Sleep Therapy

Rob hung around after he got up, and I gave him a lift, not home, but straight to his gig for the night, in a dingy hotel just outside the red light district. I gave him an appropriate amount of shit about that, and informed him about how disappointed his fan club were. He responded that perhaps they could have assisted a little more if they wanted something to happen. I promised, tongue firmly in cheek, to let them know.

Home again, quick dinner, and out to the movies with a friend. Back home, bed, sleep. Not exactly exciting, I know. Alright, well not straight to sleep. He'd excited me even by not doing anything exciting. I got myself off without delay or fanfare. Then I slept, images of him in my mind.

Rob wasn't home when I got up on Thursday morning, and I was unreasonably irritated at the thought that maybe he was in someone's bed. He proved my suspicions unfounded by turning up a few minutes later, smelling of beer and cigarette smoke, not women.

"Morning Mel. My God, what a night. We had to play until daylight. Those working girls don't come out until all their clients go home."

"I'm surprised to see you then. Didn't you get any offers?"

"Well, of course I did, but there are lines I won't cross, and they didn't look too safe."

"The girls?"

"No Lindy, the boys… Of course the girls."

"Oh."

"Well, must be good to know you don't have to work this morning."

"That's not work, Mel. It's money for jam. But I'm pleased to stay at home, just the same."

"Yeah, it's not exactly private, is it?"

"Yeah, I don't have to jerk off before I sleep here."

"You telling me you don't?"

"Have too, you mean Mel?"

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I DO, but I don't HAVE to. Alright?"

"You didn't go all red-faced like yesterday, anyway."

"I only blush AFTERWARDS!"

"Ha ha. Yeah, me too. Gotta go Rob."

"Yeah, this happens to me all the time. The conversation turns to sex, and then they leave."

"You want to work on your bedside manne. See ya."

"Oh, alright, go on then."

"I will. Oh, guess what I have to do today, Rob?"

"No idea. Tell all."

"I have to analyse the tapes from one of our sleepers."

"Oh."

"You."

"Really? You said I didn't...?"

"No, I'm told you didn't. Really. Gotta go."

"Let me know how you go. I'll be gone when you get back, so it will have to be tomorrow morning.."

"Okay."

I sat down at my desk, excited. This wasn't at all normal. I enjoyed my work, and I guess I was just geeky enough to get something of a buzz from analysis and collation of the tests, but excitement was different.

As soon as I inserted the tape, things started to go off beam. At first, the machine wouldn't go, and then when it did, the speed was all wrong. These things are built for variable speed playing, so we can slow-motion over the interesting stuff, and skip an hour or two at a time when things are boring, but this time, the speed readout was saying one thing, and the machine was doing something else. We'd had problems like this before, and I gave it a sharp thump on the side, causing the speed readout to flash and disappear. Groaning now, I thumped it again, and I must have used just the right amount of force, because the display shimmered and then reappeared at the right speed.

The machine behaved for a couple of hours then, the only problems caused by my freeze-framing Rob, and staring at him.

Around ten, I paused the tape, typed in some settings off the machine, and went to get some coffee. The way the player works, it would hold the pause for a few minutes, and then switch to 'stop', just like a home player.

A few minutes later, I returned to my desk, coffee in hand, and looked in horror at the wide tape slowly oozing from the player, and falling to the floor in front of my desk. Just as I got there, the flow of tape stopped, and the player started to make a strange noise inside.

I dropped my coffee to the desk, plopped into my chair, and hit the eject button. Nothing. I slammed all the other buttons, and achieved only a sore hand. The noise continued, and an unpleasant burning smell floated from the machine. These tape players left part of the tape cassette sticking out, so in desperation I grabbed it, and tried to remove it. The cassette wouldn't come out, so I gave it a really good tug, and it popped from the player, splaying brown tape in all directions, and I dropped it to the desk, wondering how much of it I could recover.

I turned in my chair to grab the phone, and get some technical assistance, and promptly tipped my coffee right over the tape. I leapt up from the desk, just in time to avoid coffee falling on me, and helplessly watched it seep into the tape cassette.

Phoning the help desk now, I managed to get one of the AV boys to come and have a look. He only took one glance at the tape, with coffee dripping out of the bottom of it, and shook his head. "Got a rubbish bin there Melinda?"

"Oh, come on Mark. Can't you try to..."

