Lauran can't stop thinking about Cal and the way he touched her. Will she ever stop fantasizing about his hands and his lips?
By Terrie Relf
Lauran couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that she was worried about anything in particular, or that she suffered from any aches or pains. She just couldn’t sleep.
Her mind felt clear and open like a moonflower, her thoughts swirling about like brilliant light through a bamboo grove. Yet how she longed for the scent of her star jasmine childhood, rather than the stale coffee and kitchen garbage too long in the bin.
Cal had left quietly through the back door. She thought that was odd, as if he could disturb her now. Fantasies of him had stoked her wakefulness night after night, so when he finally invited himself over for dinner and to watch Star Trek reruns, she was amazingly calm.
She’d made pesto from scratch, sliced a baguette nice and thin. Scampi and fettucini. He didn’t drink, so she bought an assortment of flavored mineral waters. She had a nice Merlot for herself, from which she sipped while cooking.
Was it just a few hours ago that Cal had crept up behind her, murmured, "aren’t you attracted to me?" against her ear.
"No, not really," she’d replied, wondering how long it would take before her body betrayed her.
He slid his hands around her shoulders, pressed her against him, nuzzled at her neck.
"Are you attracted to me now?"
"No, she gasped, her body automatically arching as he sucked on her ear lobe, circled a finger around her nipple.
"What about now?"
She gasped, writhed against him.
"Damn you!" she moaned. As he slid his hand further, beneath the elastic of her skirt, beneath the red silk of her thong.
He’d just been fuel for fantasy. Something of beauty to engage her nights. She hadn’t anticipated this. Sleep would be more beautiful still if it wasn’t poisoned with the gastric juices of recurring nightmares. Cal whispering, "I want to do unspeakable things to you," and her calling out, "Yes! Yes! Oh Yes!", like some B-movie where the girl gets tied up and left alone in an abandoned warehouse with rats and roaches and sirens at a distance.
There was a clicking sound. Yes, from her computer tower. Cal had been surfing the net before he left. Checking his email maybe. A dog started barking next door. Others from across the street followed suit. The moon was not yet full, but it was hanging there, heavy with light.
Other sounds, like wind at the curtains, the shallow pool of her breath. A cup of tea would be nice now, Lauran thought, as she tried to sit up. So exhausted, and she’d hadn’t even moved a limb.
Unspeakable things. Yes, he had really said he wanted her to do unspeakable things with him.
Salt. Yes, he had placed salt upon her tongue, joked about it warding off zombies. It left a metallic taste in her mouth. Made her thirsty. Unbearably thirsty. Instead of tea, she thought about how nice it would be to have a glass of ice water.
I’ll have to call in sick to work tomorrow, she thought as the hours passed to near dawn. All through the night, she’d worried about the alarm not going off in the morning, but it did, and she was still awake to hear it. She’d need two shots of espresso rather than the usual one to get through her morning classes. Was that gas she smelled, or trash in the alley. Cal must have left the window open. Odd, she thought he’d closed it.
Something of beauty. Yes, she’d thought Cal was beautiful. He emerged like a succubus from the shadows of her bedroom, crawled underneath the down covers, curled himself around her for awhile before he left.
It was morning, and the crickets were finally quiet. Perhaps she’d get some sleep, but the white curtains began to whip about. Lauran remembered something about a storm. Funny. She thought Cal had closed all the windows before he left, but perhaps he hadn’t.
"I want to do unspeakable things to you," Cal had said.
And then he did…