by Bekki Lynn
He set the hanger on a nearby hook and removed the covering to reveal a strapless gown the color of the gem, or close enough to it. Both hands went to her trembling lips. This seemed all too convoluted to be real. There’s no way a dress in a dream could exist in reality. It could be close, but not identical or exactly her size by accident. Cassandra’s head began to spin with uncertainty of whether or not this was another dream. She wanted to ask, but he could tell her no, it’s real, but a dream character can say anything to appease her. He could also tell her she’s loony and needs help. The thought of him showing her the door with no answers, no understanding was as frightening as playing it all out.
Elan tossed the bag aside and held the dress up to her. For a moment, she thought she saw a pleased inner triumph there, but he masked it so fast, she couldn’t be sure.
“Perfect. Change while I pull the shoes,” he said. He turned to leave her as he let go of the dress. She caught it before the dress hit the floor.
Cassandra stood staring at herself in the mirror, the dress pressed against her. Maybe she should nip this in the bud and run. Ok, this was something she hadn’t done in the dreams. Would it break the pattern enough to alter the outcome?
She turned around and hung the dress on the hook. The lights dimmed, flickered and went out. “Elan?” Nothing. She went toward the open doorway and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. This had never happened in her dreams.
Standing in the doorway, she looked around for him, anyone, unknowing where he would have gone for the shoes. The hall light dimmed and flickered. Her heart jumped in her throat. “Elan! Anyone!” she called out. No response.
Cassandra didn’t want to be trapped in the dark and headed out, hoping to make it to the front of the building before the rest of the place went black. Looking back down the hall behind her, in case someone appeared, she hit solid mass. She jumped back, gasping, “Oh, god!” Elan. She patted his chest like as if it would calm her.
“Were you going somewhere?” he asked.
“The lights went out. They wouldn’t come back up, and then they started doing it out here…I thought…”
“I didn’t notice,” he said, covering her hand with his. “Let’s return.”
She let him guide her back to the room. His hand left the small of her back when they entered the darkened room. He reached out and flipped the switch and the room lit up.
“Working now.”
Her mouth opened and closed. He reached out and cupped her chin, searching her eyes as if he’d be able to see what ran through her mind. Whatever he looked for, she was sure his interest was the photos and if she’d lost what he saw in her.
“Close your eyes and breathe.”
She did. His touch helped calm her fear, but knowing how close his luscious lips were, close enough to taste, had her heart taking a stutter-step. She knew they’d be soft, pliable, and so damn delicious. She wanted them on hers. All he had to do was bring them to her.
Daring a look up into his beautiful eyes, she fell deeper and deeper into the well and saw what she knew in her soul to be the truth. This night was no longer an option. She had to stay. The realization frightened her, but also filled her with breathless anxiousness.
“Go change,” he said, dropping his hand.
She went into the dressing room to change. The challenge of turning his reserve into uncontrolled had butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
With the gown on, she stood before the mirror staring at the reflection of herself. The dress flattered her curves, showing off her waist, and enhanced her breasts. She turned around, a physical wavering overcoming her. “Whoa,” she muttered, grabbing the doorknob for balance. She rested her forehead against the door. The floating feeling made her feel like she was on one of those moving fun-house floors, but then it passed and she looked around.
The woman who looked back at her from the mirror had flushed cheeks and brighter blue eyes than she’d ever seen on her. More blue than when she’d looked in the mirror after one of her dreams left her with unsatisfied arousal. If she went out like this, what would he think? Shaking her arms and blowing out, she tried to relax her body. She couldn’t keep him waiting much longer. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out.
Cassandra opened the door and Elan stood near the large triple mirror with his arms folded. His eyes moved down her body and back up to her face. The appreciative look gave her goose bumps, but then he masked it.
“I’ll help you with the shoes.” He came toward her and crouched, seeming unaffected by the richness lacing his voice.
When he lifted her foot and slipped on the heeled sandal the same color as the dress, she reached out and laid a hand on his head to steady herself. This time, she didn’t apologize or pull away. She wanted him to look up at her. To come up and let himself taste her, touch her. She wanted to see hunger in his eyes—to know she was capable of getting around the hard coldness and bring him to his knees.
Hell, she sounded as if she seduced men on a regular basis. She didn’t get all crazed with sex. She’d never had the opportunity.
Elan finished strapping the shoe on and lifted the other foot. She teetered on the heel and her hand slipped to his shoulder. She gripped him, feeling the taught muscles moving beneath her fingers as he put the other heel on her. Her breath caught around a groan she tried to stifle.
Elan finished and straightened. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…No. We’re alone in the building, aren’t we?” The person who set up the staging for the photos wouldn’t leave until the boss was finished. Would they?
“Yes.” He caressed the necklace searing her skin with heat. She trembled, but didn’t move away. “I think you know we have to do this,” he told her.
What? Cassandra ran her tongue over dry lips. “I don’t understand it, but yes.” Her heart pounded.
“I know of the visions.”
His eyes rose to hers and he let the veil down. She could see the truth…No, she could feel the truth they let her see. This night was theirs for whatever reason.
