May 14th, 2004


Wet Dream

Mayka crawled into Pauls double bed, half awake, fingers rubbing her eyes. She slid into her usual position at the front of the spoon, tangling her right foot between his ankles. He woke and gasped, a slight choking sound.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, sorry.” He said and draped his arm around her waist, pulling her body close to his. He took a deep breath. “You smell like my sisters cologne.” Mayka smiled in the dark.

“I’m wearing her shirt.” Paul ran his hand along the ribs in her cotton tank top.

“Hmm, real butch Mayka.” He said and grabbed her right breast through her shirt. “Oh, except for these.” Mayka giggled and pushed his hand away.

“Knock it off Paul, or Jasmine will smell your dirty hands on me.”

“I’ll just tell her that I’m working myself up to our big night, desensitizing myself so that I don’t vomit on you.”

“Thanks Paul, you really know how to turn a girl on.”

“Mmm, I was turned on until you came and woke me up.” Mayka chuckled.

“Sorry to disturb your sacred wet dream.”

“I was the weirdest wet dream I’ve ever had, and even weirder; you and Jasmine were in it.” Mayka inclined her head backwards to look at him.

“That’s sick.”

“Tell me about it! I was lying at the top of a grassy mountain with the sun in my face wearing your red dress, the one with the Spanish cut and the lace trim. So I’m there, legs parted, arms wide, face up on the grass. There were pink dogwood blossoms falling around my body and I felt like a princess, all pampered and loved. Then I looked up and above me there was a man, I can’t describe him really, but he was radiant. He had dark skin and eyes and broad beautiful shoulders – his feet were covered with henna designs, like an Indian bride on her wedding day. I wanted to make love to him, then and there, part his saffron robes and jump on top of him, but then he started talking and whenever he spoke it was like a warm breeze flowing up my skirt – very distracting - huge turn-on. Then he says my name; Paul, Paul, you love me. You are in love with me. At this point, I see inside him, and I realized that he’s filled with lava and dirt and seas and growing things and it’s weird, but kind of hot. I say that I do love him, and the strange thing is that at that moment, I mean it, I really do love him. He smiles and kneels down beside me and reaches up my dress and graps my penis and starts stroking.”

“Are you still in my dress?”

“Of course. By this time, I’m thinking this is some sort of fucked up wet dream, and I’m getting really excited. Then I look into the face of this man, who reminds me of mom, not his features or anything, but the way he’s watching me, like I’m a little kid with a bruised knee. He keeps jerking me off and my belly gets huge and round and pregnant, and it feels amazing and I don’t care abour how weird it is because this beautiful man has got his hands, both hands, on me. I’m exploding with joy and I actually do explode, my stomach opens and you walk out naked holding this little white puppy, tiny cute little thing, sleeping in your arms and sucking on your finger. As I'm looking at you these white flowers crawl out of the ground and bloom over my stomach covering the hole you stepped out of and the man kisses me on the lips.

He asks me if I am glad to see you and I say I am, and he asks me if I like my flowers which by this time, have covered my whole body, but they’re so soft that I really don’t mind and I say so and he says that if I really love him I will think of him always. He says he is always there, behind my closed eyes.


“Not really. Anyway, at that point I see Jasmine at the bottom of the hill and you and I wave to her, but she can’t see us, she’s turned the other way. Weird, huh?”

“Mmm.” Mayka yawned, “It certainly is queer.”

“Oh yeah?” Paul thrust his hand up her shirt and shook her right breast. “If I’m so queer, would I do this?” Mayka snuggled her face into the pillow, Paul balked. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Goodnight Paul.” She murmured. Paul removed his hand from under her shirt and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Goodnight Mayka.” He lay awake for a while, thinking about the images that came after what he told Mayka; the black ink that rained from the sky and turned the puppy to ash. Then blood, rushing from between Maykas legs covered the whole mountain, and he couldn’t move, except to cry out, louder and louder to Jasmine who never turned to face him, until he and Mayka drowned in ink and blood.

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