by Jade Allen
They did not, however, inspire her to dream; not lately, anyway.
Between her rigorous schedule of morning and afternoon classes and regular night shifts at The Coffee Castle, a bustling bistro located just minutes away from her modest loft apartment in the heart of Lexington, Florida, Sarah rarely found time to sleep—let alone dream. And when she did at times manage to catch a few winks in the wake of her cumbersome shift, her slumber tended to launch her psyche into the realm of a sprawling black void; one devoid of the dreams and the flights of fancy that had so enchanted her as a carefree youth.
And just then, the dreams began.
These mysterious but nonetheless pleasurable nocturnal visions always commenced innocently enough, with visions of massive but graceful winged creatures crossing the threshold of her ethereal dreamscape.
She identified them immediately as dragons of fantasy, noting their reptilian bodies, their gleaming eyes, their long stately noses and serpentine tongues, not to mention the coating of sleekly made scales that they wore like silken robes.
Fast and graceful they flew above her head, gliding and soaring with wings outstretched as they dazzled her with what seemed a choreographed show of stunning aerial artistry.
She always experienced a flash of dismay as their majestic bodies dissolved before her, both erupting in a flash of emerald light that seemed to consume them whole.
Soon the light itself dissolved to reveal a duo of even more beautiful creatures; beings that, for all intents and purposes, took the form of mortal males.
Both standing tall and statuesque above her in the realm of their own mysterious haven, both of the dragon men boasted bronzed sculpted features and toned muscular physiques.
Yet while one of her fantasy heroes had long, flowing midnight black hair and wide dark eyes, the other bore a luxurious mane of gold and eyes of ocean blue.
Although she never ventured to learn their names—indeed, she knew little about them—Sarah always opened her arms to them wantonly and willingly, savoring their kisses, their embraces, the firm but tender press of their hard masculine bodies tight against her own as they declared her over and over again to be their queen.
I don’t even know their names; but every night I surrender myself to them, fully and willingly, she mused, adding in a dreamy tone, These two dream lovers of mine are so handsome and alluring, they leave me breathless.
Nearly every night they visited her dreams, seducing and loving her in many ways. And every morning she awoke in a pool of her own sweat, her heart and pulse pounding in a single divine accord as her more private, feminine body parts screamed out for the attentions of two men who—in truth—didn’t even exist.
Or do they? she often queried, reflecting on the detail and sheer intensity that brought each and every forbidden dream alive in her mind. This is Sarah Coleman’s life we’re talking about here. Weirder things have happened.
****
“Okay, who ordered the cappuccino, the drink that we all love but can’t even begin to spell? Oh, you, all the way down there at the end? Okay then, catch! Just kidding. It would not be becoming of a seasoned, dignified barista to actually throw scalding coffee in the direction of her customers. And, for that matter, I wouldn’t do it either.”
Carrying the frothy cappuccino to the tail end of her coffee bar, Sarah delivered the brew with an amused smirk to the hands of her laughing customer—a smirk that dissolved abruptly as she stared into the eyes of this particularly jovial patron, immediately losing herself in their crystalline depths as a sharp sliver of icy recognition went sailing up her spine.
Standing stock still at the end of the bar, she watched with amazed eyes as the man before her sipped calmly at his coffee, seeming totally unaware of the fact that he was the living and walking embodiment of her deepest and most intense fantasy.
Or one of them, at least.
With flowing golden hair, bronzed skin and a tall muscled frame—adorned in a tight ivory muscle shirt and sculpting blue jeans—the gentleman before her looked just like the living, three-dimensional version of the golden-haired dragon man who visited her dreams.
“Hello, Sarah,” he spoke finally, his deep, sonorous voice sending tingles down her spine.
Sarah froze.
“How did you know my name?” she asked, voice low and disbelieving.
The man chuckled, taking a long deep sip of his rich cappuccino as he considered her question.
“I just read your nametag,” he explained.
