Becky's Dreams

In the middle of the night, Becky sits up quickly in bed. Rubbing sleepy eyes to clear them, her ears tune to the silence of the night and strain to hear whatever it is that awakened her. There is nothing but stillness and absolute silence. Not even the tiniest chirp from a cricket.

All too familiar—this nightly ritual—every night for the past week or so being startled awake, only to find peace and silence surrounding her. Always the same, time after time, night after night. Sleeping soundly, waking with a start. Heart pounding, pulse racing and with Goosebumps covering her naked flesh, she sits in bed, listening intently, but there is not a single sound to greet her ears. Reaching down to the nightstand beside her, she slips slowly into the oversized T-shirt lying folded there.

Slipping from bed as silent as a ghost, she tiptoes from the bedroom and down the hall to check on her son. He sleeps. He is lost in the carefree sleep of youth and innocence. Easing down the hall, she steps out of the house into the back yard. It is a warm and sultry summer night. The air stirs with a slight southern breeze and her flimsy T-shirt flaps in the wind. Standing still, she tunes her ears again to the sound of the night, but is rewarded with no more to answer her questions, than she found inside of the house.

The grass feels cool beneath her feet and the water in the pool makes a gentle rippling sound in the breeze. It slowly dawns on her, not only is the night still and quiet, it is totally and completely dark. Not a single light to illuminate the sky. No security lights, no lights left on inside of nearby homes, nothing. The night is black and there seems to be an eerie curtain blocking out the outside world.

Thinking there must be a power outage, her eyes peer around into the gloom of a pitch-black night, feeling alone and vulnerable. Fright winning out in the battle of emotions echoing in her mind, a quick spin is all it takes and she is walking quickly back toward the house. As the security of the door looms closer, a calm comes over her and the desire to stay outside and enjoy the night overpowers the other thoughts tormenting her worried mind. Where seconds before she felt insecure and wishing for the sanctity of the house, now all is peaceful and the only wish to dwell awhile longer in the peace of this unusual night. Mystical and magical, she hears her name floating upon the southern breeze in a drawn out and hoarse whisper.

"Beccckkkyyyyy." Mind reeling, her thoughts race to rationalize between imagination and reality.

An odd realization creeps into her mind. There are a few different aspects to the dawning in your mind. Firstly, that voice was familiar. Next, it wasn't spoken out loud, but somehow to the recesses of her mind. Lastly, the voice comforts her somehow and makes her feel as if wrapped in a blanket of absolute safety.

A few steps back into the yard and giving in to a sudden urge, she slips from the T-shirt and lets it slide from her hand onto the ground. Now she stands naked in the night. The air is warm, but not uncomfortably so. There is enough of a breeze to carry away the summer heat, but not so much as to put a chill in the air. Standing nude and exposed to the world, the gentle caress of the breeze courses over her body. The air blows seductively over heaving breasts and she feels them perk up, nipples tightening slowly to stand erect and firm. There is an uncanny sexual intensity in the air and the breeze awakens desires deep within her tummy.

There is an odd and calming feel to the stillness and total darkness of this unusual night. Feeling mesmerized by unseen forces and hypnotized by some mystical power floating upon the night air, she finds herself enjoying the security of the darkness engulfing her.

Facing into the breeze, her luxurious hair whips softly about her face. Wisps of hair float over her eyes and tendrils of it stick to the corners of her mouth. The breeze seems to caress her tummy and tickle between the thighs. Her nipples stand firm and pierce into the night. An echo of unknown feelings stirs deep within her femininity.

"Becccky", the low whispering voice calls again. Not even bothering to look around, she knows that no one is there. The voice speaks to the mind, not the ears. Feeling slightly ludicrous and insane, she speaks softly into the night.

"Are you what has been pulling me from my sleep?"

"Yeeeeeees" comes the answer, again in the long drawn out whisper.

"It is I, little one." The same low and throaty voice, half rumble and half sigh.

Then an odd feeling washes over her. She is completely naked and standing alone and vulnerable in dark shadows, yet feels safer than imaginable. Whatever it is, whomever it may be, she somehow knows that she is safe and protected not only from it, but by it.

"Where are you?" She asks the night.

