Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll)

by Kisner, Stevie

  “And he would never notice,” finished Paul. “Yeah, I saw that, too. Wonder what he’s gonna do when the hubby shows up in Texas.”

  Rafe carefully set the cue ball down, making sure it was exactly where he wanted it before taking his fingers away. He chuckled. “After he gets all snippy ‘cause he’s gotta keep it in his pants?” He stretched his long frame over the edge of the table and aligned his cue stick, then rapidly fired off his shot, sinking the yellow solid into the corner. The cue ball gods took pity on him and the white ball only softly rebounded off the edge near the pocket. Rafe smirked. “But honestly, what was all that talk about invading her mind, and thinking loud thoughts? D’ya think she meant lewd thoughts?”

  “No, drunk as she was, she spoke quite clearly when she talked to you like you was a dolt.” He grinned. “She most definitely said ‘loud.’ And she asked me the strangest thing on the elevator, too, on the way upstairs.” Paul stepped back and assessed the table. “I’d take that side-shot on the green one, if it was me.”

  Rafe straightened from leaning over the wide edge of the table. “She said that?”

  “No, ya twit! She asked me if I’d ever had a dream that came true. She made certain to explain she meant the kind you have when you’re sleeping, like a premonition.”

  Rafe returned to leaning on the table, deciding which ball to sink next. “And what did you say?”

  “Well, I never have, so that’s what I told her. She seemed disappointed.”

  Rafe snapped off the shot to the green ball, but his alignment was wrong and it bounced harmlessly off the side, inches from the pocket. “Eh, now you’ve got me distracted, and I missed.”

  Paul shrugged. “Sure, blame it on me. So, have you ever?”

  “Ever what? Dreamed of something that happens later? Nah, that stuff’s for fairy tales.”

  “I dunno about that, Rafe. There’ve been cases of people who, say, dreamed their plane crashed, so they changed their flight, and the plane they were supposed to be on ended up taking a nosedive. I think there may be something to it.”

  “Or, maybe they were just really nervous about flying, and their original plane crashing was just a coincidence. Anyway, we know JT’s no mind-reader. Hell, sometimes it’s like he doesn’t even have a clue,” Rafe chuckled. “Your shot.”

  “Yeah but what if she wasn’t talking about JT? What if it’s her? After all, she did say he thinks too loud into her head.” Paul sank his last ball, ending the game, then stepped over to their booth and sat down.

  “Then I’d better stop watching her ass when she walks by. Could prove to be embarrassing.” Rafe grinned as he slid into the booth across from Paul.

  Paul returned the smile. “You, too? Man, but it sure is nice to watch her walk away.”

  Rafe poured the last of the beer into his glass. “I said as much to JT on the plane yesterday, just to see what he’d do. I caught him staring at Korina again and couldn’t resist.”

  “Really?” Paul’s eyebrows shot up. “What’d he do?”

  “He got pissed. Well, he tried to hide it, but I could tell. I thought he was gonna bop me at first.” Rafe grinned again. “Then I reminded him that she’s married and he ought to remember that and back off.”

  Paul snickered, knowing full well that when JT caught a notion of wanting something, he went after it. “Let me guess. He denied everything.”

  “Categorically. Said there was nothing to back off from.” Rafe motioned for the waitress. “So then I told him that I was still gonna look, since there was nobody around to object to it.”

  ****

  JT awoke with a start; the music was familiar…the drums and cymbals of Queen’s Save Me building to a crescendo as he heard Freddie Mercury’s heartfelt cry of “I can’t face this life alone.”

  “Bloody hell! Turn it down!” he spat out before his eyes were even half-open.

  He looked around; she was still asleep, her CD player was powered off and sitting quietly on the corner of the dresser. “What the—”

  He’d agreed to stay, but only if she didn’t insist he lay next to her. He knew he couldn’t control his desires, or hers, if she were that close. She acquiesced without argument and crawled under the covers, still wearing only her bra and jeans.

