1.
The lobby floor was some kind of stone and it felt cold under Maria's feet. She curled her toes and peered at the people who were milling around and standing in line at the registration desk. Or, more precisely, she peered at the men. Was he here? Was he one of these men? She was breathing fast and she forced herself to slow down and check each face. No, not here.
She crossed the lobby to the lounge. Here at least there was a carpet, but it was dim after the bright and bustling lobby. She scanned the bar but still she didn't see him.
"Get you something, honey?" The bartender was a woman in her forties, dressed all in black, a little bored-looking, Maria thought.
"Um, a glass of chardonnay?"
The bartender nodded and got out a glass, pulled a bottle out of a fridge. Maria was itching to circle the bar, to continue her search for him. Her toes curled again. The bartender put the glass down in front of her.
"Nine dollars," she said in a polite but still bored voice.
Maria reached for her purse, then realized that she didn't have it with her. Not only that, she was naked. She felt the blood starting to rise to her face. How could she be walking around this nice hotel, among all these people, naked? And how could she explain her predicament to the bartender?
The woman looked at her expectantly. Maria opened her mouth but nothing came out. Then she felt a warm hand on the small of her bare back.
"Can I be of assistance?"
It was him. She'd been looking everywhere for him. He smiled and handed some bills to the bartender.
"I have a booth," he whispered to Maria, though why he should whisper she wasn't sure. She picked up her glass. "Over here," he whispered again. His hand on her back was starting to feel hot, she knew she was flushing all over and her nipples were swelling, that anyone who looked at her carefully would see immediately how aroused she was. He leaned his head forward and kissed her bare shoulder. "Come on," he urged.
Suddenly, without any transition, they were in a booth, his hands running up her body, his lips straining against hers. She was burning up, her body must have been glowing with the heat that filled her. She tore at his clothes, she was straddling his thigh, rubbing her naked cunt and clit against him. If there had been a table in the booth it was gone now, his shirt was in tatters and his cock was in her hand. So much heat, so much power, thrusting upward, pressing into her palm, then she was straddling him completely and he was inside her, she was facing him, knees on either side of him, and his hips were bunching and rising, thrusting him into her again and again. The hardness and the heat were building, driving toward an incendiary release. She was panting and sweating, coming again and again as he squeezed her breasts and ass and drove his cock deep into her cunt.
"Oh Jesus," she whimpered. "Oh Jesus."
He half rose from the bench with a groan that was almost a bellow, his cock throbbing as he sprayed into her.
"Jesus," she moaned again. "Oh God. Yes. Oh." She flung her head back with a shriek.
And then she was awake, lying in her bed next to her husband. Her body was drenched with sweat and she was still trembling from the orgasms that had rolled through her like a mid-summer thunderstorm.
She felt drained. A strand of damp hair clung to her forehead and she pushed it away. She looked over at Louis. He was lying as he always did at night, flat on his back. His breath made tiny whistling noises in his nose. The cat, Roger, was crouched on his chest, and in the dim light Maria could see him gazing at her blankly.
She glanced at the clock. Not quite four-thirty. Too early to get up but late enough that, she knew, it would be hard to get back to sleep.
She slid out from under the sheets and moved as quietly as she could to the bathroom. When she got back, the cat was gone and she could hear methodical metallic scrapings from the kitchen where he was pushing his bowl around, licking up the crumbs of last night's dinner. Louis was awake, watching her get back into bed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I tried not to wake you."
He laughed softly. "Roger woke me," he said. "He suddenly remembered his bowl and next thing I knew there were all these claws digging into me and then he was gone." He edged closer to her and put his arm across her. "You okay?"
Maria hesitated.
"Another dream?" he asked gently.
She sighed. "Yeah," she said.
"Tell me," he said.
"Usual thing," she said. "Sex with some stranger. In a bar this time."
He didn't say anything but took her hand.
"You know it's not that I'm against sex," she burst out. "Or anything like that."
"I know," he murmured.
"I like sex," she insisted.
He kissed her shoulder.
"I even used to like having sexy dreams. But this is ridiculous!" She turned and faced him. "I'm having them every single night."
"I know," he said.
"I keep wondering if there's something wrong with me."
"No, no," Louis said.
"Or maybe with us."
"How do you mean?"
"I don't even know," she said sadly. "Maybe my body is saying, 'Hey Maria, you need more sex.' "
"If you want to try that, I'm up for it." His teeth gleamed in the darkness.
She didn't say anything for a moment. "Thing is," she said. "I really like the dreams. When I'm having them."
"Of course." He chuckled. "They sound fantastic."
"It doesn't bother you? That they aren't about... us? You?"
She felt a movement that was probably a shrug. "They're just dreams," he told her. "When you wake up you're still with me." He hesitated. "And anyway..."
"Anyway what?"
He leaned forward. His mouth touched hers and she shivered. His hand rested on her cheek.
"Anyway," he said. "It's pretty nice for me too. When you have these dreams."
His body was against hers now and his cock was pressing against her belly.
"What's he like?" he whispered. "Or is it different each time?"
She kissed him. Her hand found his cock and circled him, but she didn't answer.
"Tell me about him," Louis said. "This man who comes to your bed every night. It's always the same man, isn't it?"
Maria swallowed. "Yes," she said in a small voice.
