Believing

It was a typical mid-June Sunday in Tucson, the temperature in the desert exceeding one hundred degrees Fahrenheit with all-too-familiar ease. The tiny studio apartment was not far from becoming a sauna, since the building's construction made it overly prone to retaining heat extremely well. The lack of electricity meant a lack of air conditioning; even the large fan on the dresser at the foot of the bed was rendered useless.

That the building's water was turned off for repairs when a sudden lack of electricity struck the neighborhood made the situation even worse.

Over two hours later, the situation was well beyond "worse."

With all the sweat upon her body, she may as well have been in a sauna.

Even with the single west-facing window open as wide as possible and the blinds closed, sunlight continued to heat her tiny apartment. Laying nude upon the bed, she cursed herself yet again for picking an apartment on the west side of the building - just perfect for catching and retaining the afternoon beams of white-hot light, the carpet and the walls ensuring that the intense heat could not escape before 8AM, when the entire reheating process began anew.

At that moment, she felt like leftover turkey being reheated in an oven.

The black sheet underneath her felt clammy from her profuse perspiration; while soft, the pillow beneath her head felt the same. A very faint waft of air nudged the blinds gently, but was not strong enough to fully penetrate the impromptu oven and provide her body with a much-needed cool caress.

Even her short-cut hair felt heavy and disheveled with sweat. At the very least, it would be nice to feel so sweaty after having been involved in some bedroom athletics, but she could not even claim that.

She could not even begin to muster up enough energy to even attempt any bedroom athletics. If someone wanted to fuck her now, she could only lay there and flop around like a ragdoll being thrown about in a fierce game of Keepaway.

She was definitely wet, yet not where she so often wanted to feel wet.

She felt so hot that she was almost certain the eggs were being fried inside her. That would certainly bring a new meaning to the phrase "Eat me."

The thought caused a thin smile to form upon her lips, yet even that minuscule act drained additional energy from her.

Her mind began to succumb to the heat at last. She felt her eyes grow heavy, her body's method of shutting down all the "unnecessary" aspects of her person to conserve whatever meager energy it could find in the recesses of her being. Without the sense of sight, her other senses tried to compensate, but due to the lack of energy, they could not. If this were the final season of Sailor Moon, she would be missing her Star Seed.

She tried to imagine herself as Sailor Mars, her favorite character in the series, but apparently that part of her mind had been shut down as "unnecessary" in an effort to conserve energy.

As her body began to feel disconnected, a murky haze clouded her senses. She floated in the haze, unable to truly make sense of her experience.

With sense and logic thrown out the proverbial window, she thought she felt a soft caress against the haze of her senses - brief, momentary, fleeting. A few moments later, it returned, briefly caressing the haze before retreating once more.

The next caress broke through the haze and felt real, tangible against her moistened cheek. Her eyes snapped open, but she was still completely alone in her overheating apartment.

Gentle touches upon her eyelashes effectively pulled her eyelids shut. Something felt familiar about the touches, the gentleness, the softness, the caring treatment afforded to her, causing her to relax and ignore the warning signals emitted from the deepest recesses of her consciousness.

The gentle caresses resumed, concentrating on her face. It was as if she was being tenderly touched by her lover's fingers, yet even more gently than she had ever experienced from any of her many lovers in high school or college. Each caress softly teased her wet skin, sending signals of pleasure down to her core, causing a different and more satisfying wetness to form and pool within her. Each touch also sent a torrent of calm and peacefulness surging through her being like a tidal wave, flooding and drowning her mind so that it effectively shut off.

She was fully aware of everything, yet of nothing. Time accelerated, yet slowed so much that each heartbeat sounded in her chest for hours. Her body floated on currents of scorching air, yet she was firmly rooted to the wet sheet beneath her sweat-covered form. Each caress was fleeting, yet tenbigle.

"Auralie," a faint semi-whisper sounded within her mind. Instantly, her body became even more at ease, causing every muscle to instantly become as limp as a fully-cooked spaghetti noodle. The "voice" was quite familiar, yet she was unable to remember why.

