I slam the computer shut and scramble in the drawer for my sleeping pills. I’m going back to bed, and I don’t want to dream this time, so I take enough to put me out.
10
REECE
I’ve been shaking all morning. That dream was the most fantastic thing I’ve ever experienced. Four years with my ex-wife, and nothing we did could ever compare to the sensual and erotic aura of that dream. And I remember every second. None of it is fuzzy, except how I got into Aislynn’s bedroom in the first place. It’s as clear as a memory from the day before – clearer maybe because I can’t get it out of my head.
I had to cancel class. I couldn’t look at Aislynn and not get aroused, or confused, or just generally feel like I was going crazy. I have no idea who that other man was, but he was tender with Aislynn like he cared for her. Asking her if she trusted me – my heart had stopped in that second. What if she said no? But she hadn’t, and that man had accepted it – and me.
The knock on the door doesn’t surprise me. Of course, James would check on me. I’ve never canceled class before. I let him in, and he gives me a once over. I know what I look like. I showered, trying to get the dream out of my head, but I ended up having another orgasm as the thoughts rushed in and I jerked off to the memories. I had to put my wet sheets in the laundry. I didn’t even think a man my age could have a wet dream.
I don’t say a word as James follows me to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. He’s been in and out of my house so often, it’s become as familiar as his own.
“You look like shit,” he says after a couple minutes of sitting at the island in my kitchen. I have a nice bachelor pad, but I don’t know why. I spend most of my time in my office on campus. But the one-bedroom townhouse is worlds away from the four-bedroom suburban house my wife and I had – that’s all I wanted.
I sit down across from him and run my hands through my hair, pulling on the unruly waves, hoping the tiny pricks of pain will ground me. “I had another dream.”
“More than the last one?”
“Oh yes,” I breathe, and he smiles. James is like me. He’s been divorced a couple years and too old for the bar scene. We occasionally troll for dates together, but it never amounts to much.
“How long has it been since you last had sex, Reece?”
“That isn’t it, James. It’s so clear.” I pause and clear my throat. “There was another man there. I didn’t touch her this time, but he did. And I watched.” I’m sure my face is red, but I need someone to talk to.
“She came for an appointment,” he says after a long drink, and I’m glad he’s not judging me.
“And?”
“She’s pretty.”
I shake my head with a sigh. “Of course she’s pretty, James. There are a lot of beautiful undergrads and grad students that walk into my classroom. I always maintain my distance regardless of how much they flirt or how interested I am.”
“Does she flirt with you?”
I shake my head. She’s always been respectful, but I’ve noticed her. From the moment she walked in - from the first paper she turned in. She’s brilliant and beautiful, but I always pushed it down. Instead, I just watched. I watched her deflate, grow despondent, and start to ignore her classes and everyone around her. She’d never been particularly outgoing or bubbly like other college girls. There was always a haunted look to her eyes, but this past term, it’s increased.
“What’s your assessment?” I ask after several seconds of silence. I can hear the traffic that’s always outside my townhome. It’s a residential neighborhood, and everyone is leaving for work or getting their kids to school. I’m usually one of those people that rush out the door.
“I would guess she has some situational depression over her parents, and she’s hiding past trauma – perhaps an abusive childhood or a relationship that wasn’t healthy. She’s melancholy and apathetic.”
I nod in agreement with the assessment. I’m not a clinical psychologist so I don’t diagnose mental disorders, but I figured the same just from the few times I’ve spoken to her.
“The first time I dreamed about her, I fell asleep on the couch.”
James’ eyebrows rise. He knows I have sleep issues. I have to be in my room with the fan on and the windows blacked out to fall asleep.
“I don’t even remember falling asleep – almost like the minute she started dreaming about me, I started to dream too. Last night, I was already in bed, but I don’t remember falling asleep again.”
James doesn’t respond, and I’m kind of glad for it. It’s insane to think someone can put another person asleep by dreaming about them. If they could, those people could be in danger. What if I were driving home when she started dreaming about me?
