I tried scrambling away from her, but my limbs were still only working so well, and she had no trouble at all following me around, tickling me. I couldn't stop giggling, but I had not asked her to stop.
I managed one especially poorly performed flop after a particularly cruel tickle, banging my head rudely against the floor. She stopped tickling, and her expression turned to one of concern. She was immediately at my head, examining me.
"I'm fine," I said, once I caught my breath. She smiled and caressed my face.
Through all of this, the humming and strange words continued. I almost felt like I could understand the words.
She lied down on her side next to me, her head propped on one hand, the other continuing to caress me.
"I can't believe you picked on the crippled girl," I told her.
"Incentive," she said, before kissing me for the last time that night.
The Chase
Monday night, Dream Petra introduced a new game. She was stroking me and humming when I opened my eyes. I looked at her. She was kneeling over me, smiling. She leaned down to kiss me, but stopped with our lips a few inches apart, staring into my eyes.
"Kiss me," I told her.
She continued to smile but didn't come any closer. I tried reaching for her with my arms, but she evaded me and waved a finger in front of my nose, then pushed my arms back to my sides. She leaned over me again, stopping with our lips inches apart. Again I tried to reach for her, and again she waved a finger in front of me before pushing my hands away.
As always, she was humming and speaking her words.
I looked at her. "More of your incentive?" I asked.
Her smile grew wider and she nodded, just once. She lowered her lips over mine again. All I had to do was lift my head a few inches, hardly at all, and I could kiss her.
She waited for me, her lips hovering over mine.
I struggled with it. I felt my head move a little, but I couldn't raise it from the floor. I tried scrambling with my arms, but as soon as I did, she pulled away and shook her finger at me again.
"I can't," I told her.
She frowned and caressed my cheek. Then she lowered her lips towards mine again.
I didn't get my kiss.
* * *
I didn't get one Tuesday, either.
* * *
"I don't like this game," I told her Wednesday.
She straightened up and looked away. Then she disappeared.
"Hey!" I yelled. "Where did you go?"
After about two minutes, she reappeared, standing over me. She was holding a glass of water. There was a hand towel thrown over her shoulder. She knelt down at my head. I reached for her but she pulled away. I heard her set the glass of water down. She frowned at me, then her hands started to glow. She touched my shoulders and my arms went limp.
"Hey," I said quietly. "What did you do?"
Her hands were still glowing. She leaned over me and pressed her hands to my hips. My legs went immediately limp as well. I couldn't so much as twitch a finger.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She didn't answer. Instead she reached above my head and picked up the glass of water. She reached in and withdrew an eyedropper. She filled the eyedropper with water from the glass, then held it about two feet directly above my face.
"You wouldn't," I said.
She squeezed the bulb and a drop of water fell from the eyedropper and splashed onto my face.
"Hey!" I said.
She moved the eyedropper slightly and squeezed again. The drop fell directly into my right eye.
"Stop it!"
She adjusted her aim and the water fell into my left eye.
The next time she squeezed the water out, I shut my eyes tightly. The water splashed against my closed lid. She splashed me a few more times, then I heard her set the glass down and she was drying my face with the towel.
I opened my eyes and looked at her. "I know you want me to turn my face," I told her. "But I can't."
She disappeared.
Like last time, she was gone about two minutes before she returned. She had her hands behind her back so I couldn't see what she was holding.
"Can we go back to the other game?"
She shook her head.
She knelt down next to me. She set something down with a glass clunk on the floor then showed me what else she was holding. She had a roll of tape.
"What is that for?"
She peeled off a piece of tape then reached over and used her left hand to pry my right eyelid open.
"No! No! No!" I said, trying to squeeze my eyes shut. She taped my eye open anyway. She did the same with the other eye.
"I want to wake up now!"
She shook her head.
Then she showed me what else she had. It was a bottle of lemon juice.
"Petra, please don't."
She looked at me sadly, then poured a capful of lemon juice into the water. She stirred it with her finger then tasted it. She added another cap of water, stirred, and tasted.
She filled the eyedropper with the water lemon juice mix. The first splash was against my lips. I could taste the lemon.
"I want to wake up!"
The next splash just missed my left eye, but some of the water seeped onto my eye. It stung!
"Petra!" I yelled.
The next splash landed directly in my right eye. It really stung. She got my left eye with the following splash. Now both eyes stung, and I couldn't blink.
"Oh god!" I yelled. "Stop it!"
She waved a glowing hand over my face, and the stinging immediately stopped. She caressed my cheek once. Then, offering a sad look, she picked up the glass and eyedropper again.
"No!" I yelled.
The splash landed on my cheek. I had turned my head away.
She immediately set the glass down and clapped with joy. She reached over, caressed my face, then turned my head so I was staring straight up again. She picked up the eyedropper. With her free hand, she tapped my left eyebrow then very carefully and deliberately took aim. She squeezed, and I turned my face to the right. The drop landed harmlessly on my cheek.
She clapped again.
"Please stop," I said quietly.
