She had been having those dreams again. They weren’t exactly nightmares, per se, although she supposed that for most people they would be.
Taylor rolled over in bed and grabbed the journal she kept on the nightstand. Her therapist had told her to keep a dream diary, to record either the consistency or the changes in her dreams for the sake of her own mental health.
Dr. Sykes was the only person she’d told about the dreams; she didn’t want anyone else to know. She didn’t even know if her therapist truly understood why she was having them, but at least the woman was bound by law to protect her privacy.
Brushing back her blonde hair, Taylor blinked a few times to clear her sleep blurred vision. Pulling the pen from the holder on the side of the journal, she wrote down what she remembered, although it wasn’t very different from the numerous previous entries.
The therapist had told her that after viewing the video, she was fairly sure that since she and Leslie had so many conversations relating to the role of sexuality in his work, that it must be the reason behind Taylor’s dreams.
“I suppose so.” Taylor had shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Well, that’s my main theory. You associate him with various,” Dr. Sykes stopped and appeared to be running through her mental dictionary for the right word, “Phrases and terminology. Being that you’re a virgin, and that he focused on your virginity, it would make sense that your dreams about him would be so - erotic.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“It’s not strange in terms of psychology. You’re safe dealing with him inside in your head, so your unconscious mind is using that time.”
Taylor thought about what she was saying, “I’m safe dealing with him.”
“Taylor,” Dr. Sykes leaned back in her large leather armchair, “What are your exact feelings towards Leslie? Be honest.”
“I hate him for what he did to me, and those kids.”
Dr. Sykes shook her head, “I don’t think you do.”
“Yes I do.”
“I think it’s much more complicated than you want it to be. Tell me, how did you feel towards him right up until the nights of the event at the house?”
She swallowed when she realized she could recall those emotions a lot more quickly than she thought she could, “I thought he was funny, nice.”
“Did you feel like you were developing feelings for him?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.” She had pulled her legs to her chest in a fetal position.
Dr. Sykes made a few notes, “Then I think maybe these dreams are, subconsciously, dealing with the aftermath of those emotions.”
“I guess. How do I make them stop?”
“Well, we can’t force dreams to just ‘stop,’ but you could actively remind yourself before bed at night of all the things you dislike about Leslie. Of course, that could have the opposite effect; it could possibly turn your dreams into some pretty substantial nightmares.”
“What do you think?”
“I think, as long as you are coping with the more erotic dreams in a healthy manner, I wouldn’t be concerned about them. Nightmares can cause infinitely more stress and set back the recovery process, and I want you to keep moving forward.”
“So what should I do when I wake up after a dream like that?”
“Just repeat to yourself that it was only a dream, that you are not a bad person, and that they will go away in time. If they don’t, we’ll explore possibly getting you some sleep aides, but I don’t want to put you on any medication before it’s absolutely necessary.”
Taylor finished recording her dream and put the journal down. The clock’s blue green light told her that it was still not 2 a.m. yet. She groaned and rolled onto her side, closing her eyes and trying to force herself back to sleep.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually her mind fell back into sleep.
At some point after that, her subconscious woke up to the feeling of someone lying next to her. The fuzzy outlines began to fill in, and she was back to where she had been earlier.
And he was back in her bed.
Taylor could feel him, pressed up against the entire length of her body, one arm wrapped around her, draped lazily over her front. It always began so innocently.
She would be loathe to tell anyone that she was enjoying these dreams, which was probably why they weren’t going away.
A set of lips pressed themselves against her neck, right below her ear; there was the light scratch of stubble against her skin.
“Uh huh.” She whispered back as she had a thousand times before.
“Do you want me too…” His voice trailed off, and the hand that had been resting on the mattress was laying on the indent of her waist.
“God yes.” Her voice was breathier now; she was already anticipating his next move.
His hand moved, it ghosted down over her stomach and she instinctively tightened her muscles at the light sensation. They traced down the line of her belly until he reached the hem of her panties. They paused for a second, and she drew her lower lip between her teeth with a deep breath.
Then he touched her, his fingers slipped down between her folds until he found that one sensitive spot. She tried to gasp but her lungs were already filled. His other arm slid underneath her, pulling her to him as he rolled over onto his back.
Without even thinking of it, she threw her leg over his as he continued to run his thumb in slow circles over her. She let her head fall back into the crook of his neck, unable to breath, or even moan.
His other hand ran over her breast, grabbing and squeezing, ever so slightly groping at her nipple.
He was whispering to her, but she could never seem to hear most of what he said, she could only feel the warm air on her ear.
She always caught his little admonishment of her though, his light laugh and the tightening of his grip on her as he declared that she wasn’t acting like any virgin he’d ever known.
Her timidity in her waking life didn’t exist in the dream world and she arched her hips up into his hand.
Despite having played the scenario before, it always surprised her when he slipped his fingers inside.
A deep moan escaped her throat as he explored her with his fingers, his thumb still keeping up its relentless assault on her. He never sped up, he always just held her there, tight to his body, practically feeling his pounding heartbeat in her own chest, playing with her body.
Some nights it went on forever like this, and she never came. She woke up covered in sweat, her cheeks burning, her thighs clamped together in desperation. Those were the night she hated, the nights when she had to finish herself off quickly and quietly before the feelings dissipated into the night.
