(Note: The following is dream based, and might contain certain scenarios and/or observations that may be confusing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.)
I can distinctly feel the winter chill penetrate my thin woolen gloves, which cling pleadingly to the near empty coffee tin. I am hunched over in a fetal position hugging my knees close to my chest to keep warm. A handsome middle-aged man sporting a dark trench coat exits the pub, his gaze instantly lowering to meet mine. I can't help but fixate on the distinguishing crevices framing his features. He extends his hand with great certainty; confident he has properly assessed my degree of desperation. I do not hesitate for even a moment to accept. My nipples shrivel at his mere touch, but I reason that it is from the cold breeze wafting through my tattered shirt as he pulls me to my feet.
He drives us to a desolate mall plaza, and unlocks the door to what appears to be a music store or recording studio. It is at this moment when the burning desire to pee overwhelms me. I begin to beeline towards the bathroom, but he abruptly cuts me off, blocking my path. I reason that the idea of a warm nights sleep and a possible meal aren't worth the struggle despite my aching bladder. I want to ask him what I can do to persuade him to let me past, but I am either mute or speak a foreign language.
As though reading my mind, he gestures downwards to the buttons on my shirt, instructing me with his eyes. I quickly comply and strip down. There is a full-length mirror nearby which reflects a young, petite Asian girl with a swollen belly. My racial transformation doesn't seem to intrigue me nearly as much as the prospect of looking at least 5 months pregnant. I have long, thin, raven tresses and am astonishingly beautiful.
After absorbing my features for a moment, he motions me towards a mini-bar and proceeds to pour us drinks. I spot a tub filled with ice, beer, and pickled eggs. The temptation becomes almost too much to bare, and I reach hungrily into the barrel for one of the eggs. He quickly seizes my wrist and glares at me, daring me to be so bold again.
With my arm still firmly in his grip, the man thrusts me onto a bar stool and gently pries my thigh apart with his free hand. He seems quite pleased with the shimmering tuft presented before him and instinctively reaches down for a stroke with his fingertips. A sudden moment of shyness overcomes me and I flinch away, angering him enough to plant a firm smack on the sensitive flesh. I let out a small gasp. He smirks.
Finally releasing my wrist, he plucks a red carnation from a nearby vase and breaks off most of the stem. He cups it in his hand and proceeds to trace the soft petals gently against my neck, breasts, and belly. I become very relaxed and still, allowing him to venture back down between my thighs. As I let out a contented sigh, he presses the flower into my mound and then draws it up to his nostrils, inhaling its sweet aroma. He then plucks one of the moist petals and feeds it to me.
The man senses my embarrassment and places my palm on the bulge of his pants to show that I am not alone in my arousal. I reach in for his zipper, but he smacks my hand away and nods his head in the direction of the bathroom. I have decided the pressure on my bladder is heightening my every sensation, and I do not want to leave his side for even one second. I shake my head and remain where I am.
