Normally, on a beautiful day like this, she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise, and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there. Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with any perpetrator -- except his employer.
That was apparent with Phil’s departure from the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could wait; she needed a little nap.
Claire tried to wake, but was that possible from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back. Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let her sleep?
It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”
The directive was not demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of persuasion, a kiss -- his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams, can’t it? There’s even a line in a song: in dreams our feet never touch the ground. Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.
She’d watched him walk away and locked the door. Didn’t she?
Convincing herself this was only fantasy, Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium. Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.
Somehow she was on her bed. When she woke at two in the morning, she didn’t straighten the bed clothes. The exposed, soft sheets were cool against her skin. Gently, the clip was freed from her hair, allowing her auburn trusses to fall in waves onto her soft pillow. Piece by piece her clothing disappeared. She obeyed the simple commands, “Lift your arms over your head.” Her oversized t-shirt was eased over her head, then the camisole. Claire moaned as the cool air caused her nipples to harden. Her physical reaction did not go unnoticed. His now gentle fingers lightly caressed the hard nubs. Closing her eyes, with her arms above her head, she arched her back, surrendering her vulnerable breasts. She ached for more.
Next, her yoga pants were eased past her ankles, exposing her black lacy panties. The barely visible material was but a scant hurdle on the road to their destination. Nevertheless, a streak of panic ran through her, like ice on overheated skin. Goose bumps formed on her arms and legs. The sudden alarm intensified everything, from the sound of their breathing to the touch of his hands. The small lace barrier was another direct violation of his rules. She watched his expression as his fingers traced the delicate trim. In the center, inches below her bellybutton was a small, black, satin bow. His strong hands encircled her hips as his thumbs teased the tiny adornment. She was a present – a gift, wrapped only for him. He didn’t speak, but his chest rose and fell, as his breathing deepened. She sighed with relief, when the tips of his lips turned upward into his handsome, devilish smile.
The panties were gone.
“This isn’t real. This is a dream.” She wasn’t sure if the words were in her head or if she’d spoken them aloud.
They must have been said aloud, because Tony responded. “Do you want it to be a dream?”
She shook her head, no.
No, she didn’t want it to be a dream? Or no, she didn’t want it to be real? She didn’t know. “It isn’t real.” Claire repeated, a little less confident of her words or her ability to speak.
It felt real. The fragrance of his cologne filled her room, as only she filled his sight. It was that all-encompassing gaze, the one that removed everyone and everything from the world, leaving only them. The heat radiating from his amazing body was overwhelming; she wondered if it could burn her. Yet, she wasn’t concerned. This wasn’t the man who hurt her. The man in her dream was the one she loved and loved her. Her mind searched for reason. He’d proclaimed that love again, in the living room. Now her subconscious wanted to fulfill its desires. She submitted to the dream. Fighting would take too much energy. Even her unconscious knew her energy would be better utilized in other ways.
His clothes were also gone. When had he taken them off? Time can be so elusive in dreams...
He was talking; asking questions and voicing appreciation of everything before him. Nevertheless, his words didn’t register, only the rhythm of his deep sensual tone. That cadence, along with the strong beating of his heart, within his massive, heat-radiating chest, calmed and excited her. Claire listened and nodded, even though she was unsure of what she authorized.
Her senses were on high alert. The amazing sight of him, unclothed, his distinctive scent, the warm commanding touch of his hands, the sound of his sexy breathing, so close to her ear, and the taste of his soft lips, produced gasps and moans. The unrelenting provocation generated overwhelming desire. She heard her own voice, pleading for more. Yet, she wasn’t conscious of speaking. Everything was in another dimension. Involuntary actions and reactions overtook her mind, words, and body. When had fantasy ever taken her to this height?
His hands felt so real, as they caressed her skin. Each touch intensified the electric sensations and passionate desires. She’d been fighting these images all night. She couldn’t do it anymore. The man of her dreams didn’t take, as the real one could. He asked, as Harry had done.
That was it, Claire reasoned. Her subconscious created a combination, an amalgamation of sorts. When the husky voice requested permission, her body screamed with need, “Oh god yes, please!” His smile, too, seemed real. Reaching up, she longed to touch his face. Unlike the night before, her fingertips connected their target. She caressed the smooth, freshly shaven skin of his cheeks and wove her fingers through his thick black hair. Her sensitive nipples pushed toward his chest. Instead of feeling them against his warm skin, Tony bent down and suckled the vulnerable hard tips. Again and again, her back arched. She wanted everything. It had been so long.
What truly wakes one from the depths of sleep? Was it external, like the sound of a ringing phone and noises from the street below? Or was it internal, like the twisting in your stomach from ravenous hunger? Snuggling into the soft, smooth sheets she thought about food. When had she last eaten? Slowly her consciousness took over, and an unreasonable fear filled her being. It was the fear that when she opened her eyes, she’d no longer be in Palo Alto, but in her suite -- in Iowa.