Mind Games

by Cecilia Tan

  And the more aroused she became, the tighter the connection seemed to be between their two minds. He sank into a trance-like state while licking her, though, no thought at all moving through his head in words, just feelings and impressions.

  As she climbed higher and higher toward another climax, she let her mind imagine things. Imagine him with no clothes on at all. What his cock would feel like in her hand, what it would feel like pressing hard and hot against her hip, insistent and brimming with energy. She heard him moan and knew he saw what she saw.

  She imagined his thumbs brushing softly over her nipples, and that there would be a twinge of pain when he entered her, but that his voice and his touch would soothe it all away.

  “God, I want you.” She wasn’t sure which of them said the words, but it must have been her since she was the one whose mouth was unoccupied.

  But he shook his head as he raised it, then went immediately back to what he was doing as he realized he didn’t have to use his mouth to speak. I want to, Wren. I really want to. But I’m not prepared. I don’t have any condoms. And I’m not sure in the morning you'll... we'll... feel the same. Please, let’s not rush.

  She gave a cry of frustration, jerking her hips urgently. She could feel his reluctance. She swallowed hard, and spoke aloud. “But I need you. God, please, Derek. You don’t... I mean, maybe you shouldn’t come, I know it’s not safe, but...” Oh, God, do you have any diseases I should know about?

  No, I don’t, but even if I don’t come, there’s always a chance...

  I can’t explain it, I just know I need you. I need you to take me! She gripped him on either side of his jaw and pulled him up into a musky, slippery kiss, the flavor of her own juices mixing with the taste she was learning was him. Please, Derek. It’s... it’s very important.

  She could feel him trying to resist, even as he was shucking the leather pants. Important?

  She whimpered as his heated rod brushed her thigh. I can’t explain it. It’s just... intuition.

  He rubbed against her hip, groaning and breathing in her hair. Then don’t explain. Just... imagine, or think, or KNOW. And I'll know, too.

  Wren felt herself slipping downward into deep water. “Hurry!”

  He wanted to take it slowly, he wanted to breach her gradually, making sure she could accommodate him, making sure her pleasure was flowing... She could feel his plans, his desires, his fears, and feel them shatter at her word, her urge, as she wrapped her legs around him and gave him no choice but to plunge straight in.

  “Wren!”

  Her scream got caught in her throat, the pain intense, almost blinding, and she knew he had felt it, too, as he trembled with the effort of holding still.

  “Oh, God, Wren...”

  It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right... But it wasn’t all right. It had hurt, God it had hurt, and now they were both afraid to move.

  But at least she was there, not in the dream world; she was present there in his bed, pinned in place by his cock. She saw light dawn in his eyes as the idea of it moved from her head to his. In my dreams, there’s... a man. But...

  She couldn’t explain it in words, but as Derek said, she could know it. Somehow she knew it was right that if Derek was the one she wanted, then Derek needed to be the one inside her. Claiming her. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to pull him deeper, but another agonizing spear lanced through her.

  He shook his head and leaned very carefully to kiss her without moving his hips, then eased himself out of her. I told you we shouldn’t rush. His eyes were wide with concern. When was the last time you had sex?

  Couple of years ago. She couldn’t even hold back the thought that she masturbated from time to time—and more often lately because of the dreams—but never used a dildo or anything. But it was freeing, in a way, to not be able to hide anything, not to be able to hide the thought that she didn’t even slip a finger inside herself when she touched herself. It’s okay. I think that was enough for now. Meaning those few moments of penetration were enough to work whatever magic it was her subconscious wanted. And what had her dream lover said? Entry was all that mattered, and it didn’t matter which part of him or which part of her?

  Derek made a sound and she realized he had just seen and heard a piece of her dreams. She shook herself. Her arousal was fading back to a simmer, and his thoughts sounded more distant as she heard him contemplate finishing himself off in the bathroom.