"No."

"But it's..."

"Stuffed." He proceeded to tug the strands of tape from the player, snapping them as he went, sighing in a professional way. "We'll have to service the machine. I'll try to get it looked at, but you won't get it back today."

"Well, can you let me have a ..."

"Spare? Nope. None left. These things all need to go to the tip, you know."

"Oh, I know."

"So you might as well do something else. First off, get some more coffee."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"And a cloth Melinda. You don't want coffee all over your desk. I'll take this player, and see you later. Probably tomorrow."

"Arrrgh! Alright Mark, and thanks for trying to help."

"I AM helping, Melinda. Just not fast enough for you."

Needless to say, all the excitement was gone now, along with the tools of the job, and the motivation. I got a cloth, cleaned up the mess, let the supervisor know, packed up, and went home.

An afternoon watching soaps on television convinced me that working in the daytime was a good idea, but also gave me a chance to distance myself from the events of the morning.

Around three, I phoned the friend who had gone to the movies with me the other night, and convinced her we needed another dose. I was in the mood for a chick flick.

We went out for a meal first, and then watched the movie. It was great, and I laughed all the way through, but I couldn't help feeling the leading man looked a little like Rob, and damned if the leading lady wasn't at least vaguely like me, in a Hollywood sort of fashion. As a direct result, the sex scenes were stunning!

I drifted home again about midnight, after a couple of drinks, and headed straight for bed. My emotions were rather jumbled, but the end result was a gentle sort of depression. I slept, though not well.

Friday morning was one of those that force you to be happy, even if you don't want to. The sun was shining, and I could hear birds chirping outside even before the alarm went off, and I was happy to be a part of the world.

That mood kept me going until I got to the kitchen to find Rob busy with a frying pan, the table set, and the radio playing punk classics from the Eighties. Hell of a way to start a Friday, right?

"Morning Miss Melinda."

"Morning Rob. That one take you long?"

"It was... what's the word?..."

"Weak?"

"No, extemporaneous."

"Jesus, boy, you been sleeping with a professor?"

"Not that I recall. I have, however, scored a two week gig. You like omelettes?"

"No!"

"Yes. At a pub that people actually come to."

"Great! Oh, I love omelettes."

"It is. And this is a celebratory breakfast. I was going to wake you when I got home, but..."

"But, Rob?"

"Hmm... but I didn't know if you might get the wrong idea."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Mel, I really like what we have here, and I wouldn't want to ruin it. Pepper?"

"Me neither. Yes please."

"And you might have thought something was up, if I woke you at four in the morning."

"Yeah."

"But, ummm... I was tempted to anyway."

"To tell me about the gig, right?"

"Yeah, that."

"Just that?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, maybe not just that."

"No?"

"No. I'd... umm... want to... umm... well... oh, ask you about how work went."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, with the tapes, yesterday. With my sleep. Yeah, that."

"Oh. Actually, it went pretty badly Rob."

"Oh, no, did I do something else embarrassing?"

"No, no, nothing like that." I sat there and explained to him, while he dished the omelettes, and sat down opposite me.

"So," he responded finally, "you need a new record of my sleep pattern?"

"Yeah, we'll have to get you in for another session, I guess."

"Oh, well, that's not so bad. Except..."

"Oh, except what?"

"Well, Mel..." He giggled at that. "Hell." A guffaw. "I'm not sure I have the time now. Not for a couple of weeks."

"They'll cope, I guess."

"But listen, lemme get this straight. You need to get a record of my movements over a normal sleep, right?"

"Yup."

"Would today do?"

"Can't be done. No room at the inn."

"But Lindy, we could do it here."

"Huh?"

"Well, you don't need to video it. You could just sit and watch."

"You want me to sit and watch you sleep?"

"Isn't that what you do for a living?"

"It is, Rob, but this is different, somehow."

"The only difference I can see is that I can be naked."

"Oh."

"Is that a problem?"

"Oh, and I don't have to jerk off first."

"That's a problem?"

"Don't HAVE to. Still CAN."

"Dirty bastard."

"Mel, you swore."

"What?"

"You said 'bastard'. You never swear."

"I do so."

"Never heard you in six months. You want that bit of omelette?"

"I'm stuffed. That was really nice, Rob. And congrats."

"Thanks. I'm serious about the sleeping."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. And I was just teasing about the jerking off."

