It Came Upon a Midnight Dream
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© 2013 Bobbi Romans
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Contents
The storm blew in, howling with angry fury. I snatched the down comforter and yanked the thing up to my chin. Sure, I love winter. Love donning all my gay apparel. No, I do. Thick warm socks, old sweatshirts paired with soft faded fleece bottoms—the works.
Yep, I looked ready to stroll those super click runways the models walked. Um, not. Is it bad to admit I always watch waiting for a supermodel to bust her ass? We’ve all seen the clip where one does. We laugh. I mean, I do pity her, but laughter comes first.
What I want right now, though, is someone to take up the chilly spot on the bed next to me. Someone to warm me through the night. Being a single girl in New York is rough on a good day. Also being damn near five feet ten inches and one hundred forty pounds of plain Jane in a town where models came a dime a dozen... Well, those measurements don’t help for shit.
That’s me, average Zhara Johnson, accountant at Polly’s Pastries down on the corner of Crosby Ave. and Middleton Rd. All that said, I feel kinda lucky. My skin is virtually scar free and though I can afford to get and maintain a weave, truthfully, I can’t stand sitting still for so long. So I opt for my natural hair, cropped short. Hey, with sparkly shadow and a good set of earrings, in my opinion, I appear far more elegant.
Sophisticated, even. Not the sexy glamorous hooker-mama type the cute dudes in this town are apparently attracted to. At least with me those bozos wouldn’t wake up shocked to see what their model overnighter looked like under all the pancake makeup and glitter in the morning.
Nope. With me, what you see is what you get.
I glanced at the clock. Three a.m., far too early to even think of rising on this frigid morning. Pulling the covers up just a tad more, to my ears, I let the whistling winds lull me back into a sleepy state.
I awoke and found myself in my pajamas in the middle of the Bronx zoo staring at the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid eyes on.
A white tiger.
A blue-eyed white tiger at that.
The wondrous beast stalked to the fencing. His gaze not predatory, but curious. If he’d been human, I’d have said curious.
Wait, him? I stepped closer to the fence and tilted to attempt a peek beneath his fur from this angle.
Oh, yeah. Boy kitty, all right. No missing the size of those balls hanging in the back.
When I righted myself the damn thing grinned at me. No shit. Full-fledged, big-ass grin. On a fucking tiger.
“Quit laughing at me,” I demanded, indignant. I’ll be damned if the thing didn’t respond. Wasn’t a purr, or roar, but a yip-like sound as he tossed his head
back.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Wonder what your name is. I think I’ll call you smart-ass. The name suits you quite well, in fact.”
Again the jeep-sized
furball
made a yipping, laugh-like sound.
“Fine. Smart-Ass it is, then.” The cat leapt toward the gate at the side of his enclosure. Paced the area as if trying to tell me to let him out.
“Tigers are known for eating people. I don’t think releasing you is the best of ideas.”
The damn thing licked his lips. The look turned from curious to predatory and then he ambled my way again.
I still couldn’t believe I was standing in the middle of the Bronx zoo, with snow coming down, having a discussion with a tiger. My gray flannel, ugly nightgown had kept me warm so far—but wait. That couldn’t be.
How was any of this even possible?
The tiger turned and showed me his ass. I’d obviously pissed him off when I refused to free him.
And then it happened.
The son of a bitch sprayed me.
I was in a deserted zoo. Talking with a tiger. In the snow. And now smelling rank from cat urine.
This shit better be a nightmare.
Nnnaannnaaannnnnna
Nnnaannnaannnnnnna
I slung my pillow hard as I freaking could. I hate mornings but I loathe alarms even more. The infernal blaring waking me from a perfectly good dream...
Bolting upright, I actually experienced a strange sense of confusion. The room spun as if I’d gotten up too quickly as reality clashed with dream and the lines surrounding both, blurred. The whole zoo adventure had seemed so real.
I had to be at work in less than an hour. Time to get my ass in gear. As I stood to head for the shower an awful odor hit me. What in the hell could be making that stench? Oh, it was horrible. When I turned the aroma of ammonia hit me hardest. I lifted my gown to my nose and boom—there it was. Smelled like someone had dumped ammonia on me during the night.
What the hell?
It actually smelled like cat spray. How could that even be possible? Another whiff proved however illogical the gown smelling like something which happened in a dream may be, didn’t change the outcome. There was a damn smell.
Maybe a stray cat got it?
Yeah, and opened your drawer and pissed on one thing.
Not likely. Another glance at the time proved I didn’t have time to solve the stinky mystery now.
I slipped the gown over my head, trying to keep the smell from touching my body any more than the fabric already had, but there was no avoiding my nipples.
In my cold-ass bedroom with barely there heat, my nipples were rock hard and pebbled to painful tips, no doubt trying to keep the blood close to home.
Yeah, the girls weren’t happy about the cold room and neither was I. I’d had little choice. Rent was fair and work within walking distance.
I showered, dressed, and walked to Polly’s. The strangest sensation of apprehension slithered through me. Like I’d forgotten something or someone. Hard as I tried to think of what, I couldn’t finger who or what.
“Order up,” Tim bellowed from the large copper coffee machine.
“Welcome to Polly’s,” Polly announced to the couple coming in behind her. Polly was in full holiday garb. As-is, with her rosy cheeks and white hair, Polly always has a Mrs. Claus persona going on. With the outfit? Kids eyeballed her especially hard and always went on best behavior when catching sight of her. Like they thought she’d rat them out to the big fat man himself.