I sigh and pull at my hair again. “I’m going crazy,” I say softly.
“Let’s not go there yet. There has to be an explanation. You’re the novice parapsychologist. Naturally, you turn to unexplainable phenomena to describe what you’ve experienced. Maybe we can interpret the dream. What did this other guy look like?”
I cock an eyebrow at him, not convinced with his reassurances. Although I’m embarrassed, I’m also grateful for a chance to talk about the dream – to find out what it really means. “About my age, so mid-thirties. Giant brute of a man, all muscles and tattoos with short hair. He wore dog tags, and he had that look about him – rough and ready ex-military. But he was so gentle with her.”
“Not really your type.”
I snort. “No, definitely not, but he seemed like a nice guy.”
“Did you catch a name?”
I frown. Did Aislynn say his name? My cock stirs as I remember the second she said his name - just before he made her come - with his fingers deep inside her. I shift on the hard stool as the stirring becomes more. I’ve already had two orgasms in the last twelve hours. Surely I’m getting too old for this? But it doesn’t seem like it. I want her – the real her. I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until it happens. But it also can’t happen. She’s my student, and she’s vulnerable right now. I can’t take advantage of her like that.
“Nash,” I grunt.
At that moment, my phone rings. I press the speaker function, not recognizing the number. It’s just a habit with me because I’m usually busy doing other things. James gets up to pour himself another cup of coffee.
“Hello?”
“Is this Professor Reece Blacklow?”
“Yes.” I sigh, poised to end the call. Usually, salespeople don’t sound like they lead a motorcycle gang in their off time, but the economy is rough right now. There’s something about the voice that’s familiar, though. It makes me hesitate long enough to hear what he has to say.
“My name is Nash. I believe we have something in common?”
My heart stops beating at the same time as something crashes behind me. James has dropped his cup. Coffee and broken ceramic cover the floor of my kitchen. The part of my mind that functions automatically makes sure he’s not hurt while the other part freaks out over the call.
“Something or someone?” I ask. My jaw is tight. Is this some kind of a joke?
“My tenant, Aislynn Suarez.”
“She’s one of my students,” I say carefully. There are a couple beats of silence on the other end.
“Have you been dreaming, Professor?”
The words stick in my throat. I can’t answer. I won’t.
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. I automatically picture Nash in my mind – this hulking man who brought the girl I want to ultimate pleasure. I didn’t, and still don’t, feel a shred of jealousy. In fact, I want it to happen again - this time while I’m awake.
“She might be in trouble.”
Time freezes to a halt as fear steals every last inhibition and argument I was clinging to. “We should meet.”
11
AISLYNN
Someone is making too much noise, but I can’t move. I feel paralyzed, like I’m in a dream I can’t wake up f
rom. In my mind, I picture myself lying on my bed, unable to wake up enough as my door practically vibrates with the force of knocking. I tell my body to get up and open the door, but it won’t respond.
When the scrape of a key echoes in the lock, I know I should be scared, but I still can’t muster the appropriate response. My body doesn’t move. My limbs are tangled in my sheets, my hair is all over the place and covering my face, but I can’t move. I’ve read stories of this, seen movies of people hovering over their bodies.
Am I dead? The idea scares me, and I look closer at my body. My chest is rising and falling, but barely. Maybe I’m almost dead? I try to remember what happened right before I fell asleep. An image of Blain fills my mind. I scan the room, looking for the discarded sleeping pills. I can’t remember how many I took. I only wanted to not dream, regardless of how good my dream men make me feel. I was worried I’d dream about Blain, and I remember those dreams. They left me screwed up for days afterward, waking up scared to death I hadn’t actually left him.
Voices filter through the door. “Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“Something’s wrong. She hasn’t left all day, and I’m the apartment manager. I have a legal right to enter the apartment at any time. What if something happened to her?”
