Excerpt: Dreamer
Chapter 1
The dream comes, as it has for as long as she cares
to remember, rolling over her like a tsunami. It
comes despite everything she’s tried to stop
it. Meditation, medication, fornication.
Nothing works.
Since the night he came into her life, the night
he changed everything and then disappeared, the
dream has haunted her.
Her body weeps for him, damp and hot with the aftermath
of the dream. She never comes in the dream, but
her body aches for release, her nipples pebbling
with desire for his lips.
She wakes each time on the edge, her back arched,
her arms reaching, screaming for it, for him, for
the orgasm she’s done without for almost three
years.
Waking up hurts.
She’s tried sex – well, of course she
has. She’s tried deep, down, dirty sex, sex
with strangers, sex with friends, sex with toys,
sex with almost anyone or anything. But, like the
dream, she gets so far and no further.
She can hang on the edge for what seems like forever,
her body dripping and reaching for more. Please,
please, more, is what she hears herself sobbing,
feeling more than a little like Oliver Twist and
wishing – even with all the hell she’ll
have to go through to get to it – for his
happy ending.
On the edge her legs shake, her teeth score her
lips until they bleed. She looks down at her body,
at her rose-red painfully hard nipples, her blush-pink
skin, her legs sprawled as far open as she can get
them, and, more often than not, a head she doesn’t
recognize between them.
No matter how talented the tongue – and she’s
become an connoisseur since him – she can’t
come.
Now she understands the agony represented by the
term blue balls – three fucking years
worth of it.
“No medical reason for it,” more than
a dozen doctors have told her. GPs, gynecologists,
psychiatrists – they do the tests, they hum
and haw, and then they say, “Sorry, nothing
we can do.”
Except, of course, for the psychiatrists, who would
love, more than anything, to put her through the
therapy wringer until she bleeds her childhood,
her extremely active and sometimes dangerous sex
life, her dreams and desires.
But Miri will not submit herself to that invasion.
She’s full to the brim with self-knowledge.
Yes, her childhood was shit – wasn’t
everyone’s? Yes, it made her the woman she
is today. No surprise there.
Yes, she’s had a varied, mostly entertaining,
occasionally frightening sex life for almost thirty
years. And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
There were a few encounters (if she had it to do
over) she might decide not to indulge in. She might
tamp down her darker side just a little bit but,
having lived through them, she is more than content
to keep the memories.
As for dreams and desires? Only one of each.
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