Sarah guffawed outright.
“Well, that would explain it,” she exclaimed, her shoulders relaxing as she offered him her hand, “And what, may I ask, would your name be?”
It was the stranger’s turn to smile, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss.
“My name is Gabriel,” he introduced himself.
Somehow, though, he didn’t even need to give her that particular nugget of information. In the instant that their fingers touched, an unseen spark flared wildly between them as they stared deep into one another’s eyes. With certainty, Sarah realized that this was not her first meeting with the golden-haired stranger before her; it simply was the first meeting to be properly conducted in this plain of reality.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Gabriel kept hold of her hand as he revealed, “I know that this sounds completely insane, Sarah, but I’ve been a customer here for quite some time and have been altogether too bashful to approach you—until today.”
Sarah smiled.
“Well, I knew I had seen you somewhere before,” she revealed, her tone friendly but cryptic.
Gabriel nodded.
“Well would you, by any chance, like to see me again—perhaps in a quieter and more relaxed setting?” he proposed, inclining his golden head sharply in her direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”
****
Once again, Sarah found herself lost in a dream; only this time, she realized with a thrill, she was fully and completely awake.
Dressed in a flowing kaftan of sleek ivory silk that flowed gracefully to her feet, Sarah left her coffee bar behind and escaped into the night. Once she was seated at the edge of the lace covered table—one situated at the center of Le Jardin, an elite French restaurant she counted among her favorites—she sipped chamomile tea from a floral print cup and basked happily in the attentions of her dashing young dinner date.
Dressed for the occasion in a black silk dinner suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, the ethereal Gabriel insisted on spoon feeding her every bite of the filet mignon, escargot and fluffy chocolate mousse that comprised their elegant dinner.
“I must tell you, Gabriel, this meal is delicious,” she praised, adding with a casual shrug, “No match for the ramen noodles and cheese puffs that this college girl consumes on a regular basis, of course—but it’ll do.”
Pitching his bronzed head back, her dinner date let loose with a deep melodic laugh; the long strands of his silky gold hair falling gracefully across his broad shoulders as he took her hand in his.
“You, Madame, are an absolute delight,” he praised her, squeezing her fingers tight between his own. “And speaking of your studies, I am most intrigued to know, why is it that you happen to favor Renaissance literature?”
Sarah shrugged.
“I don’t know…there’s something about the stories and legends of that era that just transfixes me. I’m simply awestruck whenever I read another story in the Renaissance canon. I lose myself in the pages,” she breathed, adding more seriously, “Honestly, I never tire of reading about princes and queens, of studying their courtly ways and imagining myself as a Renaissance queen.” She paused here, waving away her own lofty sentiments with a most dismissive hand. “Ridiculous, I know.”
Her breath suspended as her attentive date raised her hand to his soft lips, holding her gaze as he released on a whisper, “Nay, it’s not ridiculous at all. You are a queen, my lady. Your wit, your str
ength, your humor, the way that you carry yourself. Perhaps you were indeed born at just the right time, but not in the right place.”
Sarah looked at him for a moment, wondering as to why his seemingly nonsensical words made perfect sense in her fanciful mind. And when her mysterious date asked her to dance, she felt almost compelled to accept.
Soon she and Gabriel moved and swayed with a certain grace across the Le Jardin dance floor; a small but distinguished space denoted by the presence of sleek red carpeting, lush wallpaper of silver brocade, and an overhanging candle-lined chandelier—a brilliant luminary that lent an angelic cast to the features of her already devastatingly handsome date.
Acting on instinct, Sarah threw herself deeper into Gabriel’s strong arms and graced him with a shy smile, issuing him a silent invitation that he seemed prepared to accept.
Seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, his mouth enveloped hers in the tenderest of advances; his agile hands running like warm water down the planes of her sturdy back.