But this was not one of those nights. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out and lightly rubbed them across her, letting the slickness coat where his thumb had been.
Now she gasped, her head pressing back into him, and he pinched her nipple between his fingers. She twisted and writhed but he wasn’t letting go.
He was whispering to her again, but she still couldn’t hear him. Whatever her mind was imagining must have been filthy, because her body heat skyrocketed; she was soaking.
“Please.” She always begged, in her dreams. She always pleaded with him in that high pitched pleasure induced voice to keep going.
“Please what?” Now he nipped at her neck.
“Please - “ She moaned and he squeezed her breast roughly, “Fuck me.”
“Such language for a virgin.” There was that chuckle. That low pitched laugh she’d only ever heard in her dreams, but it sounded so much like him.
Gently, he released her, and laid her back on the bed as he got on his knees between her legs. She was always laid so wantonly open for him, the dream Leslie always seemed to appreciate the view.
Leaning down, he teased her, kissing her stomach, “I always thought it was strange that you were a virgin, Tay.” He kissed again, an inch up this time, “I was happy, don’t get me wrong, but I thought it was strange.”
She could recite this conversation from memory now. He kissed the valley between her breasts, “Or were you just waiting for me?” There was a flash of that mischievous smile, and then he latched onto her breast, grazing her nipple with his teeth and she shivered.
Releasing her, he kissed her bare flesh again before turning his attention to her other breast, “I think you knew you were meant for me.” He nipped at her and she whimpered in response.
“I - I - “ She started to speak, but emotion overcame the words.
He moved further up her body, until he was at her ear again, “Just say yes.”
Taylor nodded, unable to process any sort of conscious thought, and truth be told, she didn’t need to.
This part of the dream was her favorite. She loved watching his fingers burying themselves in the bedsheets, the muscles in his arms tighten.
“You knew you were meant for me.”
“Yes.” She breathed, and she braced herself.
She could feel him at her opening, trying to be gentle with her as possible, but unable to take away any pain entirely.
There was always that light shock of pain that gripped her body as he entered her. He paused, their noses almost touching, letting her adjust, both of them breathing deeply. She always reached up and grabbed onto his arms, rolling her hips slightly, begging him to continue.
“I could tell you wanted me.” He thrust into her and she took a sharp breath in.
“I wanted to fuck you, the entire time.” She saw the bedsheets twist up between his fingers.
She didn’t respond, her body was too overtaken by the sensations he was producing in her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she cried out when the new angle allowed him to thrust deep into her, and her nails dug into his arms.
“That’s it.” His voice was darkly satisfied and he dropped his head down to the crook of her neck; his hot breath spilling out over her.
He pulled back, but this time, he didn’t give her any time before he thrust into her again.
“Fuck!” Now Taylor screamed, and that was exactly what he was looking for. He went forward with his assault on her body with reckless abandon.
It was all Taylor could do to keep her ankles locked around his waist; she was so small next to him.
She held onto him for all she was worth, and she was sure that she must have drawn blood on his arms. As he rolled his hips into her, he ground up against her and she began to feel the sensation from earlier rise again.
Unable to think straight, she surrendered entirely to the rising pleasure in her, the pleasure he was grinding out of her with every stroke.
Her cries grew higher and closer together and he only increased his speed. Suddenly, she felt his teeth on her neck, and the sudden sensation of pain caught her entirely off guard. He growled at her to submit as her body did just that.
Taylor was vaguely aware of screaming out his name, the only thing she could feel was how her entire body seemed to tighten around him and explode in a burst of pleasure.
Above her, as she was still coming down, he suddenly stiffened, holding her to him, burying himself as deep as he could go. She could feel him throb within her, could feel the sudden burst of heat as he came.
For a few seconds, they could do little else than hold one another, bound to the other for a singular moment without the possibility of moving. Then it was like they fell apart, and she felt her legs drop, tired and strained, back down to the bed.
He leaned his weight on her and she welcomed it, unwilling to feel him leave her body yet.
Leslie raised his head and kissed her, and lifting himself on his elbows, he held her face in his hands as their embrace continued.
She never wanted this moment to end, but it always did. The blackness of sleep always swallowed her up for a few moments before she would awake again.
Instead of waking to find herself at some time before 4 a.m., she awoke to the sound of her alarm clock placing the musical tones she had set it too.
At least this time, she had managed to sleep until it was actually time to get up.
Lying back in bed, she stared up at the ceiling. She was still sweating, her blond hair damp, a blush on her cheeks, but at least she was satisfied.
It wasn’t until the snooze alerted her five minutes later that she finally slung her legs over the edge of the bed. Grabbing her dream journal, she walked downstairs, extremely grateful for automatic coffee makers.
Pouring her coffee, she put her hand to her lower back. Sleeping on her side always left her feeling sore.
She had an appointment with her therapist during lunch today, not that there was anything new to report.
Taking out the pen, she flipped through the pages. “Same dream, twice in one night.” That was her usual response.
When she got to the last page, she froze.
Under her first entry of the evening, in handwriting that was not her own, someone had printed, “Interesting Reading.”