“But, how—” He laid his fingers against her mouth to quiet her, but her head was spinning. There was no way he could know what she’s been experiencing.
“When it’s time, we’ll talk.”
He held out his arm and she hooked her hand around the crook, allowing him to escort her to the Victorian room. They entered the room and she moaned, but he didn’t notice as he left her to set the scene of this part of her dream. The flowers, bronze mums, the white wicker bench, even the Victorian Parlor setup at the far end of the room were identical to the room she’d seen. Nervous, she watched him.
“First, I want to use digital,” he told her as though she had no idea. Maybe his visions had been different, she decided. Or maybe, he didn’t know she’d had the same, if they in fact did.
Trying not to let it unnerve her, she watched him pull a screen with a trellis covered with over-grown ivy over the white wall screen. Her palms dampened and when he turned out the room lights and moved the camera lights to his liking, his eyes met hers.
“Come, Cassandra.”
Shivers ran down her spine at the unexpected softness of the request. She walked over to him and he led her over to the bench.
He took her other hand and held both flat against his chest. “Better than the dress, isn’t it?”
Embarrassed he’d felt the moisture her nerves caused, she stared at them flattened against his sweater. His heart beat rapidly beneath the knitted yarn. A peek under the reserved exterior, one hinting he wasn’t unaffected by the same unknown. Was he aroused, too? Letting her hands slide down from his and move from him, she found a new excitement race through her.
Had he experienced sex with her as she’d done with him? Had he awakened to find his body experienced wondrous lovemaking, yet unsatisfied, wanting more, needing more?
“I wouldn’t do that,” she whispered.
“Please sit, relax.”
She remained sta
nding. “If you’ve experienced similar dreams, visions, why go through all this? I’d rather you explain to me what it’s all about. Help me stop them.”
When he walked away, she took a frustrated breath and let it out. Why wouldn’t he talk to her?
“Take another,” he said, turning back to her once he was behind the tripod.
She did. “Elan, please. Can we talk?”
He looked through the camera at her as he spoke, “It’s not personal. It’s a means.”
“A means to what? I don’t—”
“The end.”
“Damn it, don’t talk in riddles,” she said, realizing he was taking photos. Too bad, if he’d be straight with her, she wouldn’t have to disrupt his play.
“No riddles. A means to the end. We follow the path of the visions and they’re over.”
Follow the path of the visions. Suddenly, Cassandra felt as if she’d been knocked down and found herself sitting on the bench, her hands gripping it for support. Her mind tried to wrap around his words.
No, he couldn’t mean it the way she took it. They were strangers. Sure she wanted him, but it was her mind’s game. Shudders swept through her. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Cross your legs.”
His words barely registered, but she crossed her legs and her hands shook so much she couldn’t straighten the skirt. Before she knew he’d moved, he was there, kneeling. He stopped her hands with his.
“Look at me!” he commanded with a quietness she had to obey.
“You can’t mean…this can’t…I can’t…”
He brought her hands to his lips, caressing them. “When the time’s right, there will be no fear.”
“I’m not scared. Practical. I don’t go to bed with just anyone, especially if we’re strangers.”
“You’ve been thinking of it.”
“Yes, but it was the dreams, being here…it’s like déjà vu. It’s natural I would.” She tried to free her hands, but he wouldn’t let go.
“It’s not our will. We use our will to break a binding.” He played with the ring. “Bound by the jewel of the sun.”
“How?”
“We must talk tomorrow. Time is slipping away. We deviate long, it will not work.”
“You want me to sleep with you without knowing why.”
He touched her trembling lips. “For now. Trust me.”
Right, the first thing her grandfather told her about boys was to never trust one who says trust me. He let her other hand go and fixed the skirt around her legs. His warm fingers straightened the anklet, and then he studied her with his infamous eye.
“Close your eyes. Breathe. Relax.”
Cassandra closed her eyes and breathed, but she didn’t relax. How could she? He wants to use her.
“Let it happen. Let it consume as before.” He tipped her chin enough to tilt her head. “Want me like you saw.”
“I do,” she whispered. “I burn for completion.” She did and maybe that’s why she felt herself giving in without much hesitance.
“Yes…yes…yes,” he whispered.
He returned to the camera and her leg bounced as she relaxed with her hands on the bench. She stopped the movement, because not only could it ruin his photos, but also the rocking of flesh against flesh fueled the smoldering ache between her thighs.
When he’d done as many shots with the still as he wanted, he picked up the digital and came in closer with each click. Though he never deviated from his work, she sensed a change in him. Who knows, it’s possible the discussion they’d had changed things between them. Maybe her admission of wanting to get her hands on him excited him. For herself, she found the instructions he gave easier to do and fun.
Some eight, ten shots later, he told her, “Walk around the bench toward the wall of ivy and give me an over the shoulder look.”
Cassandra took a few steps, looked over her shoulder and saw he’d lowered the camera. “Did I do it wrong?”
“No.” He brought the camera up and shot. “Needed you to relax into in to it.”
“Oh.” She smiled and looked over her other shoulder, while telling him, “You’re being easy on me, I think.”
