by Mlyn Hurn
As she walked along the quaint street toward the Christopher Wren building, where she was scheduled to present her talk, it was hard to focus on the convention. Instead, the only thing on her mind was the dream she’d had last night. She’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles that it had been real. It certainly had seemed real. But if it had been, then she would not have awakened alone and in her bed.
After she attended her part of the lecture and discussion this afternoon, she was considering returning to the Fair Rose and going down the hallway when it was light enough to see things clearly. She reasoned that when she looked into the door at the end of the hall and nothing was like it had been in her dream, that would be proof it wasn’t real. Right?
* * * * *
“I believe that in the near future a more open, honest approach to the true place of sex in our daily lives will create ‘sex-positive ripples’ throughout the world. Every day there are more authors that were once considered strictly erotica and are now being recognized. They are being acknowledged as true to their chosen genre, whether it is science fiction, mystery, horror or fantasy, and not just as an erotic story.”
Kerry paused to remind herself to speak slowly and breathe. “In the United States, we need to leave puritanical ways behind us, and face the fact that sex is good, and it shouldn’t only be seen in terms of violence and abuse, which is currently the case for most mainstream genres. For too long, people have considered any sex in a book, regardless of the topic, wrong, and rush to classify the whole book as pornographic.”
Kerry paused, surprised at the applause the amazingly large audience gave her statements. Smiling and nodding, she continued as it died down. “Everywhere you look, sex is becoming more prominent. We do ourselves a great disservice when we rush to label even sex between husband and wife as pornography. I agree with rating books in which sexual acts are more graphically described. Readers want to read more than sex for just sex’s sake. You write a good story, sci-fi, vampire or mystery, and as long as the sex fits the story and setting, readers will enjoy it, and demand more of it.
“It is strongly believed that the human soul has a driving need to work out its need for pain, rage and fury, as well as love and sex. For many people, reading and writing about the darker side of life, and sex, allows them to safely work out these needs on paper and in the bedroom. To quote Bob Dylan in closing, ‘If my thought dreams could be seen, they’d probably put my head in a guillotine. But it’s alright, Ma, its life and life only.’ “
Kerry gathered her notes and sat down. Taking a deep breath, and several sips of water, she was glad this part was over. All she had to do now was pay attention, answer a question when asked and not knock over her water. Turning her head toward the podium, she put her best “I’m paying attention” face on, hoping she was smiling and nodding her head in the right places.
Kerry felt like she was running out of the large room when it was announced that the next presentation would be starting in less than five minutes. Skipping down the stairs, she practically race-walked back to the Fair Rose. Entering through the kitchen, she called out to her host.
“Mr. Douglass? Hello!”
Upstairs, she called out one more time. Pausing only to toss her purse into her room, she hurried down the long hallway. Stopping at the door, she pressed her ear flat to the door first. There was nothing to be heard and she stood upright again. Looking down as her hand touched the doorknob, she was surprised to see her hand was shaking. It didn’t help to lecture herself that there was no reason to be scared. Quietly she opened the door, and stepped into the room.
Kerry stopped immediately. She was overwhelmed by the sense of déjà vu. Instead of moonlight, the sunlight streamed through the three arched windows. She could see that the bed had burgundy drapes. Looking around the room, she didn’t recognize anything. But it was also true that she hadn’t really stopped to carefully peruse the room before she walked to the bed.
“Good Lord,” Kerry spoke softly. It had just been a dream last night and nothing more. The fact that the room resembled the one in her dream was a fluke. After all, the bed was basically the same style as hers. Also, if this was Broderick’s room, it only made sense that he would have darker, more masculine bed clothing, regardless of his choice in bed partners. The fact that the three windows resembled the ones in her dreams was natural, Kerry rationalized silently. She had windows in her room just like these.
Now that she had proven it was just a crazy dream, there was no reason to stay. Certainly there was no need to be walking across the room toward the bed, but that is exactly what she did next. Stopping beside the bed, she leaned over and pressed her hand flat to the surface. Breathing quickly and more shallow with each passing second, Kerry pushed her hand downward, into the soft mattress. Coldness seemed to swirl around her the next second and Kerry straightened quickly. Looking down, she saw it was the same fog-like substance she’d seen in her dream. But this time it was circling around her feet, rising slowly up past her knees.
“Move your stupid feet, damn it!” she told herself fiercely.
“Nay, lass. I think you have the prettiest feet I’ve ever seen in a long time. The shoes are a bit strange, as are your clothes.”
Kerry couldn’t swallow suddenly, and for a few moments, breathing was questionable. Turning her head, she glanced over her shoulder toward the voice. Standing just inside the room was Broderick Douglass and this time he was dressed as if he had just stepped from a portrait in the mid 1700’s. His black hair gleamed and his tan appeared even darker against the white cravat. The blue jacket deepened his blue eyes. Most impressive was the way his breeches fit his muscular thighs and flat stomach. Black boots gleamed with such a high glossy finish that Kerry imagined they would be reflective.
“Hello, Mr. Douglass. You surprised me. I was just looking around like you suggested yesterday.”
