Dream (2006)

 

(Below is the message from the mafia don widow as part of the exchange of stories  -- giving you an idea of what her motives were, when I was trying to keep it a simple change of stories)

don't think you are getting what I am trying to say. Totally hypothetical and will use you and me for lack of creating a character.
Suppose.... I would daydream about you at council meetings, watching you at parades, at debates, watching the characters you become in your films, etc., etc. various daydreams always wondering if...
Now suppose (again, just using you as my character minus the reality) you were doing the same thing about me, daydreaming as I speak to an official, watching me walk in the parade, admiring as I work with an animal rescue or stare as I care for an elderly patient.
Neither one of us know nothing about each other but we share the same daydreams, wonderings, fantasies about each other. If one or both of us learned of this and both decided to persue those dreams it could be a magical relationship.
That is why I say I wonder, especially since many people classify me as "unapproachable" I wonder if there ever was mutual daydreaming going on...
sorry it took me so long for this reply, I had to read my story one more time before I put it away for now.

 After yesterday’s email exchange, I kept thinking about you. I didn’t completely fall asleep, but woke in fits, thoughts running through my head.

I kept thinking of the first time we met, and how I had to struggle to keep my gaze from watching the swell of your breasts where your shirt dipped.

As I lay in bed, I kept imagining what they would feel like if I eased my hands under your blouse, feeling each nipple between my forefinger and thumb.

Of course, it couldn’t stop there. Where my fingers go, my mouth wants to follow, and from wishing my mouth on yours, I dreamed my mouth slowly eased down as my hands lifted your shirt, tongue playing off the tip of each nipple, licking as if ice cream.

How this was possible in a place so public as that, remains a mystery, but the more I pondered you, the more alone we seemed to be, just the two of us, now seated on the same side of the table, my hands easing under your shirt and skirt for more contact with your skin, something electric sparking in me whenever my hands made contact.

While no candle glowed during our first meeting, I imagined one now, the movement of the flickering flame reflected in your dark eyes along with the image of my face as I rose once more to kiss your lips.

I felt as if a real fire burned in both of us, growing more out of control the more my mouth melded with yours, my tongue seeking out yours as if I imitating the love making I most desired. Feeling you pressed against me, feeling your tongue and lips, feeling your bared breasts against my chest, made you even more irresistible.

Then, somehow in my imagining, we are both naked, my over you, craving contact with every inch, as if I needed to every part me to feel every part of you, my mouth finally working down into the space between your legs.

I taste you even as I dream, and feel the tip of my tongue dancing over you and around you and into you, as if we really were in the same room, and I really knelt before you, though the growing pain between my thighs testified to my desire that in my dreams, I ease into you slowly, moving in and out, feeling your breath against my cheek, my eyes open, staring into your eyes, my mouth now repeating the motions from below, my stare studying the growing look of haze that pleasure brings in your eyes, me moving much more quickly than I want, needing to make this moment last, needing not so much the explosion that will soon follow but the continued contact of flesh, me needing to keep the contact, to forever touch on every inch, our movement only making the pleasure more intense.

But as in all good things, I feel me exploding inside of you, and then, wake up, sweating, and full, and still aching for you.

email to Al Sullivan