  The short-backed stiff chair he sat in, however, soon grew very uncomfortable. Once she was solidly passed out, he yawned and stretched, then crawled into bed behind her. She’d snuggled into his warmth immediately. He pulled her closer and soon fell asleep, his leg drawn over her hips and one arm thrown casually across her waist.

  He was still wrapped over her when he was startled awake by the loud music. The same bit, over and over, playing just the final chorus.

  He plugged his fingers into his ears, but the volume didn’t change. This was getting stranger. He took his fingers from his ears and found he could hear Kori’s soft, steady breathing. So it wasn’t coming from outside.

  JT usually liked his music loud, and this was a favorite Queen song, but this was getting to be a bit much. Especially on internal brain-wave radio. JT clutched his head, fists pulling at his hair. He’d had songs stuck in his mind before, but this was something else entirely. All half-a-hit, all the time.

  “Fuck!” he groaned. “Make it STOP!” Korina stirred, and the song stopped as suddenly as it had appeared.

  Even through half-closed, sleepy eyes, she saw the stricken look on his face. Korina wasn’t thrilled about being awake, but nevertheless was glad to have been pulled from that dream.

  “What’s the matter, JT?” She didn’t think twice about finding him next to her. It was beginning to feel normal.

  Instead of answering, he softly asked, “What were you dreaming about?”

  Instantly wary, she wondered if he picked up her nightmare. He seemed to be able to read her a little just recently. “A funeral,” she hedged. That much was true, the dream had played through to Mark’s funeral service. The nightmare almost didn’t leave her sad anymore. She was coming to accept it as inevitable.

  “A funeral?” What a thing to dream about. Maybe that was her nightmare? “Was there music playing, by any chance? A Queen song?”

  She wondered how much he had seen. “Uh, yeah, just a piece of one. Save Me. I remember hearing that. Um, why?” She looked down at her hands, nervously plucking at the pills of lint on the blanket.

  “Because I heard it, too. It woke me up, actually.” He strongly considered not pushing the point, then tossed that thought off the roof. “This was that nightmare again, wasn’t it? That, or something close to it. Upset you enough for a hundred gigawatt broadcast, whatever it was.” She didn’t answer, didn’t even look up from studying her busy fingers. Pluck. Flick. Pluck. Flick.

  “Look at me, dammit!” Startled, she obeyed. He saw the anguish etched into her features, but he pressed forward. “Whose?” She stayed silent, the sorrow in her eyes begging him not to do this.

  “Whose funeral, Kori?” he asked again, softer this time, but the edge was still in his voice. Fuck, I hate myself right now. But dammit, if she was going to turn to him every time for comfort, if he was going to help her, he had to know. Deserved to know. And he had to admit, he was a little bit concerned that it might be his own. She’d been distancing herself these last few days, looking at him with such heartbreaking sadness that he actually considered that it might be him. Don’t get too attached, and you can’t get too hurt.

  She edged her eyes away. “I really don’t want to talk about it. But it’s not yours.” She flickered her gaze back to his, still so compelling even in this dim light, and saw it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. “Or mine.” She went back to pulling the fuzz pills on the hotel blanket.

  “Was it your son’s?” he pressed.

  “No, dammit, and I don’t want to play twenty questions about it. It’s just a bad dream, JT. Just a hellish nightmare.”

  Unswayed, he pushed for more. He took her face gently into his hands, making her look at him. “You’ve had thi
s nightmare three times that I know about. I think it’s more than a dream. No, given your gift, I know it’s more than that. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s upsetting you. Why can’t you tell me?”

  She considered his words. Very soon, from the looks of her dream, she and her son would be alone in the world. She needed someone to confide in, and maybe it should be him. She expected to lean on him heavily when the nightmare became reality, and he ought to be prepared for it. That was only fair. She realized she was holding her breath, and released it in a heavy, ragged sigh. She averted her eyes, looking at his chin, his nose, anywhere but his sympathetic eyes. “He’s dying, and he knows it. He doesn’t know I know,” she said.

  “Who, Kori? Please tell me who it is.”

  She met his gaze then and whispered, “My husband. Mark’s dying, and we can’t stop it.”

  JT was stunned, even though it confirmed his suspicion. His decision to confess his feelings would go on hiatus. Indefinitely.

