(Trigger warning: some of these dreams are…R-rated, so to speak. Not X, just R. Read safely please.)
Last night’s were a weird mix of not-quite-memories and just fears we’ve been having…but again, in the quick slideshow-type way that we rarely get.
A gray truck hovers behind us as we drive around our old neighborhood. We can’t quite make out the driver, but we know he is male and smoking as plumes of smoke ooze from his open window. Though we know these streets better than our own mind, no matter how fast we turn and double-back and flip around, we can’t lose him.
The red-yellow of a desert surrounds us and as we spin around taking in the beauty of it. A cough escapes us and we suddenly realize we are incredibly parched. Automatically we glance behind us and see a campsite. Heading over, there is a figure hunched over a smothered bonfire. He’s holding a large canteen of water. He turns as we approach and starts to offer it. We reach, our hand just about to connect before he flips it over and pours out the contents onto the dry earth. It is absorbed into the thirsty ground in an instant.
“Sorry cupcake, all out.” His voice says and we realize it’s the voice of someone who’s smack in the middle of puberty, not quite a man. Glancing up to his face, it’s those hazel eyes and the floppy blond-brown hair and we fall back onto the ground, our tailbone smarting from impact. We start to skitter back and he chuckles.
“Wanna play hide and seek?”
We are determined to prove to them can we can bake drunk.
Midori smirks at the three skeptical faces. “I can bake the hell outta cookies drunk.” She states firmly, then heads into the kitchen. It’s a good thing it’s Daddy’s kitchen and she’s able to automatically reach for ingredients in a place she’s been familiar with since early teen years.
He follows us in, just as drunk, if not drunker. Midori is only half-listening to his rambled thoughts, even as Claire tries to listen harder, recognizing the deep importance of them. Midori shoves Claire away roughly so she can mix the dough. She easily molds it into balls and puts them on a sheet before popping them into the oven. She starts to wash her hands when she feels him draw closer. The intimacy and heat of it has Charlotte out in a moment, grinning and tilting her head down and to the side in submission. Her stomach coils with that tight heat in happy expectation of what will come next.
A red silk tie dangles in front of our eyes, swishing back and forth a couple times.
“You know the rules.” Our Master says firmly. Charlotte steps eagerly forward and immediately kneels on the bed, head bowed and wrists presented forward.
“Yessir.” she says softly. Despite the body of our Master being female and being referred to as such in the public world, Charlotte knows better than to allude to this. It is a firm rule in the bedroom. The tie quickly binds our wrists before being securely tied to the top post of the bed frame. Charlotte twists in ecstasy. Suddenly our Master frowns in recognition.
“I did not request your presence.” The voice says darkly. Charlotte freezes, her face turning petulant.
“No Charlotte.” The tone leaves no room for argument. Charlotte sighs and mentally steps back. Our face is blank for a moment before it turns fearful. Our Master smiles. “There we go. Hello Clarissa. Turn on your side now.”
“Yes…sir.” She whispers.
We stand at the base of a statue of Mary and try not to think of the irony as we turn to face Becca. She smiles slightly.
“You can tell me anything. You know that.”
Kit trembles, but forces a smile, “How do you know I wanted to talk and not just hike?”
“Come on. We only come here when you need to vent. Badly. What’s up? Fuck-buddy thing not working out anymore? Wouldn’t surprise me. Army’s a complete asshole. I told you not to.”
“I can’t do…real relationships anymore.” Kit murmurs, a hand reaching into the front pocket of her jeans and pulling out the Zippo etched with a butterfly. The hand flicks the top on and off compulsively.
“Bullshit.” Becca says with an eyeroll, “I still say you should have given Je-”
“Stop. Shut up. That’s not what this is about.” Her trembling is worse now and Becca finally notices. Her eyes soften.
“What is it?”
“My period is super late.” Kit says bluntly. Becca blinks. “You know I’m like clockwork.”
“It’s probably stress.” She replies smoothly. Kit winces.
“I already took a test.”
“And?” Becca asks. Kit lets out an annoyed hiss of breath, Rika merging with her for a split-second.
“Would I have you out here if it were fucking negative?”
“Jesus. Who the fuck have you told?” Becca says, sinking onto a bench by the statue. We remain standing, the nervous flicking of the Zippo speeding up.
“You. And Grey. That’s it.”
“So…not Army?” She states. Kit trembles again, but this time she can’t sustain. She flees. Rika sighs and sits down on a bench across from Becca.
“Fuck no. I’m not a goddamn idiot.” Becca stares. “Well. I mean, I guess I have to eventually or some shit. But…maybe I don’t. I could totally not fucking tell him.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” Becca murmurs. “He’s an asshole, but that’s not fair to him at all.”
“I could go to Germany with you.” Claire says, her eyes wild. “Just…sell everything, sell Pete [our car] and have enough for a plane ticket.”
“Run away, huh? That’s your answer for everything. I’d love to have you come with me, but I love you and you’re not allowed if it’s only to run away.”
It’s Audrey who first notices the blood. She freezes and suddenly pushes Army away firmly. He blinks in surprise before he glances down and sees it. Audrey faintly wonders who’s idea was it to own a freakin’ white couch. Her face drains of color to match it and she trembles. Her place of blame is immediate, and probably unfair, but at this moment she only thinks of his distance (especially when she cries), his constant demand for intimacy. She doesn’t think of how he makes sure there is always strawberry ice cream for her constant cravings or ginger ale for her morning sickness. Or how gentle he is when she gives in to his advances.
He will never touch her again.
Within a week, Audrey is gone, never to resurface. Charlotte doesn’t mind taking over the physical demands. She quickly introduces him to her darker tastes and he embraces them easily.
Roms decides to go to this Pagan circle meeting for a second time. The first was a fluke- the meet-up was near work and we wanted an excuse to not have to go home immediately. But we could go for the apple cider the coffee shop carries. Texas agrees to join us and we walk in, immediately recognizing the circle’s leader, SD. We smile and introduce Texas before SD mentions there will be someone new coming tonight. When she talks about him, it is in a warning way. He is deeply flawed and we need to be aware. She warns us of his dark and flirty nature and Roms frowns, making sure Charlotte is firmly corralled.
When he walks in, SD’s energy shifts entirely and she positively grins at him. Roms is startled until she feels Rika’s chuckle from the balcony of our mind. “Well…look at the parade in that one.”
Roms hesitates before a small smile flickers across our face.