Dreams and Desires Read online

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  Excessica Publishing

  www.excessica.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Paul Blades

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dreams and Desires

  PART ONE: THE DREAM MAN

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PART TWO: THE RISE OF A RENEGADE

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PART THREE: PREPARATIONS

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PART FOUR: THE QUEST

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ABOUT PAUL BLADES

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  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Selena Kitt

  Dreams and Desires © 2008 Paul Blades eXcessica publishing

  All rights reserved

  Dreams and Desires

  By Paul Blades

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  PART ONE: THE DREAM MAN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dr. Kelly Jameson wasn't the kind of person to believe in dreams. Her life was devoted to science. She had gone directly from medical school into research. Few twenty-seven year old women had the opportunity to run their own lab and supervise their own staff, as small as it was. She loved her work, and if it were not for her friend, Adele, she might never have taken any breaks from the sometimes tedious routine. Adele would tease her that she was “wasting that beautiful body away.” And so she dragged her to singles’ resorts, shamed her into donning a scanty bikini, and practically pimped her out to the pretty, tanned and sexually hyperactive young men she met there. So far, Kelly had resisted their false charms.

  Kelly had long, thick, beautiful, auburn hair, the color of burnt orange, that went down to the small of her back. Her features were delicate, almost child like, something that made her job of being taken seriously by middle aged foundation trustees and international health bureaucrats difficult. And prancing around in a two piece set of fabric small enough to fit inside of a jelly jar was not the way for her to develop the persona that would unlock the coffers of the powers who could help bring her visions to reality.

  When they returned from a weekend in Cancun a month ago, she had told Adele she was through wasting her time and energy in finding a mate. She would concentrate on her work. Adele's response was to leave a brochure about Mardi Gras on her desk this morning.

  Adele was one of her staff, her right arm. She handled all of the considerable and tedious paperwork necessary for the tasks of responding to the foundation's constant demands for information on her work, collating the results of experiment after experiment, managing the payroll, paying the lab's not inconsiderable rent and other expenses and, most important of all, cheering Kelly up.

  For the last two years Kelly had been working off of a grant from a major foundation working to discover a medicinal enzyme which would counteract the presence of heavy metal contaminants in drinking water. It was an intractable problem, especially for third world, pregnant women. If a medicine could help women pass the pollutants through their systems instead of on to their fetuses, birth defects would be substantially lowered. She had protocols for research which could keep fifty technicians working full time for several years. She believed she was on the right track. It was just a matter of the right formula, enough time and enough money.

  Unfortunately, each lead had to be meticulously pursued to its bitter conclusion. The last couple of papers she read at symposiums in her field had not been well received. Her case supervisor from the foundation which had funded her to date was not forthcoming on her chances for grant renewal on her last visit. She hoped time was not running out. She just knew she was right!

  There was just so much to do and so little time. That was why her recent tendency to drift off into a fugue-like state was so disconcerting. She found herself staring off into space, straining to pierce the fog surrounding the dream man. He was tall, trim, well built. After each dream, when she woke up, she would try to recall his face without success. It was something she just couldn't focus on, though his features seemed strong and determined, forceful. He looked familiar, like he was someone she should know. When she tried to bring his visage into mind, he seemed strange, almost other worldly. He wasn't really smiling, and his expression wasn't exactly friendly, more like inviting. And yet, there was something about the man that struck fear into her, as if he had some power or force about him she should be wary of.

  In the dream, he was naked, and his lack of clothing was natural, as if draping his body with even the finest cloth would somehow diminish him, cloak him with the impedimenta of a civilization or culture far beneath his noble carriage. The man would look at her intently, his eyes mesmerizing. Then he would reach out his hand to her. He would be standing amidst some kind of mist or fog. His lips would move. And then she would wake up.

  Kelly could not remember exactly when she first started having the dream, but it was months ago, sometime during the summer. At first it seemed strange but inconsequential. But then it kept returning again and again. Now she was having it practically every night.

  The dream was disturbing for more than just its content. Lately, she had awoken from it every morning in a feverish, aroused state. Her breasts would be aching with need and her hand would be fondling the lubricated folds of her sex. She would be sweating, her sheets all a tangle as if she had been struggling with some demon. This morning, she had fondled herself to a wrenching, mind blowing orgasm, shuddering with pleasure as the ill defined face of the dream man haunted her.

  Kelly's sexual life was not what you would call satisfying. In fact, except for her occasional bouts of self administered bliss, it was non-existent. It was not because she lacked any of the attributes to attract qualified potential lovers. Her face was attractive, with well proportioned features, good, clean lines and voluptuous lips. She was about 5'6” tall, had sweet, curvaceous hips, long, well toned thighs. Her breasts were more than ample to fill her hands when she stood before the full length mirror in her bedroom after her shower, looking over her well trimmed, appealing body, wondering if she was, as Adele was constantly telling her, wasting the best years of her life.