  “No.” She pushed him aside and pressed herself against him. “Teach me how to touch you.” She found one of his hands with her own and interlaced their fingers briefly, before pulling it to his eager erection. She wrapped her fingers around it and thought, God, no wonder. He felt larger than she’d imagined. Then, her eyes locked on his, she began to stroke.

  FIVE

  SHE ARRIVED HOME EARLY Monday morning, feeling sore and restless, to find Lawrence weeding the front walk with a pair of office scissors and a worried expression on his face. Derek had barely backed out of the driveway when Lawrence had pulled her into a hug. Wren sighed. A nice dose of platonic energy was grounding. “Let’s make some tea,” Lawrence said. “Do you need breakfast? Are you rushing off to work? You have to tell me all about it.”

  Wren let herself be pulled into his condo. “Were you out there waiting for me to come in?” she asked, as she sat gratefully on his overstuffed couch while he fussed with the water and things. “It’s only eight in the morning.”

  “Well, but the walk did need trimming,” he said in a way that made it clear he meant yes, I was waiting for you but couldn’t bring himself to say it outright.

  She waited until he joined her, carrying a tray with cups and saucers and a large tea cozy shaped like a cat with one paw upraised, from which the tea poured. He took his own with sugar and milk and left her to treat her own cup as she liked. There were scones, she saw, but she wasn’t hungry.

  “Well, we went.” She lifted the cup unadulterated to her nose and breathed deeply, the steam redolent of roses, sending a jolt through her. She took a careful sip. Yes, roses... and the images of her dream seemed very real. “What kind of tea is this?”

  “Oh, it’s some rose-scent black from Harrod's. My mother sent it last Christmas,” Lawrence said.

  “All right.” She relaxed slightly; it wasn’t a waking dream or her imagination. Now, this would be the real test, wouldn’t it? If she could tell someone, and if they'd believe her. “I think I read his mind last night. And he read mine.”

  Lawrence grinned. “So... I take it more than just sleuthing took place?”

  Wren blushed. “Oh, well, um, yes. But that’s not what I was getting at. Oh, I better start at the beginning.” She decided to add just a drop of milk, sipped a bit more, and then told him all about meeting Suzanne in the dressing room and all the gossip about sex clubs the older couple told them. Before she could get too shy, she explained the different rooms, how much deeper in there was a room for kinkier things, like using sex toys, and that there were specialty salons after that, one for women only, one for people who liked "messy" sex, whatever that was, and so on. Lawrence drank in every lascivious detail with such happy enthusiasm it was easy to go on.

  She described getting turned on, and how she’d asked him to kiss her, "you know, so we’d fit in...” and how it had been all downhill from there. The next thing she knew, he was making her come. “And while that was going on, I had thought he was whispering to me, but he wasn’t. I was hearing his thoughts,” she finished. “Like, we could have a conversation, back and forth, and neither of us move our mouths.”

  Lawrence was holding his teacup but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. His gaze was fixed on her face, and when she looked up for his reaction he just blinked. “That’s... wow.” He finally looked down into his tea. “So, he’s amazingly hot, he’s good in bed, he’s the catch of the year, and he’s a mind-reader?”

  Wren almost spilled her tea. “What? No. At least, I don’t think so. Lawrence, I’
m the mind-reader.”

  “Oh!” Lawrence brightened at the idea. “But... had that ever happened to you before?”

  She took a steadying sip. Goodness but tea was a good idea. “No. Or, if it did, it was so mild I didn’t notice the effect. None of my... previous boyfriends... made me feel that way.”

  Lawrence shrugged. “Maybe it’s love? Oh God, I’m sorry, is it too early to use the L word?”

  She let out a long breath. “It’s lust, at the very least. And... you might be right. It might have something to do with him, too, but I’m pretty sure it’s me.” She rubbed her temple with one hand. “But meanwhile, we didn’t find my sister. I kind of... passed out when I came and he took me back to his place quickly after that.”

