The Dream

In the bright light of the bedroom Mark could clearly see his wife Jamie's face as she sucked him. He was lying on his back and she was on her hands and knees. She was rhythmically moving her head up and down his shaft and at the same time moving back and forth. There was someone behind her. As the movement continued her eyes closed and she seemed to go into a trance. Then she contorted her face before she released Mark's dick and loudly said "Mark I'm cumming." As she was cumming Mark started to look up to see who the person was behind her. As his gaze reached the face he realized that it was no person at all. It was the face of a manikin...porcelain white and without expression.

Mark opened his eyes. The brightly lit room was dark. He looked around and saw Jamie next to him asleep. It was a fucking dream he thought. It seemed so real that the emotions he felt in the dream were still present and his erection was still there.

Mark started to turn to Jamie to wake her and take care of his erection but paused. She looked so peaceful he hated to disturb her. Their normally active sex life had hit a speed bump. She had been working late these past couple weeks. Not only that, she had been acting so strange and secretive recently. He had always trusted her these three years and was sure there was an explanation. Mark was glad the two of them would be going on vacation in a couple days. Then they would be alone together. Even with her busy work schedule Jamie had insisted on making all the plans.

As he looked at her he began to think about how they had first met at a party. He no longer remembered who held the party or why. There she had been standing alone across the room. She was blonde and average height and build. She was the perfect girl next door candidate. Mark did not share the American fascination with blondes, but he had nothing against them either. To Mark dark haired girls were sexier. He especially liked dark haired Mediterranean types. They were mysterious and exotic. Add an accent and Mark couldn't resist them. As for red heads, Mark found that those he had gone with had a temper that he could not get along with.

Mark noted that the blonde was pretty but not perfect. She had a birthmark above her right lip. In another age women would have added that to their look, but Mark assumed this was real. She was thin and small breasted. Not like a fashion model but not buxom. Mark liked that she was not perfect. Real women have flaws. Women without flaws are fantasies. She was, he suspected, about his age. Mark had opportunity to meet and go with younger women at conferences to which he was invited, and at lectures he was asked to give at numerous colleges. Now nearly 30 he no longer found them interesting.

As the blonde strolled to the bookcase he thought of how sexy she was. Sexy in his mind was not a question of being buxom or hair color or how short of a skirt was worn. Sexy was not dependant on what was outside but what was inside. It was an attitude. As she walked to the bookcase she appeared confident and poised, as if she owned the room. For Mark she did.

Mark started to move to meet her trying to think of how he might start a conversation. What would she select off the shelf? Perhaps she would pick some current fiction or maybe a classic. As she scanned the shelf she selected a thin volume. Mark recognized the cover. It was "A Coney Island of the Mind" by Ferlinghetti. It was a selection Mark was familiar with. To him the name always sounded like an Italian sports car...Lamborghini, Maserati...Ferlinghetti. A she opened the book and read he approached her.

"What are you reading?" he asked her.

Without raising her head she said in a low voice "Ferlinghetti."

"Oh, are you interested in Italian sports cars?"

She looked up at Mark as if he were an alien in a sci-fi movie. Then she noticed the smile on his face. She smiled back. "Of course isn't everyone?"

They both laughed.

"Mark" he introduced himself

"Jamie" she introduced herself.

They talked some. Then they laughed some more, eventually he asked her out.

As he continued to think about the past, Mark's thoughts strayed to the third date.

As the date ended and he walked her to the door Jamie looked at him, "You know this is our third date and you know what that means? "

"I have heard talk of a custom."

"Yes I'm supposed to sleep with you, but that's not going to happen."

"OK."

"I'm not because I know your type."

"What type is that?"

"You're a player; you're attractive, smart, and funny. Your smooth, but you're in it for the chase. You chase a girl, fuck her then dump her. How many women have you had...a dozen...two dozen...a hundred. And how long did you keep them after you fucked them? Maybe you kept them a couple dates more then you were off to the next conquest."

Mark was getting a bit irritated at not being able to say anything. "Wait. Can I say something? Yes, I have had a number of lovers but you're wrong. I never left them, they left me. Look, when I was young I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be an entrepreneur. That meant there were going to be lean years until I was established. There was no room for a wife, a family, in my world. At least not right away. So I told all my lovers up front about my intentions. But woman don't believe you when you tell them truth, they think that they will change you. Well after a while they realized that I was telling the truth and meant it. After that they left to find a husband which was what they wanted."

"I've had my heart broken a lot of times. Have you ever had yours broken"

Mark paused, "Yes".

Jamie reflects...

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Maybe someday. Not now. I don't know you well enough and I don't want to resurrect old feelings. Look I don't care if you sleep with me tonight or not. I'll call you later this week and if you want to continue this relationship we can. If you don't then I have enjoyed knowing you. Mark turned and began to walk away.

"Wait, Mark!"

Mark stopped and turned around.

"Do you want to come up for awhile?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to stay the night?"

"I'd like that."

They went upstairs together.

Jamie did have sex with him that night. She was a tigress and he was glad. He had not felt what he was feeling for many years.

Six months later Mark was going to propose to Jamie. He remembered getting ready for that night. He had opened his dresser drawer and had taken out the ring he was to give her. Next to the ring was an envelope. Mark withdrew the envelope, took out the letter, read it, and then tossed it into the trash can.

Mark finally grew tired. As the emotions from Mark's dream subsided so had his erection. He rolled over and put his arm over Jamie. The citrus and rosemary scent of her shampoo soothed him and he soon fell back to sleep.