Sweet Dreams

by Bolryder, Terry

  Tess

  “You’re Tess, right?”

  I squint up at the man asking, then adjust the front of my dress because he seems to be looking down it.

  “Ben.” He holds out his phone, showing his social media profile.

  Where he set up this date in the first place.

  I sigh, taking a sip of wine and checking the clock on my phone. “You’re late.”

  My lips tighten as he stammers, and I size him up to see how true to his photo he looks.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he pulls out a chair to sit down. “I got caught up after work and headed over as soon as I could.”

  “Right.” I hand him a menu, continuing to appraise him.

  Nice. Light-brown hair that’s soft if not very thick. It looks like he took time to do it, so points for that.

  “You’re kind of intimidating, you know that?” His tone is nervous as he opens the menu and looks over it.

  He’s wearing a dress shirt, undone at the collar, and a bit of chest hair is poking out.

  Nice.

  But…

  “Wow, everything’s expensive here,” he says, frowning at the menu.

  “You said you were an investment banker. Didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  His cheeks pinken. “I am. I didn’t lie.”

  “You want to go dutch? Fine by me,” I say.

  He nods eagerly. “I’m so glad you’re a modern woman who understands that we shouldn’t have to pick up the check anymore. After all, women’s rights have—”

  Blah-blah-blah. I’ve heard this all before.

  I mean, technically, if I split this dinner bill with him, I lose money because I spent money on the hair and makeup that I did for this date, but he doesn’t have to do any of that.

  He just has to wear a clean shirt.

  I look damn good tonight, and I know it.

  My long, salon-blond hair is pulled into a high, sexy pony, and my curves are enhanced by a body-con dress in bright red.

  It screams bombshell, and the exact kind of look men like this appreciate.

  “Anyway,” he says, apparently done with his ranting. “You look amazing tonight.” His dull-blue eyes glint and he runs his tongue over his lower lip as his eyes dip to my cleavage. “I’m guessing you’re as free-thinking in the bedroom as you are about the bill.”

  I raise an eyebrow, taking another sip of my wine. “How so?”

  “Well, you—oh, wait a second.” When the waiter appears, he orders, then looks at me as if to ask if I already have. The waiter just nods at me and walks away.

  I ordered while he was gone.

  “Anyway,” he says, going back to his favorite topic: women. “So many women want you to pay for everything these days, but then it comes to the end of the date, and what do they do? Run off. Never talk to you again.”

  I smirk. “Really? Did you turn them off or something?”

  His eyes narrow, and I sigh because I need to turn this around somehow. I don’t want to catch him off guard this early.

  “Anyway, don’t worry about those women. You’re here with me now.” I take another sip of my wine and lean forward with my elbows on the table, giving another liberal glimpse of my cleavage. “Tell me what you mean by free-thinking.”

  He flushes, then straightens in his chair. “Well, you know. You pay your own way. You’re wearing…” He gestures. “That dress.” He sighs, finally relaxing. “And you’re just… not like other girls. More straightforward. I could tell even when texting.”

  “Oh?” I hate the implication against other women contained in “not like other girls,” but I school my expression so as not to show him.

  “Yes,” he says. “I knew that, after our date, there was a pretty good chance that—”

  “Your profile says you’re only looking for a serious relationship,” I say calmly. I lower my lashes, then raise them sultrily for effect. “Am I right in thinking you might actually be up for something more casual?”

  His cheeks flame, but he nods eagerly. “Absolutely. I just…” He sighs. “Well, you get it. Women won’t even show up anymore if you’re honest about your intentions. Women are so picky and so clingy these days. Other ones, not you.”

  “Clingy?”

  “You know,” he says. “It’s not that realistic to think one sexual encounter is going to lead to a relationship.”

  “Hm.” I take another sip of wine. “Do you think it’s realistic to expect most women to have casual sex with someone they’ve barely met? I mean, you could hire someone for that if it’s all you want.”

  His face resembles tomatoes on mashed potatoes right now. “Wait, how dare you—”

  I put up a hand. “I told you I’m not like that.” I slide my hand over to take his. “You’re right. I’m not like other women. But I don’t blame other women for being careful. Sorry, agree to disagree.”

  “Fine,” he says, and I can feel his pulse racing under my hand.

  I pull back, sipping my wine again. It’s gone just as the waiter shows up, and I motion for him to fill it. “Separate checks,” I say, seeing Ben’s nervous look relax in my peripheral vision.

  The waiter nods, then begins unloading plates on our table.

  Ben ordered some tiny steak fit for a hamster along with green beans.

  I have a giant gourmet burger with mashed potatoes and a side salad.

  Oh, I also ordered the gourmet pizza.

  It’s a semi-nice restaurant where most people are probably eating steaks, but, hey, I like what I like.

  The waiter comes back to pour more wine, and I motion for him to just leave the whole bottle.

  Based on Ben’s scowl at my plate, I’m going to need all the wine I can get.

  “Wow,” he says. “That’s very daring.”

  “Hm?”

