Dreams and Desires Read online

  No, Adele was probably going to hang out with some of her girl friends tonight, go dancing at the Rainbow Club, a ‘B’ grade disco at the other end of town, and maybe, just maybe, catch one of the overdressed, over confident, oversexed, executive types on a night he had been unable to make it out of town, or if his wife had. Adele was no home wrecker, but she wasn't so particular she would reject a coital prospect just because he had a pale, circular ring of flesh around his finger where his wedding ring should be.

  Kelly worked until just before 8 o'clock. She spent most of her time reading journals she reviewed regularly for developments in her field. No telling where the clue that would advance her research would come from. And if she could not immediately assimilate the importance of all the details, she would ruminate on them later, hoping the synapses of her brain would bring her a revelation her mere conscious mind could not.

  The office was separated from the lab area by a partition made of glass from about waist level up. The lights in the work area were dimmed, but she could still see the long lab tables, the burners and reagents stored on them. There were two large cooking racks on the far wall and a large cooler. Adele's workstation was to the far left, an oversized green metal desk with battered, five drawer, metal filing cabinets behind it. Adele's desk was a mess, something that sometimes offended the well ordered Kelly, but her assistant always seemed to know where everything was, and filed and finished all of her reports on time. Kelly liked to be in control and it irked her sometimes that she had to rely on Adele to produce this file or that. She had learned, though, to tame her obsessive tendencies and let go of the urge to impose her own order on Adele's domain.

  Kelly loaded her small briefcase with more work and donned her light fall jacket. It was warmer here in the South than her New Jersey home at this time of year, but it was early December and the air was close to cold at night. She closed the door to her office, and then, after she had conducted an inspection of all of the girls’ work stations, locked the lab and left the building.

  The other half of the red brick, single level, light manufacturing building was occupied by a metal working outfit. They specialized in fabricating small, precise surgical tools, minute metal parts for sophisticated machinery and some other secret government projects. She had met Mr. Hardings, the shop owner and manager, when she had moved in. He was a grey haired, slightly roly poly, avuncular man with a large, bushy, salt and pepper mustache. He had helped her select some of the local tradesmen who she needed to set up her lab and had saved her a lot of money. He was also the landlord and often inquired when they met in the parking lot as to how her grants were going. She dreaded the possibility that someday she would have to tell him she couldn't pay the rent. Every time she saw him, her financial pressures came to the forefront of her mind. On the other hand, it was nice to have another operation in the building, especially one that had a 24 hour security guard. It made her feel safer as she walked to her car in the practically empty parking lot to know that somewhere someone was watching over her on a security camera. She had developed a strong sense of self preservation from living so close to crime ridden urban areas up North and she discounted the comments of her old friends who still lived there that it was so nice to live somewhere where there was no ‘crime problem'. Well, they hadn't read the local newspaper and didn't know about the raft of burglaries, shootings and miscellaneous mayhem that occurred in even this bucolic locale.

  No one disturbed the attractive, young woman as she walked the forty or so feet to her car. She beeped the locks and opened the door to the driver's side of her 2 year old, leased, silver Sentra. Before she got in, she looked wistfully back at the building. So much of her dreams and hopes were tied up in the neat, 50 year old, red brick structure. “Soon,” she thought. “Soon, we'll get it. The big break.” She just knew it.

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  CHAPTER TWO

  It took Kelly about twenty minutes to reach her rented farmhouse. There had been some apartments and condos that had been closer to her place of work, but Kelly had chosen the more remote location because of its isolation and beauty. She drove up the long, gravel path to the old, wooden structure. The inside had been renovated with new, modern, efficient appliances, clean, freshly stained and varnished wood panel walls, a large, elegantly tiled bathroom. But the outside looked like it could have served as headquarters for some Confederate brigadier. The roof was a dark, grey slate and the exterior was covered by long, grey and brown, misshapen wooden slats. It may have looked like a ramshackle shack from the outside, but it was warm and comfy on the inside and it was home.

  The fields surrounding the house were covered with short, brown grass. The owner had reserved the right to farm the hay from the property and two weeks ago had shaven the last, long wavy stalks. The empty fields gave the homestead a desolate feeling. There were copses of tall, bare maples around the edge of the property and the looming, purple Shenandoah Mountains, miles away, appeared like huge, silent sentinels.

  Kelly trod quickly up the warped wooden steps, across the porch and into the house. She was in her place of sanctuary. She threw off her coat, letting it drape across one of the antique, stuffed chairs she had bought from an auction house over in Taylorsburg and went directly to her bedroom, flicking on the light. She had a large, four poster bed as a centerpiece to the room with heavy, dark dressers on either side. The bedspread was thick and warm in the chilly nights and was embroidered with small pink and lavender flowers. The double windows were surrounded by heavy, chintz curtains, light beige with long, dark brown borders. Her oversized, fluffy pillows sat on her bed at the head, beckoning her.

  Kelly was tired. It had been a long day and a longer week. But she wanted to decompress from her day before retiring. Besides, even for an old maid like her, it was still a little early.