"Uh huh."

Before I knew exactly what was happening, we'd left the kitchen in a horrible mess, and I was sitting in a chair, in Rob's bedroom, as he lay under the blankets, wriggling around to remove underpants, and throwing them over the other side of the bed.

I had phoned work to tell them I wouldn't be in, without exactly explaining why, and here I sat, in my dressing gown, with a clipboard, ready to record what was happening.

"Mel?"

"Yeah, Rob?"

"I'm not sleepy now."

"No."

"Maybe I should read?"

"Whatever you want."

"I think I will. Could you pass me that book?"

"What is that?"

"What?"

"That. On the front cover."

"Oh, that's... well, that's a woman."

"God."

"What?"

"You need to get some real books."

"This is a real..."

"Never mind, Rob. Read."

"Really Mel, it..."

"Just read."

"Alright."

"Good."

I sat quietly, looking around the room, taking in Rob's belongings. Most of his things were at least vaguely familiar, but I'd only ever been in this room a couple of times, and it all seemed a little strange. He was a tidy boy though, I gave him that. He had things all sorted on his desk, not like mine at all. His clothes were away in the wardrobe or wherever. I couldn't see them, anyway. I finished my catalogue of the room, and glanced back down to Rob.

I wished I'd had a camera, because the book had fallen down on his face, and he was fluttering the pages with his breath, his lips making a strange noise. I hesitated for a moment, thinking how if this happened at the lab, we would just leave him, and record the silliness for posterity as well, and then I stood, and removed the book, closing it carefully, and replaced it on the shelf.

I sat myself back in the chair, marked the time, and a few details on the clipboard, and settled in for a long day. It was quiet and warm in the room now, and so still that any sounds were amplified in my mind, and I jumped whenever Rob moved.

I must have managed about an hour of monitoring correctly, when the dark stillness became too much, and I dozed in the chair, dropping the clipboard on the floor without noticing.

I work with a start at some point a couple of hours later, and while I was realising that I'd just ruined another day of observation, I was playing back the dream I'd had. It was the scene from that movie, but this time the characters really were Rob and myself. I must have blushed then, thinking of the sex scene.

I sat quietly for a long time, thinking of what Rob had said at breakfast, how it seemed like he was going to say something and then backed out. Of my thoughts about him in the bath the other night; my dream just now.

Then I sat there, staring at him in the bed, at his slack face, at the peacefulness. I could see the outline of his body under the blankets, his arms and legs. Suddenly my attention was taken by the interruption of the flow of the blankets. Rob was lying on his back again, and in the centre of the bed, just where you would think it would be, the blankets were lifted by what seemed to be an enormous erection.

I'm not sure if you can understand the conflict here. I had, ostensibly, undertaken to sit here so that I could record Rob's movements over the course of his sleep, take notes, and analyse them later. A professional set of tasks, and here I was staring at Rob's penis, wondering what it looked like under there, and thinking about having a look.

I sat rigidly, trying to work it out, and eventually decided that the analysis wasn't valid anyway, with my having fallen asleep, so what the hell? Hardly justification, I know. Too bad.

I leaned forward carefully, just enough to lift the blankets at the side, and peered in. I couldn't see a thing, there wasn't nearly enough light in the room. Throwing caution aside now, I reached bavl, and flicked the curtain, just enough to let some of the midday sunlight through. Then I lifted the blanket again, and could see much more clearly. The girls at the lab weren't kidding. He was certainly well endowed. Veins stood out on the side nearest me, and it had a slight curve to it. I wasn't sure if the curve was caused by the blankets, so I lifted them a little higher, taking the weight off him, and it stood up a little more, hard, and still slightly curved.

I was beyond reason now, and flipped the blankets aside, leaving Rob lying there in the dim light, his whole body on view, but my attention taken by one part, bursting from the dark hair on his thighs. I wanted to touch it, to feel the heat from it, to stroke and fondle, to tease it. I must have not completely lost my mind though, because I sat back in my chair instead, and stared.

Without conscious thought now, I lifted my feet up and put them on the chair, my knees apart, my gown falling to the side, my knickers tight between my open knees, and as I watched Rob's hard cock, my hands went down, tickling lightly across the damp cotton of my knickers, feeling the tension, my body shivering at my own touch.