  “Eating like that on a date. Won’t it be hard later to—”

  “Nah,” I say, biting into my burger and savoring the juiciness. “Trust me. I’ll be able to do everything I want to later. Everything.” I groan while chewing. It’s just so good.

  Ben watches resentfully for a moment, then starts in on his own meal.

  After a few bites of burger, I move over to the pizza. I’ll take whatever I don’t eat home. I’m lifting a piece to my mouth when Ben opens his big trap to blurt something out, as usual.

  I lower my pizza. “What?”

  “You know, your figure…”

  I look down at myself. “Uh, what about it?”

  “Well, you know, you’re already curvy. And don’t get me wrong. I really like your body, but—”

  I laugh, taking another bite of pizza. “Whatever, dude. You don’t decide what I eat. I do.” I shake my head. This one is a real winner, and I’ve met some doozies.

  Online dating is so awful these days.

  I finish my pizza and pick up another slice, and Ben stares at me like I’m committing a crime.

  I set the pizza down. “What is it now?”

  “You know, men like a girl who can eat, but not many of them are going to put up with you just wolfing down pizza.”

  All right, I’m done eating. This food will taste better later when he’s gone anyway.

  “Look,” I say. “I’ve never met a man who can make me feel as much joy as a pizza, with so little trouble, so in the future, I recommend you just shut up when a woman’s trying to eat.”

  He sputters.

  “Anyway,” I say, taking another drink and then pouring more wine. The room is just starting to sway slightly.

  Nice.

  “Anyway, what?”

  “I’m just drinking now, so tell me about you.”

  He rubs his neck, then cuts a bite of steak and eats it. “Not much to say. Investment banker. My mom lives with me right now, and—”

  “Oh, that’s nice. You let her move in with you?”

  He flushes. “No. But you know, she’d get lonely, and it’s convenient. I’d have to go to a
laundromat and—”

  I take another huge swig of wine, then burp, covering my mouth and flushing slightly. “Damn, getting drunk.”

  That seems to do something to Ben, who picks up the bottle of wine and pours more for me. I don’t say anything even though it’s rude since he’s not paying.

  “Here, have some more,” he says, an eager glint in his eyes that I don’t like at all.

  Dirty boy.

  “Mm, thanks,” I say. “But are you sure I should? Things are already getting hazy.”

  “I’m sure that feast you ordered could sober you up if you wanted it to,” he says, eyeing my plates distastefully.

  This guy probably goes home and scarfs down entire plates of home cooking but calls his dates out for eating anything at all.

  Okay, maybe I do eat more than normal, but I have to keep up my strength to deal with this bullshit.

  The waiter arrives to box my stuff, but Ben waves him away, telling him we aren’t done yet.

  There’s something mean now in his glance when he looks over at me.

  He’s mad, so something I’ve said or done has set him off for some reason.

  Not that I care. I’ll be rid of him soon when this wretched date ends.

  I’m so done with men by now.

  My expression darkens, and I drink a little more wine to make the sadness go away.

  Ah, there it is. Bliss. Found at the end of my fourth glass of wine.

  I sigh, putting a hand over my stomach and sitting back, waiting for my date to finish his meal so we can go.

  “Just one sec. I need to go to the bathroom,” I say, standing and leaving before he can respond.

  I stumble over to the bathroom and walk in to stare at the mirror and fix my makeup if needed.

  I wobble slightly as I rest my hands on the porcelain, studying my bloodshot green eyes. My features are fine, my body is tall and curvy, and right now, I look kind of like a light breeze could blow me down.

  But I’m stronger than I look.

  I head back out to the buzzing dining room to see that Ben has poured one more glass of wine.

  He smiles up at me politely. “Seems a shame to waste it.”

  I eye the bottle. “I’ll take it with me.”

  “But open container laws—”

  “I’ll drink it on the way home.”

  He shrugs but watches me a little too carefully as I drink the glass he poured. What’s one more glass anyway?

  A little odd, though, that he has no problem with a woman drinking far past normal but every problem with her eating too much food.

  I roll my eyes at how normal that actually is, given what he wants from me now.

  I stand up to leave, and he picks up the bags with my food. I take my coat off the back of my seat, and we head out into the night.

  Snow is falling lightly outside, and it’s so beautiful, making a soft layer of frosting on everything it touches. The sidewalk clicks under my high heels, and Ben lifts his hand to call a taxi.

  “It’s fine. I live near here,” I say. “Let’s just walk.”

  “Right, burn off extra calories,” he says, nodding.

  My God, this asshole.

  We walk down the street and turn, heading toward an industrial area. Ben looks around him nervously. “You live near here?”

  “Yup,” I say, beginning to walk a little more drunkenly as my vision begins to blur.

  That’s weird. I don’t… Alcohol doesn’t usually… I fall toward a nearby alley, putting my hand on the brick wall and waiting for the world to stop spinning.

  Ben walks up behind me, and I shoot him a glare.

  “You bastard, you drugged me.” I hope he can feel how hot my green eyes burn.

  His eyes widen slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I feel like I can see every snowflake as though the world is swirling around me. I feel like I can hear snow… All right, that’s it. He definitely drugged me.

  I reach in my pocket and feel for my phone. Good, it’s there.

