Someone Else's Dream

by Colin Griffiths

  “What are these for?” she asked, the delight showing on her pretty, but chubby face.

  “For yesterday; you don’t know how much you helped me get through a difficult day,” he told her.

  Marcia blushed. “I don’t mean that,” he laughed.

  “So you didn’t enjoy it?” she mocked.

  “I loved it and you know I did.”

  “Fancy a repeat performance tonight?” she asked. Marcia had no idea where that had come from. It felt as if it was not her words and somebody else had spoken them for her. Whoever it was, who said those words; she was glad they did. He smiled, but she saw him take a deep breath and a look of embarrassment came over her face. She could also feel herself going red.

  Matt did fancy it, but he was unsure where it was leading to. He didn’t want a relationship, he wanted his terms. Marcia was his for the taking whenever he wanted, he knew that.

  “Look, just as fuck-buddies, I hadn’t had it for ages until last night. I just need a bit more of a seeing too and that should keep me going for a while”. She felt comfortable saying it; it was like Matt had helped her let her inhibitions down. She thought she had nothing to lose. He laughed at her mannerisms.

  “Only if you come to mine and I cook for you.”

  “Only if you have me for desert!” she giggled.

  They drunk up and left. Matt cooked dinner and they both enjoyed their desert.

  * * *

  By 9pm Marcia had left, feeling very fulfilled and not expecting to have to be intimate with Matt for some time. He had fulfilled her needs and she quite liked using him for that. Her crush on him had gone, but she still fancied him like hell and every now and again she would let him fuck her brains out if that’s what he wanted. After all, he was very good at it. He had given her a new found confidence; he made her feel desirable once more. She didn’t love him, but loved him for making her feel as good as she did. She got her phone out and sent him a text.

  Matt sat on his sofa in his lounge feeling more satisfied and tired than he had been in a long time; having had his fourth sexual exploit in less than twenty-four hours. Whilst Marcia was certainly addictive and her enthusiasm could not be faulted, the one he will remember most was with Hayleigh. Their moment of Farewell, when they both finally went their separate ways; the faint hopes of a reconciliation no longer hanging but fully quenched. He wondered what the consequences would be and thought he might be the one to instigate those consequences. He felt good, in fact, he felt better than he had for a long time. He thought maybe it was because he hadn’t taken his tablets and whatever was in those pills were getting out of his system, turning him into the man he was about to become. His phone beeped it told him he had a message, it was from Marcia, it read.

  ‘Just to let you know I could hardly walk home, you animal... lol, the flowers look lovely. I got an idea to save any awkwardness. If you fancy a shag just text ‘dinner’ and if I do too ill reply ‘dessert’ if I fancy a shag ill text ‘dessert’ and if you want too, reply ‘dinner’. Whadya think fuck-buddy?”

  Matt laughed out loud he texted her back. He thought it was an excellent idea; the simplicity of it had sent his head in a whirl. ‘Dinner’.

  His phone beeped again. ‘Animal!’

  He texted back; ‘Good night fuck-buddy.’

  ‘Nite Nite till next time.’

  His eye caught the two books he had bought earlier and placed on his book shelf. He picked up the book by Carla Reid titled ‘Charlotte’s Dream’. He admired the girl from Wales. He stared at the picture of the author on the back for a while and closed his eyes to imagine her naked, lying alongside him. He opened the book to the first chapter and started reading. It was two hours later before he put the book down not quite half way through. He’d got so absorbed in it, the time just flew by. It wasn’t so much the story that captured him, but the writing style. He wondered how a two-bit author, from a rain-sodden country, could have made it so big in the world of literature. He felt there was nothing spectacular about it, yet he couldn’t put it down. Now he was struggling to keep his eyes open and as good as it was or wasn’t, whichever way he looked at it, the words were becoming jumbled as he struggled to focus. He put his book marker in the book and laid it on the table, wanting the next day to start so he could continue reading it. For some reason he wanted to get inside this author, find out what made her tick. There was something about her that had got to him; something that just didn’t fit. Reading the book was just the first stage to finding out what.

  It took him less than a minute to fall asleep; a real deep, satisfying sleep that he hadn’t had for a long, long, time. His first dream was of Marcia and the wild sex they’d had. In his dreams they were trying it in all positions, but what started as a passionate dream quickly changed to violence, as he began forcing her to do things she wasn’t keen on doing at all.

  Then he dreamt of his wife, in which the dream was intimate and passionate. There was no sexual violence in this dream, just passion and he let out a satisfying moan as he slept. His next dream was a common dream; it was of his daughter, but this dream was different. It wasn’t about him pushing her on the swing, or watching her play with her dolls; his daughter was talking to him and she was telling him to write that book that he had always wanted to. She was telling him to stop mourning for her; that the angels were looking after her; that she was pleased for Mum and now she wanted him to move on also. ‘Write that book Daddy’ was the last thing he heard her say in his dream. He would not remember that advice when he awoke in the morning.