"I am in the beyond, little one. I can not come to you, unless you ask," comes the rumbling echo of a reply.

Her mind grapples with what she has just heard and silently she wonders if this unseen voice is trustworthy.

"Yeeeeeeees, little flower, you may trust me," reverberates the answer in her mind.

"But, I didn't say anything," she whispers in a trembling voice.

The voice once again echoes in her mind, "one need not speak, for me to hear, little one."

With weakened knees and trembling body, her mind races to find answers to questions. Her breasts heave, rising and falling in rapid succession as she gasps for breath and tries to compose herself. Pulling together and re-gaining composure, she feels an invitation resonating in her mind.

"Come to me, that I may see you and know to whom I speak" she asks the unseen voice in the night, her voice trembling with fear mixed with excitement.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, yes, little dove" echoes the answer.

In the corner of the yard, near the edge of the fence, a mist materializes. An outline slowly takes shape and begins to loom silhouetted against the darkened sky. Swirling mist forms into the outline of a man. Her breathing stops for a moment as she takes in the sheer enormity of this mystical man. He slowly strides closer, as the muscles tighten in her belly with a wild pulse pounding in her throat.

Looming before her, he is at once magnificent and fearsome. He is very tall and broad shouldered. "Shhhhhhh, calm yourself Becky, it is I and you have nothing to fear." This time he speaks in a real voice, out in the open and splitting the silence of the night. His size is awe-inspiring. In the shadows of darkness, you can tell very little about how he looks, only that he has ominous yellow eyes that seem to see right through you.

Turning his hand palm up, he extends his arm to her. His eyes tell her to take it and obediently, she does so. He leads her to a dark corner near the house and turning to face her, says "come into the light that I might better see you." Just as she is about to ask what light he refers to, he snaps his wrist and fire leaps from his fingers, igniting a small pile of sticks that appeared from nowhere. The night now dances with soft firelight and stepping nearer it, she complies with his request, but in doing so gets a better look at him as well.

As her eyes slowly drink him in, she can't help but feel a thrill of excitement shiver through her naked body. She can't see him that well, yet. But, she can see the burning light of admiration smoldering in his eyes. She can tell by his breathing and the intensity flickering in his eyes, that he is not only admiring her naked body, but that he is worshipful of it.

"My, my, my," rumbles his powerful voice, "you are quite the sight to behold, I am breathless."

An odd warming spreads through her, as a tremor in his voice tells her of his appreciation for the beauty and grace he finds before him.

Looking at him, she is startled to realize that his eyes are not yellow, but clear. An odd sort of color, somewhere between gray and blue, but really having no color at all. When he steps from the light and immerses himself once again in the night, they take back on their yellow glow of incandescence. His skin is light and unblemished. Not dark and tan, like she had somehow imagined. His hair is long and dark, basically a shimmering black veil that hangs from his head and nearly enshrouds his face. Looking up at him, she again feels the shock of his enormous size. He must stand nearly seven feet tall! Long and elegant limbs sprout from an athletic and well toned body, her eyes trail down his legs, noting the size of his feet. Big feet, she can't help but notice and then a blush spreads over her face from the thought that dances through her mind.

The light of the fire fades into darkness. Again she stands before the looming shape outlined so magnificently against the sky. His hands on her shoulders, she gazes thoughtfully up into the yellow orbs that peer intently down at her.

"Who are you," she asks in a quivering voice.

"All in good time, sweet Becky" comes the throaty reply.

He leans toward her and lowers his face closer. Her mind races as she wonders if he is going to kiss you or what. Shock overwhelms her as she realizes that if kissing her is indeed his intent, she won't stop him, but anticipates his lips with eagerness. A feeling of disappointment washes over her as he passes her lips and leans lower. Then the disappointment slips away as his lips press softly against the side of her throat.

He lightly kisses her neck, lips parting to suckle the tender flesh and stroke it with a talented tongue. His arms wrap firmly around her waist and he pulls her tightly against his powerful body. She feels trapped, though willing; Helpless, but eager; Frightened, yet curious. He kisses down her neck and nuzzles gingerly, his lips kissing her shoulder and he bites ever so gently at the collarbone.