  “How do you know, I mean, how can you be certain, lo—Kori?” Those little endearments should go on hold for a while, too.

  She fixed him in a grave, level gaze. “It’s one of those things I just know. I’ve learned not to question the messages, JT. I don’t ask for them and I don’t know how they come to me. They just do. And they’re always right.”

  A tiny, selfish piece of him (that he hated to even admit he had) found this to be good news. For him. She wouldn’t have to make any decision. It had already been made. But that selfish, elated bit was struck by another thought. What if she chose to be alone rather than be with him? What then? He was disgusted with himself, with the whole ugly train of thought; he stuffed it into a mental closet, told it to go fuck itself, and slammed the door. His only concern should be for her.

  “And he doesn’t know? That you know, I mean?”

  Kori wished she could just plunge into the deep green of his eyes and get lost there. Maybe stay lost, away from responsibilities, decisions, loss and pain. “No, I’m waiting until I see him in Dallas. This is not something I want to talk about over the phone.”

  She sounded defeated. But there were no tears. Some things hurt too much to cry. He knew that all too well.

  He scooted away, wanting to give her some boundaries that were hers alone. Still, he reached for her nervous, busy hand, knowing some small contact was more comforting than none. “What is it? What’s wrong? And if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll understand. But I want you to understand that, whatever it takes, if we can make him well again, I want to help. If it’s money or an insurance problem, if there’s a hope in hell of him getting better, I’ll help you.” And that ugly selfish part of him was surprised to find that the rest of him meant every word. Having her be happy and whole again was what he truly wanted.

  She sighed and looked away. “It’s not a health insurance issue, and it’s not something we can just throw money at until it gets better.” Should she tell him? She supposed so. After all, she’d shared this much. “It’s his liver. And his kidneys. They’ve been destroyed by the pain-management medications he’s been taking for eleven years.” She paused, gathering her thoughts.

  JT opened his mouth to comment about transplants, but thought better of it. Let her talk, JT, she’s on shaky emotional ground here.

  She went on. “Years ago, when the doctors told him he’d have to get annual scans and tests to check for damage from the prescriptions, we talked about transplants. And every year since then, when testing time rolls around again, we talk about it. He won’t do it. Not that he’s got the time now, if he changed his mind. Those waiting lists are years long. And that’s if you find a potential donor who’s a good match. No, JT, for Mark, transplants are not an option. Especially since he needs both.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “You still think too loud, you know.”

  Not knowing what else to say, he squeezed her hand and said simply, “I’m sorry, Kori. So very sorry.”

  “So am I,” she murmured. “It’s still night, and I’m still tired. You can go if you want to. I don’t think I’ll be having that dream for a second time tonight.” She hoped he would stay anyway. She really didn’t want to be alone.

  He smiled weakly. “Now what kind of friend would I be if I left? Nope, you’re stuck with me.” He laid down again, and held out his arm. “C’mere, love, and let’s try to go back to sleep. I’ll be right next to you if you need me.” She rolled closer, and he pulled her in, laying once more as they were when he’d awakened. She felt safe, warm and protected, and was soon asleep again, unburdened for the first time in days.

  JT lay awake, listening to her soft breathing. He felt an overwhelming urge to keep her close, to protect her from hurt and harm. Oh, man, you’ve got it bad, JT. She’s snared you and reeled you in. She’s going to be a sad and heartbroken widow trailing your heart behind her like a wagon on a string.

  Eleven

  Korina lay awake as the sunlight began to creep over the horizon. She didn’t remember any more dreams, good or bad. Just the black unconsciousness of sleep and oblivion. So then why was she awake so early?

  JT slept next to her, his arm resting heavily over her back. The weight was a strange comfort. I’m not facing this all by myself, she thought. But is it really fair to involve JT? Because fair or not, he is involved. And he seems to want it that way. Even when I tell him to leave me alone, he comes back. He has no obligation to me. And yet, here he is. Giving me a shoulder, or rather a chest, to cry on. Warm arms to sleep in. I should be still be sleeping; I wish I were.