  His final dream of the night was about a lady in Wales. She had written a book, but that lady was being stalked by a disgruntled fan, someone who believed she didn’t deserve the success she’d had. That made him shift in his bed, uncomfortably. He woke up in the morning refreshed, having had one of his best sleeps in a very long time. Some of the dreams were still vivid in his mind. He didn’t always remember his dreams, but this time, he was glad he did.

  He showered with a big smile on his face, not bothering to talk to his penis in the mirror. He knew Johnny was just as satisfied as he was. He had no work; choosing not to go in and he simply wasn’t bothered if there were ramifications due to his absence. He somehow felt that morning that his Garden Centre career was probably over. He had another career to think about now. He made his coffee and cornflakes and decided to settle down on the sofa to finish the book he had started to read the night before.

  Three hours later he had finished one of the most satisfying reads he’d had for a long time. He had felt close to the author as if they had something in common. A bond had been formed, he realised that now. The book, “Charlotte’s Dream”, had become part of his life, along with the person who wrote it. He certainly would be looking out for her future novels. He felt that it was so enthralling that it inspired him to write. He thought of his own success and his own books displayed on the shelves at Waterstones. Carla Reid was in his head now and he was no longer taking the tablets that may have removed her.

  He booted up his laptop and soon had a blank page staring at him. He already had the basis of a novel in his head. A lot of it had come in his dreams. He sat looking at the blank screen for at least five minutes as he went through his thought process. He just needed the Title and a hundred different ones went through his head. He wanted something simple but that would stand out; something to lure the reader in. Then he typed down one word in bold and underlined.

  Stalker

  He then started to write.

  Chapter One:

  Coral Reece finished work at 5pm that day…

  He sat and wrote for a further three hours, at times pausing for thought and making a coffee, only to soon be back typing again. He typed his last word for that session and let out a big sigh as a big smile creased his face. He had finished Chapter One. He shut his laptop down and sat grinning idiotically to himself. He had finally done it and the first successful novel he always wanted to write was finally underway. It wa
s a feeling he had never felt before and could only imagine what it would feel like when he finally finished it. It was far better than anything he had recently read. Stardom loomed and it was just a few brief chapters away.

  He did some household chores and then spent some time tending his beloved flower beds, weeding in between the annuals and the perennials. He mowed his lawn and trimmed the borders, all the time thinking about the last book he read. Occasionally his thoughts went to his latest novel with Chapter Two already firmly fixed in his mind.

  Suddenly, he realised he hadn’t eaten all day. He also felt like celebrating his achievement, in the only way he knew how, with the only person in his life at that moment. He got out his phone and sat and deliberated about it, wondering if it was too soon or was he already getting too involved? It was only fun and he really wanted to celebrate. He could not think of a better way, so he finally sent the text. ‘Dinner?’

  He was feeling excited and realised he would have to shower and change before she got there; he was still grubby from his gardening. Then his phoned beeped and his smile grew wider as he thought of the wild sex he was about to embark on. He thought of his dream and the things he had forced Marcia to do. He read the text then threw his phone on the sofa. The text had read.

  ‘Sorry not hungry.’

  His mood had changed in a flash. He could feel the pent-up anger. He had expected Marcia simply to reply ‘desert’ and was surprised when she rejected him. He did feel rejected and he wondered what gave her the right to reject him. To him she had made it perfectly clear she was his, whenever he wanted her. Why would the bitch do that to me? He couldn’t see himself texting her again. She would have to come to him, gagging for it, before he could be bothered with her again. He sat on his sofa for a while looking at his grubby hands from the gardening, disappointment and frustration building up inside him. He was hungry, so he swilled his hands and decided to get some fresh air and a take-away. It was getting late and the day had flown past. Other than writing his best seller he thought it had been a waste of a day. He didn’t want the day to end up like this. It had started off so well and he wanted it to finish the same way.

  * * *

  Marcia was working until closing time at the Bluebell Pub. Normally it would be gone midnight before she got home. Tonight was quiet, with just her and the landlady serving; they had two customers each. Helen the landlady told her to get herself off home at 10pm as it was so quiet. It was not an offer she was going to refuse and Marcia got herself half a lager and sat down, now her shift had finished early.

  She looked at the message she had received earlier; the message with the one word ‘Dinner’. It had come as a surprise. She really enjoyed her sexual encounters with Matt, and after she thought she may have shown too much enthusiasm, but she was certainly not against doing it again sometime, but really she was thinking in a month or two; that’s if they were both still in the same situation. The text disappointed her a bit. It made her feel used and cheap. She knew they were using each other and that she really had made all the running, but there was no way she was going to be someone’s everyday shag. She would do it when she wanted; it was always going to be her call. As she got up and said her goodnights before walking home, she wondered how a man who at one time would not look at her suddenly wanted her so much. She smiled; it made her feel just a little bit better. Until she thought that all she had really done was give her body away far too easily and her smile turned to a frown as she felt like a used piece of meat.

