From a Dream to a Nightmare

From a Dream to a Nightmare.

A short and very dark story. Not to everyone's tastes, I'm sure. I hope you enjoy it.

DWC

Bryan woke not knowing where he was for a moment or two. The room was unfamiliar, the window was to the left of the bed, not the right as it was at home. His mind slowly cleared, and he smiled.

Yellow sodium street-lights pierced through a gap in the thin curtains, casting a beam of light on the other occupants of the bed. Stretched out, naked, beside him was his wife of seven years, Allison.

She lay on her back, small, pert, breasts perched on her slim frame, stiff nipples standing proud of the firm mounds. His eyes travelled down her svelte body, finding a tousled blonde head laid on her lower belly, the wild curls hiding the neatly trimmed vee of black hair that he knew nestled between Allison's muscular thighs.

The head belonged to a work colleague, Esme Higgins. She'd flirted with Bryan for months, now, finally wearing him down to the point where he'd summoned the courage to ask Allison for this night together. They'd talked about bringing another woman into their relationship, in general terms, many times, but the reality of following it through was a scary prospect.

To his surprise, Allison had agreed straight away, wanting to meet Esme before their shared night.

She'd arranged an evening out for her and Esme, just a few drinks to get to know each other, and had come home tipsy and giggling about a goodnight kiss the two women had shared.

Bryan had known Allison was bisexual from their second date. It never bothered him as she'd always said that she wouldn't stray without him being present too. It had excited him when she'd described Esme's kiss before they parted company that evening.

"She's really sexy, Bryan! I want her in the worst way. Can we? Can we both fuck her?"

Bryan had beamed at her, nodding excitedly. "Yes. I was so worried that you'd hate her, or me, for suggesting it."

"No! We've talked about this. She's ideal. It's a bit naughty as well. Her husband is kinda jealous, but he pays her no attention at all. She hasn't had a cock in seven months!"

"What if he finds out?" Bryan asked. "It's a bit dangerous if he's the jealous sort."

Allison wrapped her arm around his waist, her other hand finding his stiff cock through his jeans. "Someone's keen on the idea," she said, massaging his erection. "We'll just have to make sure he doesn't ever know. It adds a bit of spice, doesn't it? Now, how about you take me to bed and use this thing on me. I'm so horny."

Bryan blinked, bringing himself back to the hotel room. Esme's figure was a stark contrast to Allison's. Her skin was pale, contrasting sharply against Allison's tan even in the dim light. Her breasts were large and pendulous, tipped with large rose-pink areolae and tiny nipples. Her tight waist swelled out into voluptuous hips, then tapered into long, shapely legs. She lay at an uncomfortable looking angle with one knee raised and her hairless pussy on display. His cum still glistened in the yellow light, seeping from her smooth slit.

He'd let the girls kiss and touch each other for a while before joining in with the fun, earlier. Allison had laid back while Esme licked her to orgasm, then had demanded that her lover lay on her back with legs spread whilst she set about returning the favour.

"Come behind me and fuck me," she said, as she lapped at Esme's pouting pussy. "I want to feel your cock in me before I let Esme try it out."

He'd knelt behind her as she feasted on her new friend's cunt, slipping his rod into her molten depths. He'd set out to make it last, but Allison's repeated thrusting back against him had prompted him to treat her more firmly.

"Fuck me hard," she gasped, raising her head to take a breath. "Fuck me and fill me!"

He gripped her hips, ramming himself into her perfect body to the sound of muffled grunts and the rising whines of Esme's approaching climax

They'd cum together, all three of them. Bryan had exploded into his wife as her inner muscles clutched at his swelling shaft, their shared orgasm accompanied by Esme's almost feral howl of pleasure.

When they'd separated, Allison had kissed him frantically whilst Esme sucked their spending from his shrinking cock. He watched, slowly stroking himself back to hardness, as Esme had laid Allison down and licked and sucked his semen from her reddened hole.

"Are you ready to fuck her?" Allison had said, pushing him onto his back. "Are you ready to fuck my husband, Es?"

Esme straddled him, cowgirl, and lined him up with her entrance. "First cock in months," she said, smiling down at him. "Jack would kill me if he found out."

A shiver of excitement ran through Bryan as the blonde impaled herself on his hard dick. She was tight, forcing his thick cock into her depths as he groaned in pleasure.

"You're sure he won't find out?" Bryan asked, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

"We'd better hope not," Esme whispered. She turned to Allison. "Come and ride his face and kiss me," she said, tugging her lover to join them.

Allison threw her leg over Bryan's head, facing Esme, and settled her sticky pussy over his mouth.

Bryan could still taste remnants of his earlier orgasm on her skin as he flicked and suckled at her dripping slit.

He could hear them whispering and kissing as Esme bounced on his cock and Allison ground her pussy into his face. He lasted much longer this time, driving Esme to two orgasms before he fired a much reduced load into her sopping depths. Allison was quick to retrieve his cum, lapping at Esme like a starving woman until she came yet again.

They'd slept, after, and the scene before him was how the two women has collapsed, sated, when they has exhausted each other's bodies.

