When Gary finished and left, Terry rose from the bed immediately and set about the business of making herself beautiful for the encounter she knew was just the other side of consciousness from where she currently was. A low, throbbing, drum-beat of desire still pulsed in her loins, but no longer made her frantic. She knew satisfaction was imminent. The red nightie ceased to sizzle against her skin and now provided a warm, comforting presence in place of the goading irritant it had been during her brief period of rebellion. Anticipation had supplanted desperation in Terry's soul, and the hours flew by while she meticulously prepared to present herself at her very best. When the time came to retire, she consumed the new manuscript as though in one bite, her mind barely registering the words as it processed them. Sleep came quickly and easily.
"Where are we?" Terry asked. She cast her glance about, but could make no distinction between earth and sky. There was no discernible horizon nor any indication of what held her in place in the vast expanse of whiteness in which she found herself.
"We are wherever you wish to be," replied the beautiful man. He stood before her, seeming to float like she in a sea of nothing. He was clad in a sarong-like garment of cloth and color to match the red nightie that clung to Terry's frame. His bare chest and arms and finely chiseled face made a mockery of the most exquisite examples of men or gods. "This is your dream Terry. This is where your most extravagant fantasies will be real. This is where you will reap your rewards for doing my works in the other world," the beautiful man said, and then vanished.
"Wait! Tell me what I'm supposed to do!" Terry shouted into the sea of white. She sounded shrill and small to herself, surrounded by nothing. She began to tremble slightly and was on the verge of slipping into fear and disappointment when it occurred to her that if her fantasies were to be played out here, then she would have to call up one of her many fantasies. Since her early teens, Terry had never been one to deny herself the pleasures of self-gratification whenever connecting with a playmate was inconvenient, and it was her habit to create erotic scenarios in her mind to accompany the massaging and probing that ultimately provided her solitary orgasms. She had many of these scenarios, and she had favorites, and her favorites even had names. "I'll just think about 'Stranger Danger'," she said to herself as she closed her eyes and slid her hand up under the red nightie to press one finger against her clit.
Terry felt the change in her surroundings before she opened her eyes. The sense of vast space and nothing that she had formerly occupied became close—almost oppressive. Strange, musty odors assaulted her nostrils and rustling and clicking sounds nearby provided evidence of life forms scurrying about in her vicinity. She opened her eyes and cast about in search for the source of those creepy sounds, hoping for reassurance that there was nothing to fear. It was dark. Too dark to penetrate the piles of assorted junk that adorned the walls on either side of her. The only light was a tiny sliver of moonlight that drifted feebly down between the immense buildings surrounding her to light the center of what was obviously an alleyway.
Terry looked forward and back, trying to see where the alley opened onto a street or a public place, but she couldn't make out anything. The alley appeared to go on endlessly in both directions. Then, something slippery slithered across the top of her bare foot, and she started to run. The rustling and clicking sounds seemed to follow her and grow louder as she raced down the alley, staying within the band of reflected moonlight that illuminated the alley's center. "This isn't MY stranger danger," Terry shouted, increasing her pace to one of full-blown flight.
"Yes it is Terry," a man's voice said. "This is exactly what you yearned for, but lacked the courage to fully flesh out for yourself in all of its glorious detail," the voice went on. "I am your stranger."
Terry ran headlong into the bulky figure of a man, dressed in a large overcoat and only avoided bouncing off of him to fall on the alley floor because he gripped her upper arms and held her upright. "No," Terry mouthed, looking up into the disfigured face of the brute who held her in his grasp.
"Yessss," hissed the man. "Why else would you come to me naked except for that tiny red rag you are wearing? Why would you come here this way except to be handled, caressed, used, fucked, and sodomized by the strangest stranger your mind could conjure?" That said, the man pushed Terry back to arm's length and released one of her arms to reach inside his coat and expose his member. Struck dumb and wide-eyed, Terry stared at the immense penis the man held in his hand, exposed to the dim moonlight. The prick appeared to be greenish and slimy as though it had been recently residing within some strange, rotten fruit. It writhed in the man's hand like a snake and bulges expanded and contracted up and down its length like some living thing inside it was seeking a way out.
"No!" Terry whimpered, closing her eyes tight against the vision before her and sagging in the man's grip. She shuddered as the beastly stranger guided his grotesque prick up under her nightie to probe and slither wetly across her belly and down to force its way between her legs. "He said my fantasy would come true here!" Terry said aloud. "This is not my fantasy. My fantasy is of a handsome stranger, in luxurious surroundings, who... ."
