Krendler's Dream
Disclaimer: Clarice Starling, Paul Krendler, and any other characters or themes that look familiar belong to Thomas Harris. The rest is mine.
Paul Krendler sat at his desk, sifting through an endless mound of files. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk. 12:40 a.m. It was late. But he had to keep at this. Starling had gone home already, seemingly satisfied with the work she had gotten done today. However, he was not satisfied with his own. He wanted to find Lecter and NOW!!!
He began another search on the Internet, hoping and praying that he would find something to possibly point in Lecter's direction. You will slip up and I will catch you when you do, Lecter, if it's the last thing I do, Krendler thought to himself. But Lecter couldn't be farther from his thoughts. His thoughts were on Clarice Starling. She had stopped by his office before she left to let him know that she was going home. He knew she hated him and was sure that she thought he didn't like her either. Ever since she had caught Jame Gumb ahead of him 7 years ago, he had resented her in the career form. But truth be told, he had wanted to have his wicked way with her since the day he first saw her in Tennessee. Then she had had short, darker hair and was much more naïve. Not now, not after Lecter and the things he had done inside her head. She would never be naïve or innocent again.
Now Starling had her natural, long red hair and a tired look in her eyes that didn't go away no matter how much sleep she got. Bu she still made his groin throb involuntarily at the very sight of her. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Damn you, Clarice! , he thought to himself. It was all that he needed to be attracted to her, his rival. But oh how he wanted her so. Paul Krendler wanted to have his dirty, wick way with her. He wanted to teach her not to disrespect him.
He then again began another search on the computer, like so many others he had done. While waiting for a particularly long loading of a page, Paul rested his head on his fist. Slowly, as he watched the progress bar grow, his eyes became more and more heavy until finally, they closed all together and he drifted off to sleep, into a dream like he had had so many others...
Paul stood there at the front desk of the Hilton with Clarice at his side. He paid for a suite and received the keys. He then went hurriedly up the stairs as if he couldn't wait to get up in the room. Clarice closely followed. He stuck the key in the keyhole and fumbled with it a bit before the damn thing would open. She went in ahead of him and he watched her for a moment as she took in the huge hotel suite. He closed and locked the door behind them. Paul then threw the keys down on the table beside the large t.v. and shed his blazer.
Clarice had gone a bit farther into the room and now stood there beside the mini bar, leaning against the wall. Paul walked over to her and grabbed her and shoved her roughly against the wall next to the mini bar. His mouth came down on hers hard as well. She fought her for a moment, but when his large hands began a detail exploration of her figure, she stopped. He cupped her breasts and then moved downward to greedily grasp her little tight ass. He pulled her hard against him then, his mouth moving down her neck and biting into her soft neck. She strained against him, seeming to want him with just as much ferocity as he showed in wanting her.
He picked her up, her thighs straddling his waist as he carried her to the bed. He sat her on the edge of the bed and ripped open her pure white button down and then discarded it to the side. He then looked back at her and saw the lacy black slip that disappeared into her baby blue skirt. He then jerked the skirt down and proved to his own satisfaction that the slip was indeed short and very sexy. He then reached up beneath the skirt and pulled down her thigh-high hose. One removed, then more explorative then the last one, his fingers moved around, searching higher than the hose stopped. She gasped as his fingers touched her wetness. He smirked at the response from her that he had elicited and she smiled back.
He sat down on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off, but she pushed him down on the bed and ripped open his shirt, buttons flying in all directions. He laughed that cocky little laugh and she jerked open his slacks as if she intended on punishing that cockiness. Paul looked at her, amazed at the skill and sexual want that she so possessed. He had never seen that in her before. Once she had his pants off, she climbed upon him and straddled him like a professional, her wetness pressed straight against that hard length of him that so wanted her.
With out warning, Paul took a hold of Clarice's hips and buried his cock deeply inside her. She gasped. He could barely get pasted the pleasure of that entry. It was what he had always fantasized it would be. He drove himself up into her again, lift her up off the bed. With each of his movements, she moaned, throwing her head back.
"Oh, Mr. Krendler," she would say in between gasps for air. He thrust up into her, again and again his hips bucking upward, and she rode him hard. He watched as her breasts swayed before his face, delicious round curves of fair flesh that made his hands moved up for her hips to them to cup and squeeze them with greedy need. Then, daringly with a spark of mischief in his icy blue eyes, he let one of his hands trail down between her breasts, down over her stomach to the wet notch between her thighs where their bodies were joined. He rubbed there, eliciting even more full moans and screams from her than before. When her sexual need was finally spent in an explosive and rough climax, she'd rolled off of him and wrapped a sheet around herself.
"Oh no no, Miss Starling, I am not finished with you yet," he said, grabbing her bottom and positioning himself over top of her, behind her. But he, being so skilled, entered her femininity from behind. Starling screamed as he began a whole knew rhythm inside her, his hands devouring her breasts, his fingers delving into the wetness in front. He fucked her until he got the fulfilling orgasm and satisfying scream from her.
Paul smacked his head on the keyboard on his desk.
"God Dammit!" he yelled, rubbing his forehead where he had hit. He glanced at his watch again; 3:00 am. He had basically slept the night away right there at his desk, dreaming of Clarice. Then he felt the aftermath of the dream in the hardness of his manhood and got up, turning off the computer, got in his car, and went home to his townhouse, hoping that a freezing cold shower would do the trick. At least until his next dream.
