Someone Else's Dream (7 page)

His mood had changed in a flash. He could feel the pent-up anger. He had expected Marcia simply to reply
‘desert’
and was surprised when she rejected him. He did feel rejected and he wondered what gave her the right to reject him. To him she had made it perfectly clear she was his, whenever he wanted her.
Why would the bitch do that to me?
He couldn’t see himself texting her again. She would have to come to him, gagging for it, before he could be bothered with her again. He sat on his sofa for a while looking at his grubby hands from the gardening, disappointment and frustration building up inside him. He was hungry, so he swilled his hands and decided to get some fresh air and a take-away. It was getting late and the day had flown past. Other than writing his best seller he thought it had been a waste of a day. He didn’t want the day to end up like this. It had started off so well and he wanted it to finish the same way.

*              *              *

Marcia was working until closing time at the Bluebell Pub. Normally it would be gone midnight before she got home. Tonight was quiet, with just her and the landlady serving; they had two customers each. Helen the landlady told her to get herself off home at 10pm as it was so quiet. It was not an offer she was going to refuse and Marcia got herself half a lager and sat down, now her shift had finished early.

She looked at the message she had received earlier; the message with the one word
‘Dinner’.
It had come as a surprise. She really enjoyed her sexual encounters with Matt, and after she thought she may have shown too much enthusiasm, but she was certainly not against doing it again sometime, but really she was thinking in a month or two; that’s if they were both still in the same situation. The text disappointed her a bit. It made her feel used and cheap. She knew they were using each other and that she really had made all the running, but there was no way she was going to be someone’s everyday shag. She would do it when she wanted; it was always going to be her call. As she got up and said her goodnights before walking home, she wondered how a man who at one time would not look at her suddenly wanted her so much. She smiled; it made her feel just a little bit better. Until she thought that all she had really done was give her body away far too easily and her smile turned to a frown as she felt like a used piece of meat.

The longer the wait the better it will be;
she told herself...
and if he really fancies me then he’ll wait, won’t he?

She crossed the road from the Bluebell Pub and walked up the road a little. She took the short-cut to her home that she took most nights. It was an alley between the houses, only about one hundred yards long but it cut off quite a bit of the walk. There was a six-foot wall on one side and an eight-foot wild hedge on the other. It was dark, as the moonlight was hidden by the clouds and no street lamps available to light up the alley. The ground was soft under her feet and she walked slowly as she was unsure what she was stepping on.

She was beginning to regret deciding to go that way, as it seemed eerily dark without the moonlight glow. She’d walked about twenty yards into the alley when she heard shuffling and her heart went into her mouth as she immediately thought of rats. Then she thought she could just see an outline of someone in front of her and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she had just bumped into someone walking the other way. She was just about to say good evening when her words were muffled by the fist that hit her in the face. Letting out a cry just before the second punch caught her in the eye, she slumped to the ground holding her face. Her body slammed against the brick wall as she landed and she felt the crack on her elbow as it connected with the brickwork; the pain racing up to her head. As she lay on the dirt she felt a further two punches before she passed out. The last thing she remembered feeling was just pain, the last thing she saw was darkness, as her body shut down and she lost the battle for consciousness.

*              *              *

After Darren had his fun, he was true to his word and like the little boy he sometimes was, he left to go back to the beach where he had previously left his friends. He could not believe his luck in having a girlfriend like Carla. She was certainly a class above the other girls he knew and usually hung around with. She always dressed nicely, looked stunning and she always smelt beautiful. He could not believe he had just visited her and she’d opened her legs for him. He knew she wouldn’t do that for anyone else, only him. She was the one true lady of his dreams and it made him feel special knowing he could have her anytime he wanted. He knew she loved and craved for him. She had a body to die for and sometimes Darren thought he would do just that if he had to.
Otherwise, why would she let me shag her?
He asked himself.

He made his way to the beach where he could see his mate Smithy still there, along with another lad and two young girls in their teens. They were sitting around a fire they’d lit. It wasn’t really cold but the fire gave off a comforting glow. The two girls were drinking cider from a shared bottle and the boys were drinking cans of lager. Darren grabbed a can and sat beside them; he could smell a faint aroma of pot, something they occasionally participated in, although Darren had almost stopped smoking it as he knew for sure that Carla would not approve. Smithy spoke first, and he had a grin on his face.

“You weren’t long, did she throw you out?” he laughed. Darren took a long swig of his lager.

“She was busy writing her book thingy, I just gave her a seeing-to and left her to it.”

“In your dreams,” said one of the girls, not believing a word of it as they all started giggling.

“Hey, she was gagging for it, so I fucked her brains out,” he shot back, with a smug look on his face. He really didn’t care if they believed him, he knew what he had just done.

