Alice jerked awake, feeling as if her heart was trying to stage a prison break. She was in that weird stage where you’re not quite awake yet not sleep either. That stage where dreams (and nightmares) follow you into the daylight hours.
Her nightmare hung onto the edges of her conscious mind, even more frightening in its obscurity. She had dreamt about him. Again.
This time it wasn’t a replay of their first kiss or the first time they made love. This time it was darker, a culmination of all the fantasies Alice ever had for her ex and never admitted. Not even to herself.
Lawrence, her ex, was never particularly interested in what she wanted in bed. Like all men, he’d pretend to listen and then give her the same routine. He was so predictable that she had begun to shift into the positions before he did. Missionary. Doggy style. Missionary again. Then a weak finish with cowgirl because he was too tired (or too lazy) to take her to the finish line.
Most times she faked an orgasm. She and her vibrator had become best friends.
But it wasn’t the same with dream Lawrence. Dream Lawrence–or DL as she’d taken to calling him–knew exactly what to do for her, to her. He knew just where to touch, where to kiss.
In this dream, DL came to her in her kitchen. She was in the middle of decorating a cake, her fingertips covered in lemon buttercream that she had “accidentally” stuck her finger in.
He was subtle and silent; she didn’t hear him so much as felt him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She suddenly felt like some predator was watching, waiting to pounce. She was partially right. Alice had become the prey of of DL; he watched her from the doorway of the kitchen.
No words were exchanged. DL stalked up behind her and, first, caressed her with his eyes. Alice became the altar of his visual worship. His eyes licked a path of heat up her body, starting with her tiny, bare feet. He took his time at all his favorite places, the places he would worship with other body parts later.
He watched her hands lift towards her waiting tongue, to lick the sweet tangy icing and he suddenly found himself jealous of confectioner’s sugar, butter and heavy cream. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore; DL had to touch.
He reached out with one hand and touched Alice’s back and ran his hands to her front. DL caressed her, and Alice came alive. Their passion sparked, and Alice forgot all about her icing stained fingers; she turned and shoved them in DL’s hair. DL didn’t care either; he was too busy licking the minute traces of sugar off Alice’s neck.
The cake sat forgotten as DL lifted Alice’s body and laid her on the nearby table. It was time for true worship. Every place that Real Lawrence had ever forgotten, DL touched. Every place that begged for a kiss, DL gave two. Any place that said “Lick me”, DL complied most fervently. DL was everywhere at once yet as attentive as any lover could ever claim.
Their passion reached heights unknown. Alice felt like she was dying but oh, what a sweet death it was. She wanted to go right on dying until she had opened her eyes in paradise. DL was everything that she’d ever wanted in a lover; he was everything that made grown women turn into giggling school girls. He was the template for steamy romance novels.
Eventually, their passion became too much. Like cake straight out the oven, it burned even as it tasted so sweet. Alice started to feel like she needed DL, like he was the only thing keeping her from flying apart into particles too microscopic to ever reassemble.
Alice began to panic. Hands that were once strumming her body became restrictive clamps holding her down. DL’s moans became the grunts and growls of a wild beast too gruesome to name. Suddenly, Alice couldn’t breathe and the feelings of dying took on a whole new meaning. Alice thrashed and fought, but DL was unfazed. She opened her mouth to scream and…
…Alice woke up. She woke to a text from Lawrence. Real life Lawrence.
The text went unanswered.