&nbs
p; In college and high school, she had dated, and she was no sexual amateur. But once she realized that all her hard work in school had developed a sharp, analytical mind that needed to do great things, the pursuit of sexual gratification had seemed puerile. Not that there was anything wrong with sex. She had loved the sensation of a rampant cock in her belly, the feeling of sexual power it gave her to reduce her boyfriends to quivering, blubbering pools of pleasure. And the taste and smell of a man's loins in heat had often been enough to make her orgasm when the stiff wad of flesh began to throb and pulse in her mouth, delivering a stream of salty, bitter, piquant essence.

  In fact, it was what she was thinking about this very minute. She was sitting at her desk, her chin in her hand, wistfully looking out her curtainless, industrial style office window, watching the early December winds push the bare trees to and fro. Her other hand was on her lap resisting the urge to caress the insides of her thighs under her stylish, tan business skirt. This intruding recollection of the titillating sensation of hard, hot flesh brushing across her lips, filling her, had come upon her suddenly. It was connected to the dreams in some way, she knew that. Her breath had become heavy and her breasts seemed to have swollen. There was a tingling feeling on the tips of her nipples, a feeling echoed below in the apex of her thighs.

  "Earth to Kelly! Earth to Kelly!” The sound of her friend and work associate's friendly voice startled her. She turned to see the bright face in her doorway. Adele, a Southern belle, was a spunky and vivacious 23 years old and had short, straw blond hair, cut into a shag. She said she liked to keep her hair as only a small issue in her life. She had pretty, sparkling, blue eyes, was tall, at least two inches taller than Kelly, and had a long, languorous torso. Her breasts filled her buttoned lab coat quite well and its calf length hid the thrilling thighs which would otherwise have been revealed by the short, stylish skirt she wore underneath. It was Friday and party time for Adele. She didn't want to waste a single minute of her Friday night going back to her apartment and changing. 5:30 to 8 was happy hour at Gene's Tavern over on Broad Street and she always met some friends there after work at the end of the week.

  "Are you lost in space or something, honey?” Adele asked Kelly, in an exaggerated drawl, humored at finding her boss and friend staring out the window.

  "No, no,” Kelly responded, dragging herself away from her salacious reverie. “Just thinking."

  Adele was well aware of her friend's worries. Although they were separated by four years of age, they had developed a close friendship over the 18 months Adele had worked at the lab. She had been a godsend, relieving Kelly of many of the distractions that took her away from her principal tasks. They had dinner often, sometimes talking shop, but often regaling each other with tales of episodes of their past licentiousness or, in Adele's case, her present, their wishes that men could be more like women, well in some ways anyway, and deploring the scarcity of acceptable male companionship.

  Kelly had not told Adele about the dream. She would have felt silly doing so. She didn't want to endure Adele's pop psychoanalysis of her randy subconscious, particularly since it would be based on a combination of her community college survey course in psychology, the platitudes of Dr. Phil and the horoscope pages of Star Magazine. Kelly was a graduate of Johns Hopkins Medical School. She had a bachelor's degree in applied sciences, with a minor in behavioral studies from Princeton. She didn't need Adele to tell her that her dream was sparked by a deep seated need for a mate, that the mysterious male figure represented her vague notions of what she really wanted in a man and her fear of commitment to one. And what would she say about the subject of her lewd reminiscences? She would tell her she needed to get laid!

  "You think too much,” Adele returned, smiling. “I think your brain is getting burned out."

  Kelly laughed. She knew her friend was only kidding. “I didn't know you could think too much,” she said.

  "Oh, yeah,” Adele said, her lithesome body half in and half out of Kelly's small office. Her right hand was on the door frame above her head and her left hip was pushed out saucily. “If you don't watch it, I'll find you here someday with green stuff running out of your ears and your eyeballs hanging out. Why don't you come out with me? We'll have some fun."

  "I can't Adele, I've go to finish some paperwork. The Edelson grant application is due next week. If our current funding peters out, I've got to have a back up."

  "Grant, schmant,” Adele answered in her Southerner's version of a Yiddish accent. “You can work on it tomorrow while you recover from your hangover. Let's go get some mai tai's, some dinner and then go dancing. I guarantee you'll have your heels in the air by the end of the night.” Adele swayed her thin, graceful hips playfully. “There's lots of horny men out there, honey. You've got to get yourself one of them."

  Kelly frowned. “I don't need a horny man in my life right now, Adele."