“In your dreams,” repeated the disbelieving Smithy.

“Well, it couldn’t have been much of one, you’ve only been gone a few minutes,” laughed one of the girls.

Darren didn’t answer, he was thinking of Carla lying on the bed exhausted after her ‘seeing-to’.

*              *              *

Carla showered after getting Darren to leave. She was feeling a bit cheapened, wondering how she had actually got to the stage where she would allow a young boy, five years her junior, and pop in and use her like he had done. She fancied him a lot, his body was in superb shape and looking at him brought all the right tingles coursing through her body, but she wished he would learn how to make love to her and not just use her as some sort of sperm dumping ground. She hadn’t had many boyfriends and had only slept with six people; none of them one night stands. Carla had to be in a relationship before she would share her body with anyone and even then the first time would always be with fear and always in the dark.

She thought she would be able to train Darren in the art of lovemaking, not that she was any expert herself, but she knew that at some time foreplay needs to be involved. Darren’s idea of being tender and passionate was just to go slower. Now she wasn’t sure if she had the time for this anymore or even the inclination. It was proving to be a harder task then she thought. She longed for Darren to make love to her, slowly and sensually and touch and kiss her in places that made her tingle. She now doubted if it would ever come and she wondered why all the guys she had been with were all the ‘wham bam, thank you ma’am’ type. One thing Darren did give her during their lovemaking was security. He made her feel safe and nobody had made her feel like that before.

She was looking forward to having lunch tomorrow at Caesar’s with her friend Donna; she needed a laugh and Donna would certainly provide that. Donna was fun and her best friend; they had a deep secret that they both shared and from that day they had become as close as sisters. She fell asleep with that thought in her mind drifting into her dreams. She dreamt of Darren, she dreamt of Charlotte and then she dreamt of being stalked.

She slept-in, longer than she meant; her night had been restless as she tossed and turned and she didn’t really fall asleep until the early hours. The stalker dream particularly disturbed her. She wasn’t one for having bad dreams, but this one had woken her in a cold sweat.

She couldn’t recall much of the dream at all; other than it was a man and he was chasing her down a dark alley. She was running away from him but in her dream it felt more like she was running on the spot and her chaser was never more than three feet away from her. There was no end in sight, just an everlasting alley and in her hand, she was carrying something. It was her book ‘Charlotte’s Dream’.

Apart from her somewhat restless night, she felt quite refreshed and she thought that the lie-in had made up for her lack of sleep. She’d planned on doing some writing before meeting Donna but she would have to give that a miss now. She wasn’t too perturbed. Her enthusiasm, somehow, for that book, had gone; not for the one she had written, but the one her publisher wanted it to be. She had to do it, she knew that, as she was going to need the money, but it could wait for today.
Maybe after I’ve had a good catch up with Donna.
She put on her best jeans and her recently bought, beige top and made her way to Caesar’s. It was time to switch off from the rest of the world and enter her friend Donna’s world; it always seemed far more exciting.

Caesar’s was a popular eating place just between the two beaches of Trecco Bay and Sandy Bay on the holiday resort of Porthcawl. The food was simple and mostly English though they did offer the odd curry and some Italian options. As Carla pulled up to the carpark she could see Donna sitting at a table near the window. She waved frantically, through the glass, as Carla got out of her car and she rushed into the restaurant to sit opposite her friend. They had been friends since they were teens and always used to be seen together, until life got in the way. Now they would meet up once or twice a month; sometimes for lunch and sometimes for a night out on the town. In-between those jaunts they would occasionally visit each other at their homes. Donna was blonde, blue eyed and at thirty-four was every bit as beautiful as Carla. Heads would turn when either of them walked down the street. There would be a stampede when they walked together. It was a friendship both girls knew would never be lost, they would always be there for each other, whatever the circumstances. Sometimes Carla would wonder what she would do without her friend. She was always there for her, always ready to comfort her when previous relationships had broken up, supporting her through writing her first novel when most people were telling her to give up and get a proper job. Donna would be there encouraging her, sometimes loading up the laptop herself and insisting she carried on writing, bringing her lashings of coffee as she did so. She had supported her all the way. Carla regarded her as a sister, not just a friend. Donna had always been there for her, ever since that day they met in awful circumstances.

They kissed each other across the table, as a waiter came over. Carla thought she had barely got settled and he was being a bit pushy as he hadn’t even given her time to look at the menu, but she didn’t need any  time; she knew exactly what she wanted. It was the one time, when with Donna, she wouldn’t have to watch what she ate. It was the time when calories went out of the window they were sat in front of.

