHIT.  I turned on my heel and stalked out the patio door instead.  I decided that I'd take a quick swim while I mulled over what to do.  The sun was high in the crystal blue sky and the water in the Olympic sized swimming pool rippled and shone like a million tiny diamonds.  Keeping in mind that I was possibly being watched, I peeled off every piece of clothing I was wearing, (which admittedly wasn't much to begin with; a pair of faded cutoffs and a halter) and stood fully nude for half a minute using the rubber band I always kept around my wrist to pull my hair back.  I made a big, drawn out production of it, arching my back, shaking out my long dark hair, gathering it all up on top of my head and securing it with the band.  All the while hoping The Guy was watching and getting a raging hard on.  It would be hard to fire me for snooping while he had his dick in his hand.  I thought about that damn Soulfood folder.  I thought about my job.  I thought about The Guy with his hands on himself, watching me, wanting me.   I dove into the water.

I sat at the huge glass dining room table picking at a wilted salad.  After my swim, I felt refreshed, but no closer to a decision about the SOULFOOD folder.  So far, since showering and putting on a pair of panties and a tank top, I had resisted even going into the study.  I'd had to walk by it several times after getting out of the pool and cleaning up in the guest bathroom.  Each time, I slowed down, letting my eyes wander around the inside of the room, as if I were just passing by and finding a mild interest in the interior.  I could feel the pull of curiousity, strong and hard, but I refused to give in so easily.  Whether I was trying to prove a point to myself or The Guy, I wasn't sure.  I only knew the longer I sat here, picking soggy croutons out of my salad, the tighter I was winding up.   A thought occurred to me as I got up and rinsed off my dishes.  This was beginning to feel strangely like sexual frustration.  I laughed out loud.  As if I'd ever been sexually frustrated in my life.  I had always been pretty uninhibited sexually, several different partners in a month was not unusual for me.  Truth be told, the year or so I'd been working for The Guy was the longest I'd ever gone without a steady bed buddy.  There was always plenty of time, and more than enough opportunity to hook up with some poor willing bastard, but I honestly hadn't had the desire to go looking.  Sure, I was attracted to The Guy, but I had convinced myself that my unrequited lust for him was NOT the reason I was currently my own best sexual partner.  I was just distracted, I told myself.  And told myself OFTEN.
I turned off the tap in the sink and wandered into the large den off the kitchen.  The huge plasma screen TV was tuned to The Discovery Channel, but I had the sound muted.  Call me shallow, but when I'd interviewed for this job right here in this den, the fact that I would have unlimited access to this monster of a television was one of the main reasons I took the job.  I also would have unrestricted use of the pool, the spa and fitness room at the back of the house.  Not that I had intended to work out much at the time, but over the past year I often found myself in the well equipped gym, running on the treadmill or hefting small free-weights just to pass the time.  I honestly didn't do much work for The Guy.  I kept up with his mail, brought him a regular supply of his favorite magazines and did some grocery shopping now and then.  I had no idea why he didn't do this inane crap for himself, but I needed that paycheck, and The Guy had asked almost no questions about my past or my work history.  I wasn't even sure he'd called any of my "references".  If he had, I would not have been sitting in front of his huge TV, sunk deep into the plush leather couch, drinking a chilled glass of Reisling.  He'd have thrown me out on my lying, swindling ass, quicker than I could say "Fuck you very much sir."  Considering the fact that neither of us seemed to mind that we knew NOTHING about eachother and didn't give a shit, I'd figured out that he needed me as much as I needed him.
I swirled my wine in the big crystal glass, and thought about what he'd said when he left.  ".....do NOT open the Soulfood folder..."  It was almost as if he was throwing the damn thing in my face, tempting me, just to see what my reaction would be.  The Guy never said much, as a matter of fact, most of his communication skills seemed to consist of leaving notes, and a few mumbled requests.  I would have thought he didn't like me at all, but I'd seen him watching me quite a bit.  Out of the corner of his eye, or from across the room, I'd notice him following my every move sometimes.  He had a hard, flat gaze, and midnight blue eyes, so it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but I usually felt like he was mentally undressing me whenever I caught him staring.  I'd stare right back at him,  and he was always the one who broke eye contact, usually acting like he'd just been casually glancing my way.  Yeah right.  I knew that look, and if The Guy thought I didn't, he'd be in for a big surprise when I actually asked him one of these days if he'd like to just go at it right there up against the wall.
That thought had me up off the couch and pacing the plush carpeted floor.   Taking a huge swallow of my lukewarm wine, I looked towards the study to get my mind off The Guy.  Me and him, naked and sweaty up against the buff colored wall in the den was NOT a good place to go.  I wandered closer to the study door.  For some idiotic reason, I could feel my pulse pick up.  I realized I was chewing on my bottom lip, and that my palms were damp.  This was INSANE.  It was just a stupid computer file, and if I wanted to look in it, I would.  I had the power here.  Mr. Subtle as a Third Eyeball was nowhere around.  I'd given up on the idea of him spying on me while I was in the shower earlier.  I'd never seen any evidence of survaillance equipment here, and believe me, I'd been pretty damn nosy when left alone for a while in the house once before.  I've always been a curious sort of person, looking in the medicine cabinets in the bathroom at parties, checking under the mattresses for porn mags when I would babysit a neighbor's kid for pocket money as a teenager, eavesdropping on the bus....Yep.  I was one nosy bitch.  Had I just run across the folder by accident, I would have probably thought nothing of it and ignored it. Maybe.  But now, as there always HAD been birthcontrol pills in the medicine cabinets, and porn under the mattresses, there was something in this house I KNEW would be worth snooping for.  All I had to do was walk into the study, sit down at the desk and click on the folder.  Simple.  Quick.  Dishonest. HA!  Dishonest.  Like I gave a shit about dishonest.  I stepped over the threshold into the large, booklined room The Guy called his study and walked towards the computer.  My heart was racing, I could feel a thin line of cold sweat trickling down between my breasts, and I was holding my breath.  Oh for fuck's sake, just DO IT!!  I sat down at the desk and grabbed the mouse.