NightWhere

Chapter Ten

Dreaming

Sometimes the night seemed to last forever. Sometimes Rae wished it would never end.

Right now…she was feeling the former. She’d been awake for hours, as next to her, Mark slept, sometimes snoring faintly. She wished she could let go and dream, as he did. Instead, she lived inside her memories, reliving every moment of her last night at NightWhere.

Every time she thought of Kharon, her skin grew flushed. She wanted to be with him now so badly her breasts ached. The memory of his touch was like a smoker’s lust for a cigarette. Once she began to see his face, his chest…she couldn’t let go of the memories. Her crotch warmed and grew wet, and her hand moved there to ease the itch that built…and then her fingers had to move faster, massaging that hungry spot faster and faster until she had to stop and quietly slip her panties down her thighs and around her ankles so that her fingers could more easily be buried inside her sex. Carefully, she moved her hips faster in a tight motion, sucking her fingers inside her as, next to her, her clueless husband slept.

In the midst of it all, she saw Kharon’s face as if he were right there, and heard his voice as if he were licking and whispering in her ear.

“Come back to me,” he said.

“Stay with me,” he said.

“Forever,” he whispered.

Gordon rolled over and looked at his shrew of a wife. She may be tiny but she snored like a truck driver, and drool wet her pillow.

If he could have, Gordon would have taken a hammer to her head and ended her miserable existence. He often drew great autoerotic pleasure from imagining just that. He hated her.

But if he did that, there’d be nobody to take care of the kid. And someone had to do that while he went to work.

So he let her live in his house and eat his food. But in his heart, Gordon wanted to kill her. To finally sever her hold on him. She’d dragged him into her life and used the baby to hold him there. It was never what he’d wanted.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine his life without her, but instead all he could think about was the sound and feel of his whip cracking down on the flesh of Amelia.

He kept seeing the open O of Amelia’s pain-thirsty mouth. That, and the face of one of the NightWhere Watchers. He didn’t know them by name, but he knew them by sight. And this one, in particular, he’d seen around the club a lot. The Watcher kept saying things to him. Things like:

Kill.

Fuck,

Kill.

He liked the way this guy thought.

And then the guy showed him the pictures of a blonde and a redhead tied to the rack. They were fuckin’ stacked bitches…and naked as jaybirds…and bleeding from the cuts that someone had slit across their breasts.

Gordon reached between his legs to calm the excitement there, and instead of bringing himself off, he lost himself in the dream.

In the back of his mind, a voice whispered, “Come to NightWhere for The Crossing.”

Amelia shook on her couch and moaned. A scab pulled loose from the whip tracks on her back and blood began to flow again into the fabric. She hadn’t moved from the sofa in hours. She was barely alive.

“Come back,” a voice said in her ear. “Join us in The Crossing.”

“Yes,” she whispered. The thought of returning to NightWhere made her blood pump faster. But her eyes still did not open.