  Why am I awake, anyway? Maybe it’s because he’s right next to me. Maybe it’s the stress and the worry.

  Uck. Or maybe it’s because of this I-used-a-trashcan-as-a-breathmint taste in my mouth and the shag rug on my tongue.

  She tried a tentative movement, testing JT’s inborn cuddle reflex. His arm stayed a dead weight. She eased out from under, then stepped silently to the bathroom and gently closed the door.

  She felt for the light switch in the dark and fumbled it up. The light skewered her eyeballs, and she squeezed them shut. Allowing herself a moment to adjust to the glare inside her lids, Kori opened them a fraction at a time until she could see her reflection in the mirror. Sleep-rumpled hair going every which-way. Red eyes, which thankfully weren’t puffy or swollen. Deep, dark circles from too many nights of interrupted sleep. Oh, I’m a prize, all right. A radiant beauty. Who, me, hung-over? All that’s missing is the headache. Drinking almost always gives me major brain-pain. Wonder where that is today? She picked up her hairbrush and dragged it through her tangled hair, baiting the expected headache, but it wasn’t coming. Well, that’s one mystery I don’t want to explore too deeply, thank you very much.

  A clumsy toothbrushing, complete with dropping the brush twice, confirmed that she had a little way to go before hitting sober.

  She stayed in the bathroom after flipping off the light to let her eyes adjust to the gloom, then quietly opened the door.

  The soft sound of JT’s breathing told her he was still asleep. He lay sprawled in the middle of the bed, her pillow crushed tightly to his chest. She stood and watched him, pondering how to sneak her pillow out from his arms, and then where to squeeze into the bed once she got it.

  She gave up and dropped into the bedside chair, still watching his peaceful face. Is there any sort of future for us, JT? I’m not looking forward to being alone, but I’m also not expecting you to end that for me. I wish I knew what fate had in store.

  I know some people might find our viewpoints hard to understand, Mark’s and mine, but we accept them in our hearts and in our souls. I don’t even know if you’ll understand them, JT. I’ll miss Mark terribly once he’s gone, but he’ll soon be done with his body, and all the lessons for which flesh was necessary. I’ll let him go with a heart full of love, knowing he’s learned well the teachings of pain and anguish. And of love and happiness. Death will be his graduation of sorts, to become a soul of energy and light, to th
e next level of be-ing. But still, I know I’ll miss him so.

  She sighed, knowing that she’d have to put on hold any further thoughts of her and her son’s future, and live for today for a while. She remembered something she’d heard once: Yesterday is but a memory, and tomorrow is promised to no one. Enough philosophy, Kori. Her still-tipsy brain decided to take full advantage of this moment, and of the beautiful man taking up most of her bed.

  She quietly peeled off what was left of her clothes, intending to finish what she’d tried to start hours earlier.

  The leftover buzz was keeping her inhibitions at bay; Korina raised the edge of the blankets and tunneled under. JT was still wearing his sweatpants, but his shirt was long gone. She longed to trace her fingertips over his muscled chest and taut stomach, but that might wake him enough to stop her. And she just couldn’t allow that. Not when this would be their last time together this way until Mark was….well, until she was no longer a married woman. She wanted to watch JT come undone at her hands.

  She had no difficulty finding what she was looking for in the shrouded darkness under the blankets; he was slightly aroused even in his sleep. She slowly lowered her lips to the tented fabric and exhaled softly onto the hardened bulge underneath. He didn’t stir, but his erection twitched in appreciation.

  A smile curved her lips, and she breathed over him again. This time he shifted a bit and let out a quiet groan. Bolder now, she eased down his waistband just enough to free his full length, pleased to find he’d gone commando.

  JT was in the midst of an amazing dream. Oh my love, what your mouth does to me… he felt her tongue run up his underside, left achingly sensitive from being so near and unable to take what he wanted. He felt her lips close over his swollen cock, then work their way down, inch by tantalizing inch.

  Groaning, his hips reflexively jerked, burying himself deeper in the warm source of his pleasure. His own sounds and movement woke him to discover this was no dream.