Dreams

I sit up in bed for a while. I can feel without checking that I have soaked right through my underwear. My skin shines with a thick layer of sweat. My breathing is beginning to slow as I come down from my dream. The heat flushing through my body begins to subside. Anger starts to replace it. I don't know why I am more upset. I hate that my dream has ended. I also hate that it was, in fact, only a dream. I hate that I am so wonton in my dream. I beg, whine, squeal and claw like I have never done in real life. Am I that easily seduced? My brain screams "No!" In real life, I am no sex kitten. My mind wanders back three years. I recklessly gave one man everything I had. It wasn't enough. When it ended, the only thing I walked away with was heartache.

Before I beat start to beat myself up, I slide out of bed and pull the sheets off the bed. They are wet and need to be wash. I drop them in the hamper and head for the bathroom.

*****

Saturday is routine for me. Breakfast with Joe and Sara is a good distraction for me. We sit outside the café under the awnings. It's early, but the sun is shining and the day is gorgeous. An entire hour passes before Joe excuses himself. The café is getting busy and his two sons are starting to get swamped. He pats my head on the way to lend them a hand. Sara sits and sips her coffee. She looks at me with an odd expression on her face.

"Angie, I did not want to say anything in front of Joe, but something's off with you. Are you sure you're okay?" She sits her cup down and makes herself comfortable in the stuffed chair. "You know I have the patience of Job and I'll just keep calmly asking you until you crack."

I sighed. Time to lie again. It's bad enough that these dreams are starting to distract me to the point of other people noticing, but I am not ready to share this with anyone. Not yet.

"I've just got a lot on my mind with work, that's all."

Sara is not buying it.

"Hmmm. You know, Stephen will be in town next week. You know he would love to see you and catch up." Stephen is her oldest son. He is 33. I have known him since we were both in diapers. We practically grew up together although in the last 10 years, he took on the role of protective older brother.

I hold my breath. Here it comes.

"Joe and I hate to see you alone. There has been no one in three years. Not since..." She trails off as she notices my body tensing and my eyes darkening.

"Well anyway, we just think it is not good for you be alone so much." I try to smile. The effort is painful.

"I'm not alone, Sara."

"Oh, I know you have us and more friends than you care to count, but you know what I mean, kitten." She uses my childhood nickname as she reaches for her cup again. The café is starting to really busy.

"Just think about what I said." She drops a kiss on my forehead and heads inside to help her husband and sons.

I check my watch. It's a little after ten o'clock. I get up from my chair and walk down the sidewalk to the exit gate. I wave to Sara, Joe and the boys on my way to the French Market.

*****

The rest of my weekend passes uneventfully. I have another dream Saturday night and Sunday night is no exception. It takes most of my energy and get out of bed. I am exhausted after my shower. I pull burgundy baby-doll dress from the closet and pair it with black leggings. This is my "I don't feel like getting dressed" dress. It passes for professional while it feels like I am wearing pajamas. I arrive at work Monday morning with puffy bags under my eyes. I try to hide them with glasses that morning in lieu of my usual contacts, which I was too tired to put in today.

It is 9:05 when I finally enter the lobby and make my way up the stairs. I see the light on in Pittman's office. "He's here a little early." I think to myself as I wander into my own office. My butt had no more than touched the fabric of my chair when Pittman's bald head appears at my door.

"I need you and Matt in the conference room this morning at 11:00 Angela." He is gone before I have time to process the words. I sit for a minute trying to remember what meeting I have forgotten. As my computer loads, I finally remember. The series of anthologies was arriving today from that private seller. I remember the email. The seller is insisting on sending a representative with the set. Damn! All that brouhaha would happen today. Couldn't this wait till mid-week? Matt arrives later than usual too. I see him sneak in about 30 minutes. No one else seems to notice.

Later that morning, Emily is in my office taking a well deserved break. It has been a predictably busy Monday morning. She likes to come in and rest in one of the overstuffed chairs. We don't speak. She has her head back; eyes closed. I am working on my computer with one eye on the clock. I have ten minutes before the meeting. I am so engrossed in the computer, that I do not see Matt come in until he plops down in the chair next to Em. I look up and see him rubbing his temples. He has not shaved today.