“For now.” His words, the husky sound of his voice sent tingling sensations through her body. “I’m changing the scene,” he said, setting the camera down a few minutes later.
For now. What did he mean? She watched him walk past her and raise the screens to reveal white-paned French doors. There was darkness beyond the panes. She looked around for a clock and wondered why she’d never noticed it before. It set over the doorway and told her it was eight thirty. Had they really been at it for almost two hours?
The butterflies returned to her stomach, but not from worry. The way all this was playing out was responsible.
Elan finished with the screens and before he told her what she was to do next, she had to try to get more answers. “You obviously know more than I do. Tell me what you know. How did this happen? Who would do this to two strangers?”
He stood before her and caressed her forehead with the pad of his thumb, smoothing a frown she supposed. “It’s complicated.”
He scanned her face making her feel as if he was memorizing her features, her bone structure, but then he focused on her mouth. His eyes didn’t falter. He simply saw, caressed without touching. Cassandra parted her lips in anticipation, he came closer his breath fanning her face. She raised her chin wanting him to close the distance, her eyes searching brown circles intent on her mouth. Her breasts rose and fell. Her tongue ran over her lips and a groan slipped from him. His lips brushed hers, left her, touched again and then covered them completely. She moaned as she leaned in for a deeper connection, feeling like she was slipping down a wet, grassy hill. Unable to stop herself, she sank into him and when she started to wind her arms round his neck, his mouth left hers.
“Answers will come,” he said. “Now we follow through.”
“I don’t know if I can.” The very real feelings rising in her from his being this close to her caused a sting behind her eyes, She bit down on her lip, then remembered his words. The camera sees things, so she stopped herself.
“You will.” He ran a thumb over her lips and pulled out the tube to reapply the lipstick. “We must do this.”
She lowered her lids, somehow knowing he was right. Still, it didn’t sit right. Nor did what his nearness and touch did to her. Her body screamed for more of him as her stomach knotted with the wanting and the common sense saying to run.
When he finished touching up the lip color, she waited for him to fuss with her hair. He didn’t. She opened her eyes and found he’d crossed the room to where he left the camera. Again, he’d made the move without a sound, without a breeze from his action. How could he move so quiet? Elan had to be six-two and two hundred and twenty, maybe forty pounds thereabouts, not exactly lightweight. He was…She grinned. Hell, if he were on the cover of romance novels, she’d collect them, dream of him…Oh, shoot! She’d done that already. The irony had laughter bubbling up in her, but she held it in.
With the camera in hand, he turned back to her, but didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. Where did the icy expression come from? It was rather daunting. After a moment of holding his gaze, she asked, “You don’t want to do this any more than I do, do you?” Waves of a frown crossed his forehead. The first real sign he wasn’t all right with all this either.
“Stand at the doors. Look into the night.”
“Elan?”
“No, but we must.”
“How do you know we must?”
“I’ve been told.”
“Who would give such advice?” The thought of someone holding the strings and treating them like puppets frightened her.
“Cassandra,” he said with heavy frustration.
The first sign of real emotion from him and she was compelled to do as he wanted. She moved to do what he’d asked her, instead of pushing him to tell her who said they must have sex to st
op it.
Unsure how close he wanted her to the door for fear of the flash bouncing off the glass and damaging his photo, she glanced over her shoulder to ask. The unexpected flash of the camera blinded her. “Oh, wow.” White specks floated in front of her eyes. She blinked the spots away and saw he didn’t seem bothered by it. He continued to take pictures.
Swallowing, she turned back to the door. Tilting her head up to look at the sky, she saw it was beginning to light up with stars. “Looks like it’s not going to snow as the weatherman predicted,” she commented. There should be a moon out tonight, shouldn’t there? “It’s not a new moon tonight is it?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a response. She opened the door and stepped out into the cold air.
Searching the sky, she walked around a concrete patio set, turning around as she searched. She smiled when she saw it to the far northeast past the roof of the building. It was a left-sided sliver—the waning crescent. If she recalled the phases correctly, it was the last phase before the new moon. She rubbed her chilled arms as she watched it. As a child, she’d loved watching the moon. Seeing faces or wondering if people lived there and looked at the earth and saw faces or lights from the big cities as bright spots. Silly stuff, she knew, but life was a different kind of complication then. A breeze fanned the loose strands of hair and she reached up to brush them from her face.
Cassandra turned toward the door and saw Elan in the doorway taking photos. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Like the dreams, she’d walked out on his shoot.
He set the camera down and came out to her. His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek. “I did this to you before.” He nodded. “How’s it been set for the dream to enter reality? Doesn’t it seem odd for the fantasy to come alive all on its own? It feels…eerie.”
“What do you mean, eerie?”
“Like two spirits colliding and getting mixed up in one another’s lives. The difference is, you’re in mine, but I never entered yours. I don’t think.”
“Two lives intertwined. It’s real, yet not. This frightens you because you are not of my people,” he said as he cradled her head. His warmth enveloped her, creeping down her neck while she heard him say, “We must finish it.”
