Dreams and Desires (58 page)

Now, staring out the window of the hotel, Ramón was happy at his choice to relieve the girl of some of her suffering. But he was dismayed at being a prisoner of the storm. He turned towards the large king sized bed behind him. The P.I. who he had retained was sleeping. She was lying on her stomach, her arms beneath the pillow, her face turned away from him. She had short, brown hair, straight and cut into a mop like shape around her head. She had a long back which arched down to her firm, well rounded ass. There had been nothing to do since he returned from the hospital but fuck. He had worn her out.

Having been deprived of the essence of the Whole for two days had weakened him, but the strong lusts of the brown haired woman had helped to sustain him. Her name was Jacqueline Wasalowski, a daughter of Polish immigrants and raised on the streets of the North Side of Chicago. She had a pretty face and small, but pleasing breasts. She also had a strongly sardonic outlook on life and a fierce independent streak, both necessary for and a product of her chosen profession. She referred to herself as Jackie, but most of her close friends and her former associates on the Chicago Metropolitan Police Force knew her as ‘Jack', as befitted her tough, tomboy exterior. As usual, Ramón had only altered her mind as much as was necessary and she had been a pleasant, amusing companion on their trip. Between their bouts of pleasure, she had persuaded him to watch a Marx Brothers movie on the cable television,
Duck Soup
. He had laughed heartily at their antics and their wordplay.

Ramón was becoming quite enamored of his life in this culture. Adele was somewhat of a movie buff and she had introduced him to a number of them. The four of them, Adele, Chandra, himself and his familiar, and anyone else who had stopped by to visit, would sit crowded together on the couch in the living room eating popcorn while the love story, the western or the swashbuckling adventure would play out on the TV screen.

And Adele had become quite an accomplished cook. Chandra contributed her knowledge of Indian cuisine. He had had to begin a program of daily exercises to keep himself trim.

But it was the richness of the varied personalities involved in his existence here that meant the most to him. Each person had their distinctive mental patterns, a kind of flavor. He loved to watch Melissa and Felicity tease each other when they came to visit the little cabin, sessions which would invariably lead to a retreat into Adele's bedroom, sometimes with him and sometimes without. Hardings’ and Hannah's pleasure at their new lives with each other was evident in their faces each time he saw them. Hannah showered him with her sweet potato pies and homemade dishes on a regular basis.

The two recovered drug addicts and prostitutes, Cindy and Natalie, had put on some weight and looked now healthy and vibrant. Hardings had arranged for a plastic surgeon to erase the degrading tattoos on their bellies, but the girls had their own ideas about that. Two days after their session with the plastic surgeon, they came into his lab and raised their short skirts giddily. The inscriptions on their lower tummies, just above the waistbands of their pretty, low cut, white, lace panties, now read, “
Property of Ramón
."

Of all the beings with whom he had made contact, however, the one who had become most precious to him was his familiar. Their bond had become the strongest he had ever formed with another being of any kind. He admired her courage in meeting his needs, treasured her affection for him. Her mind was as beautiful and attractive to him as her body. He had read all about the emotion the humans called love, had seen in action both with respect to the female's fear and concern for her friend Adele when she learned he was going to convert her and with Hardings and his love for his daughter, for Hannah, and even for the former whore, Cindy, whom he had adopted as if she were one of his own. Was it love that he felt for the female who served as his connection to the other world? His human side longed for her, rejoiced in her touch, cared for her. Even now, he rued his separation from her, both because of the unhappiness and discomfort it caused her, but also because of the need he had for contact with her flesh, the warmth of her presence.

Ramón was startled from his reveries by a timid knock on the door. It was about ten p.m. and the snow was just beginning to taper off. The airline had called to confirm his reservation in the morning. He walked over to the door and opened it. A young, blond haired girl was standing in the hallway dressed in a frilly, pink and white, gingham waitress's uniform. Her long, yellow, gossamer thin hair was pulled behind her head in a ponytail. She had pale, milky skin, almost translucent. The skirt of the dress reached down to just below her knees and the bodice was open just enough to expose a small, modest glimpse of her chest. She wore no makeup other than a slight rouge she had applied to her cheeks. She was wearing a pair of high topped, white cross trainers with pink laces and white bobby socks with a lacey fringe at the tops. Her arms were crossed in front of her, cradling her heavy, winter coat and the strap of a small, black, imitation leather pocketbook. She had a nervous, expectant look on her face.

