The Dream (M/F)
(c) 2001 by Sampast

(This silly story is dedicated to a special friend who asked me to dream about him.  I wrote this up as a joke to him, and then decided to post it.  Enjoy!  Remember, comments are always welcome.)

I locked and closed the door behind Sam and me.  I clasped Sam's leash onto his collar as I got to the bottom step of my apartment building.

I started walking down the street, stopping every few seconds to let my black Labrador, Sam, sniff at various things.  I wasn't really thinking of anything in particular.  My mind was just wandering with thoughts of different things I had to do and places I had to go.

I wasn't looking at anything either, but something made me turn in another direction.  I don't know if it was a sound I heard or what, but I turned to look across the street and suddenly my eyes fixed upon a man.  He was about 35-40.  It was hard to tell with his brown hair turning prematurely gray.

He had deep blue eyes.  I couldn't believe I could make out his eye color from all the way across the street.  I don't know exactly what made me become transfixed on this person I had never seen before.  I felt as though I couldn't move.  All of a sudden, Sam pulled on me and I found myself running after my dog.

I hadn't been there for too long, but long enough to get this man's image set in my mind.  He was a very handsome man, too, and I wouldn't have minded a closer look.  But before I knew it, I was back to my life.

I didn't think about this man again.  Several days later, I was on line at the deli.  It was early in the morning before work.  There were many people on line, which was usual at the deli I frequented.  I was trying to read the headline of the paper of the man in front of me, when suddenly he turned around.  

This man looked familiar, but in a way that I wasn't sure of.  I thought maybe I had seen him someplace before or that I knew him from somewhere but I couldn't remember where.  Just as he turned back and I saw again the color of his hair, I realized he was the man I had seen on the street a few days before.

After he placed and received his order, he left.  Once I got my tea and bagel, I ran out and looked both ways down the street, but I did not see him.  Oh well, I thought.

It was about three days later when I saw him again.  He was standing in front of the newsstand by my house.  I knew it was him the moment I saw him this time.  He was reading a newspaper or rather, pretending to read a newspaper.  This time I wasn't going to let him get away.

I quickly headed in the direction of the newsstand.  He saw me and turned to walk away.  I ran after him and grabbed his shirt collar.  "Okay, who are you and why are you following me?" I asked.

He seemed to find that quite funny.  "What have you been doing, watching old Alfred Hitchcock movies on late night TV?" he asked, laughing.

I was speechless, partly because I had just seen the old classic, Psycho, the night before, and partly because he had this heavy British accent.  The man of my dreams always had an English accent.  I just loved accents.  His voice was so beautiful; I could listen to it for hours.

He smiled and stared at me.  "Well?" he asked.

"Uh, no, I mean, yes, I mean, wait, who are you? And why do you keep following me? Are you staking out my apartment building? Are you a cop?"

"Sort of," he answered.

"Sort of?"  Sort of what? I thought.  I wasn't sure which question he was answering.

"I'm sort of a cop.  Private eye.  But I'm not following you," he told me.

"You're not?" I asked, sort of disappointed.  "Then why do I keep seeing you?  And don't tell me it's some kind of coincidence."

"Okay, I won't," he said.

I just stared at him.  That had not answered my question.  I continued to stare at this man.  Was he really a private eye? That was so exciting in a way.  I wanted to just stand there all day and talk to him, but I had to go.  There was work to be done.

"Uh, look, I have to go," I told him.  "Take it easy."

He let me walk away.  I started for the subway.  "Wait!" I heard him call to me.  Thank god.  I stopped and turned.

"Yes?" I said.

"Look, do you have time for a quick cup of coffee?" he asked.

OH great, a pick up line.  I should have known.  "I don't drink coffee," I said, turning to walk down the street.