"Rough night?" I don't look up from the computer. His grunt is the only reply.

"Hmmm, what's her name?" I finally look up from the screen. He really does look terrible. We've all been so busy this morning that we have not seen each other long enough this morning to catch up on the weekend gossip.

"Uh, I just didn't sleep well last night." He dismisses my teasing with a wave of his hand. "I just came to get you. It's time for our meeting."

I lock my computer screen and give Em's hair a tousle on the way out the door to make sure she is not asleep. She reaches up to slap my hand away, but I'm already out of reach.

The lights are already on in the conference room. The vertical blinds on the windows have been pulled back. I see three people in the room already. Pittman's bald head is the most obvious. The second person is Laura, our book keeper. Her hair was once blonde, but it has taken on a grayish-pink tint over the last couple of years. She is the shortest of the trio. The third one I do not recognize. Definitely a guy so I assume this must the seller's rep. Matt walks into the conference room in front of me. There is a large box in the table and my eyes go directly toward it. Matt walks over to the head of the table to greet everyone.

The box is huge. I was not expecting this many books. The top has already been opened, but none of the items inside have been disturbed. Upon closer inspection, I see each book has been wrapped in packing paper. I lean in for a closer look. They smell old. I love the smell of old books. They have history. I am tempted to take the box to my office and lock the door. This surprises me considering I am never as excited about shipments because Pittman is always more than excited enough for everyone else.

"...and this is Angela Morgan, our senior reference librarian. She is the one who has been corresponding with your grandfather."

Hearing my name snaps my attention away from the box of books and up toward the people in the front of the room. Laura is moving to the table to have a seat. Matt is following her. Pittman is standing to next to the other man in the room. I look at this man for the first time. My tongue sticks to the top of my mouth and for a second, I cannot breathe.

He's here. Right here in this room. He's standing in front of me. The man who has made my dream life heaven and hell. This is not happening. I blink. He is still here. He is standing next to Pittman in a white polo shirt and dark denim jeans. Long black hair pulled back. His eyes look in my direction and his mouth exposes even white teeth as he smiles and turns to face me in a greeting. The temperature in the room rises 10 degrees in a second and for the first time in my life, I think I might actually faint. I pray no one can hear me breathing.

He walks over to me. He smiles and holds out his hand. My hand reaches for his. I see myself shaking his hand. I feel the warmth of his hand enclose mine. I hear myself saying "It's nice to meet you." I look up into the man's eyes. They are as familiar to me as my own. I know I am not dreaming. It takes every ounce of strength I possess to stop myself from jumping on him right there and have him take me on the floor of the conference room. It is actually painful to let go of his hand.

I feel my body moving to the table and taking a chair. The meeting lasts about 30 minutes. Later, I would not remember much about that meeting.

*****

Matt corners me in the break room an hour later. "Hey, payback's a bitch ain't it?"

"What?" I look up from my tea and for a moment, I am confused.

Matt laughs and plops down in a nearby chair. He still looks like hell, but he eyes twinkle with mischief.

"Well, I figure your payback for commenting about my wild weekend has just been paid in full to you with change left over."

I am still trying to comprehend what he is saying when Emily walks into the break room.

"Whoo! It's getting hot in here." Em fans herself with her hand, after looking around to make sure there is no one else in the room. "You know Jasper would kill me to hear me say this, but good god! That man is smoking hot!" Em laughs and continues fanning her face with her hand.

"Down girl; married women are supposed to be able to control those kinds of hormones." Mark hands her a paper plate so she can fan herself properly.

"Besides, you can live vicariously through Angie since she's the one who will be working with him this week." He leans back in his chair still laughing at me. "Although it looks like she will also have trouble controlling herself."

I groan and cringe. Now it was coming back to me. "Oh god, what did I say? What did I do? Did I make a complete fool out of myself? Honestly, I don't remember much." I am afraid to hear it but I have to know.

Matt sits up, preparing to ease my fears. Looking at Em, he grins. "You should have seen her this morning. To anyone else, she was professional and very pulled together, but I knew better." He looks at me. "You looked like a guitar string about to snap."

