She left Merle in the dust. His pride was a little hurt but he, being the persistent son of a bitch that he was probably wasn't going to give up on the mysterious Nubian beauty. Previously her presence may have made his skin crawl but he couldn't deny her beauty. Though he was pissed about his window.

"The uppity bitch never seems to smile," He sighed. "And I'm the son of bitch that can't stop." He put his tank-top and shirt back on. Maybe he should have worded that sentence a little differently. He shrugged. "Welp, time to jerk off- -," He heard a knock on the door. "Yeah?"

"It's me." It was the Governor.

Merle immediately opened the door, letting him in. "Welcome to my humble shack."

The imposing Governor made a small look of disapproval, before fixing his lips to speak. "I need to talk to you about Michonne." He finally said, getting straight to the point.

"What about the little ball buster?" Merle inquired with a wide grin, sitting on his bed. He snorted forcing the smile away, then gesturing the Governor to take a seat.

"I rather not," He replied, clearing his throat. "I can figure out what you do there." He said as he turned his gaze to the PlayBoy magazine.

Merle chuckled nervously. "Oh, that? That's nothin'." Actually, it was everything. The poor son of a bitch hadn't been laid since before everything went to hell in a hand basket.

"Anyway, I think she is in route to the prison again." The Governor mentioned.

Merle's interest piqued. "What does that got to do with me?" He asked, folding his arms.

"You're going to clean up your mess," He said with a confident smile. "You have another chance."

"To kill her you mean?" Merle inquired, already knowing the answer to his question .

"Yes," The Governor sneered. " I'm certainly not not sending you to bake a cake with her." In all reality Merle would love to do more than that. "Be my inside man for a few weeks in that prison, then make your move." It would probably be in Merle's best interest not to let the Governor know about Michonne's little visit. It would do him great pleasure to see her blood, more so to see her body.

He nodded. "Alright then, consider it done." He replied, seeing the Governor out.

After closing the door he fell back on his bed. He shut his eyes, slowly drifting in and out of sleep. All he could think about was her. Damn it. She was laughing at him in his head. Shit. Her laugh was infuriating but so arousing. That damned woman was taunting him in his dreams."Where the fuck am I-?" He looked around. An island? "The fuck is this?" He barked, looking around. His eyes widened as he looked down at himself, realizing that he was clad in a white tux with a black dress shirt and red tie. "What the hell kinda outfit is this? This aint me..." He looked up at the bright sun. "Did I kick the bucket?"

"Merle." She breathed.

Chills ran up his spine. He looked and saw HER. She was dressed in a white dress that hung beautifully off of her slender frame. The contrast of the porcelain wite dress on her deep, beautiful skin was divine. "Holy shit..." He muttered. "Where am I- -?" He nearly had a heart attack realizing that he had both of his hands.

"You're with me." She replied with a warm smile, a smile that he had never seen before.

"Are we dead?" He asked, his voice low and uncertain.

She shook her head. "This is your fantasy, isn't it?" He was speechless as she walked towards him. "Will you rip off my dress and take me now?"

Well fuck. He must be dead. "Where's your sword?," He inquired. "Will you cut off my dick?" He went on. He was on guard. She was beautiful and gentle, surely this was a prelude to him getting a knife in the heart, or dick.

She laughed. "I don't need my sword for you, you can't hurt me." She replied confidently as she placed her hands on his chest. Damn right he couldn't. He was too enthralled with her. Shit her hands felt nice.

He flashed his typical feral smile. "So what, you'll let me- -?"

She nodded.

He put his hand to her face. Against his judgement and skewered beliefs he kissed her. Her lips were so full and soft, she tasted...different. Exotic. Sexy. He felt so light and calm. Surely this was a dream. She would let him have sex with her. But why couldn't he go through with it? What kind of dream is this? The cruel sick ones where you're there in the moment but then again youre not.

"Don't wake up," She said softly. This WAS a dream, he was himself but he wasn't. This was a dream, because in real life he would have had her in the nearest bed when she asked. "don't wake up, country boy." She said with a wink.

"Son of a bitch..." He groaned, falling out of sleep. He laid in bed, shocked by his dream. He was sweating, hot and bothered; painfully aroused. "Fuck." He breathed, unzipping his pants and moving his thumb up and down against the glistening head of his cock. "I thought I was done with wet dreams..." He tore his hand away from himself. "No," He groaned. "No black women. No," He groaned. "Especially not HER." That's what he kept telling himself. But fuck, he wanted her. She was strong enough to take whatever he could give her, knowing how to respond to his smart ass and how to kick his smart ass. He licked his chapped lips and grunted, wanting to ignore his hard cock's reaction to the dream and thoughts of her. He wondered if she could take him sexually, let him enter her and fuck her hard like he wanted to until they both came.

He desperately wanted to cum, but not in his hand or on the floor. Shit. Enough of thoughts like that. He zipped up his pants, realizing that he wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. He figured that he might as well head out soon. He took a look out of the broken window, courtesy of the lovely Michonne. He had only laid his head down for about an hour, it was still dark of course. He was wired and high off of adrenaline and that dream. It was a sick joke. But he loved every minute of it.

He left his apartment and walked down the sidewalk, the roads were desolate thanks to the Governor's curfew law. Only soldiers could be out and about, mainly manning the walls of the town. He saw Martinez in the distance sitting on top of the wall, sniper rifle in hand.

"Let me through!" Merle demanded, walking towards him.

"Well excuse the fuck outta me," Martinez said with a laugh, jumping down from the wall. "Did the governor croak and give you merit to bark at me?" He asked, raising his brow.

"I'm going after that woman," He proclaimed. "So are you gonna let me through or not?" He spat, then pausing. "And don't worry your pretty little head off, it's your beloved governor's orders." He said smugly.

Martinez fumed at Merle's tone of voice. He hoped that crazy bitch would kill his ass. He shrugged. "Go on, it'll do me a favor when your ass doesn't come back."

Merle didn't respond, only climbing the wall and jumping it. It was hard to say if Woodbury was even his type of town. On nights like this old Merle could only think of one thing, the soft touch and feel of a woman. The wind was still and only the soothing sounds of nature could be heard. The pilgrimage to the prison was turning into a leisurely stroll. No walkers, again. Maybe that prison attracted them from miles, he faintly remembered that his baby brother Darryl was there too. That damned Officer Friendly too. Maybe he'd kill his ass first, then T-dog...then that nerdy chinaman. No. Brother first, pussy second, revenge third. He chuckled to himself. Right.