𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞
I could feel her nails pressing into my arms the moment I lifted her against the wall just to kiss her like a man starved. Here, in the dark of my bedroom, the only thing that actually allowed me to see the way she leaned forward, was the moonlight spilling through the open drapes. Her lips pressed down from the line of my jaw to my neck, mercilessly, teeth nipping. Tongue dragging. And for someone who looked easy on the eyes, I could hardly expect that from her. As her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist she sucked a hickey that would last for days. I groaned, a low sound that I didn't think actually belonged to me.
I let her do what she wanted regardless, and I haven't felt my heart race like this in a long time. Nor have I ever felt myself so eager for more. I slid my hand down the smooth brown skin of her thigh, trying to in-grave the feeling into my memory. She wore a delicate white lace set, its floral-patterned fabric paired with slim straps and small heart-shaped details, the kind of lingerie that complimented her dark curls and warm skin, making her look like a dream.
And making me internally struggle with the decision of taking my time or tearing it off of her.
Her hands traced up my arms like a caress, all the way to my shoulders and down my chest. I can't remember when I took my shirt off, but I don't mind that it's off either.
Just as my hands hook under her thighs more firmly, she rolls her hips against me which earns her a look of warning. I won't be as patient as I am if she keeps doing that. She smiled, looking up at me through her eyelashes--and something told me she didn't mind getting me more riled up than I already am.
She whispered to me, and before I could ask her what she meant or what she had said, I was suddenly no longer there--but on my bed instead.
The sunlight slipped through the crack of the closed drapes, right onto my face as I cracked my eyes open. That was a dream. A wet dream. And it was the most vivid wet dream I've ever had in my life.
I scrubbed a hand over my own face, jaw tightening. "What the fuck.." I grumbled to no one but myself. I wasn't about to have sex with anyone--I had just been in bed, laying in nothing but boxers the whole damned time. Dreaming about a woman that didn't exist. About a woman I never met, if she did exist somewhere. I couldn't remember her face If I tried though, yet everything else came back to me like it'd happened just last night.
When I turned, looking for any evidence this might've actually happened, like some kind of a drunk Vegas night, there was nothing. Blankets weren't even rumpled. Room still as clean as I often keep it. Too clean to have hooked up. Still, my hand runs up the side of my neck, as if I could still feel the phantom sensation of her lips there, leaving her bold little marks on me.
Clearly, I must have lost it completely.
I slipped out of bed, my skin still felt uncomfortably warm. I didn't even want to acknowledge the low heavy ache that demanded to be dealt with. Not that I was going to. Not over a wet dream. That was downright ridiculous. Shame nearly crawled up my neck while I started to head straight for the shower. I refused to acknowledge it anymore and set myself straight. I still needed to check if the cows were ready for milking. To check if the chickens had finally laid any eggs yet. I've got real-life duties to worry about.
Breakfast went slow, which is how the morning regularly goes. Quiet, with the occasional rustle of wind, a cluck or moo from the farm out back--just meant the animals were up and hungry. This is my ideal life of peace; living a little further out and away from the town. No one bothers me. And that's how I like it. Just me and the barn that holds my animals.
By time I'm outside, crossing through the fence, the sun's set more overhead in the sky, beating down my back as I haul a stack of fresh hay out of the storage in the barn. One of the cows moo at me almost immediately while I'm preparing to fill their feed-bunks, "Alright, don't go gettin' rowdy now." I smirk. Next were the chickens. About just as impatient as the heifers in the barn could be. But I love em. They use me for care, I use them for their eggs and milk. Seemed like a fair trade.
While I'm busy throwing out chicken feed in the coup to the greedy little things, a truck rolls up the gravel pathway. followed by a sleek kind of car. They stop right in front of the house next to mine. It's been empty for several years. Owned, but not lived-in, I'd heard. Made the perfect space for me. I felt myself already frowning at the obvious move-in truck. I paused the feeding to watch the exact moment my land was no longer going to be just mine anymore.
The chickens were already busy pecking at what's already been put on the ground while I fold my arms in displeasure of whoever this might be. One mover steps out the truck, then another. However, I keep my eyes intently focused on the sleek white car with tinted windows. I quietly hope to myself it'll be someone older. That they'll be quiet and keep to themselves just enough that I could pretend they don't exist.
While I watch for a moment or two, the hood of the car retracts, and instead of getting out like a normal person, they actually wait for the hood to finish retracting. The first thing I register is a head full of dark brown curls. Which tells me she's not as old as I was hoping she'd be. The woman steps out of the car, tossing her pink scarf over an open brown coat, matching her plaid brown skirt, save for the pink bow on it--just at the hip. The shirt beneath her coat is just a plain pink turtle neck, it looks like. Other than the fact she's wearing a bow, what catches my eye are the heels. Strapped, pink heels. Just like the shirt and scarf, paired with white tights. On gravel. Those'll be the cleanest they ever are until the end of this day at most. Does she even know where the hell she is?
There's dirt here. Mud from the average light rainstorms. She'll trip and face-plant several times before the week is over. The usual scowl settles onto my face, until she finally feels my glare and turns to face me. With a smile and a wave, "Hi neighbor!" She exclaims from where she stands. Neighbor. I could hardly focus on that. The only thing I could focus on was the fact I just remembered what the face of that woman in my dreams looked like--and it looked like hers. From the brown of her skin, to the dark curls, to the smile on her face.
She's impossibly as easy on the eyes as I dreamed. My throat went dry almost immediately.
What the fuck is going on?