Angling his head over hers to intensify their kiss, Gabriel held her closer than close as they continued to sway as a single radiant unit across the vast expanse of the dance floor.
Their fingers entangled as one as their joined beings made broad, slow circles on a smooth clean-tiled surface, with a besotted Sarah leaning full and hard into Gabriel’s heavenly kiss.
Leaning her body backward in a thrilling dip, Gabriel kissed her deeply as her breasts crushed his hard massive chest and he cradled her in his arms.
Finally he surged upward with her in his arms, breaking their kiss as she moaned in protest.
“As much as I would love to continue this dance, my lady—indeed, this very evening—I fear that it is most difficult for me to resist the intense temptation that you represent,” he told her, cupping her flushed cheeks in two tender hands as he kissed her smiling lips.
“I don’t want you to go, Gabriel,” she demurred, losing herself in his arms as he encompassed her entire body in a long last embrace. “I don’t want this night to end. It’s simply been…magical.”
“It has,” he released on a soothing whisper, running his fingers through the strands of her long dark hair as he led her from the dance floor. “For now, my princess, I do have to go.” He paused here, adding as he seared her lips with a final kiss, “Please believe me when I say that I will see you again. And soon.”
****
“Miss? MISS? I asked you for a black coffee, not green tea.”
Idling near the far end of the beverage bar at The Coffee Castle, Sarah shrugged as she regarded one of her regular customers—an older, silver-haired gentleman who always seemed just a bit annoyed at one thing or another—with a slight, vacant grin.
“Well, green tea does have caffeine, much like the beverage you originally ordered,” she reasoned, adding as she reached quickly for the nearest coffeemaker, “Sorry about that, sir; one black coffee, coming right up!”
Once the chagrined customer took leave of her coffee bar, Sarah took up a nearby dishrag and polished the bar’s mahogany surface, all the while daydreaming about the prince of a man who seemed determined to occupy her every waking thought.
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening, she found herself reliving every last moment of her date with Gabriel. She heard his deep melodic voice, she experienced his succulent kiss, she felt his big strong arms around her; and through it all, she repeatedly asked herself the same probing question.
“When will I see him again?” she said aloud at one point. “He promised that he would return to me, but when?”
Just then, she froze as she felt the heat of a sudden, penetrating gaze, one that seemed to sear through to her very soul as her heart pounded in response.
“It has to be him,” she reasoned, taking a deep sustaining breath as she jolted her head upward. “Who else would have this effect on me?”
Her question was answered moments later, as her gaze collided with that of a gorgeous man who seemed like something out of a dream.
“Two in one week?” she queried, arching a single eyebrow in a show of keen curiosity. “What the….”
All coherent thought scattered moments later, as Sarah’s errant gaze perused the perfection of the man who sat just across the room.
Boasting a tall and muscular frame, the stranger had long luxurious ebony hair that fell past his shoulders, framing a bronzed chiseled face with carved cheekbones, full lips and wide dark eyes—eyes that now seem riveted on her as he tipped his coffee cup straight in her direction.
Lifting her hand to greet her apparent admirer with a broad friendly wave, Sarah seared him with a dreamy smile; her heart pounding as she felt an immediate connection to the handsome stranger before her.
Responding in the affirmative, he immediately rose upward from his seat and made smooth, slow strides straight in her direction.
Soon she found herself face to face with yet another creature of fantasy; this one whose smile seemed more wicked than sweet.
“Good evening, Miss,” he said, his tone deep and sultry as he took her hand in his. “I suppose that if we’re going to sit around and stare at one another all night, we may at some point wish to know one another’s names.”
Opening her mouth to meet this obvious come on with some form of a saucy retort, Sarah found her speech stolen and breath suspended as emotion overcame her; an odd but not unpleasurable feeling of divine warmth that ran rampant through her entire being.
The moment that their hands clasped between them, an unmistakable electric current seemed to bind and link them as they shared a secret smile.