“I must say, my sweet, that I don’t care for these new clothes you have. Come along and we’ll see if we can’t find something a bit more…” Broderick crossed the few feet that separated them and took her arm. “I don’t think anyone has been through those old trunks for years.”
Kerry followed as Broderick led her through the house. They took another hallway, which she had not seen last night or today. At the end of that hall was a door, which creaked as he opened it. He then led the way up a narrow staircase, which opened up into the attic. It was dimly lit by windows at either end, but Kerry could easily see that while the front part of the room had been thoroughly probed and investigated, and things sorted into newer boxes, the back half was just as obviously untouched.
“Back this way, lass.”
Kerry sneezed once as she followed Broderick almost to the farthest end of the room. Their zigzag path wound deeper into the farthest corner from the door. Kerry pushed and shoved a few boxes, suitcases and trunks back to widen the path somewhat. The light was getting dimmer as the afternoon sun began to descend. She stopped and watched as Broderick began rummaging through piles of boxes and bundles. Suddenly he spoke, although Kerry still couldn’t see what he’d found.
“Ah ha! I knew it still had to be up here.” He tugged and pulled and soon an old-fashioned trunk appeared. “It appears that everyone’s been putting something or other up here in the attic. The years pass, and no one ever returns for the lost treasure that at one time was so precious it had demanded immediate salvation.”
Kerry felt tears clog her throat at his words. How true they were. She had often done the same thing, but she also knew that nothing she had squirreled away could ever be anything like this stuff. She stepped forward as Broderick opened the trunk. The scent of cedar and mothballs rose in the air. A moment later, Broderick was pulling out some carefully preserved items enclosed within the thinnest of papers.
The first thing he revealed was a suit jacket similar to the one he was wearing, only this one was pale blue and made of the finest silk. Shaking it slightly so it opened completely, Kerry gasped at the s
ight of it.
“Uhm, do you always dress up like this in the evening?”
“This was made in London. I went there with my parents for several months when I came of age. That was quite a season and I’m sure my parents were glad to return to the quiet life we had here in town, as well as on the plantation.”
Kerry paused in lightly running her hands across the jacket’s fabric. “What season were you in London? I’ve been there just once, in the early summer, and it was quite lovely.”
“What season? You jest, my sweet. I always did enjoy your unusual sense of humor. Now, let’s see what else I have in here.”
Ignoring the comment about her humor, Kerry squatted down and watched while Broderick rummaged through the trunk. The comment about seasons seemed strange. If he had really been living back in the 1700’s then he probably meant the London Season. But this was the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth. Yet he certainly looked smart in that costume. She felt like she still needed to ask about last night. Had it really been a dream? Did she spend the night making love to this devastatingly attractive man? He must have carried her back to her room, but why? Unless he wanted to pretend it had never happened.
Kerry cringed immediately at the pain she felt at the thought that he wanted to act like he was the innkeeper and she was only his guest. Sure she wrote about this kind of stuff, but she wasn’t at all comfortable with the fact that it was happening to her. Of course the worst part of all was that she wasn’t going to be able to write the ending she wanted.
Broderick stood a moment later, gently shaking a bundle until it fully opened to reveal a beautiful pale green dress, with lace at the bodice and sleeves. It was full-skirted and most surely would have been worn with several fancy slips, or crinolines, beneath its silken beauty.
“It’s beautiful!” Kerry stood and lightly ran her hand over the silky material. “Something this well-preserved should be in one of the museums around here.”
Broderick shook his head. “This belonged to my mother. Would you like to try it on?”
“I don’t think it would fit me, but thank you.” Kerry squatted down directly in front of the trunk. “What other kinds of secrets are hidden in here?”
“I can’t remember the last time I looked through that trunk. For now though, let’s go down so you can try the dress on. I’ll put my jacket on as well.” Broderick picked up both pieces of clothing and then extended his hand to Kerry. She accepted his helping hand, pausing for just a moment to note the definite coolness of his flesh and then they made their way back down the stairs.
Chapter Four
Kerry showered quickly, blow-drying her hair. Fearing the worst, she stepped into the dress. Stunned that it covered her body much better than she had anticipated, Kerry glanced in the mirror. Her heart soared because it appeared as if the dress could be closed as well. Excited, she picked up the skirt and ran down the hall to Broderick’s room. For a moment, she stopped as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. More time than she had thought must have passed while they were in the attic. The sun had completely set, leaving the passageway in total darkness.
As she ran, she pressed one hand flat to her breastbone to hold the bodice in place. Her shoeless feet were soundless as she came to a halt outside Broderick’s bedroom. Breathing rapidly, she tapped once and then opened the door. The bedroom was lit only by the small bedside lamp. Kerry stopped abruptly upon entering. Breathless before she entered, she was now hyperventilating. Her eyes lingered over Broderick’s half naked body. Clad only in worn jeans, he turned towards the door and Kerry could see the surprise on his face.
Suddenly, Kerry felt foolish. Broderick had told her to come and show him as soon as she was ready. But now, by the look on his face, the surprise was caused by her being there at all. “I’m so sorry for just barging in…I just wanted you to see how the dress fit.”