His kissing and sucking lips move back up her throat and she feels a shiver course through his body. She can feel him tremble, the heat of his breath flowing down her chest, making her nipples strain against him. His hands reach down to cup her ass and he pulls her firmly up to him as she is carried away with a feeling of peaceful relaxation. Somehow, this magical being is intoxicating and anesthetizing her. His lips part and somehow deep in her soul, she knows what is coming next. She isn't sure if she is victim or prey, perhaps just an object of his desire, but she simply doesn't care.

First, she hears a slight popping sound, a slight stab like a piercing sensation, but oddly no pain, whatsoever. The popping sound was his teeth tearing through my throat, she realizes in an oddly comforted mind. She can even feel a small trickle of blood dribbling down her throat as he suckles tenderly.

She can feel the beat of her heart and then another sensation. It is his heartbeat, echoing hers. The beats mix and become as one and then a wave of euphoria overtakes her. A soul-wrenching orgasm shudders through her body as he slowly and gently lowers her to the ground.

Lying on her back, seeing the night slowly fade into a gray mist, she mumbles a question.

"Am I going to die"?

His teeth slip from her throat and a sad sigh escapes from her chest. He gazes lovingly into her eyes and caresses the sides of her face as he speaks in a soft whisper.

"No little one, you will not die."

He kisses her forehead and each one of her cheeks. Then he is gone, leaving her to lie there aching and yearning for him.

She awakens the next morning in her own bed somehow, sleepy and spent, but none the worse for wear. Strange how you can miss someone you just met, but she feels as if half of her is missing. Her mind turns to him and eagerly awaits his return, for she knows, he WILL return

******

The office is fast-paced and hectic. Becky is working with a vigor, though it is exhausting, it is more so mentally than physically. Yet, she seems to feel oddly energized and alive. People at the office comment on it, saying she seems to have caught her "second wind" and is whizzing around the office like a teenager.

She even feels like a teenager. Her body doesn't feel the stress this time of year usually piles on. Her mind is acute and detail oriented, to a degree long since lost, due to the simple stress and strain of everyday life. Answers to questions come before they are asked, she seems to second-guess what each person needs and her mind is whirring with startling clarity.

She doesn't question this new-found rejuvenation. She doesn't waste a precious moment of it with idle thoughts or curiosity as to origin. She knows from whence the gift came. In some dark corner of her mind, she knows full well that her unearthly visitor from a few nights ago has granted some small piece of his power, a tiny speck of the smoldering fire that illuminated his night eyes.

"It was him" she mutters to herself.

"He gave me this."

Silently making a wish, she asks, I only hope it lasts.

She glances around the room and takes in the spectacle of day to day office life and feels more like an observer than a participant.

People around her seem to be moving in slow motion. Sounds are startlingly loud. She, on the other hand, looks to those around her, as if she is moving in a blur, almost like a fast forwarded silent movie.

When deep in thought and more or less hypnotized by the rhythm of life, a gentle and hushed voice whispers to the recesses of her mind.

"Becckkkyyy."

Startled, she looks quickly around the room, but there is nothing out of the ordinary.

"Shhhhhhhh" whispers the voice again. "Don't be frightened, it is I."

Surveying the room, her eyes find no glimpse of what they seek, her new-found friend isn't there. She struggles with the thought of calling him friend, part of her thinking she should refer to him as Master. There is no one even vaguely resembling the figure that loomed in the haze.

Deciding to be brave, she forces her mind to utter—being very cautious not to make a sound with her lips¬— "Greetings, Master."

Holding her breath, she waits nervously and prays her answer was the correct one. Finally, at long last, the reply that echoes in the silence of her mind.

"Well done, little one, your salutation pleases me."

She had been standing, looking around the room and watching the activity around her. Now, feeling a bit queasy and possibly even faint, she sinks slowly into her chair and the feels secure in the sanctity of her desk. Forcing herself to breath, she struggles to calm and center her mind. She waits impatiently for his voice to speak again, each tick of the clock seeming to take days. Nothing, not a single sound, comes to her mind.