Disclaimer: Clarice Starling, Paul Krendler, and any other characters or themes that look familiar belong to Thomas Harris. The rest is mine.
Paul Krendler sat at his desk, sifting through an endless mound of files. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk. 12:40 a.m. It was late. But he had to keep at this. Starling had gone home already, seemingly satisfied with the work she had gotten done today. However, he was not satisfied with his own. He wanted to find Lecter and NOW!!!
He began another search on the Internet, hoping and praying that he would find something to possibly point in Lecter's direction. You will slip up and I will catch you when you do, Lecter, if it's the last thing I do, Krendler thought to himself. But Lecter couldn't be farther from his thoughts. His thoughts were on Clarice Starling. She had stopped by his office before she left to let him know that she was going home. He knew she hated him and was sure that she thought he didn't like her either. Ever since she had caught Jame Gumb ahead of him 7 years ago, he had resented her in the career form. But truth be told, he had wanted to have his wicked way with her since the day he first saw her in Tennessee. Then she had had short, darker hair and was much more naïve. Not now, not after Lecter and the things he had done inside her head. She would never be naïve or innocent again.
Now Starling had her natural, long red hair and a tired look in her eyes that didn't go away no matter how much sleep she got. Bu she still made his groin throb involuntarily at the very sight of her. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Damn you, Clarice! , he thought to himself. It was all that he needed to be attracted to her, his rival. But oh how he wanted her so. Paul Krendler wanted to have his dirty, wick way with her. He wanted to teach her not to disrespect him.
He then again began another search on the computer, like so many others he had done. While waiting for a particularly long loading of a page, Paul rested his head on his fist. Slowly, as he watched the progress bar grow, his eyes became more and more heavy until finally, they closed all together and he drifted off to sleep, into a dream like he had had so many others...
Paul stood there at the front desk of the Hilton with Clarice at his side. He paid for a suite and received the keys. He then went hurriedly up the stairs as if he couldn't wait to get up in the room. Clarice closely followed. He stuck the key in the keyhole and fumbled with it a bit before the damn thing would open. She went in ahead of him and he watched her for a moment as she took in the huge hotel suite. He closed and locked the door behind them. Paul then threw the keys down on the table beside the large t.v. and shed his blazer.
Clarice had gone a bit farther into the room and now stood there beside the mini bar, leaning against the wall. Paul walked over to her and grabbed her and shoved her roughly against the wall next to the mini bar. His mouth came down on hers hard as well. She fought her for a moment, but when his large hands began a detail exploration of her figure, she stopped. He cupped her breasts and then moved downward to greedily grasp her little tight ass. He pulled her hard against him then, his mouth moving down her neck and biting into her soft neck. She strained against him, seeming to want him with just as much ferocity as he showed in wanting her.
He picked her up, her thighs straddling his waist as he carried her to the bed. He sat her on the edge of the bed and ripped open her pure white button down and then discarded it to the side. He then looked back at her and saw the lacy black slip that disappeared into her baby blue skirt. He then jerked the skirt down and proved to his own satisfaction that the slip was indeed short and very sexy. He then reached up beneath the skirt and pulled down her thigh-high hose. One removed, then more explorative then the last one, his fingers moved around, searching higher than the hose stopped. She gasped as his fingers touched her wetness. He smirked at the response from her that he had elicited and she smiled back.
He sat down on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off, but she pushed him down on the bed and ripped open his shirt, buttons flying in all directions. He laughed that cocky little laugh and she jerked open his slacks as if she intended on punishing that cockiness. Paul looked at her, amazed at the skill and sexual want that she so possessed. He had never seen that in her before. Once she had his pants off, she climbed upon him and straddled him like a professional, her wetness pressed straight against that hard length of him that so wanted her.
With out warning, Paul took a hold of Clarice's hips and buried his cock deeply inside her. She gasped. He could barely get pasted the pleasure of that entry. It was what he had always fantasized it would be. He drove himself up into her again, lift her up off the bed. With each of his movements, she moaned, throwing her head back.
"Oh, Mr. Krendler," she would say in between gasps for air. He thrust up into her, again and again his hips bucking upward, and she rode him hard. He watched as her breasts swayed before his face, delicious round curves of fair flesh that made his hands moved up for her hips to them to cup and squeeze them with greedy need. Then, daringly with a spark of mischief in his icy blue eyes, he let one of his hands trail down between her breasts, down over her stomach to the wet notch between her thighs where their bodies were joined. He rubbed there, eliciting even more full moans and screams from her than before. When her sexual need was finally spent in an explosive and rough climax, she'd rolled off of him and wrapped a sheet around herself.
"Oh no no, Miss Starling, I am not finished with you yet," he said, grabbing her bottom and positioning himself over top of her, behind her. But he, being so skilled, entered her femininity from behind. Starling screamed as he began a whole knew rhythm inside her, his hands devouring her breasts, his fingers delving into the wetness in front. He fucked her until he got the fulfilling orgasm and satisfying scream from her.
Paul smacked his head on the keyboard on his desk.
"God Dammit!" he yelled, rubbing his forehead where he had hit. He glanced at his watch again; 3:00 am. He had basically slept the night away right there at his desk, dreaming of Clarice. Then he felt the aftermath of the dream in the hardness of his manhood and got up, turning off the computer, got in his car, and went home to his townhouse, hoping that a freezing cold shower would do the trick. At least until his next dream.