The week had been busier than usual, and today already gave the appearance of being crazier than yesterday. The holidays and sidewalk shopping always brought out the urge for a nice éclair and coffee. Something sugary for energy and something warm to take the bite off old man winter.
Polly had the place decorated to the nines. Wreaths hung on every door, including the bathrooms, bubble lights ran the entire length of the tray ceiling and mini trees stood in every corner. Hell, Polly even had a tree, sprayed with pine scent, in the bathroom. Her wicked sense of humor lay within that tree. The thing was called a Singing Frasier Fir.
Yes, the darn thing actually sang. About the time someone would drop the drawers, it began belting out a carol wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. I still wasn’t ruling out one of our elderly patrons having an accident from the shock of the thing.
I finished the day uneventfully and was just leaving the place, when the same nagging feeling from that morning returned. Damn it. No matter how hard I tried to recall anything I might have overlooked, not a damn thing came to mind except the odd notion to visit the zoo.
I visited the zoo and found no white tigers. Yeah, I looked. I even asked if they’d had any guest species come.
No.
So why the hell did I feel guilty over letting down some damn tiger I had no proof even existed? Hell, even if it did exist, the beast had fucking sprayed me. Hello, not exactly the type of thing to draw one back for a visit!
I yanked my soft down comforter back from the pillows on the bed and, wearing the thinner, less warming, white cotton gown I normally wore in summer when sweating to death was a fear, crawled in for a winter night’s slumber.
Though the snow had stopped this morning when I’d left for work, flurries had begun on my trip home from the zoo. I hopped out of bed and opened my curtains. My bedroom, which sat on the third floor in my apartment complex, gave me a gorgeous moon setting to showcase the gentle mini flakes that came down. I slid back into the warmth my bed offered and gave in to the pull of sleep.
I found myself once again at the zoo. Instead of standing in front of the tiger, I stood in front of the gates. Locked gates. On the other side of the gates stood the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.
A Viking of a man. Well over six feet and at least two hundred and fifty pounds of pure, muscled man. Yowza.
His hair was almost platinum and, like me, he wasn’t dressed for the weather. He stood bare-chested and wore a green and blue kilt complete with sporran. Too bad. As hard as the wind was gusting, it wouldn’t take much to blow
the ...
Holy shit! The sporran might be there but the damn thing must be absent of any weight. The wind curled beneath the plaid fabric and blew it straight to his belly. I knew what men wore under their kilts now.
Not a damn thing.
Hung was an understatement. He was also a true blond.
In all my twenty-eight years I’d never seen such a sight. Sure, I’ve seen blond, but this was so way fucking far from that, he almost looked bare. I gawked away, knowing deep down this was a dream, and mine to boot, so I stared all I liked. No harm no foul. Hell, I didn’t even have to worry about birth control.
Woo
hoo
!
As I stared, his thick cock rose in silent greeting. The man made no move to conceal himself. He seemed quite at ease knowing his skirt billowed in the winter winds. For most men that same arctic air would have shrunk their
willie
into a Vienna sausage nub of thing. Not this guy. He didn’t appear the slightest bit uncomfortable about his nakedness nor the biting weather which seemed to be turning more violent as the moments ticked by.
“Come to me.”
Whoa, Nellie! My dream guy spoke. A deep, low, masculine tone that had me wanting to tear through the damn fence and rip the itchy-looking skirt right off him. The snowflakes took on a thicker, heavier appearance and again I wondered how it was we weren’t freezing our very bits off.
I saw his gaze lower as his jawline grew stronger, as if he’d locked his jaw or grated his teeth. A quick glance down and I realized instantly what’d he’d zeroed in on.
Though the cold strangely didn’t bother me, it hadn’t stopped my body from reacting to its icy caress, evident in the way my dark nipples jutted through the thin, white, cotton shift. Not just headlights, but full-on beams. The parking lights behind me most likely caused my gown to appear sheer as well. It wasn’t a very thick-gauge material but hell, it wasn’t like I could actually do anything about any of it. Not that I was sure I would. Not after catching Mr. Dream Guy’s hungry, predatory appearance, so penetrating and intense it rooted me to the spot.
He cocked his head to the side, as if questioning my lack of come hither to his command, then stalked my way. He came as far as the gate before the frigid iron barred him from coming any closer, though I knew he wanted to. I understood the desire that swept over him, for the same fiery need burned through my veins as well.
We were so close, yet not close enough for touching. God, I wanted to touch. Needed to do so as much as his tented kilt indicated he did.
Fuck it. I closed the gap between myself and the gate. Grasped the popsicle-like bars, frustrated at the barrier between us and thinking of all the creative ways we could still get some jollies.
“Who are you?” I whispered, forcing his nocturnal gaze to mine. I said this because his eyes had taken on a preternatural shine. Like a cat’s when you shine a light on them.
Or a gator’s. But a cat—or a tiger as I guessed him to be—was far more romantic than any thoughts of getting my groove on with a gator.
He moved his hands to cover mine, gripping the bars. His cool blue gaze shifted to almost apologetic as he opened his mouth to answer.
“I am...”
Neennnnnennnn
Nennnnennnnnn
Nennnnnennnnn
I bolted upright, slinging my pillow at the alarm. Of all the fucking times.