The first thing she could consciously remember were two forms, each twining around the other. They alternately rose and crashed against each other. Hands appeared and disappeared into folds of flesh. Cascading hair covered unknown faces, and then swept along a breast and then a navel, a back then a buttock. As the two figures arched and writhed, rose and fell in passion, she could never be certain if she was dreaming of a man and a woman or two women.
This image swished about in her mind and then evaporated as Sandra slowly floated back to reality. Very slowly. Her eyes were closed, and as she rose to the surface she could feel a strong tingle inside her sex. And not just from the dream either. She felt the delicate point of a tongue prodding her lower lips. The tongue swirled, darted, swept across her clitoris, and then focused on another delicious, wet fold. Tom had done this to her many times before (in fact, he tended to crave it even more than she did), but never with such deliberation and...assuredness. It was the confidence with which he pleasured her that aroused her even more than the pleasure itself. Her lower lips were softly splayed apart and clamped in between his teeth, his tongue toying with her clitoris.
He alternated from gentle to rough, and each change in tempo forced her to exhale heavily, or even moan. She was at the brink now and he knew it too, the way he attacked and then at the last second retreated. The he stopped. And then like a cat he started to very slowly and very sensuously lap with his tongue -- starting from just above her anus up to her clitoris, leaving behind a wake of saliva and her juices. This caused her whole body to relax, but her sex was on fire. She languidly opened her eyes, as always, to look into his when she came. But below her was not Tom. She had short red hair and bewitching green eyes. And although the woman's mouth was suctioned to Sandra's lower lips, she could have sworn the woman was grinning.
Sandra awoke with a start. There was no red-haired, green-eyed woman in front of her. The only trace the phantom woman left behind was a damp circle on her sheets where they had covered Sandra's dripping crotch. Tom was sound asleep beside her.
Sandra stumbled out of bed, her entire body throbbing, begging for release. It was 7:15. Time to start the day. She marched off to the washroom and threw her nightshirt into the hamper on her way.
She turned on the shower, but paused in front of the mirror before stepping in. Her nipples were hard, so hard they hurt. Her breasts were large and firm, her waist small, and her butt was too big as far as she was concerned, but in Tom's mind it was just right. But looking at herself at that moment Sandra was not thinking of her flaws. She imagined crossing that magical glass barrier and making love to that very desirable twin on the other side. She didn't want to just pleasure herself. She was so aroused, by herself that she wanted to be both the giver and the recipient at the same time.
She decided to take matters into her own hands. She stepped into the shower and aimed the showerhead at that magical place. She knew she would cum in seconds, but that green-eyed woman appeared again, bewitching her in her mind's eye.
She had never thought of another woman in that way. She had never done anything like that before. Or had she...? Sandra stopped cold. Frustrated and scared, she soaped and rinsed her body without further incident, trying to ignore that throbbing itch between her legs that she dared not to scratch.
She didn't mention her dreams to Tom over breakfast. Instead, she and Tom spoke of their daily grinds. He had a lunch meeting that he thought was pointless and she had three new clients and therefore three new homes to evaluate and redecorate.
Her first client, Maureen, was in the 'burbs, and was pleasant but draining. Maureen had firm ideas of what she wanted, but was indecisive as to what that was. She definitely wanted a new coffee table, but one that would match this couch she had in her head. It was leather, didn't look like leather, but had to be made of leather.
Her next client wanted a Victorian look. Her husband didn't give a shit what the four walls looked like, as long as nothing blocked his view of his big screen TV from the couch. Five thousand dollars worth of accessories later Sandra rushed off to her next appointment. Not bad for an hour's work.
Tom did not fare as well. He was pitching Max Snell of MS Logistics. They had chitchatted over salad and got down to business when the main course came. Tom was trying to convince Snell just what direction his tool and dye company's web site should take. Tom knew better than to get caught up in the concept at the risk of losing his client, but he also knew when a company had money but no direction. Tempting, but ultimately not worth it unless you can guide them along.
"So what is your corporate identity?"
"Tom, we have complicated machinery, but we're a simple company. We make good products."
"I'm sure you do. And your competitors say the same things. So if I'm shopping around why should I use you?"
"That's the problem with computers," began the elder businessman. "No face-to-face dealings. You lose appreciation of the simple things in life." He pointed with a raised water glass as he took a sip.
Tom looked in that direction and saw the most striking creature. Red hair and green eyes, looking right at him! He knew he should look away, but there was something hypnotic about her gaze. He lost the showdown and looked away.
"You see what I mean?" asked Max.
The two returned to their food and the business at hand, but when the bill came Tom still did not have a clear idea if he had the account, and if it was even worth his while. He could usually depend on his instincts, but not on this one. He plopped his Visa on top of the tab.
And on top of that dropped someone's business card. In a long and slender font it declared: "The Cheshire Cat," with an address, but no name.
"Drop by," came the sultry voice behind him. It was her. "I think I have something you'll want to see."
