Authors: Paul Blades
Copyright ©2008 by Paul Blades
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Selena Kitt
Dreams and Desires © 2008 Paul Blades eXcessica publishing
All rights reserved
Dr. Kelly Jameson wasn't the kind of person to believe in dreams. Her life was devoted to science. She had gone directly from medical school into research. Few twenty-seven year old women had the opportunity to run their own lab and supervise their own staff, as small as it was. She loved her work, and if it were not for her friend, Adele, she might never have taken any breaks from the sometimes tedious routine. Adele would tease her that she was “wasting that beautiful body away.” And so she dragged her to singles’ resorts, shamed her into donning a scanty bikini, and practically pimped her out to the pretty, tanned and sexually hyperactive young men she met there. So far, Kelly had resisted their false charms.
Kelly had long, thick, beautiful, auburn hair, the color of burnt orange, that went down to the small of her back. Her features were delicate, almost child like, something that made her job of being taken seriously by middle aged foundation trustees and international health bureaucrats difficult. And prancing around in a two piece set of fabric small enough to fit inside of a jelly jar was not the way for her to develop the persona that would unlock the coffers of the powers who could help bring her visions to reality.
When they returned from a weekend in Cancun a month ago, she had told Adele she was through wasting her time and energy in finding a mate. She would concentrate on her work. Adele's response was to leave a brochure about Mardi Gras on her desk this morning.
Adele was one of her staff, her right arm. She handled all of the considerable and tedious paperwork necessary for the tasks of responding to the foundation's constant demands for information on her work, collating the results of experiment after experiment, managing the payroll, paying the lab's not inconsiderable rent and other expenses and, most important of all, cheering Kelly up.
For the last two years Kelly had been working off of a grant from a major foundation working to discover a medicinal enzyme which would counteract the presence of heavy metal contaminants in drinking water. It was an intractable problem, especially for third world, pregnant women. If a medicine could help women pass the pollutants through their systems instead of on to their fetuses, birth defects would be substantially lowered. She had protocols for research which could keep fifty technicians working full time for several years. She believed she was on the right track. It was just a matter of the right formula, enough time and enough money.
Unfortunately, each lead had to be meticulously pursued to its bitter conclusion. The last couple of papers she read at symposiums in her field had not been well received. Her case supervisor from the foundation which had funded her to date was not forthcoming on her chances for grant renewal on her last visit. She hoped time was not running out. She just knew she was right!
There was just so much to do and so little time. That was why her recent tendency to drift off into a fugue-like state was so disconcerting. She found herself staring off into space, straining to pierce the fog surrounding the dream man. He was tall, trim, well built. After each dream, when she woke up, she would try to recall his face without success. It was something she just couldn't focus on, though his features seemed strong and determined, forceful. He looked familiar, like he was someone she should know. When she tried to bring his visage into mind, he seemed strange, almost other worldly. He wasn't really smiling, and his expression wasn't exactly friendly, more like inviting. And yet, there was something about the man that struck fear into her, as if he had some power or force about him she should be wary of.
In the dream, he was naked, and his lack of clothing was natural, as if draping his body with even the finest cloth would somehow diminish him, cloak him with the impedimenta of a civilization or culture far beneath his noble carriage. The man would look at her intently, his eyes mesmerizing. Then he would reach out his hand to her. He would be standing amidst some kind of mist or fog. His lips would move. And then she would wake up.
Kelly could not remember exactly when she first started having the dream, but it was months ago, sometime during the summer. At first it seemed strange but inconsequential. But then it kept returning again and again. Now she was having it practically every night.
The dream was disturbing for more than just its content. Lately, she had awoken from it every morning in a feverish, aroused state. Her breasts would be aching with need and her hand would be fondling the lubricated folds of her sex. She would be sweating, her sheets all a tangle as if she had been struggling with some demon. This morning, she had fondled herself to a wrenching, mind blowing orgasm, shuddering with pleasure as the ill defined face of the dream man haunted her.
Kelly's sexual life was not what you would call satisfying. In fact, except for her occasional bouts of self administered bliss, it was non-existent. It was not because she lacked any of the attributes to attract qualified potential lovers. Her face was attractive, with well proportioned features, good, clean lines and voluptuous lips. She was about 5'6” tall, had sweet, curvaceous hips, long, well toned thighs. Her breasts were more than ample to fill her hands when she stood before the full length mirror in her bedroom after her shower, looking over her well trimmed, appealing body, wondering if she was, as Adele was constantly telling her, wasting the best years of her life.