The other voice stops arguing, and the door slowly opens. I watch as Reece and Nash, my dream men, carefully push open the door. When they see me, they rush to my body. Nash immediately falls to his knees, pressing his fingers to the pulse in my neck while Reece looks around the apartment.
“She’s alive, but I don’t like her breathing. Her pulse is too slow.”
Plastic and foil crinkle as Reece holds up the package of sleeping pills. “I don’t know how many she took this time, but there’s at least eight missing.”
I wait for the dream to morph into something else, similar to the other dreams where they take starring roles, but it doesn’t change. Reece is dialing his phone and Nash is untangling my unresponsive body from the sheets. I open my mouth to tell them that I’m fine, just dreaming, but nothing comes out. My skin is paler than my usual golden brown when Nash lifts me into his arms.
“I’ll drive her. It will be faster and cheaper than an ambulance.”
Reece nods and jabs his phone, slipping it into his pocket. He looks scared. They both do. What are they doing together, though? Wasn’t Reece ill today? This has to be another dream, but it’s a sick one my mind is creating. Of course, I couldn’t just have pleasure. The pain has to be there, too.
I don’t really want this dream to continue, but I don’t seem to have as much control as usual. I float above them like a ghost as they rush me to Nash’s SUV. I expect I’ll die soon, and maybe that will be okay. Or maybe Nash was wrong, and I’m already dead. My body looks like a corpse as he settles me in the backseat. Reece holds my head in his lap. His fingers brush back my hair, and I wish I were awake to feel it. It looks like it would feel nice.
Something blinks, and before I know it, I’m in a hospital. An old man in a white coat is talking to Nash and Reece. I’m lying in a different bed – a hospital bed.
“Is there any immediate family? I understand you gentlemen found her, but I can’t really release information to either of you.”
Nash towers over the smaller man; his face is scary as he stares down the doctor. “Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor gulps audibly and plays with the chart in his hand for a couple seconds before sighing. “Since we can’t locate any immediate family, I’ll tell you this. We had to pump her stomach. She’ll be fine once the pills fully leave her system, but we’ll have to keep her here. There’s a good chance this was a suicide attempt, and we can’t release her until we know she won’t try again.”
“We’re staying with her,” Nash says simply. It isn’t a question, and the doctor throws his hands up.
“Fine, but if your presence distresses her when she wakes up, I’m calling the police. For all I know, you could be the reason she took the pills. The restraints will have to stay on her until after we’ve determined her stability since we can’t spare the staff to watch her.”
“We’ll watch her,” Reece says. I’m surprised to hear his tone is as even as Nash’s, just as confident. When did the two strangers become ‘we’?
The doctor walks away muttering under his breath while Reece and Nash take up positions on either side of my bed. I have a tube in my nose and an IV pumping me full of fluids. Did I try to kill myself? Do I want to die? What is this dream telling me?
“She’ll be okay,” Nash says in his low voice. It’s almost like he’s talking to himself, but Reece nods.
“What if she doesn’t want us here?” Reece asks as he sits in the chair beside me. His hands hold mine, and I worry for him. What if someone sees him? He could get in trouble with his job.
“I’m not leaving,” Nash states firmly. His jaw is set, but his beautiful hazel eyes are sad. Ironically, I want to comfort him. He holds my other hand, careful with the IV poking out of my elbow. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to ignore the dreams. I’ve always liked her. I want to see what being with her in real life is like, and I’m not talking about just sex.”
“It’s easier for you. I could lose my job if anyone thinks I’ve been having a relationship with her. Also, it’s pretty easy to want two men in a dream? What about in real life?”
“Do you have a problem with it?” Nash asks, his stare boring into Reece. The slimmer man meets his gaze head-on, his shoulders set in determination.
“No. Do you?”
Nash shakes his head. “No. I don’t care as long as you have her best interests in mind.”