My forehead falls into my folded arms on the table.

Matt laughs and tells the rest. No one else noticed anything different in my behavior. Laura was busy running figures. Pittman was busy drooling over the books. During all this, I was informed that our rep would assist me with cataloguing the collection. "I don't suppose either of you caught his name?" Em asks looking at me.

I draw a blank and look at Matt.

"Lucas Delsin." He smiles. "You are telling me you don't even remember his name? He laughs again. "Wow. Even I have never had an affect like on a woman like this. Sure a few have forgotten my name but for entirely different reasons."

"Is he still here?" I ask finding my voice again.

"Nope. He had an appointment over at the University, but he'll be back tomorrow."

I still feel warm and uncomfortable even after being reassured that I still have job. I leave the break room and go back to my office. I do not go back to work. I sit at my computer doing nothing. I stare at the screen for hours. I miss lunch. I cannot focus. I feel restless. I do manage to open my email. Pittman is gone for the day. There is only one thing to do. I leave the office, go downstairs, grab the nearest cart loaded with books and push it out toward the stacks.

I do not want to go to sleep tonight. I know what's coming. I can't handle this. I think I was happier thinking I was crazy. He was a fantasy. Some concoction that I had cooked up in my subconscious to make up for what was lacking in my life. That all changed today. He is real. I sit up and watch T.V. When that does not work, I listen to music. I sit on the balcony and watch people on the street. I eat a pint of ice cream followed by a roll of Tums. Finally, just shy of 2:00am, exhaustion takes over. I lie across the couch, fully clothed, and close my eyes.

*****

I am alone in the conference room. It's late. All the lights are out. The only light coming in the room is from a street lamp outside behind the building. For a few minutes, I see nothing and hear nothing. The entire building is empty and there is no noise. I walk to the window. There is no one outside. No other widows show signs of light. The entire city has uncharacteristically shut down.

The air changes and I know he is here. I feel him cross the room and come up behind me. He does not touch me, but I can feel his body heat. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Then something unusual thing happens.

I don't turn around. Instead, I take another step forward. I am so close to the window, I can see my breath fog the glass. I can feel my body protesting not wanting to pull away from him, but I am able to control it. I keep my eyes closed.

"Are you real?" It takes a minute to realize those words have come out of my mouth. I wait for him to answer me.

"What do you think?" He does not move. He allows me the space I have created.

I hate questions that are answered with questions and I tell him so.

He laughs then answers me seriously. "I want you to be real. What do you want?"

I take another deep breath. The windows fogs again. "I think...I think I need you to be real." It hurts to admit this out loud.

My heart hurts as I realize the truth of that statement. I can feel the ache. I open my eyes. I don't realize that I am holding my breath until my lungs begin to burn. I exhale and turn around. He is standing very still but he is watching me intently. I move closer to see his face. I see need in his eyes, not lust.

He is wearing the same polo shirt and jeans. His hair is down. I don't think I realized how long it was. The jet black hair falls midway down his back. He is barefoot.

I look at his hands. They are motionless at his sides. I reached for one hand. I place it palm up and stare at it for a minute. I run my fingers over his fingers. I do the same with the other hand. I return his hands to his sides and run my hands slowly up over his bare forearms and up over the polo shirt to this shoulders. When I reach the top, I run my hands down again.

I can hear him breathing a little deeper, but he makes no attempt to touch me. I am in control. I move to stand behind him. I run my hands up and down his back and over his ass. I press my cheek against his back. He is so warm. Reaching around him, my fingers wriggle their way up under his shirt. His skin is on fire. My hands run over the rippled stomach and up over his broad chest.

I bury my face into his back. "I need you be real." I breathe the words as I pull up on the bottom of his shirt.

He raises his arms and helps take the shirt off as I am too short for the task. My need is there, but it is not uncontrollable. I move around to face him again. He lifts one hand and uses his index finger to trace my face. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his fingers tracing the shape of my face. He face leans in so close that I can feel his breath on my forehead, then my nose, then my cheek and finally on my mouth.

The kiss is light at first. So light that I think I imagined it. The second was soft but I could feel his lips brush mine.

