I struggled with the urge to put down my head on the desk and cry. It was past deadline and all of my attempts to get even a rough draft written resulted in crumpled paper with barely a paragraph written. I was fairly certain that my creative writing professor was going to shoot me one of her patented withering looks as she ever so calmly and calculatingly delineated just how poor of a student I was when I finally did get the project to her. It was almost eleven o'clock at night. I was exhausted but I just didn't want to sleep.
I was avoiding sleep until I was so tired that it was that deep dreamless sleep that came from sheer exhaustion. I was avoiding the dreams where he came to me. Dreams so vivid that I was certain that they were real. The dreams of him weren't bad, per se, but they unnerved and distressed me. I got up from my desk and walked about the room. I sat down on my bed and closed my eyes against a throbbing headache that was rising up from the base of my skull.
At first, there was blessed darkness that made the glare of the lamp on my desk go away. Then I was in a forest in late afternoon. I looked about myself with a sudden flare of panic. I tried to will myself awake when I heard footsteps. I didn't look, I knew who was coming. It was him, the one who would have me. This dream was different, it did not run in that curious fashion of blurred time and images. It all was painfully crisp, as though I were in a physical location and it were reality.
He laughed. It was a sound that was luxurious, thrilling, and entirely disorienting all at once. I realized that I had never heard him laugh in my other dreams. I tried pinching myself and screaming at myself to wake up. I pointedly ignored his approach and tried to will a purple unicorn, or something else equally improbably in reality into existence. I discovered, much to my dismay, that my efforts were for nothing.
He stood behind me, his perfect, nude body mere inches from my scarred, over weight, and all too flawed one. Bad haircut, acne, aching knees, and eczma all in place, I looked exactly like I did in 'real life'. He did not place a hand on me. He merely stood there behind me, the warmth of his body reaching my skin like a ray of sunlight against my back. He passed a hand over my shoulder, not close enough to touch and yet still some how making contact.
That sensation of warmth trailed from where his hand passed, soothing away the chill setting goosebumps over my skin. He leaned forward, putting his face near the nape of my neck and took a deep breath in. I felt as though some tendril of that which was my essence was drawn in with his breath. It felt as though it were a deep, intimate touch that was made ever so lightly that if I wanted to deny it, I suppose I could have.
He moved closer, bringing his left hand around to pass over my left side in the same fashion that his right ran over my right arm. I shivered, dizzy and a touch weak with the confusing tide of feelings that this phantom touch was evoking in me. Deciding that he was going to settle himself with this eerie, spectral caress, I felt some of the tension fall out of me.
In that moment, he wrapped his arms about me and pulled me against himself in an intimate embrace. His mouth was warm and soft against my right shoulder as he placed a gentle kiss there. His touch against my skin seemed to burn or like an electric shock, even as pure pleasure rolled through me. His skin against mine, this effect of his presence was more powerful, the more our bodies touched.
He shifted so that he had my form cradled against his own, our legs touching each other. My back was pressed against his broad, well muscled chest. His arms were settled about my waist and across my chest, holding me up as the strength bled out of me. As my head lolled back against his shoulder, his hold tightened and the dizzying wave of pleasure strengthened. “Let it all go,” he murmured in my ear.
The sound of his voice was like an intimate touch that sent a shudder of pleasure through me. I realized, there was no way I could run from this. I couldn't escape the feelings of pure bliss, and in that moment, I didn't want to.