She straightened my head again, then very gently removed the tape holding my eyes open. I blinked my eyes, then squeezed them shut. I lied like that for a moment until she tapped my nose. She was holding a small bottle of eye drops. She let me read the label. I nodded.
She clapped her hands. I had nodded.
Very gently she held my left eye open and gave me three drops of the eye drops. I blinked several times. Then she did the same with the right eye.
She set everything aside before leaning over to kiss me. I turned my head away. "I'm mad at you right now."
She caressed my cheek and whispered, "I love you," into my ear.
I woke up.
* * *
"That bitch," I said, getting up and talking to the cats. I stormed around the apartment for a few minutes, then found my phone. I texted Petra.
"Running late, taking train."
I went back to bed and curled up for a while.
Eventually I got out of bed, showered, and dressed. I took the train and barely arrived at work by my official start time of nine. Andrea saw me, gave me a few minutes to settle in and called me into her office. "Close the door."
"Am I in trouble?" I asked when I sat down.
"No," she said. "Is something wrong?"
I looked away. "Bad morning," I said. "Do you ever have those dreams that feel totally real, and you're dreaming about someone real. That person does something that makes you really angry, and when you wake up, you're mad at the real person?"
She nodded. "Are you still angry?"
"Yes," I said. "Isn't that silly? It was just a dream, but it felt so real." I paused. "I'm sorry, I won't let it affect my work."
"Quite all right, Felicia. We all have bad days." She paused. "Unless it's me you're mad at."<
br />
I actually laughed. "No, it wasn't you."
"Good," she said. "I have something new for you today."
* * *
Over lunch at the dojo I avoided Petra.
But when it was time to go home, I took the train. I was still mad at her.
* * *
That night, when I woke in my dreams, I took one look at Dream Petra kneeling over me, squeezed my eyes shut, and willed myself to wake up.
I took the train again on Tuesday, arriving at eight.
And Wednesday.
Thursday night I didn't dream of her.
* * *
I woke up Friday morning crying. I took the train, arriving early, and went straight to the dojo. I did a fierce workout. No one bothered me. I was at my desk with a professional appearance by seven-thirty and buried myself in my work.
At ten, a messenger arrived carrying a box from a local florist. I signed for them and opened the box. There was a vase with a beautiful flower arrangement. Andrea was in a meeting but had left me at my desk, working on an assignment for her. I went into the office and set the flowers on her desk for her.
When she returned from her meeting, I was nearly done with the assignment she had given me on Monday. "Flowers came for you," I told her.
"Who are they from?" she asked.
"I didn't read the card. I'm sorry. Should I have?"
"No, probably not," she said, laughing. "I haven't done anything to anyone lately that would warrant flowers."
She went into her office and I bent back to my task. She came out just a minute later, carrying the flowers. "Felicia, they're not for me, they're for you." She set the flowers on my desk. I stared at them. They were beautiful.
"I haven't done anything to anyone lately, either," I told her.
"There's a card," she said. She plucked it from where it nestled amongst the flowers and handed it to me. The envelope had my name on the outside. I opened it and read it.
The card read, "Are we all right? Petra."
"Are you going to tell me who they're from?" Andrea asked.
I looked over at her. "The person I had that dream about," I said.
"Oh," she replied. She sat down in my guest chair. "Are you still angry at him?"
I thought about it. "Yes. Isn't that stupid?"
She cocked her head. "Sometimes dreams can seem very real. In your dream, was he trying to hurt you?"
"She," I said. "She was trying to help me, but I felt very helpless and it felt like she was being exceedingly mean."
"Had she tried other methods first?"
"Yes."
Andrea paused. "Maybe it would help looking at it like this. Imagine this dream woman sent the flowers as an apology for not finding a nicer way to help you. Can you forgive her?"
I looked at the flowers. They were especially lovely. I turned back to Andrea, took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment, then told her, "Yes. Thank you."
"You're welcome. What are you going to tell the real woman?"
"I don't know. I've been dodging her. I guess she figured out I was upset. So now I have to apologize."
"What does the note say?"
"It just asks, are we okay," I told her.
"So, tell her yes and invite her to coffee or something. You don't need to say anything else."
"Thank you," I told her again. "I'll do that."
"Good," she said, getting up. "Almost done with that?" she pointed to the paperwork on my desk.
"Yes. Would you like to go over it after lunch?"
"Perfect."
* * *
At the dojo, I found Petra and asked her to help me with a move she had taught me the week before.
"Of course."
We stepped to the corner and she told me to go through the move. "The flowers were lovely. Thank you. May I have a ride home tonight?"
She smiled broadly. "Yes. Am I welcome on Sunday?"
"I hope you'll be there." But then I looked away. "It was my week to pick the movie, and I was in a mood. I picked Dracula. The one with Gary Oldman and Winona Ryder. In it, Gary Oldman as Dracula comes to women in their beds at night and seduces them."
Her expression darkened for a moment.
"But now I wish I'd picked something else. I'm not sure I'm going to be in the mood, but its one of our favorites, and Erika is all excited about it."
"Is this a serious movie for you or one you both heckle?"