  The longer the wait the better it will be; she told herself... and if he really fancies me then he’ll wait, won’t he?

  She crossed the road from the Bluebell Pub and walked up the road a little. She took the short-cut to her home that she took most nights. It was an alley between the houses, only about one hundred yards long but it cut off quite a bit of the walk. There was a six-foot wall on one side and an eight-foot wild hedge on the other. It was dark, as the moonlight was hidden by the clouds and no street lamps available to light up the alley. The ground was soft under her feet and she walked slowly as she was unsure what she was stepping on.

  She was beginning to regret deciding to go that way, as it seemed eerily dark without the moonlight glow. She’d walked about twenty yards into the alley when she heard shuffling and her heart went into her mouth as she immediately thought of rats. Then she thought she could just see an outline of someone in front of her and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she had just bumped into someone walking the other way. She was just about to say good evening when her words were muffled by the fist that hit her in the face. Letting out a cry just before the second punch caught her in the eye, she slumped to the ground holding her face. Her body slammed against the brick wall as she landed and she felt the crack on her elbow as it connected with the brickwork; the pain racing up to her head. As she lay on the dirt she felt a further two punches before she passed out. The last thing she remembered feeling was just pain, the last thing she saw was darkness, as her body shut down and she lost the battle for consciousness.

  * * *

  3. The Proposal:

  After Darren had his fun, he was true to his word and like the little boy he sometimes was, he left to go back to the beach where he had previously left his friends. He could not believe his luck in having a girlfriend like Carla. She was certainly a class above the other girls he knew and usually hung around with. She always dressed nicely, looked stunning and she always smelt beautiful. He could not believe he had just visited her and she’d opened her legs for him. He knew she wouldn’t do that for anyone else, only him. She was the one true lady of his dreams and it made him feel special knowing he could have her anytime he wanted. He knew she loved and craved for him. She had a body to die for and sometimes Darren thought he would do just that if he had to. Otherwise, why would she let me shag her? He asked himself.

  He made his way to the beach where he could see his mate Smithy still there, along with another lad and two young girls in their teens. They were sitting around a fire they’d lit. It wasn’t really cold but the fire gave off a comforting glow. The two girls were drinking cider from a shared bottle and the boys were drinking cans of lager. Darren grabbed a can and sat beside them; he could smell a faint aroma of pot, something they occasionally participated in, although Darren had almost stopped smoking it as he knew for sure that Carla would not approve. Smithy spoke first, and he had a grin on his face.

  “You weren’t long, did she throw you out?” he laughed. Darren took a long swig of his lager.

  “She was busy writing her book thingy, I just gave her a seeing-to and left her to it.”

  “In your dreams,” said one of the girls, not believing a word of it as they all started giggling.

  “Hey, she was gagging for it, so I fucked her brains out,” he shot back, with a smug look on his face. He really didn’t care if they believed him, he knew what he had just done.

  “In your dreams,” repeated the disbelieving Smithy.

  “Well, it couldn’t have been much of one, you’ve only been gone a few minutes,” laughed one of the girls.

  Darren didn’t answer, he was thinking of Carla lying on the bed exhausted after her ‘seeing-to’.

  * * *

  Carla showered after getting Darren to leave. She was feeling a bit cheapened, wondering how she had actually got to the stage where she would allow a young boy, five years her junior, and pop in and use her like he had done. She fancied him a lot, his body was in superb shape and looking at him brought all the right tingles coursing through her body, but she wished he would learn how to make love to her and not just use her as some sort of sperm dumping ground. She hadn’t had many boyfriends and had only slept with six people; none of them one night stands. Carla had to be in a relationship before she would share her body with anyone and even then the first time would always be with fear and always in the dark.

  She thought she would be able to train Darren in the art of lovemaking, not that she
was any expert herself, but she knew that at some time foreplay needs to be involved. Darren’s idea of being tender and passionate was just to go slower. Now she wasn’t sure if she had the time for this anymore or even the inclination. It was proving to be a harder task then she thought. She longed for Darren to make love to her, slowly and sensually and touch and kiss her in places that made her tingle. She now doubted if it would ever come and she wondered why all the guys she had been with were all the ‘wham bam, thank you ma’am’ type. One thing Darren did give her during their lovemaking was security. He made her feel safe and nobody had made her feel like that before.

  She was looking forward to having lunch tomorrow at Caesar’s with her friend Donna; she needed a laugh and Donna would certainly provide that. Donna was fun and her best friend; they had a deep secret that they both shared and from that day they had become as close as sisters. She fell asleep with that thought in her mind drifting into her dreams. She dreamt of Darren, she dreamt of Charlotte and then she dreamt of being stalked.

  She slept-in, longer than she meant; her night had been restless as she tossed and turned and she didn’t really fall asleep until the early hours. The stalker dream particularly disturbed her. She wasn’t one for having bad dreams, but this one had woken her in a cold sweat.