Bryan climbed from the bed making his way to the bathroom of the small suite. The heard the ping of a phone notification - probably Allison's phone. He emptied his bladder, then washed his well used penis, patting the sore member dry and turning back towards the bedroom. The click of a lock surprised him, and he peered around the door as two dark shapes crept across the room towards the bed. Bryan was frozen with indecision. Who were these people? What did they want?

He looked around for any form of weapon. Bryan was fit, but he had no training in fighting and there were two of them. His eyes caught the red glow of the street light reflecting off the fire extinguisher outside the bathroom door. That might be his only hope.

His musings were shattered by the muffled crack of a gun. Two shots, pause, then two more.

"Where's the guy?" a voice said. The attackers turned, scanning the room, looking for him. His heart and his thoughts were racing. These intruders has just shot Allison and Esme in cold blood. Now they were looking for him. He slipped out of the bathroom door, pulling the extinguisher from the wall. His hands fumbled with the release pin as the men turned, spotting him in the doorway.

One raised a pistol, just as the pin came free. Bryan squeezed the handles, raising the heavy cylinder to blast a jet of powder into his assailant's eyes. The man gasped, coughing, as Bryan brought the extinguisher round in a wide arc, striking the masked man across the side of the head. He dropped like a stone, and Bryan turned in time to see the second intruder raise a baseball bat as he ran towards him. The bat cracked into Bryan's shoulder before he could retaliate and he fell sideways, tripping on the rug and crashing to the floor. As the man rushed in for the kill, for Bryan was sure murder was on his mind, he got the extinguisher onto his chest and blasted the white powder directly into his face. The attacker stumbled back, and Bryan jumped to his feet, wrestling the bat from his hands as he tried to clear his vision. He hit hard, striking the man on the side of the head. As he went down, he hit him again, then again, until he lay still.

Bryan was panting as his terrified thoughts propelled him towards the door. He grabbed his car keys from the table and a robe from the back of the door as he stumbled out into the hotel corridor. He thought he heard a voice call out, "Stop," as he ran down the hallway, pulling on the white robe as he went. He wasn't stopping for anything. There was no telling if one of the men had recovered, and the gun was still in the room.

The thought that they might not have been alone suddenly crossed his mind, and he slowed his flight, mind whirling. The fire escape. If there were others, they'd most likely be watching the front door and the reception desk. The fire door slammed open as he rushed into the stairwell, the cold concrete harsh on his bare feet after the plush hotel carpets. He raced down three flights of stairs, crashing out of the glass panelled door into the car park. He took a moment to orient himself, then raced through the rain, feet slapping on the wet tarmac, towards his car. The engine burst into life and it was only as he reached for the steering wheel he realised he was still holding the bloodstained bat in his hand.

What to do? There were armed men trying to kill him. They'd already killed Alison and Esme, they weren't going to stop until they got him too. Who on earth would want them all dead, though?

The thought crept into his brain as he spun the tyres out of the car park and onto the rain-slick street. Esme's husband, Jack.

He steered the car towards the west-end of the city, turning onto the road that would take him to Anderson Heights. He knew where Esme lived, having given her a lift home one evening after work. He remembered the house number, his birthday, twenty-three.

The place was in darkness when he arrived. The clock on the car dashboard read two minutes to midnight. He parked just past the house and peered around. There were one of two lights still on, but no one seemed to be taking any notice of this car. He gripped the baseball bat and climbed from the car. His left arm throbbed from the blow that the second intruder had landed, but he could still move it without too much pain. He reached the door, standing in the deep porch, and rang the bell. He waited, bat at the ready, but no one came. He looked around, ringing again, pressed into a corner to keep out of sight of any nosey neighbours. A minute passed, but there was no light or movement inside the house. Bryan slipped out of the porch, sneaking around the side of the house to a path running between the house and the garage. He was about to peer through the window, when headlights swept across the front of the house and a car pulled to a stop on the driveway. Bryan hunched at the corner of the house as the man that must be Jack Higgins stepped out, locked the vehicle, and walked towards the front door of the house. Bryan could see the keys in his hand as he approached the porch. He had to time this right. As Jack Higgins turned the key, Bryan sprinted, on silent bare feet, to the door of the house. He reached it just as Higgins was closing it behind him. The door sent the surprised man sprawling as it slammed into his shoulder. He looked up at the white robe clad figure of Bryan with fear in his eyes.

"What do you want? I have no cash here."

"Don't recognise the man you wanted killed?" Bryan said as the bat slammed into Higgins' chest. He heard the breath forced from the prone man's lungs as he raised to strike again.

"I didn't..." Higgins said as the bat struck his head.

"Didn't think I'd survive?" Bryan shouted, striking once more. Blood was pooling beside Higgins' head as Bryan took stock. Higgins was out for the count. Maybe dead. He didn't care. Adrenaline was still coursing through his body as his eyes took in the contents of the front hallway of the Higgins house. Pride of place on the wall was a picture of Higgins and Esme with a tall distinguished man with white hair. Bryan knew the face right away. Robert De Silva, well-known local gangster. His mind was a whirl. This man was obviously related to De Silva. Not his son, he had a different name. Was De Silva Esme's maiden name? What had he got mixed up in?