  “Tell me the truth,” I say, staggering over to him, acting even drunker than I feel. “My body… it’s so heavy.”

  “Just a little something extra,” he says. “Trust me, you won’t remember.”

  I squint up at him. “But why? I said I was going to have sex with you. Why on earth would you need to drug me?”

  His smile goes cold as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in against him.

  I think I’m definitely taller, and I’m 5’11”, so that means he did lie about his height. Figures.

  “I could tell from the start you were a total bitch. I love putting women like you in their place.” His voice is gleeful, heated, like this is turning him on as I struggle lightly against him.

  Everything is spinning. “Stop. Let me go.”

  “No,” he says. “You did this to yourself. No one will believe you weren’t just drunk. You already said you wanted me.”

  I shove him back, managing to dislodge him for a second. But then he’s back on me again, shoving me so hard against the brick wall that I feel my skin bruise,

  “Bastard!” I bring my wine bottle up and slam it down on his head. He instantly goes down, and I sigh in disappointment because I really wanted to savor this more.

  He groans, and I realize he’s not totally out, thank goodness.

  I reach in his pocket for his phone. “Unlock it.”

  “What?”

  “Unlock it.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it, or I’ll hurt you.”

  His nose wrinkles, and a trickle of blood flows over his forehead. “How? You bitch, I’m going to—” He starts to push to his feet, but I’m still standing, and it’s easy to plant my heel on his chest, shoving him to the ground with the threat of a sharp projectile going straight through him.

  I stare down at him imperiously as he struggles to move my shoe. I only dig my stiletto in harder and feel the skin break. I smile. “Unlock your phone.”

  He finally takes it and puts his fingerprint on.

  “Great,” I say.

  “I’m going to call the police on you,” he says, looking a little worse for wear between the blood on his head and the small stain blooming on his chest under my shoe.

  I pull out my phone for a moment, showing him the screen. “I’ve been recording the whole date. So sure, go to the police. I’ll send them this and tell them you roofied me.”

  “It won’t go anywhere. You know it won’t,” he says, glaring. “There’s no way your camera angle could have caught it.”

  “I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

  His face goes pale, making the blood there almost look like it does on snow.

  “Anyway, I just need to do a few things,” I say.

  “What? Don’t touch my—”

  I dig my heel in a little more, wincing because it’s a bit squishy, but I can also feel bone. “Just be patient.”

  He grabs my leg with both hands, trying to move it. “What’s with you, you freak?”

  “Just strong. Always have been.” I finish my work on his phone and toss it back to him. The world is starting to return to normal, maybe due to the adrenaline, and I slowly pull my heel off his chest.

  He stands and immediately tries to rush me, but I have my fist ready, and it’s not my fault he runs right into it.

  The crunch of our meeting resounds in the night, and he falls backward, bleeding from his nose this time, groaning in the snow.

  That one wasn’t my fault.

  “Here’s the deal,” I say, leaning over him because he’s way too dazed to be a danger. “And please don’t act up, or I’ll have to punch you again. You don’t want that, do you?”

  He shakes his head.

  I reach for the bag of food he was carrying, sighing as I see the pizza scattered inside, almost ruined.

  There, one good piece. Should help me sober up. Plus, I need energy to explain things to this beast.

  The w
orld spins, reminding me there isn’t simply alcohol in me, and I need to call a cab and get home soon.

  “As I was saying, here’s the deal,” I say between bites of pizza. “I’m here for Carly. You remember Carly, right?”

  His face goes absolutely white. “No.”

  I grin. “Liar. Anyway, I’m here to take back a little something you stole. If you check your Venmo, you might notice some withdrawals.”

  He tries to sit up but can’t. “What?”

  “You know, just what you took from her. The money her mom left her that you said you’d invest for her but stole for yourself and then claimed was a gift later. That was an especially cold move, especially after she put you through school all those years.”

  He blinks. “How do you know—”

  “Anyway, I sent her money back. Now she can get a shrink and try to get over you.” I sigh. “This is the point where I would usually just call it, but I really do wonder if I should send this to the police since you did try to roofie me.”

  “No, please—”

  I don’t want to involve the police anyway because I know they’ll just say nothing happened and it’s too hard to prove.

  Plus, I don’t want to draw their attention to my vigilante activities.

  “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to be quiet about these transfers. If you don’t, I’m going to send this video of you drugging me to all your contacts, including your mom and the police. I sent your contact list to my phone. And don’t worry. I sent myself a little something for my trouble. I don’t date assholes for free, after all.”

  “You bitch—”

  “Ah-ah, be careful. I do have the movie.” I sigh. “It was kind of dirty pool, going to the bathroom to see if you’d spike my drink. I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, and even though I do this for my job, I must say you’re a spectacular level of asshole. Now, good night.”

  I turn to walk away, leaving him in the dark, but when I do, a flash lights the night, and a strange, glowing figure appears only about ten feet away.

  2

  Tess

  This new, strange person is close enough for me to make out the color of his irises, like swirling auroras of blue, purple, green, and pink.

  But that’s not even close to the weirdest thing about him.