PROLOGUE - THE DREAM
When you're teenage virgin drowning in a sea of raging hormones, there's nothing more welcome as a tantalizing sex dream. Awkward first dates, and painful heart break.
And here I was, smack dab in the middle of one.
Have fun, my subconscious self seemed to communicate to my conscious self. After all, he was running this show and I was just a happy bystander; I was eager to see what he had in store for me. Dreams like this were far and few in between.
But I knew this was very different kind of sex dream from the onset. The air smells of incense and is heavy with humidity--exotic. I am reclined in a bed--not my own or one I recognize as I survey the dark room. It was a simple space, sparse in decor, the windows open; plain white curtains bellow softly over the warm sea-air that pours in accompanied by the soothing and rhythmic crash of waves from an ocean that must be right outside.
Okay, subconscious, nice job so far. But where's the lucky guy? Please let it not be Mr. Takumi , my ninth grade English teacher again. That was such an awkward dream and I couldn't look him in the eye without blushing for the rest of the semester.
As if on queue, I see a tall masculine figure come to me from some indistinct place, as if appearing out of thin air. He's foreign to me, and yet in this dream, I seemto be okay with this half-naked man approaching me. Dressed only in long, loose white pants, his muscles chest draws my attention as he walks over with a steaming cup in his hand. I look hard at him because I feel I must know him--I feel so at ease in his presence. But there's no light save for the fading moon outside, and his features are shadowed.
I squint hard and I can make out a few details. His black spiky hair, his skin tan and smooth over the waves of rounded muscles.
He's god-like, and I can't believe that he's mine--at least for this one dream.
I feel suddenly more supple and soft, more like a woman, a contrast to his hard edges and impressive brawn. The attraction I feel for him is overwhelming.
He is definitely not Mr. Takumi.
The man sits on the edge of the bed and leans in slowy to kiss me on the forehead. I don't scream or yell "rape" or punch his face. But instead, I offer the stranger a sly, inviting smile.
I should note that this is not at all how I am in reality, where the furthest I've gone is second base for two seconds with Mr. Lifeguard. The lifeguard at the beach last summer. Of course, he'd wanted more, but I'm not that type of guy. I guess when dreaming, I'm a certified tramp though.
Like now.
I take the cup he offers me. The tea is warm, but his lips are like fire on my skin. I stare into his dark blue eyes, mysterious...almost haunting. Definitely hungry.
It sets off an alarm.
Is he a vampire? Will this dream turn dark suddenly? If so, I'm not sure I would put up much of a struggle. I decided it's about time my junior high obsession with Twilight bled into my unconscious psyche.
"Drink," he commands in a whisper, but his penetrating gaze suggests there are other things on his mind besides my hydration levels. I let the warm liquid, infused with cinnamon and cardamom, slide down my throat. He takes the cup from me and sets it on a bedside table next to a book covered in words I cannot read.
Why the hell do I care right now? I scold myself. Get to the sex part!
What's odd is that I don't feel quite myself in this dream. I'm there, but I'm not. Who is this...this...man? He's nothing like the 17-year-old me I am now. This man is worldly and experienced, and he seems to know what he wants...and it isn't a second cup of tea. I suddenly realize I'm in for a wild ride during this dream.
And I'm all in.
The man and I smile at each other like lost lovers reunited. That face, so familiar...
He grazes my cheek with his long fingers, as if I were a fascinating work of art. I shudder at his touch. I don't want him to stop.
I feel I will die if he stops.
I've never had a dream like this before.
He tenderly kisses my neck and I pull him closer, an invitation for more, an unspoken "yes" to what his body is asking from me.
"I've waited so long for this, Kaede," he whispers into my neck, in between sultry kisses.
That voice... I know it from somewhere.
But I can't place it yet. If only I could see his face more clearly.
Happily, he doesn't drain me of my blood, but instead leans into me, his weight a welcome intrusion. His mouth meets mine for the first time. He kisses me slowly at first, and then loses control and consumes my lips with his, feasting on me.
I want more--much more--than what he is giving me and I'm actually afraid he may stop or I might wake up before I find out what happens next.
Don't stop. Don't stop. Stay asleep Kaede!
My thin, silky robe is open, and my chest unite with his firm chest. He slides his hand down the inside of my thigh and I instinctively open up for him. Our bodies merge in a sensual pleasure I don't yet understand as a naive teenager, but I'm more than willing to explore in this dream. Unknown pleasure radiates and overtakes me. I moan in my dream, his mouth to my neck...a climax of sensation ripple through my body.
Oh. My. God.
My lucid mind inhabiting my still-virgin body wonders: Is this what it's really like?
It's breathtaking. It's the best dream of my whole life.
Please don't let it end... I want to find out who he is.
The morning sunlight breaks through the window over the calm ocean outside. For the first time, I can see his face clearly over me. The mature man in my dream seems to love this face, but the teenager I am now jolts awake in utter shock.
Him? Not him!
Has my subconscious turned on me? Could it really be this cruel?
The alarm clock screeches next to my bed. I hit the snooze out of habit even though I am more than awake. The dream still dominates my thoughts--and my body--which only makes me feel slightly sick to my stomach, because I know exactly who he is now.
And it makes no sense at all.
Sendoh Akira?
The one person I completely and utterly loathe?
No--not just loathe. Hate. Detest. Despise with everything that I am.
Reality slaps me in the face and as I recall what I had just done in that steamy, x-rated dream. Or rather who I just did.
Holy crap.
I just had dream sex with my sister best friend's.