Bryan glanced down at the bleeding body on the floor and, as the fear hit him, vomited on the Parquet flooring. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and dropped the bat, running for the door as the incessant bleeping of an alarm system finally pierced his thoughts. He had to get away from here.

He turned at the end of the road, speeding down the hill towards the city. A police car, blue lights flashing, passed him as he turned onto the main road. He had to get home, get some clothes and money, then get as far away as possible.

His own house stood at the end of a cul-de-sac surrounded by tall trees and he pressed the automatic door opener as her turned onto the drive. Waiting until the door was high enough, he drove into the garage and waited for the automatic door to close behind him. His blood-stained hands were sticky as he prised them away from the steering wheel. He stumbled out of the car and made his way into the house. The house was as it should be, no evidence that anyone had been here. He wished he'd kept hold of the bat as he tiptoed from room to room, making sure that there were no unwelcome guests. Finally sure that he was alone, he went to his bedroom, stripped off the blood spattered robe and stepped into the shower. His mind calmed as the hot water washed over his body. Where to go? De Silva was involved in this, somehow. Had he called a hit on his own daughter for her infidelity? Had Higgins been innocent of the murder of Allison and Esme? One thing was for sure, he had to get away. He had to disappear for a while and find out what had happened.

The house had yielded just over a hundred pounds in cash, and now he was drawing the maximum allowance from the cash machine outside the local supermarket. A plan had formed as he'd dressed. There was a fishing hut out by the lake that he used in the summer. It would be closed up now, but he'd find a way to get in. He'd taken the camping gear from the garage as he left the house. A sleeping bag, tent, and cooking stove amongst the items he'd packed in the back of the car.

He quickly filled a trolley in the almost deserted 24 hour store, taking non perishable tinned and dried foods. A pair of heavy framed reading glasses had joined the groceries and the baseball cap in the trolley as he made his way through the self-checkout.

The fishing hut door quickly yielded to a swift kick, and he found the place in good order and set about getting a bed organised for himself.

It was gone two in the morning when he finally lay down and, despite the horrors of the day, his exhausted body was soon asleep.

* * *

Bryan sat in the car next morning. He'd heated a can of baked beans and was eating them from a plastic bowl as the rain pattered on the windscreen obscuring the view of the lake. He flicked on the radio turning the volume low as the raucous pop music of a national station blared out. He closed his eyes. What could he do, now? His ears caught the jingle of the station's news slot and he turned up the volume.

"Police in Leeds are on the lookout for local man, Bryan Robinson, after a practical joke went horribly wrong last night. Two men, Mr Robinson's brother, Peter, and his brother-in-law, Thomas Hart, were found dead in a city hotel last night. In a suspected related incident, Police later found local businessman Jack Higgins unconscious at his home in Anderson Heights. He is seriously ill in hospital, though reports say he is now stable."

Bryan stared at the radio, mouth hanging open. A practical joke? The two men who'd attacked him had been Pete and Tom? Why was there no word of the death of Allison and Esme?

Bryan turned the radio to a local station, hoping to find out what was going on. None of this made sense.

"Back now to the double murder in a Leeds city centre hotel late night. Our reporter Bob Jenkins is outside the building. Bob, what is the latest news?"

"Yes, Susan. I'm here at the Allengate Hotel in Leeds city centre where a badly planned practical joke went horribly wrong last night leaving two men dead and one seriously injured."

"Do we know what happened yet, Bob?"

"We have a clearer picture now, Susan, yes. It appears that the man police are seeking, Bryan Robinson, his wife, Allison, and a second woman, Esmeralda Higgins, were engaged in a sexual liaison at the hotel when a pre-arranged prank was played to frighten Mr Robinson. His wife and their lover, Mrs Higgins, had persuaded Mr Robinson's brother, Peter, and Mrs Robinson's brother, Thomas, to burst into the room with a blank-firing replica gun and pretend to shoot the trio. In events that are, so far, unclear, Mr Robinson attacked the supposed intruders with a fire extinguisher, fracturing the skulls of both men. One died at the scene, the other was declared dead shortly after arrival at City Hospital."

"What do we know about the third man, Jack Higgins?" the presenter asked.

"Jack Higgins is the husband of Esmeralda Higgins. It's unclear why Mr Robinson drove from the hotel to his house after the murders and assaulted him. We've also just heard that local businessman, Robert De Silva, the injured man's father-in-law, has offered a reward of one million pounds for information leading to the arrest of Robinson."

"Thank you, Bob. We'll return to you later if any further details emerge. This is Susan Crane at Radio City News. In other news today..."

Bryan set the half eaten beans on the passenger seat and cradled his head in his hands as he began to sob.

Author's note.

I know this will not appeal to everyone, it wasn't designed to. If you're going to comment "It's not finished" or "What happens next?" You get to decide! If you have an idea of a different ending, write a sequel. You have my full permission to follow on from this if you wish. That's how I started writing many years ago, maybe it'll start you on a writer's journey.

DWC