  Lawrence set his cup down and began picking apart a scone on a plate with his fingers. “Well, it is possible to come so hard you black out. For a man, anyway.” He sounded a bit envious.

  Wren’s stomach grumbled and she took up a scone, too, nibbling on it. Maybe that was what happened? Hm. Or the combination of the rum and everything... She would need to find out. “Anyway, I guess we have to go back, if we’re going to find Abby, and I just don’t know how this works, now that we've... been together.” She blushed hard, thinking of how shamelessly she’d begged him to take her, only to have him exit after the first thrust because she couldn’t bear it. “I mean... it’s not exactly a secret anymore that we... like each other.”

  Lawrence chuckled. “It wasn’t a secret before, except that you had plausible deniability. But hell, now you’ve even read his mind.” He set aside the plate of crumbs, all that was left of the scone which he’d managed to somehow inhale while Wren had talked. “But don’t you have the perfect tool for what you want, now? If your power works when you’re turned on, and the sex club is where you need to search...?”

  She sighed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Still weirded out by the thought of having sex with people watching,” she said. Somehow having an orgasm in a room full of people who were fondling each other seemed okay, whereas what awaited them in the next room still seemed daunting. She added in a halting voice. “We... we didn’t really... do it. Yet. Either.” She finished her scone quickly. “And that’s the last I’m telling you for a while! I better get to my meeting, or make the decision to call in sick.”

  Lawrence laughed. “You know with me there’s no such thing as Too Much Information.” He stood, waving a hand vaguely over the tea things. “I’ve got this. You go on.” But as he walked her to the door, he asked, "When are you seeing him next?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t say. I... I figure I'll rest up tonight. And maybe experiment.”

  “Experiment?”

  “You know. I'll play with myself and see if I can peer into your wicked thoughts...” She tweaked his ear playfully.

  “Wren! All right. That was too much information. If you want to order take-out or something, knock on my door.”

  She was chuckling as she went up to her own place, took a quick shower, and then went off to work. Talking with Lawrence made everything feel almost normal. That feeling lasted all the way until she reached her desk, where she saw the vase between her keyboard and monitor.

  A blood red rose with thorns still on the stem stood alone in the glass.

  SHE WAS DISTRACTED and nervous during the staff meeting. The meetings were fairly pointless for her anyway since she rarely interacted with any of the other library staff in her position. Wren had a feeling the meetings were an excuse to keep coffee and cookies in the department budget. Staying in the back of the room, she nodded without really listening to what they were discussing, then took two chocolate chip cookies in a napkin back to her desk afterward and contemplated what to do with the rose.

  After staring at it for so long her fingers went numb where she was sitting on them, she got up and threw the stem into the trash barrel at the end of the hall, then put the vase into the supply closet behind the unopened packages of Post-It Notes.

  Out of sight, out of mind. Right? If only it were true. She managed to bury herself for a few hours in manuscript conversion but kept wondering what the reaction of her secret admirer was going to be when he discovered the vase gone. It couldn’t be Steve, could it? It had to be someone else. Unless Steve was like a Jekyll & Hyde type who was all mousy and timid in person, but in his dreams was like... well, was like the lover in her dreams?

  She shook her head. It had to be a coincidence, the rose in her dream and the rose on her desk. Had to be.

  Just like it was a coincidence that Uncle Herbert had a heart attack? Lawrence believed her when she told him she’d read Derek’s mind. Why couldn’t she believe herself?

  Because believing that someone else was coming into her dreams and doing the things they did to her there was too frightening to contemplate, that’s why.

  She sighed. Steve himself was about the least threatening person she could imagine, but the unknown was always threatening. Maybe I really should just meet him for coffee. Demystify the whole thing. I'll tell him I’ve got a boyfriend, but we can be friends.

  She went out to the lobby to make the call. His number was still in the call log, though she hadn’t saved it under his name. She wondered if she should? Well, maybe if it seemed like a good idea after they met, then she would.