A gentle squeeze of each breast distracted her from remembering. The next touch was between her legs, spreading the combined fluids from within her and without her.

"This is for believing in me, Auralie."

Despite her hands resting peacefully at her side, she felt as if a single finger was being slowly maneuvered into her, causing more of her wetness to escape her. After a moan at the initial penetration, she opened her eyes and tried to raise her head to look down her body, but found she could not. Just as fear began to creep into her mind, she felt as if another finger was gently stroking across her clitoris.

Electric charges seemed to emanate from her nether regions throughout her body. Despite knowing that this simply should not be happening, all rational thought was denied her, cast aside by the wonderful pleasure she was feeling by unknown means. Her body was essentially paralyzed - with no logical explanation for this condition - so that her only possible reactions were faster breathing and soft moans.

A second digit slowly pressed into her, causing a louder sound to escape her lips. She could feel her fingers trying to curl to grasp the sheet beneath her, but they would not - they could not - move as the inexplicable paralysis continued. Only her chest moved - the rib case rising and falling with her quickening breathing, and her breasts quivering just slightly with the resultant movement - as the fingers began to plunge faster and deeper into her, curling so that they would always rub across her G-spot.

"Relax, Auralie. Enjoy. This is for you. This is for your belief and trust so long ago. This is the best way I know to thank you."

With that voice-thought in her head, she lost complete track of everything not directly centered around her core. The fingers danced within her at near-blistering speed as other fingers danced across her clitoris like a professional tap dancer's expert footwork. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming. Again and again, each cell of her being exploded in a near-continuous stream of orgasms which pummeled her senses, yet her body still would not - still could not - thrash about fiercely from the extreme violence of the primal pleasure wracking her body. With what little rational thought her mind could muster, she was unsure whether the screams were from her own throat or simply screams sounding in her head because her throat was too busy bringing more air to her suddenly-starved lungs.

When her senses returned to her, it was dark, with the scent of her sexuality hanging thickly in the hot stagnant air of her tiny apartment. The electricity still did not flow through the wires, as there was no background noise from the appliances, and the VCR's built-in clock did not flash in the darkness. From somewhere nearby, either another apartment, or perhaps one of the houses on the block, she could hear a woman's faint cries of passion occasionally piercing the silence.

Only then did she realize that her head could move. Slowly, cautiously, she tested her limbs, finding they were no longer paralyzed. Carefully, she lifted herself to a sitting position, almost literally peeling herself from the wet sheet beneath her. Somehow, she made herself stand beside the bed, then feel around for a nearby flashlight. Once she found it and had some illumination at last, she looked at the bed, ashamed and embarrassed at the massive print of wetness upon the sheet, with a noticeable "pool" between the thighprints.

"It was real," she whispered to herself, thinking about the unbelievable experience - what she could remember of it.

The sound of the refrigerator returning to life startled her out of her thoughts. When she opened the refrigerator, she was pleased to feel the cool temperature which had been trapped within during the lengthy lack of electricity. She instantly grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it, allowing the cool air from within the appliance to flow past her wet skin and cool her from the outside while the water cooled her from the inside.

Another feminine cry from a nearby location caused her mind to return to the strange events. What grabbed her mind's attention was the "voice," familiar yet unknown:

"This is for believing in me, Auralie."

Then it suddenly dawned on her: "Auralie" was the name given to her by her imaginary friend when she was a very little girl!!! That she would be visited again by her imaginary friend after all these years thrilled her, but that her imaginary friend could be so corporeal that the fingers could feel so real confused her immensely.

"This is for your belief and trust so long ago. This is the best way I know to thank you."

She nearly panicked. Did that mean that her imaginary friend was potentially in trouble? Was her life in danger?

She closed the window, turned on the air conditioning, turned on the lights, changed the sheets, took a shower, turned off the lights, and went to bed - this time to sleep, and hopefully to find some answers in her dreams.