* * * * *
Broderick was indeed looking at her, from her beautiful long hair, down over the long green dress, and coming back up to where her full breasts were half exposed. He’d wondered what the prim miss would look like with her hair down. By all means, this surpassed anything he could have imagined!
“Other than needing some closure, it looks beautiful, Ms. Perry. Mind if I ask where you got the dress?” Broderick watched the confusion that suddenly filled Kerry’s eyes.
“You—”
Broderick could see tears brimming in her eyes. He shook his head. Today had been a long day, following a very restless night filled with strange dreams. But he was positive that he had not given this woman that dress. Before he could think of a reply or a suitable question, Kerry spoke up.
“You did too! We were upstairs in the attic, going through an old trunk. You found this dress and a jacket for yourself. The dress belonged to your mother and you were dressed in a period costume.”
Broderick shook his head. “Not my mother! She detests all this colonial crap, as she calls it. And there is no nice way to put this, but she wears a size four.”
In less than thirty seconds, Broderick was assured he’d made a colossal mistake. Despite the near darkness of the room, he could still see that a shimmery wetness was now overflowing her eyes and running down her cheeks. Cursing his lack of smoothness with women, he took a step towards Kerry.
“No!” Kerry held her hand up towards him. “I’ll take the dress off and return it to you in the morning.” Without another word, she was gone, running back down the hall. A few seconds later, Broderick heard her door close with a click.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he considered her words as he sipped from the second glass of fine brandy he had poured himself in his study. She had not been lying about the dress, or his being with her. Ms. Kerry Perry was the kind of person who couldn’t lie without it being obvious on her face. He was sure of that. Dropping back to lie across the bed, Broderick considered the fact that Kerry seemed to be more familiar with him than what he’d expected, considering this was the second time they had met.
Closing his eyes, he thought about Kerry. It didn’t make any sense, but it was as if the intimacy of last night’s dream with her was true. After spending all day fighting remembrance of the dream, Broderick took a deep breath and let the memory wash through him. He had awakened abruptly and she was standing beside his bed. Pulling Kerry onto the bed had released quite a few pent up desires, and once again he told himself he was lucky it had only been a dream, or he’d have found himself awakening to face a lawsuit or worse.
It would be a close call, but Broderick was leaning toward thinking it would have been worth it. Even though it had been a dream, it was the most erotic dream he’d had in years. And if the bed had not been empty when he awoke, he’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles that it had not been a dream at all. It was both disheartening and embarrassing to his manhood to admit that such dreams were so few and far between since he’d inherited this white elephant a few years ago that he couldn’t even remember the last one. Between restoration of this place and reestablishing a law practice here, he’d had no time for building a social life.
That had to be the only reason he’d dreamed about his prim and proper guest. Although in his dream last night, she had looked like a luscious, full-figured lingerie model. Smiling, Broderick remembered how real it all seemed, right down to the silky feel of her clothing. Added to his previous arousing dreams, the reality of seeing her a few minutes ago was going to guarantee another restless night. He had no doubt the sight of her long hair, naked shoulders and brief glimpse of a heaving bosom were going to star in tonight’s dream.
Broderick shifted around in the bed, pulling the bed linens sideways to cover himself. The room seemed much cooler all of a sudden. Turning over, Broderick opened one eye. As he looked toward the moonlight filling the room, it almost looked as if the moon beams were turning into a puff of fog. Perhaps he’d not latched the balcony door earlier—
* * * * *
Kerry opened her eyes, noticing they stil
l felt swollen from her tears. Coming fully awake, she rubbed her eyes. It was still dark out except for the small amount of moonlight streaming in the gap between the curtains. Hearing the door creak, she turned toward the sound. A moment later, Broderick was walking into her room. Suddenly, the embarrassment she’d felt earlier came rushing back.
“I thought you were going to show me how you looked in the dress.”
Kerry shook her head, shoving her hair back with one hand. “One of us must be going crazy!”
“You look too beautiful to be a lunatic.” Broderick picked the dress up off the floor. “And while I am sure you would look lovely in the dress, you are entrancing in nothing.”
Kerry blushed and realized she was naked. Before she could make another move, Broderick had crossed to place one knee on her bed. His mouth covered hers as he pressed her back onto the bed. She felt the same coolness of his hands that she had earlier in the attic. Kerry lifted her hands to his shoulders, pushing against him half-heartedly. When Broderick moved his mouth down to the side of her neck, Kerry stopped pushing and slid her hands into his hair.
“If I’m not crazy, then I must be dreaming. I don’t think there can be any other logical explanation.” She stopped speaking as Broderick’s hand shifted to cover one breast. Her breath soughed out as he started to squeeze the soft, round orb. “Oh, God! Yes!”
Kerry lifted her hands to his shoulders, expecting to feel the silken fabric of his jacket beneath her hands. Instead, her palms were caressing smooth, muscular and very warm masculine skin. Trying to think amidst her sensual haze, Kerry thought Broderick’s hands seemed so much warmer than they had earlier. Now his hand, caressing and molding her breast, felt hot to her naked flesh.