"I've been waiting for you." He breathes against my mouth. When I lick my lips, my tongue brushes against his and all control disappears. I feel heat and moisture flood my center.

I grab his neck and pull him down to me. The kiss is hard and bruises my lips, but I don't care. I groan as his arms squeeze my body hard against his. There is no air. His mouth is the only thing that exists for me. My knees wobble and I know I will not stay on my feet much longer. I sink down to the floor taking him with me. We are both sitting in the middle of the floor. His hands roam down my stomach, to my legs and find the hem of my dress. The garment finds its way up and over my head.

I whimper at the loss of contact with his mouth in the second it takes to get the dress up and over my head. His mouth reclaims mine and never leaves as I wiggle out of my tights with his help. He has to get up on his knees to get his jeans off. Even then, our mouths do not part. His tongue is smooth against mine. I love the taste of him. His hand slips between my legs. I'm so wet, that his fingers slip inside with no resistance. I shiver and groan into his mouth at the touch as he strokes me and rubs my clit with his thumb.

His mouth leaves mine. Before I can react, I feel his mouth on my neck. His lips travel down, kissing their way to my breasts. It is only then that I realize my bra is gone. I gasp when his mouth closes on my nipple and sucks gently and first, then harder. His fingers are moving faster inside me and my hips are thrusting back creating that familiar pleasurable rhythm. I cry out at the pleasurable sensations he is causing but I need more.

My arms, wrapped around his neck for support, move down his arms and down his stomach to gasp his hard cock. I stroke the length of him and look up. I push his face up for a moment.

"You have to be real." I say the words in my head now as I move to straddle his lap, still kissing him. Sinking slowly, I take his entire length inch by inch inside me until I am full. For a moment I do not move. I like the feeling of fullness. He is sitting up, holding me and looking into my eyes. Breaking contact with his mouth, I pull my calves under my thighs and balance on my knees for a moment. I kiss him again as I begin to move.

Moving slowly at first, his moans turn me on and encourage me to move faster. He holds me steady by my hips as I pump up and down on his cock. My hands run up and down his shoulders, his back and his hair. Each stroke brings me closer and closer and I dig into his back with my fingernails. He responds by thrusting up harder to match me. His fingers dig into my flesh. Our rhythm is fed by need. My legs begin to ache. I don't care. I cannot get enough.

I feel the first notes of my orgasm begin to crest as I grip his shoulders tighter. His mouth is set in a hard line but his eyes never leave mine even as I kiss him again between gulping down mouthfuls of air. Watching him watching me is too much. I explode and give in to my orgasm. My undulations slow him down for a moment, but then he begins to thrust into me harder bringing on another.

I dig bloody half moons into his shoulders and cry out as I throw my head back. He buries his head in my chest and heaves into me once...twice...and on the third, explodes inside me. I can feel his release and reach for his mouth. He kisses me. I can taste his hunger.

We sit holding on to each other for a while. He is still inside of me. I love the feeling.

"How can this be happening?" I ask after I catch my breath. Silly question, I know, but nonetheless it needs to be asked.

"It does not matter." He strokes my back. I rest my head on his shoulder.

"Why are you here?" It's a risky question, but I guess I am taking all kinds of chances tonight.

"I'm here because I've been looking for you. You've been looking for me too, but you will not admit it." He smiled when he says this. I'm not looking at his face but can hear it in his voice.

"I don't like to admit a lot of things." I confess, finally lifting my head off his shoulder and looking at his face. He still has a soft smile on his lips. I kiss him softly.

He returns my kiss then holds my face in hands and looks at me. "I know but this can be real if you want it to be." This statement surprises me. I open my mouth to reply...

*****

It is still dark when I wake up. It's 5:30. Surprisingly, I am not sleepy. I know that I will not be able to go back to sleep, but that does not bother me right now. My confusion mounts as I wander the apartment. How do I go to work? How do I my job this week? What am I going to do when this is over? Confusion and fear fuel my appetite and I end up making pancakes, eggs and sausage for breakfast. As I wolf down a breakfast usually reserved for Sundays, I think about what I need to do.