“Fish, chips and mushy peas, twice, with two coffee’s,” Donna ordered. She looked at Carla for an approving look, not that she’d really needed to, Carla gave one and the waiter left.

“You still with that dopey Darren?” Donna asked. Carla giggled; it was probably only Donna and her mother who could get away with saying that.

“You sound just like my mother,” she told her friend, as both girls grinned.

The fish and chips were every bit as good as they expected; there was something different about having fish and chips by the seaside. Despite all the other great meals on offer at Caesars, fish and chips appeared to be on everyone’s plate. They chatted as they ate. Donna told her about her latest love conquest and they both laughed out loud when she told him about the size of his penis. “I thought he was going to split me in two.” Their laughter ringing out into the restaurant, had cheered Carla up no end. It was just the tonic she needed, even though she felt herself going slightly red.

Carla told Donna about her disappointment with ‘Charlotte Fights Back’; that the publisher wanted it racier and she didn’t know how to do that. Donna’s response quite surprised her, even coming from Donna, it came as a shock.

“Describing dirty sex is easy, it’s the story that’s hard,” she told Carla.

Carla wondered what sort of sex life she had been leading. Even her own mother seemed to know more about ‘sex’ than her.

“What do you mean?” Carla asked.

“Well you’ve got the story already. That’s the hard part, right? You’ve created the scene and now all you got to do is turn it into filth.”

Carla giggled. “Guess I ain’t had enough filth in my life!”

“What you doing the rest of the day? Donna queried.

“Trying to write my filth!”

“Right, I’m not doing anything. Let’s go back to yours and finish that bloody novel.”

So that’s exactly what they did; they paid the bill, got in their cars and drove to Carla’s beach house, where they sat on the veranda, in the sunshine. A wine was poured, which cemented the decision that Donna wouldn’t be going home tonight. The laptop was soon out and Donna was quickly into her creative mode.

“Right!” said Donna as she flicked through the first romantic scene, “this should be easy. First thing, let’s call it ‘Charlotte Bites Back’. That gives it sexual feel from the get-go. Basic lessons kiddo; for a start, it’s not a penis, it’s a cock.” The words were rolling off her tongue now. “Write this down”.

Carla got her notepad and pen before Donna continued her spiel. “It’s not erect, it’s hard; it’s not a vagina, it’s a pussy; they didn’t make love, they fucked; it’s not oral, it’s a blowjob; it’s not anal, its arse; they’re not breasts, they’re tits. Got it?”

Carla nodded with a smile as wide as Donna’s,

“Right, now, let’s give Charlotte a real good time, shall we?”

“You’re definitely worse than my mum. I quite liked the splitting in two, references,” Carla giggled.

“Oh yeah, we can difinitely use that.”

They worked until the wee hours, sharing two bottles of wine, until all the six chapters of love scenes were changed into erotica. It was cheaply and crudely done, but Carla guessed that was exactly what the publishers wanted. She changed the ending to allow Charlotte to be left in a potential live-or-die situation; basically just ending the book with the car crash and removing the last chapter. It had shortened the book a bit but was still long enough for a novel.

Carla looked at it differently now. This was no longer her moving story of a girl come good, it was now a story of graphic sex. The book still needed a lot of tidying up but it was still a good draft edition. In their drunken stupor, they wanted to mail it to Stephen Woodhouse, but perhaps fortunately, the wine kicked in and they failed to do so. Giggling, they decided they had better check it over when sobriety woke them in the morning. They had roared with laughter almost non-stop as they’d re-written it; Carla marvelling at the way her friend was able to describe the explicit scenes, as if it was all from experience. She eventually decided it probably was and she wondered, not for the first time, what it was she had been missing out on. She certainly hadn’t lived a life like Charlotte, or so it seemed, like her friend Donna.

With only one double bed in the beach house, they slept together; both girls soon falling asleep with the effects of the wine. In her dreams Carla was once again in that alley being chased. Once again she could not move, as if she was running on the spot and once again she woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing the outcome.

Donna was still fast asleep, the wine having taken her into a deep sleep. Carla got herself a drink of water and got back into bed. No more dreams came to her that night, although, for a while she stayed awake, thinking about her re-occurring dream. It was beginning to unnerve her a little.

*              *              *

They both nursed headaches the next morning and were sat out on the veranda with black coffee and paracetamol. The day was cloudy and the clouds hovered above them as if looking down on them, unable to move due to the lack of breeze. The clouds bore no rain; the morning was muggy and the sea calm and peaceful across the sand dunes. Neither girl spoke for a while, just letting the effects of the painkillers kick in, comfortable in each other’s silence. Carla sat in her Minion pyjamas and Donna in a plainer set she’d borrowed from Carla.