  It rang. She wondered what department in the university he worked in.

  When he answered he sounded startled to be getting a call. “H-Hello?”

  “Steve, it’s Wren.”

  “Oh wow, um, how are you?”

  “I’m good. Look, I was thinking, do you still want to get together for coffee? I haven’t had lunch yet.”

  “Oh!” He was flabbergasted for a few moments. “Um, yes! Except, actually, I can’t get away right now. But I could totally meet you at like 4:30 or five?”

  Four-thirty. She could keep from going nuts until then. “Sure. Four-thirty at the Starbucks across from the science center?”

  “Yes. Yes, thank you. I mean, see you then.”

  God, he sounded like a nervous wreck. Wren hated the thought that she was going to ruin his day, but she just didn’t want this hanging over her any more. She forced herself to concentrate on her work for another few hours, then gave up and surfed the web for cute cartoons to email to Derek. At 4:15 she slipped her jacket on and headed out the door.

  A crisp autumn wind was blowing the leaves off the trees and she looked around, wishing she had a hat but grateful her hair was too short to blow in her eyes. I'll be lazy, she thought, and drive around to that side of the campus.

  She got in the car, the wind cutting off as she shut the door, her ears ringing slightly. It took almost as long to drive there as to walk, of course, because instead of walking straight across the campus she had to drive around the edge, but ten minutes later she was circling the block looking for a place to park. There were people sitting in the window of the coffee shop, students working on their laptops and taking notes. A musician-type in leather jacket and long waves of auburn hair was just going in. She wondered which one was Steve, or if he was even there yet.

  She went around the block once more, nervousness rising.

  The jangle in her nerves suddenly lifted, though, as she realized with a certainty that she should not go in. She blinked, stopping the car at a stop sign, but just sitting there a moment. She couldn’t see what would happen if she did go through with the meeting, but she knew she shouldn’t. Something... wasn’t right.

  The car behind her honked and she jumped. No, she wasn’t going in there. She’d go home. And call Derek. And then maybe Steve to apologize, but, Derek first. In fact, halfway home she pulled over and called him.

  “I’m worried,” was all she said.

  “Do you want to come here, or should I meet you somewhere?”

  “I'll come there.”

  Finding his house was not that difficult, and in no time she found herself ringing his
doorbell. He opened it quickly, as if he’d been waiting near the door. “Hey.”

  “I feel like I’m being stalked,” she blurted out.

  His smile was reassuring rather than condescending. “Probably best to talk about that inside instead of on the stoop,” he said gently. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, but I’m not hungry,” she said as she followed him into the living room. Wren hadn’t taken much notice of the room that morning. The furniture was bland, but new-looking, as if had been hardly used. He steered her to the couch and took her hand as they sat. “There was a rose,” she began.

  “In your dream?”

  “Yes. And on my desk this morning.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t think this is a coincidence. Couldn’t you have just had a prophetic dream, though? How does that lead to you being stalked?”

  “Let me tell you about Steve.” She explained the halting phone calls, the fake one first, then the one asking her to coffee, then the feeling she had today when driving to meet him. “That alone would be weird enough, but then there are these flowers. Someone’s been leaving them for me at my desk, and then they kept showing up in my dreams. I thought... I thought seeing them in my dreams was just my subconscious telling me to, you know, stop waiting around. But this time there was the rose first, in the dream I had at the club last night, and it looked... a lot like it could be the same rose I found on my desk today. I suppose it could be my ability to see the future, that instead of seeing yesterday's flower, I see tomorrow's...”

  Derek let out a long breath.

  “You think I’m crazy,” she said, but it didn’t look like he did. She just had to say that.

  He shook his head. “You remember I told you I’m working on a missing person besides your sister? One of the things her husband found that made him think she was cheating on him before she disappeared was a collection of flowers. She told him they came from a secret admirer.”

  Wren squeezed his fingers. “Do you think she was kidnapped? And Abby, too? And I’m next?”