A Midwinter's Night Sex Dream

Dear readers,

Yes, I know. My sentences here aren't complete. My lack of paragraphs appalling. Maybe my spelling too. But it's a dream and rules don't apply in dreams, right?

Call it experimental.

Enjoy.

Comments always welcome.

- JJS Harshaw

* * * * *

At first, all that can be seen is Margaret's face.

From the left side.

In cinematic parlance, a tight closeup.

Her eyes are closed.

Her raven's hair slickened and pull back into a tight bun.

Face devoid of makeup.

Mouth open.

Lips full and moist.

SHOT

A hand comes into the frame from the bottom, startling the dreamer.

The hand moves lightly along Margaret's jaw line in a slow caress.

Margaret lifts her head, strains to the right.

"Oh yesssss...," Margaret whispers. "Yes, that feels so good."

She tilts her head back.

Arching her neck for the hand.

The beautiful and graceful hand.

To caress her throat.

Margaret gasps.

SHOT

The frame widens to a medium shot.

To accomodate the owner of the hand.

Laura is nuzzling Margaret's throat on the right side.

Laura's hand caresses Margaret behind her left ear.

Laura takes Margaret's chin in her hand.

Smiles.

Laura bends toward Margaret to kiss her.

Margaret parts her lips to receive.

Her lips quiver.

They kiss.

Slowly.

Deeply.

Laura moves back to Margaret's throat.

She delicately licks from the hollow at the base of Margaret's throat to behind Margaret's ear.

Moving from there back to the feast that is Margaret's taut mouth and sensuous tongue.

The dreamer drops out of REM sleep and the tableau

fades

to

black.

Another cycle of REM

The dreamer stands in the room at the foot of a bed.

SHOT

The establishing shot: Margaret is handcuffed to the brass headboard.

Arms stretched above her head.

Margaret is clothed.

A simple white, Oxford button down blouse.

A green linen skirt.

Laura lays next to her.

Nude.

A white thigh extended over Margaret's skirted belly.

Laura's hand caressing Margaret's face and neck.

Laura's face buried in the hollow of Margaret's neck.

Laura raises up on an elbow.

Touches Margaret's face.

"Maggie, lover, I'm going to open your blouse now and suck your tits."

"Please....," is Margaret's impassioned plea.

She throws her head back on the pillows.

Waits for the new sensation of a woman sucking her breasts.

Laura unbuttons Margaret's blouse.

Spreads it open revealing Margaret's white lace bra.

Laura trails a hand from Margaret's face down over her breasts and the gentle swelling of her belly.

A blink in sleep

The bra is open.

"Oh Maggie," Laura whispers in lustful admiration.

"You have such beautiful breasts; so firm and round. The nipples are so swollen..."

Laura takes a nipple in her mouth.

Margaret cries out in the pleasurable shock of the warm, wet mouth on her virgin nipple.

Another drop out of REM. Fade

to

black.

AUDIO ONLY

"Maggs, I want you to be my lover."

The voice is quiet and firm; insistent.

"No, no I can't! It wouldn't be right...No...."

Margaret protests but her resolve is waning.

"Suit yourself Maggie. We'll just have to keep doing it until you come around I guess."

"OH NO! No, please! Not..."

Margaret's desperate plea turns into a moan of intense pleasure.

The picture returns

SHOT

Margaret.

Black hair wild.

Head thrown back.

Nude.

Body stretched and stiffened.

Straining against the cuffs.

In the throes of an intense orgasm.

Laura.

On her belly.

Arms cradling Margaret's thighs.

Her white back, full hips and ass to the dreamer.

A shock of close cropped red hair moving between Margaret's silky, white thighs.

"...Yes...," between heavy breaths, "yes, I'll be your lover..."

The dreamer moves behind Laura.

Watches her head slide and bob as she mouths Margaret's sex.

The dreamer looks at the intense concentration on Margaret's face.

The sheen of sweat covering her forehead.

Covering her breasts.

Her breathing irregular.

Her chest and belly rising and falling with the rhythm of Laura's insistent actions.

The dreamer smiles.

Steps behind Laura.

Reaches for her hips to take her.

REM dropout

Fade

to

black.

"It's 7:01 AM on 710 KCMO News Radio. The temp a chilly minus 12 this morning. Better wrap up this morning!..."

The dreamer groans at the alarm.

"Shit!"

* * * * *

"Morning Chief, here's your coffee and your messages. Had your cell off last night, didn't you? Tsk, tsk."

"Hmmmm. Any danish this morning?"

"Sorry, you were late. The marketing drones beat you to them. All that was left were a couple of prune danishes. Want me to see if they're still there?"

The chief looked up through bleary eyes.

"Laura, who the hell eats prune danish? Who even makes prune danish?"

"The bakery?"

"Smart ass. Any of the bigger fish trolling the bull pen this morning?"

"Nope, coast is clear."

"Close the door."

The chief pulls out a Marlboro Red.

Laura lights it.

The chief leans back in the chair, takes a deep drag and blows it out slowly.

"What's up on the schedule this morning?"

"You're interviewing in, Christ! In fifteen minutes."

Laura consults her planner.

"A Ms. Margaret Baker. Grad Columbia with a B.S. in communications. Oh."

"What?"

"She was in my sorority."

"Then hopefully she'll be as randy as you were when you first started working for me."

"I'm still randy and you know it."

"Come over tonight? Fix you angel hair pasta and I've got a great bottle of wine to go with it."

"Nine, okay?"

"Great."

A knock at the door.

"She's early. Come in."

Margaret Baker, sorority sister and bachelor of science in communications, stood in the chief's doorway.

Dressed in a starched white, Oxford button down shirt.

And a simple linen green skirt that came to her knees.

Black three quarter inch pumps.

Despite the ferocious cold, no hose.

"Hi. I'm..."

"...Margaret Baker. How do you feel about angel hair pasta, white wine and late nights?"

"I love them. I've been kinda lonely since moving here."

The chief smiled.

Laura knew the chief's mind.

She smiled.

"Tonight. You can come with the chief and me."

* * * * *

To sleep, perchance to dream...