Ramón stepped aside and the young woman walked hesitatingly into the room. She turned to the naked, coffee colored skinned man and said in a sweet, slightly tremulous voice, “We're not really supposed to...."

It was all she got out as Ramón sent her a strong, mesmerizing message of acceptance. He shut the door behind her and urged her deeper into the room. He took the coat and pocketbook from her and laid them over a chair.

Abigail Lagerkvist came from solid, Norwegian stock. Her forbears had crossed the plains in a Conestoga wagon a hundred and fifty years ago. Her father and mother, together with her older brothers, Michael and Jan, still worked the three thousand acre farm out in North Platte. But 19 year old Abigail, her friends called her Abby, was not made for the bucolic life of a Nebraska farmstead. She had left a little over six months ago and, together with her friend Heloise, had taken an apartment in Omaha while they attended nursing school at the University. The job in the motel coffee shop helped pay the rent while her family subsidized the tuition and some of her living expenses.

The dark, handsome stranger at booth ten had seemed so polite and friendly and Abby was drawn to him naturally. The woman he was with was pretty and sophisticated and spoke with the flat, nasal accents of a Chicago native. Abby felt somewhat jealous of her friendship with the alluring man. When she had served the couple dessert and coffee, she had been pleased when he introduced himself and proffered her his hand. A strange tingle had seemed to climb up her arm and, as the night wore on, her fascination with him had grown obsessive.

Abby's boyfriend was a three sport jock at the University of Nebraska, playing football and baseball in the fall and spring and wrestling in the winter. He was okay as far as Abby was concerned, but he didn't measure up to the maturity and confident good looks of the Latino man. Besides, she knew he cheated on her. Lately, she had felt he was using her as a sexual convenience when any of the other, prettier girls were unavailable. Although Abby had a voluptuous figure, with large, soft breasts, her face was just a little plain and her body just a little too big boned to be considered alluring. Heloise had been after her to dump Ben, but the thing was that she enjoyed, if not the sex, the physical closeness and the warmth of his hard, naked flesh, and she didn't want to be all alone. She was shy and reserved and found it hard to relate to boys in general. Ben was only her second lover. She was sure Ben had spotted these qualities in her and was taking full advantage. But having him over a couple nights a week, even if she had to spend Saturday night alone many times while, as he put it, he was “out with friends,” was better than nothing. He was kind and friendly while he was with her and never hit her or was mean.

When her shift was over, Abby had called Heloise and told her she would be staying the night at the motel. When it snowed here, it often snowed hard, and the winds that rolled across the prairie whipped the streams of heavy, white precipitation into a frenzy, obscuring the roads and leaving dangerous, deep snowdrifts. The motel manager let the girls stay in empty rooms on nights like this and so Heloise was not surprised at Abby's call.

Rather than going to the main desk and getting a room, Abby had taken the back elevator to the fourth floor and knocked on the room that corresponded with the room number on the dinner check. Although she felt frightened and somewhat foolish at her presumption that the man wanted her, somehow she was sure it would work out. She had no idea what she would say when he opened the door or if, god forbid, the woman opened it instead. But her compulsion to see the Hispanic man again was so strong, she decided she would think of something if she was asked “what the fuck she wanted."

Abby had been startled to see the man naked when he opened the door. But the sight of him made her heart flutter. After she had entered the room and the man had given her a long, enthralling look, her skittishness had vanished. She was beginning to feel this was going to be one of the most exciting nights of her life.