In college and high school, she had dated, and she was no sexual amateur. But once she realized that all her hard work in school had developed a sharp, analytical mind that needed to do great things, the pursuit of sexual gratification had seemed puerile. Not that there was anything wrong with sex. She had loved the sensation of a rampant cock in her belly, the feeling of sexual power it gave her to reduce her boyfriends to quivering, blubbering pools of pleasure. And the taste and smell of a man's loins in heat had often been enough to make her orgasm when the stiff wad of flesh began to throb and pulse in her mouth, delivering a stream of salty, bitter, piquant essence.
In fact, it was what she was thinking about this very minute. She was sitting at her desk, her chin in her hand, wistfully looking out her curtainless, industrial style office window, watching the early December winds push the bare trees to and fro. Her other hand was on her lap resisting the urge to caress the insides of her thighs under her stylish, tan business skirt. This intruding recollection of the titillating sensation of hard, hot flesh brushing across her lips, filling her, had come upon her suddenly. It was connected to the dreams in some way, she knew that. Her breath had become heavy and her breasts seemed to have swollen. There was a tingling feeling on the tips of her nipples, a feeling echoed below in the apex of her thighs.
"Earth to Kelly! Earth to Kelly!” The sound of her friend and work associate's friendly voice startled her. She turned to see the bright face in her doorway. Adele, a Southern belle, was a spunky and vivacious 23 years old and had short, straw blond hair, cut into a shag. She said she liked to keep her hair as only a small issue in her life. She had pretty, sparkling, blue eyes, was tall, at least two inches taller than Kelly, and had a long, languorous torso. Her breasts filled her buttoned lab coat quite well and its calf length hid the thrilling thighs which would otherwise have been revealed by the short, stylish skirt she wore underneath. It was Friday and party time for Adele. She didn't want to waste a single minute of her Friday night going back to her apartment and changing. 5:30 to 8 was happy hour at Gene's Tavern over on Broad Street and she always met some friends there after work at the end of the week.
"Are you lost in space or something, honey?” Adele asked Kelly, in an exaggerated drawl, humored at finding her boss and friend staring out the window.
"No, no,” Kelly responded, dragging herself away from her salacious reverie. “Just thinking."
Adele was well aware of her friend's worries. Although they were separated by four years of age, they had developed a close friendship over the 18 months Adele had worked at the lab. She had been a godsend, relieving Kelly of many of the distractions that took her away from her principal tasks. They had dinner often, sometimes talking shop, but often regaling each other with tales of episodes of their past licentiousness or, in Adele's case, her present, their wishes that men could be more like women, well in some ways anyway, and deploring the scarcity of acceptable male companionship.
Kelly had not told Adele about the dream. She would have felt silly doing so. She didn't want to endure Adele's pop psychoanalysis of her randy subconscious, particularly since it would be based on a combination of her community college survey course in psychology, the platitudes of Dr. Phil and the horoscope pages of Star Magazine. Kelly was a graduate of Johns Hopkins Medical School. She had a bachelor's degree in applied sciences, with a minor in behavioral studies from Princeton. She didn't need Adele to tell her that her dream was sparked by a deep seated need for a mate, that the mysterious male figure represented her vague notions of what she really wanted in a man and her fear of commitment to one. And what would she say about the subject of her lewd reminiscences? She would tell her she needed to get laid!
"You think too much,” Adele returned, smiling. “I think your brain is getting burned out."
Kelly laughed. She knew her friend was only kidding. “I didn't know you could think too much,” she said.
"Oh, yeah,” Adele said, her lithesome body half in and half out of Kelly's small office. Her right hand was on the door frame above her head and her left hip was pushed out saucily. “If you don't watch it, I'll find you here someday with green stuff running out of your ears and your eyeballs hanging out. Why don't you come out with me? We'll have some fun."
"I can't Adele, I've go to finish some paperwork. The Edelson grant application is due next week. If our current funding peters out, I've got to have a back up."
"Grant, schmant,” Adele answered in her Southerner's version of a Yiddish accent. “You can work on it tomorrow while you recover from your hangover. Let's go get some mai tai's, some dinner and then go dancing. I guarantee you'll have your heels in the air by the end of the night.” Adele swayed her thin, graceful hips playfully. “There's lots of horny men out there, honey. You've got to get yourself one of them."
Kelly frowned. “I don't need a horny man in my life right now, Adele."
"You look like you need something, honey,” Adele told her. “You were lost in a cloud or something. I know you're work is important, but everybody's got to let loose once in a while. You can't do your best work if you're grumpy and miserable. Come on, let it go, get wild!"