I closed my eyes then, and my right hand slid down inside the cotton, over the wiry bush, and directly on to my wet, sensitive, hard clit. My other hand was stroking my nipples through my nightgown as I slid a finger and thumb either side of my clit, squeezing it gently now, and sliding almost frictionlessly across the top, causing a shiver every time, stroking faster and faster, rougher, harder.

As I tried desperately to keep quiet, my fingers sent me over the edge, and I came with an urgency I'd never felt before, my body shaking, my fingers clamped between my legs, nipples suddenly out of bounds, sweaty, vital, relieved.

My body slowly calmed down, and I was able to stand the movement of my hand as I removed it from my now soaked knickers, still sending shudders through my body. I put my feet back down on the floor, sat up, and opened my eyes.

Rob was lying, motionless, his cock hard pointing up in the air. I could see a drop of liquid on the very tip of it, and as my eyes travelled up his body, over his handsome chest and on up to his face, I realised that he wasn't sleeping peacefully, dreaming of some imaginary woman. He was awake, and staring straight at me.

"Oh, hi Rob." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Hmmm..."

"I... I guess I better go. Oh God."

"You know, before, when I was talking about jerking off, that was about me, not you."

"Yeah. I better just..."

"But..."

"Yeah?"

"... when you do it, it's a whole lot more interesting."

"How long have you been awake?"

"The classic answer to that is 'long enough'."

"Oh, God. Listen, I know this isn't what you expect from a flatmate... I don't know what came over me."

"Well, you did."

"Huh?"

"You came over you."

"Oh, listen, please don't laugh at me, Rob."

"Wasn't."

"What then?"

"I was laughing with you. Or at me."

"Oh."

"Listen, at breakfast..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"... I was trying to say something, but just couldn't manage it."

"Oh. What was that?"

"Mel, I think you are gorgeous."

"But?"

"No but. Look, I'm not much good at words now. Just get in the bed, would you?"

I literally leaped from the chair across to the bed, and grabbed him, pulling him close to me, losing my clothing somehow, and snuggled in close, chest to chest, trying to touch as much of his skin with as much of mine as I could manage. We lay like that for a long time, until I pushed him onto his back, and crouched over him, my mouth covering his face with kisses, preventing him from speaking.

Eventually, I needed some other parts of his body, and I lifted my mouth, pressing a finger to his, to remind him not to speak, and I wriggled a little further down his body, until I found what I was looking for.

Within sight of my target now, I could afford to wait, and I slid myself back and forth across the tip of his cock, my slipperiness lowering the friction, his hardness pushing all my buttons, and then, just as he least expected it, I plunged myself over him, impaling him, and pressing down, hard. I was right, he was big, and I could feel myself stretching wonderfully, a marvellous tightness contrasting with the excited slipperiness of it all.

I sat there for a moment, taking in the feeling, and then, my eyes locked on his, I started to move, drawing myself up slowly, almost letting him escape before plunging back in, taking all of him, pushing slowly but firmly, willing him in further. I did this slowly a few more times, and then, as his hips started to move in harmony with mine, I increased the speed, pumping faster and faster, the long strokes quick and sudden now, the feeling of impalement coming so fast that the feeling piled on one another, and I could feel myself get close to coming again, and I could feel Rob was close as well, his cock so hot and hard within me. I tilted my pelvis back slightly so that there was a little more pressure closer to my clitoris, and as I felt his movements change slightly, groans escaping us both at once, and we orgasmed together, a screaming, sweating, pulsating beast of pleasure, and I collapsed on top of him, our sweaty chests falling together, my breasts pressed deliciously into him, our breaths panting and puffing together, our eyes still on one another.

An eternity passed as we lay there, watching each other, and saying nothing, as the sweat cooled, and our bodies stopped shaking. Then, arms around each other, you can guess what we did. We slept.

Every time we woke up, we made love again, and we talked. We ran to the toilet, and grabbed food from the kitchen, and we ran back to the bed, and made love again. We got to know each other's bodies, and discussed what mattered, and told each other our dreams, and made love again.

I lost count of the number of times I came that weekend. Rob's cock, and fingers, and tongue were too much for me. I lost myself in an endless succession of orgasms, and returned the favour just as enthusiastically.

By the time was got to Sunday, we were both worn out, and sore, and we agreed that we were both unable to handle any more, and then we slept. Of course, early Monday morning, we woke up again.