Ramón could feel the emanations from the girl's psyche and they were as sweet and pure as fresh cream. He detected her inner loneliness and doubts about her beauty. Her spirit was generous and giving and he saw she longed for the company of someone kind and gentle enough to share it with. The dream man was overwhelmed with the goodness of the girl. He was constantly astounded at the capacity of this species for love. As he saw her warm, blue eyes looking up at him, he felt his own eyes brim with tears. He put her arms around her and hugged her, sending her waves of affection. Her body was supple and giving and he could feel her mind welcome him and his embrace. He placed his hands on either side of her head and kissed her, gently at first, brushing her lips with his. When he felt her passion start to rise, he parted her lips with his tongue and touched hers, transferring his desire to her. Her arms circled his back and she pulled him into her, crushing her breasts against his chest and kissing him back. Her yearning for him flowed from her and the dream man stoked her lusts.

When their lips finally broke, Ramón stood back from the panting girl and began to unbutton the front of her dress. When the top was loose, he pulled it from her shoulders and then down over her broad, curvaceous hips, down her thighs and to the floor. She leaned on him with one hand as he helped her step out of it. While on his knees, he loosened the laces to her sneakers and pulled them and her socks from her feet. As he rose again, he ran his hands up the girl's soft thighs, over her hips and to her shoulders. He embraced her once more, enjoying the heat of her thighs and belly as they pressed against him.

Ramón guided the excited, panting girl by her hand to the bed. The room had come equipped with two double beds and he led her to the empty one. While she stood at his side, clad in her pretty panties and sturdy bra, he pulled the covers down to its foot, leaving a broad, white expanse of crisp clean sheet, and urged her onto it. She sat demurely and patiently on the edge of the mattress while he stepped over to the dark haired woman on the other bed and, placing his hand on her head, deepened her slumber. He then turned off the bright, overhead light and turned on the small lamp on the nightstand casting the room in a soft, soothing light.

Abigail had seen the naked form of the sophisticated older woman when she had come into the room. She had not given her much thought. Whatever this man wanted seemed right to her. Even though making love to a strange man with another woman in the room was not something she thought she would ever do, it didn't bother her. The man was everything. She needed him and didn't care whatever his terms were. She felt safe with him, cared for, like it was supposed to be.

By the time Ramón had come back to the bed, the young girl had removed her bra and panties and was lying on the bed on her side facing him. One of her soft, pale arms was under her pillow and the other was laying along her thighs, her palm rubbing her skin languidly. He got onto the bed next to her and laid his body alongside, pressing his skin against hers. She put her arm around him and offered him her lips. While they kissed, he stroked his hand the length of her plush body, fueling her need.

He made love to the pleasant, happy girl for almost two hours. Her large breasts were sensitive and she moaned with pleasure as he suckled at them. The dream man luxuriated in her soft, smooth, pale flesh. She was not trim and toned, but she was not fat. Lying on her, their legs and arms intertwined, was like swimming in a sea of soft, warm, comforting flesh. When he passed his hand over her downy sex lips and delved his finger between them, she sighed deeply, spreading her legs to give him access. He made her come twice with his cock before flooding her womb with his essence. When he placed his lips between her thighs, she called out, “Oh, yesssss! Yesssssss! Ohhhhhhhhh!” grabbing his hair tightly in her strong, farm girl hands. Her body shook and writhed with pleasure when she came as he sucked and lapped his tongue at her stiffened bud of pleasure. It was his turn to groan when she reciprocated, drawing her lips tightly around his cock, drinking down his discharge as his cock throbbed and spasmed in ecstasy.

Jonathan Blackthorne was in the dream lab at his New Mexico Fortress when the call came in. It was Bob, his Apache major domo, who had taken it. He told the caller to stand by and immediately phoned his superior. When Blackthorne answered his cell phone, Bob gave him a simple message, “He's here."

The dream lab was a sprawling, windowless, one story building located near the hacienda. It was surrounded by two electrified barbed wire fences and its gate was always manned by two or more armed Apache guards. A tunnel led from the building to the hacienda giving Blackthorne direct access to it. Of all of his projects, it was the one he had had the most hope for.

The interior of the building was simple. The entranceway was a large, steel reinforced door and opened to a small reception area staffed usually by one of the young Apache women who had pledged their allegiance to the Lord of Conquerors. There was a telephone on the desk that led only to the interior phone system of the Fortress and did not carry an outside line. Its purpose was primarily to notify the facility of the arrival of new subjects or so the staff could be reached in case of an emergency.