"Heckle," I said. "Definitely heckle. We get really campy about it. Dinner is just spaghetti. You know, for the red sauce."
She laughed. "I will definitely be there."
* * *
When we walked to her car, I asked her, "Are you in a hurry tonight?"
"Not at all," she said. "Want to cook?"
"I was going to ask you to take me to your favorite wine shop," I told her. "But cooking sounds fabulous."
I bought two cases of wine and a wine rack to store it. We picked up groceries.
Back at my apartment, Petra cooked while I made little signs to hang around the necks of the bottles. They said things like "spaghetti" and "wine and cheese". I set the wine rack up in the living room next to the china cabinet and loaded it with bottles. We ate dinner and then watched a movie.
She left at eleven and said, "Sweet dreams."
"I hope so," I told her. "You too."
"I think I will," she said.
* * *
"I'm sorry," I told her the moment I saw her.
She leaned down and kissed me very passionately. She had one hand on the back of my neck, the other cupping my cheek while she thrust her tongue between my lips, teasing me.
Her hand moved down and cupped my breast. I arched my back into her.
She pulled away and looked at me, then clapped with joy.
"More!" I told her.
She lowered her lips to my nipple. She nipped gently, and I arched my back again, shoving my breast deeper into her mouth. Her hand moved to my other breast, and her fingers began tickling and pitching that nipple.
I felt like every nerve ending I owned was suddenly awake, and they were all screaming, "More!"
She pulled away and looked at me, although her hand was still on my breast. She looked at me squirming to her touch. She was smiling, grinning broadly.
She leaned over and kissed me deeply, her tongue probing. She licked my lips and kissed my nose playfully.
"More."
She kissed a line of kisses down my neck, shifted around so she was straddling me, then kissed a line of kisses down my body. She tickled my belly button with her tongue, then kissed my pelvis.
My legs opened for her, and she kissed her way to my vulva. Her lips parted me, and her clever tongue danced against my clitoris.
I almost came right there at the first touch.
And she pulled away.
"What?" I said. "Where are you going?"
She rolled off me, crawled up a little, and lied down on her side, her head resting in her hand, facing me.
I turned my head to face her. I was still squirming from the memory of her touch.
I rolled to face her head on. She lifted her head from her hand so she could clap.
"You did not just get me that worked up then stop."
She smiled. "Catch me."
Then I woke up.
* * *
"No!"
I swear I could still feel her touch, and I was so horny I couldn't stand it. I reached down and spent a few minutes finishing what she started. As my self-served organism burst through me, I felt cheated.
I lied in bed for a few moments, gasping, then climbed from the bed. The cats were nowhere in sight. I wandered out to the kitchen and found them eating their breakfast.
I was still horny as hell, so I headed to the shower. I made use of the detachable showerhead for several minutes, which felt nice, but not as nice as Dream Petra's tongue had. Still, I achieved a second blood-bursting orgasm. I replaced the showerhead and slumped against the wall, allow
ing the water to rain down on me.
I stood under the water for an exceedingly long time, but eventually emerged feeling something resembling normal.
Saturday became my cleaning and errands day. I gave the apartment a thorough cleaning and made my grocery list.
Then I left the apartment, walked up two flights, and knocked on Petra's door. She opened it after moment or two.
"Felicia, hello," she said. "Was I expecting you?"
"No. I'm sorry, I shouldn't intrude. I just wanted to ask one question."
"Quite all right," she said, holding the door open in invitation. I stepped inside and she closed the door. "I was just thinking about you anyway."
"Really?"
"I was wondering what wine I had to bring tomorrow night," she said. "What did you want to ask?"
"This is probably silly, but. How did you learn to cook? Did someone teach you?"
She nodded. "My mother taught me some basics. Things like boiling an egg. Believe it or not, Renea taught me more. But mostly I'm self-taught." She paused. "I presume you're asking because you want to become a better cook?"
I nodded. "Yes."
She led the way deeper into the apartment. "I have something for you then." She led the way into her kitchen. She had a single bookshelf on the wall. "These are my most basic cookbooks," she said. She pulled one down. It was very thick. "This book is one of two or three books that are considered the ultimate books for people learning to cook. I still use it from time to time. This copy is now yours, a gift."
"Thank you," I said.
She pulled out several copies of a thin magazine. "These are not a gift. I want them back. If you are serious about learning to cook, you'll subscribe to this magazine. I pick at least one recipe from every issue and make it, even when I'm exceedingly busy. When my schedule allows, I make several." She paused. "Don't worry if you splatter a little when making something from these. I do that all the time myself."
I cradled everything in my arms.
"Would you like some basic advice?" I nodded. "First, use quality, fresh ingredients whenever you can." I nodded. "Second, only cook with something your great grandmother would have considered food."
"I'm not sure what that means."
"No MSG, no high fructose corn syrup."
"Right, I understand."
"Third." She pulled another cookbook down and spread it on her counter. "This is my favorite right now. Notice the sticky notes." The book had tons of sticky notes. She opened the book to one of the pages and turned it to me. "Notice something else."
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