  "You look like you need something, honey,” Adele told her. “You were lost in a cloud or something. I know you're work is important, but everybody's got to let loose once in a while. You can't do your best work if you're grumpy and miserable. Come on, let it go, get wild!"

  Kelly found it hard to maintain her resentment of the younger woman's presumption that she knew what she needed. Adele was a light hearted soufflé compared to her fried liver and beans. It was good to have a friend.

  The professionally dressed woman released her frown and gave Adele a warm smile. “Thanks for you concern, Adele. I really appreciate it. But I just can't tonight. Call me over the weekend. Maybe we can have lunch on Sunday or something. That'd be nice."

  Adele, seeing her efforts at bringing some excitement to her friend and boss's life were in vain, smiled back. “Okay little miss busy bee. I'll call you tomorrow some time. Or not, depending on how the night works out. I may be wrapped in the arms of a 6’ tall, broad shouldered, handsome, independently wealthy, Latin lover. And if I am, I'll be damned if I'll take a break from jumping his bones to call you!"

  The women laughed. “Good luck, Adele,” Kelly said. “And if you find this guy, see if he has an older brother, okay?"

  "Will do, boss,” Adele replied.

  Soon afterwards, Kelly was alone in the lab. The three young female lab assistants had jumped ship immediately at the stroke of 5 o'clock. It was if they had been poised at a starting line, ready to pounce into their weekend at the very moment the minute hand hit the 12. She didn't blame them. They were all lively, pretty girls, less than a year out of high school.

  Having a wholly female staff made Kelly's job easier. It wasn't that she felt men were less competent than the girls. Well, maybe they were, taken as a whole. The girls seemed less likely to call in sick, horse around or be distracted from their tasks. She had had several young men working for her at various times and for short periods over the last two years. Some of them were better than others. But it seemed they could not get past working for a young, desirable woman. Either they would melt into a little pool every time she called them into her office, or they would smile and smirk at her while she was giving them instructions. And if she leaned next to them, making any form of bodily contact while she peered over their shoulders to make a visual observation of some reaction or development, they would get flustered and start mumbling or stuttering. And they liked to look at her tits.

  Kelly tried to dress conservatively, plain business suits, slacks and modest blouses, all worn under her lab coat when she was not at her desk. But she could not disguise her voluptuousness. She was not as well developed as Adele, but she was no slouch either. More than once, when she had called one of the young men into her office to discuss some protocol with them, some employee issue or anything at all, she would look up from her paperwork to find their gazes drawn to the soft, smooth mounds on her chest. They would blanch with embarrassment when she caught them, but their focus would continually shift up and down, up and down, from her eyes to her tits and back again as they were talking. No, the girls were much better and she
hoped and prayed none of the male applicants she rejected ever sought counsel with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Just how would that look to the foundation grant committee?

  Kelly's lab was located in half of a former light manufacturing building situate in a small, mostly residential town in southern Virginia, called Jacksonville. It was one of more than two dozen Jacksonville's around the South, all named after the mercurial Confederate general. Kelly was from New Jersey and her suburban upbringing had not prepared her for the sometimes yahoo ways of the locals. She had never been to a Piggly Wiggly before coming here, nor had she ever eaten shredded, barbequed pork for lunch. The ubiquitous rebel flags and decals on the revved up, jacked up pickups, many with the seemingly standard 30.06 shotguns mounted in the rear windows, were slightly disconcerting, making her feel like she had moved to some foreign country armed to repel an imminent invasion force. But the rents and wages here were cheap and general living expenses were low. It helped to stretch her grant money. She sometimes wished, however, she had located the lab in one of the other mostly economically depressed towns in the area with unique names like Splintersville or Gate's Corner. There were seven Jacksonville's in Virginia and her mail was constantly being misdelivered.

  But then she wouldn't have found Adele. And she might not have found the beautiful little farmhouse she lived in, at least a half mile from the nearest residence, and built adjacent to a fast running, musical brook. Many a night she had finished her waking day by sitting on the long, covered, wooden porch and listening to the sounds of the water dancing off of the stones in the stream, enjoying the vista of bright stars in the clear night and sipping a hot cup of chamomile tea. She did some of her best thinking there.

  She had to laugh at Adele's reference to a theoretical, 6’ tall, broad shouldered, handsome, independently wealthy, Latin lover. Although they had often joked about their common fantasy, she was as likely to find one as Kelly was to find a pearl in the oyster crackers she liked to have with her soup at lunch. There had been some corporate development in town. But the executives were either married or grown up boys who raced off to one of the other more populous urbanized areas of the state in their sleek sports cars at every opportunity. Adele knew that. She was a local. But one who had made the enlightened decision not to marry one of the indigenous high school football stars right after graduation and have two babies, a hound dog and a divorce by the time she was 22.