  She quickly cast off the short, shirtwaist jacket that went with her suit, undid the buttons to her blouse and drew her slim arms from the sleeves. As she was unfastening her dainty bra from behind her back, she cast a sideways glance at the uncovered window. Who knew who was lurking out there this late at night? It was moonless, and with the lights on it seemed as if the windows were the barrier between herself and some strange, dark dimension. Her mind filled with a vision of some creepy, rag tag redneck lurking out in her yard, peering in and groping his grimy loins as she undressed. She shivered at the thought, but continued undressing nonetheless. She knew in her heart there was no one out there and she would be damned if she would give in to superstition or wild imaginings.

  Kelly dressed herself in a baggy, old, orange and grey, Princeton sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. She had doffed her two inch heels, practical yet dressy enough to make a good appearance if a sponsor or potential sponsor should drop in. It was why she wore the suit. She would have been much more at ease in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but she always wanted to make sure she could make a good impression. She slipped into a pair of comfortable, cloth slippers and headed for the kitchen.

  A little more than an hour later, Kelly was sitting curled up on her sofa in the small living room. She had broiled and eaten a small piece of boneless chicken breast and steamed a couple of stalks of broccoli. A wide, stemmed, wine glass sat on the coffee table with the remnants of three inches of the dark maroon merlot she had poured herself. She was on her laptop, surfing lists of recently published scientific articles and ordering a few. The TV was on and the credits for the latest episode of the Sopranos were rolling upwards. The show was one of her few indulgences, many of the scenes being shot not far from where she had grown up with her working class family. Thank God for the Internet, Amazon.com and cable television. Even way out here, the trappings of the modern world could be brought to her home in an instant.

  The shapely woman yawned and stretched. Right now, she thought, Adele was probably just getting warmed up. Well, good for her. But Kelly was tired and she wanted to get back to the lab early in the morning to check on some of the exp
eriments brewing in the low temperature oven. She shut down the laptop and clicked off the TV. The dishes she left in the sink for the morning. She turned off the lights in the living room and kitchen and entered her bedroom. She shed her sweats and, clad only in her lacy, bikini cut panties, went to the bathroom to perform her evening rituals.

  Watching herself in the bathroom mirror, Kelly took the time to brush her thick, wavy hair, her mind drifting absentmindedly. She saw before her a pretty girl, trim, with fine, round breasts which pointed upwards at the ends. Her skin color was light and luminous. Was she wasting away, she asked herself. She had broken up with David soon after she moved here, the pressures of the long distance relationship too much. It had not been much of a relationship, anyway. He was a pleasant convenience, someone to spend some time with and with whom to satisfy her cravings for sexual release. There had been no one since. She wondered if Adele would make a connection tonight. She imagined her wrapping her long, lithe legs around the hips of the imaginary Latin lover, moaning with pleasure as he plowed her furrow with his hot, hard cock. As she repeated her mechanical brushstrokes, her mind a thousand miles away from what she was doing, Adele's face in the fantasy became her own. She imagined the feel of the thick, rigid manhood scraping across her bud of pleasure, scouring the inner walls of her wet cleft, the pressure of the man's strong chest against her breasts, his hips pounding into hers. She licked her lips. Her breathing began to become labored. Her free hand unconsciously looped under one of her breasts and massaged it, her thumb and forefinger trapping her stiff nipple and squeezing it until she brought herself a twinge of pain.

  Suddenly, Kelly came awake. What was she doing? Her crevasse had moistened and she was showing a blush on her chest just above her breasts. She was startled at her lasciviousness. This was not her at all! Her body gave a little shiver and she put the brush down. She turned out the light and went into the bedroom.

  When she entered the room, Kelly turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead. The room was cast in a soft, almost eerie light. She looked down at the bed. Would she dream again tonight, she wondered. Would her lusts be raised again by the image of the strange man beckoning her? She was actually apprehensive about going to sleep. The dreams were so real. Lately, the dreams were lasting longer and longer. She could see his lips forming words; he seemed to be calling her. The smoothness that had characterized his appearance seemed to be giving way to lines and bulges and curves. The fog, or what looked like fog, was thinning. In the early dreams he had been far away, in the distance; now he was coming closer and closer. Last night, she felt like she could just reach out and touch him. She sensed her dream-self yearning for him, desiring him. But her yearning, her desire, was tinged with a deep foreboding, as if when she finally made contact with him, placed skin to skin, she would cross a Rubicon from which there would be no return. She looked again at the double windows. She felt as if there was someone watching her. But who could it be? She stepped to the windows and drew the curtains closed after checking to make sure the sashes were locked. A hint of unexplainable panic ran through her mind and she went out to the living room, bathed in the glow of the dim light from the bedroom, and checked to make sure the door was secure. It was.

  What was wrong with her? She had never felt like this before in this house. It was her island of peace, away from the world. If she could not feel safe and secure here, where could she? She tried to reach into her rational mind. No one was outside, she told herself. No one is inside. Dreams can't hurt you. Okay, so she was randy. She was a vibrant, normal, young woman, after all. Sexual drives were entirely natural, beneficial even, placed in every one to assure the continuation of the human race and allow everyone to experience the pleasures of their own bodies.