“Of course I do,” Reece practically growls in return. The departure from his usually passive nature makes me shiver with appreciation. These two dream men want to have a relationship with me? Together? I must be dead.
“There was another guy,” Nash says after several minutes.
“Another guy?”
“In her dream. Another guy tied to her past. She mentioned him right before you showed up.”
“And she was scared someone wants to hurt her? What if it’s that guy?”
“I don’t think it is,” Nash says, but he’s not sure. I didn’t tell him much. I think of Devon and his sincerity in my dream. No, he would never hurt me – not after what he allowed to happen before. Dream Devon wouldn’t anyway. Just like dream Nash and dream Reece actually want me. They don’t want the real me, though. Not the depressed, lazy slob. They want dream Aislynn – sensual, bold, and unafraid. That’s not me. Sure, she might be part of me, but I don’t know how to be her all the time.
12
DEVON
My head still hurts. I wince as the stitches pull, and my older sister frowns at me. “It’s not like you to fall down the stairs, Dev. What the hell happened?”
How can I tell her that one second I was standing at the top of our stairs in our family home and then the next I was in Aislynn’s backyard? In a dream? It was the second time I’d dreamed about her, but the first time I was already asleep. I might have bled more if my sister hadn’t been due to arrive in town. She found me right away.
“I must have just lost my footing,” I answer. She doesn’t believe me, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t offer a better explanation. Aislynn is still in my mind – not the old Aislynn who was like a little mouse. Instead, she’s older and full of fire. She’s beautiful and strong.
“Ma’s feeling better today,” I say, deliberately changing the subject. But my mind is only half on my family. I can’t get Aislynn out of my mind, along with the feeling that something is wrong. It’s not unusual to think about her. My therapist says I have years of unresolved guilt over my childhood friend, but this is different. This feels more immediate, like she’s in trouble.
“Are you sure the doctor said you didn’t have a concussion?” My sister’s disbelieving voice snaps me out of my memories and my brooding, making me realize sh
e’s been trying to get my attention for longer than I think.
I nod. I have a slight headache, a throbbing at the back of my skull, but the over the counter medicine is already starting to work. It’s a dull ache instead of a hammer now. “I’m sorry. I have something on my mind. You think you can watch over Ma today?”
My sister sighs heavily and dramatically. “Bro, I told you I got this weekend. You’ve been playing nursemaid for months now. I got this. But are you sure you should drive?”
“I’ll be okay!” I yell at her as I grab my phone and head out to my car. I’m going to Augusta. I don’t know why, but I know I have to.
I’m about to turn my keys in the ignition when my phone dings. It’s a Facebook notification. I almost ignore it, but Blain’s name catches my attention. I thumb the app open, my brows drawing together in concern. I never interact with him; I just keep him on there to watch him. I swore to myself that if I could ever help Aislynn again, I would. He still posts about her, obscure things about the one that got away and bullshit like that. I suppose he did love her in his own twisted way.
Finally. It’s been too long, my muffin.
That’s what he used to call her. She hated it because she was right to assume it wasn’t the friendliest thing. Blain was making fun of the way her hair was so big - like a muffin top on her head. It was better than mutt, which is what he called her when he was really angry, because she was a melting pot of ethnicities that lent to her exotic beauty. I stare at my phone, fear icing my veins and making my headache recede entirely. I wait expectantly, and I’m not disappointed. The fucker lists his destination as Gardener Memorial Hospital. Is Aislynn hurt? How would Blain know?
My jaw is set in determination as I put the car in gear and head towards Augusta. He won’t make it there before me.
13
AISLYNN
My overarching view of the hospital is fading. I try to grasp the edges, not wanting to leave this fantasy world where the two men I’m attracted to are sitting at my bedside like old friends. They talk about their exes – how Nash’s ex-wife cheated on him while he was fighting for our country, how Reece felt guilty because he always put his work and schooling ahead of his wife and it ended horribly.
Leaving Eden Page 12