"Wait," he said again.  "Look, I'll tell you who I am and I'll explain the whole thing over a cup of coffee."

~~~

It was several hours later when I thought about what I had done that day.  I had gone to have coffee with a perfect stranger, whose accent I was in love with.  I had believed his cockamamie story about being a private eye looking for a guy whose wife believed he was cheating on her, who lived in the building across from mine.  I had even gone so far as to let this man stay in my apartment.  

I think it was when he found out I lived on the fourth floor with a view of the other apartment.  How could I say no to him? He had the greatest accent.

I finished up my work and cleaned up my cubicle.  I headed back to the subway and headed uptown towards home.  Sam greeted me as I opened the front door.  The best aroma greeted me as well.  All of a sudden, he came out of the bedroom with an apron around his waist.

"Oh, you're home.  Hi," he said.

"Hi," I said.  He was so hot.  I couldn't believe I was doing this.  "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Well, the guy I'm staking out isn't home from work yet, so I thought I'd make us some dinner.  You like steak and baked potatoes?"

I nodded, because I think I lost my voice.  He's cute, has an accent, and he cooks?  I had to hold onto this one.

Man, I couldn't stop staring.  Finally, I put down my keys, sorted through the mail, and put Sam's supper out for him.  I didn't know what to do with myself.

"Just go about your regular business," he told me.  "I don't want to get in your way."

"Uh huh, okay, thanks," I said.  Not knowing what else to do, I headed for my bedroom.  I thought I closed the door, but maybe later thinking back, I had left it open.  Who remembers?

I started to undress.  First I slid off my shoes, and took down my pantyhose.  I crumpled them into a ball and threw them into the garbage can.  I had gotten a run in them and wouldn't be wearing them anymore.  Then I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it off.  I neatly hung it on a hanger and put it on the back of my closet door.  I then climbed out of my skirt.  

I went into the bathroom, which adjoined my bedroom, and turned on the shower.  I closed the curtain and headed back into my bedroom.  I reached back and unhooked my bra.  I looked toward the door, thinking I heard something, but no one was there.  I pulled down my panties, stepped out of them, and kicked them into the hamper, which lay at the bottom of my closet.

Then I headed for the shower.  I know I left that door open.  I lived alone.  I had lived alone for so long.  Who could remember that there was some strange man in my living room!

I stepped into the shower and let the water fall through my hair, trickle down my back and front.  I lifted my breasts up since I was so sweaty.  It had been a scorcher today.

As I reached for the shampoo, the shower curtain was whisked away.  I screamed.  Remember I had just seen Psycho the night before and the images were fresh in my mind.

There stood my mysterious private eye.  He just stood and stared at me.  Was I wrong to have let him in? Crazy to let him stay in my apartment?  Was he some nutty killer coming to get me?

Wait a minute, wasn't I naked? I was in the shower and here I was letting some stranger stare at me.  I looked down, and I was...

...wearing a bathing suit.

I stared down at my bathing suit.  Why was I wearing a bathing suit?  I looked up at him.  He was still wearing the apron, but nothing else.  I stared.  He had broad muscles and I longed to feel him next to me.  I licked my lips thinking about the beautiful music we could make together.

"What are you, a tease?" he asked.

"Huh?" I said.  I was suddenly brought back to the present by his voice.  It no longer had that thick accent that I loved so much.  I didn't know what had happened.

"I can't believe you," he said, gruffly.  Hmmm, his voice was still kind of sexy.  No English accent, but I could deal.

I realized the water was still running down on me.  I turned to shut it off.  He grabbed my arm.  Then he turned it off himself.

"I have ways of dealing with naughty girls who like to tease," he said.

I didn't know what he meant by that.  But I was soon to find out.  He grabbed me and flung me over his shoulder and carried me caveman style back into my bedroom.  He sat down on the edge of my dressing chair and put me over his lap, face down.

He raised his hand and brought it down on my bottom over and over again.  I couldn't believe it.  He was spanking me.  I hadn't been in this position in over twenty years.

{SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT}

He kept doing it over and over and over again.  He was speaking to me at the same time, but I couldn't make out his words.  Something about being a naughty little girl and how it wasn't nice to tease grown men.

{SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT} {SWAT!} {SWAT}

I was kind of getting into it now.  Sure, it hurt.  Especially on a wet bottom, but in a way it felt kind of nice.  I turned to look up at him.  And he was smiling.

I smiled back.  Then I....


Damn.  I woke up.

The end.

(I told you it was silly!)