The BLTS Archive- Perchance to Dream by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net) --- DISCLAIMER: Big Daddy Paramount owns the closet and everything in it. I just like playing dress-up every once in a while. May 1997 --- The light spring breeze was warm against her bare skin as she lay on her back gazing up at the cloud-dusted blue. The grass tickled as it trembled against her cheek, the wind prodding it into obeisance before the flame-haired goddess cradled by the earth's feathery green fingers. The wind and grass whispered her name, a soft prayer. "Beverly ..." She closed her eyes. "Beverly." He bent closer, the word spoken reverently, a whisper. She didn't stir and he smiled. She had lain down earlier just "to rest a minute." The long night before at work, however, had taken its toll and she had slipped into sleep. He watched her serene face, lips slightly parted, golden red locks fanned out on the pillow. So beautiful, he thought, as his gaze moved lower, down the elegant lines of her graceful neck, past the curve of her shoulder to where one hand lay curled just underneath a breast. He reached and softly brushed her knuckles with his fingertips, then lightly laid his hand over hers. He could feel the warmth of her breast against the side of his thumb as her chest rose slightly with each breath. With bated breath, he moved his hand upwards to cradle her breast in his large hand, brushing his thumb ever so lightly across her nipple. Her chest rose with the slight gasp that escaped her lips. He froze, watching her for signs of awakening. She sighed and her head turned, relaxing into the pillow. He smiled. Fluttering spots of color, the butterflies flew all around her, beckoning to her. She wanted to follow but the pull of the ground underneath was too strong, the caress of the earth and its verdant subjects urging her to stay. The butterflies, their entreaties ignored, came to her instead. They alighted softly, wings flapping lightly as they landed with tickling feet on her skin. She shivered uncontrollably and laughed softly. The insects' gossamer wings flittered along her skin, travelling all over her body. They moved along the insides of her arms, across her toes, down the slope of her neck. One fluttered down to settle on her breast and brushed its wings across her nipple. She gasped. His hand moved across her body, his eyes riveted on her face and her fluttering eyelids. His fingers were light as they caressed her arms, her neck, the softness of her cheek. Eventually, his hand was drawn back to where its journey had begun. His palm cupped her breast and he squeezed gently, rubbing a little harder this time. A small frown touched her brow. He lay down alongside her, mere millimetres away, bodies not touching, then leaned in and touched her lips with his. A feather brushed against her lips. The owl peered at her with round sage eyes then lifted its wings and flapped away. He moved his hand down her body, the light material of the loose dress sliding underneath his questing palm. His fingers circled her navel, then continued on. The sky had begun to darken and the wind had picked up, insistent now instead of supplicating. Something was moving down her body, something she couldn't see because somehow she was unable to raise her head. Her heart quickened, not with fear but with a rising swell of delightful anticipation. Her whole being began to tingle, the quivering centered at that spot where her unknown seducer was slowly and deliberately bound. He laughed softly in delight as he watched her face transforming, her mouth more open now, her breath now quickened, eyes still closed. His fingers found the place they had been seeking and as they eagerly and lovingly touched the center of her pleasure, she moaned softly and her eyes moved beneath the closed lids. He was aching and hard with desire, and when she pushed her hips up into his hand, urging him on, he knew he could wait no longer. The blackness surrounded and engulfed her. There was no moon, not even a lone star to illuminate the dark. She didn't care. Every part of her being was focused on the trembling sensations building within her. She no longer wondered who or what was doing this to her, only that she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by it, to be filled with it. She parted her legs and a cry flew from her lips as something entered her, rocking her whole body with a delicious rhythm, growing faster and faster until the wave began to crest. She opened her eyes then and saw a face above her, a beautiful familiar face. He smiled down at her and the wave broke with her cry of release. His eyes squeezed shut and his breath shuddered as he pushed into her one last time, his body trembling with his climax. Finally awake and able to move, she wrapped her long slender arms around him. He lowered himself gently onto her. They lay still, their breathing and heartbeats slowly returning to normal. At length, he raised up and looked at her. With wide crystal blue eyes, she gazed into his soft hazel ones. "Jean-Luc?" she whispered breathlessly. "Sorry," he replied with a smile and a kiss. "I didn't mean to wake you." --- Beverly opened her eyes. The bed rocked slightly as the man shifted to lie down and pulled the covers up. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She was confused, the dream still lingering, threads of desire still pulsating in her body. She could barely see her husband's form in the dim light. She shook her head, trying to clear away the fog. What was that dream? she thought, its memory fading away quickly, now gone. "It's okay, Jack," she replied and lay back down. --- The End