A sinking feeling deep in the tummy makes her feel a little queasy. Trying to stand, she discovers her knees are wobbly and decides to wait another minute before getting out of her chair. Sitting at her desk—she begins to feel her composure coming back to her—then stands slowly, like a colt on newborn legs and walks quickly to the restroom. The restroom feels like a sanctuary and peaceful solitude washes slowly over her. She reaches for the door and the lock clicks into place with a metallic clink. Alone, she slowly begins gathering her thoughts.

She stands in front of the sink and runs lukewarm water onto her hands, splashing it delicately onto her face. Staring into the mirror, she notices little beads of water running along her chin, dripping down her throat and she loses herself in the reflection.

"Such a beautiful face," the invasive whisper once again seeks it's way into her mind.

"Stand very still, little dove" the voice rumbles in her mind.

She freezes as if a stone statue, allowing only her eyes move. Heart racing, she feels magically transfixed, terrified of what is coming, but euphoric with blissful anticipation at the same time. Now feeling like she is slipping away from reality, she considers that perhaps the surreal moment she is now experiencing, might possibly be something from a dream and surely can not be real.

Completely alone in the restroom, a mirror right in front of her verifies there is no one else in the room. Yet, somehow —Oh GOD, how— she feels warm breath on the side of her neck. She peers closely into the mirror and in total amazement realizes that she can even see the strands of hair near her throat flicker as the breath flows across her neck. Terror, joy, fear, ecstasy, reckless abandon and nightmarish anxiety all collide, a jumble of chaotic emotions wreaking havoc in her mind.

Oh, GOD she screams inwardly, I can feel his hands on my hips!

Another glance into the mirror, once again reaffirms her thoughts. Subtle impressions of hands make dents in the fabric of her blouse. The breath flows a little firmer and a gentle laugh echoes from his mind to hers.

"Shhhh, you are safe, I can not harm you anymore than I can harm myself." His raspy voice calms and soothes her.

The hot breath moves over her neck and she feels the heat and dampness of it flowing down her blouse—tickling the curves of heaving breasts as it drifts down the cleavage and even seems to flutter over her tummy—filling the fabric with a heat that engulfs. The heat, along with the excitement, makes her entire body feel warm and that indescribable, peaceful cozy feeling overtakes her. She can feel the rest of her body awaken as a familiar dampness between heavenly thighs reminds her she is a woman.

Invisible hands seem to strengthen their grip on her voluptuous hips. She feels a kiss from warm and wet lips press softly into the delicate side of her throat. Watching in the mirror, mesmerized and entranced, she can see the imprint the sensuous lips leave on her skin as they press against her. The unseen hands slip around her hips and slide up under the bottom of her blouse, gentle strokes of knowing hands on her smooth tummy awaken fires in her womanly core that make it difficult to breath. Time seems to come to a complete stop, there is only herself, the mirror and the magical hands.

Breathless with anticipation, she watches, as if hypnotized, as the clear outline of hands stretch through her blouse. The imprints creep higher and then mercifully, they cup her anxious breasts, caressing through the lacy bra that envelops them. In the mirror, her chest looks like a small animal has crept up her blouse and is wiggling and trying to get out. The sight is almost comical, but the intensity of the moment drives away any desire to laugh. She can scarcely get in enough breath to keep from feeling lightheaded, expending precious air on laughter is out of the question. The outline is so clear she can even see—as she watches with rapturous attention—the fingers as they close over the nipples straining against the confining bra and tugging gently on each one.

Serious heat and moisture now percolate in the clean shaven entrance to paradise softly nestled between her thighs. Tiny droplets of moisture trickle along swollen lips and soon her panties feel moist. A tightening of the tummy reminds her she is a woman and her entire body shivers with delight.

His hands start descending slowly down her torso, his lips close on the softness of her throat to suckle gingerly. Down come the magical hands—tracing along her curvaceous form and following the lines of her hips working down her thighs—now they are running along the waistline of her skirt and then lifting it slowly. Watching in the mirror, all she sees is her skirt rising magically into the air. Then—at long last his hands creep up her thighs—along the outer sides of her hips. The mouth that suckles her throat opens and teeth rake gently over her delicate skin.

Ohhhh GOD her mind once again cries out! Yeeeeesssssss! She waits in delirium for the slight prick as his teeth pop through the skin, the sharp but short lived pain, as ecstasy washes over her and floods away all conscience thought or awareness.