“I would call it fate,” she reasoned in silence, “but this is exactly the same feeling that grabbed a hold of me the moment I met Gabriel, just two days ago. What on earth is going on here?”
Her troubled meditation was disrupted by the sound of that sexy deep voice; one that again resounded as he kept a firm but gentle hold on her soft, fair-skinned hand.
“I must know your name, Miss,” he told her, squeezing her fingers tightly between his as he inclined his head sharply in her direction.
“Sarah Coleman,” Sarah supplied, inhaling the gentleman’s citrus-tinged scent as she lost himself in his ebony gaze. “And you are?”
“Lachan,” the man answered, tossing back his ebony mane in a sleek leonine flourish. “All evening, Miss Sarah Coleman, I have not been able to take my eyes or my mind off of you. And I have been wondering just how to get your attention. After some consideration, I do believe I have the answer.”
Leaving her with these cryptic words, the dark-haired stranger took leave of the bar and headed for the corner of the café, approaching the shiny ruby red jukebox that supplied some needed atmosphere at The Coffee Castle.
Slipping a shiny coin through the slot of the jukebox and pushing a button on its illuminated menu, Lachan stood still for a moment as he stared over his shoulder at his awestruck—if just a bit perplexed—spectator.
“What is this guy all about?” she pondered, squinting confused as he refused to budge an inch from the corner of the jukebox. “Don’t tell me he’s going to attempt an off key rendition of ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling’ or ‘Hello’ by Adele.”
She gaped outright seconds later, as—in lieu of a sentimental, time-honored love song—the opening strains of the immortal chestnut “Bolero” by Ravel resounded through the cafe.
“One of my favorite compositions,” Sarah pursed her lips, adding on a suspended breath, “How did he know?”
Her thoughts scattered as her mysterious customer launched his strong muscled body into a smooth seductive dance; flexing the muscles of his hard massive chest through the threads of his fitted white shirt.
The mysterious dancer held her gaze as he gyrated his hard trim hips, thrusting blatantly in her direction as she blushed in response. Her gaze remained fixed on his taut, toned body as he writhed and slithered in time with the music, narrowing his smoky eyed gaze in blatant sed
uction as he pinned a watching Sarah with a piercing stare.
As much as she tried, she could not tear her gaze from the source of her temptation; her eyes lingering on his rock hard pecs and gyrating hips, the washboard abs that rolled for her pleasure as he tossed his mane of thick ebony hair with reckless abandon.
When the song ended, a grinning Lachan approached the coffee bar and ordered a cappuccino, taking a seat at the bar as he asked his server, “So what do you think, Ms. Coleman? Did you enjoy the show?”
Sarah smiled.
“Indeed, I did,” she admitted. “You have quite the talent there,” she paused here, pursing her lips curious as she added, “And Bolero—well, it never fails to put me in a certain mood.”
His answering chuckle, deep and sensual, sent tingles down her spine.
“Well if you’d like to see more, my lady,” Lachan purred, “then why don’t you come see me after your shift? I am here in town for one night only. And, frankly, I can think of no better way to spend it than to fulfill your every need and desire and make all of your fantasies come true.”
Sarah froze, biting her lip hard as an unbidden wave of red hot desire coursed wildly throughout her entire being. Am I dreaming? she wondered. Somehow the events of the last few hours, the last few days even, just didn’t seem real.
It’s all so much better than real, she pondered, grinning in spite of herself as the handsome stranger pressed a shiny golden key tightly into her palm.
“I’m staying at the Plaza Hotel downtown,” he whispered, “Room 18. Feel free to let yourself in, as I really don’t feel comfortable answering the door in the nude.”
Gaping outright at this bold assertion, Sarah watched wordlessly as Lachan left her with a wink and a smile, turning for the door as the women in attendance collectively begged him not to leave.
A few of them are even linking hands and forming a human barrier in front of the door, she noted with amusement, slipping her key into her apron pocket.