  And there was nothing wrong with bringing pleasure to your own body. Masturbation was a good way to get release. As long as it did not become an obsession. She usually performed this self service about once every other week. Maybe she would do it tonight. It would help her get to sleep.

  But was it becoming an obsession? She had brought herself off this morning, almost unconsciously, while awakening from her dream. And she had spanked the monkey the day before too. And Wednesday. And several times last week. What was happening to her? Was she becoming obsessed? Lately, she had found herself drifting off into sexual reveries several times a day. Were the dreams driving her sexual needs or vice versa?

  Kelly quickly slipped under the sheets and drew the warm comforter over her. She reached out and flicked off the light. It took only a few seconds for the silence of the house to enwrap her. Through the windows, she could hear the rippling of the stream outside. The wind had picked up and she could hear the double paned glass shifting slightly as it blew against them.

  Her body warmed up quickly under the covers, the coolness of the sheets quickly fading into a comforting reflection of her body's heat. She was on her side, facing the windows, her legs curled up, her arms around herself. She let her mind drift and, soon, she felt her hand easing down her torso over her hips and over her legs. Her skin felt so good, soft and clean. Without thinking, she rolled onto her back and drifted her fingers along the inside of her thighs. She raised and spread her knees so she could caress them down their length.

  Why not, she thought. It wouldn't hurt her to get off. Her pussy was already burning with need. It only took her a moment to shuck off her panties, kicking them off of the ends of her feet at the bottom of the bed. She brought her hands to the crux of her thighs, ran them through the carefully trimmed, wiry hair and softly pushed her engorging labial lips together. It felt so good. She drew her fingers along the slit for a while, parting the lips slightly, up and then down again, letting the tingle in her loins develop. She moaned lowly as her fingers sensed the moisture of her arousal. She gasped when they brushed against the hardened nubbin at the apex of her needy sex.

  There was no stopping now. Kelly let her right hand continue to draw pleasure from her softening pussy and brought her left hand up to massage her aching breasts. They were hard with the blood of her lust. The heat of her hand sent rivulets of pleasure through her. She imagined the coffee brown skin of her imaginary bedmate covering her, his long, glistening, shoulder length black hair falling over her body. He was kissing her breasts, running his rough tongue over her teats, sucking on them hard, squeezing her mounds firmly in his large, strong hands while his cock slowly eased its way into her depths. It was her and Adele's fantasy Latin lover, the man who would bring her everything: love, passion, strength, warmth.

  Kelly's breath began to get short and her heart began to thump in her chest. Her fingers massaged her clit, pressing on it, running little circles over it, pausing only to dip into her well of sexual heat to draw out her oozing moisture, and then covering it until it was slippery and rolled under her sensitive touch. She could feel the telltale signs of her orgasm building inside her. She was thrusting her hips back at the hand in her loins as her thighs began to shudder. “Ohhhhhhhh!” she moaned. “Ohhhhhhh!” Suddenly, her mind became overwhelmed with the flood of pleasure that rushed to it. Her pussy began to throb and contract. She spread her legs wider, her knees almost touching the mattress on either side of her, drawing her long, graceful legs up. Her hand rubbed harder and faster on her loins. She arched her back as she felt her whole body electrified with ecstasy. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she called out into the dark room at each convulsion of her sex. In her mind, her lover was pounding his lust into her, filling her void, forcing apart the sides of her enflamed inner flesh. It seemed to last forever. She wanted it to last forever. And then she moaned again, “Ohhhhhhhhh!” as she crested her lust and her pussy's spasms finally begin to subside.

  When the tremors of her orgasm faded into a bliss that seeped into every pore of her body, Kelly rolled to her belly and fell asleep.

  * * * *

  They say even the longest, most involved dreams take only a second to flash across our minds. Kelly wasn't sure how long she had b
een sleeping when the dream began, but she felt sure she had long ago descended deeply into somnolence. She was standing nude in a huge, grassy field. It was bright and sunny with large, fluffy, bright white clouds fleeing across the deep blue sky as if pushed by strong winds. But no breeze caressed her naked form. The air around her was still and heavy. Across the field, which was strewn with a wonderful array of brightly colored wildflowers, she saw the man approaching. He wasn't walking, more like floating, and his body was enwrapped with a swirling fog.

  He was coming closer and closer. He was also nude, and the fog that surrounded him had sprinkled him with its droplets, making his smooth, hairless chest shine and glisten in the sun. He had long, black hair that touched his shoulders and flared back behind him as he approached. Kelly felt her passion begin to rise as he neared her. He was no more than twenty feet away from her when she saw his lips begin to move. His right hand extended from his body, palm up, like he was inviting her to take it. Kelly's mind filled with the urge to flee. But her body wanted to stay, wanted to reach out and accept the strong, compelling hand in her own. His eyes, though, belied his gesture of amity. They were dark and foreboding. As her hand, seemingly of its own will, extended towards him, she felt her own eyes locked into them, felt his gaze piercing her brow, entering into her mind.