Flesh For Fantasy. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
her wet skin. “Ooh, that’s cold. I’m going to push it inside. Hold your beautiful prick while I fill myself. We can pretend that you’re here beside me.”
Maggie heard Paul moan softly and she pushed the dildo into her cunt. “So full,” she whispered. “So full of your hard shaft.” She rubbed her clit faster as she moved the dildo inside her body. “I’m so close. Are you close, too?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, sweet thing.”
“I’m going to come soon,” she purred. “Come with me. Soon. Soon.” She felt her climax building, flowing up through her, curling her toes and arching her back. “Yes,” she cried as the heat flooded her body. “Yes.” She could feel the clutching movements of her muscles against the artificial phallus as waves of pleasure engulfed her. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Paul called. “Right now.”
For a while the only sound through the phone lines was panting and a few low moans. Then Maggie slowly withdrew the dildo from her body, reveling in the soft relaxation that always followed a good, hard climax. “That was so good,” she said, her heartbeat slowing. “Not as good as having you here, of course.”
“Oh, shit, sweet thing. I got goo all over the bedspread.”
Maggie giggled. “It probably isn’t the first time. It will wash. Just leave the chambermaid an extra-big tip.”
“It never ceases to amaze me how easily you do that to me.”
“That’s what I’m good for. I love giving you pleasure, but,” she said, not allowing him to interrupt, “that’s not what you build a marriage on. Good sex is wonderful, but it’s not enough.”
“Oh, Maggie mine, it’s not just good sex. We have great times together.”
“I’ve got to go now, Paul. Call me when you get back.”
“I will. Good night, and please think about marrying me.”
“Good night, Paul.” Maggie placed the receiver on its cradle and sighed. Maybe if I’d found someone like Paul twenty years ago, she thought, but things are as things are. She rubbed the heel of her hand up and down her breastbone trying to ease the sudden feeling of pressure. But I’m truly happy, she thought. I have regrets as everyone who is human does, but I enjoy making love and I’m well paid for it. And why not?
Maggie took a hot shower then climbed into her wide bed, already wondering what Carl would enjoy the following evening. Carl had the most creative mind. Maybe she’d use the handcuffs and spreader bar. She fell asleep, unconsciously rubbing her breastbone.
Maggie was totally confused. She was standing in a large room, now wearing a soft, flowing white garment. “What the hell…”
“Not exactly,” a voice said through the heavy white mist that covered the ground and swirled about her waist as Maggie took a step forward.
“What’s all this?” Maggie asked, her arched eyebrows almost meeting the middle. This is a very strange dream, she thought.
“You like the mist?” the woman’s voice continued. “We had it added a few months ago. Gives the place a bit of atmosphere, don’t you think?”
Unable to make out the speaker, Maggie took another couple of steps forward. “Real nice,” she said dryly. This is the most bizarre dream I’ve had in a long time, she thought.
“It’s not a dream, Margaret Mary.”
“Lord, I haven’t been called Margaret Mary since grammar school.”
“That’s right. Forgive me,” the voice said, sounding genuinely sorry. “Maggie. Right?”
“Yes. Maggie. I hate to ask the obvious, but where am I?”
“That’s a bit hard to explain,” the voice continued. It was soft, melodious, and somehow soothing.
Maggie thought she should be afraid, but somehow she wasn’t. Maybe she should be angry at whoever was playing a joke on her. But instinctively she knew it was no trick. A dream, she told herself again. This is all just a dream.
“No,” another, sharper, voice said. “It’s not a dream. We’re quite real. Well, not real exactly.”
“Lucy,” the soft voice said, “let me do this. You’ll just confuse Margaret Mary unnecessarily. Sorry. I mean Maggie.”
“According to the record, she’s Margaret Mary Sullivan. We should call her by her true name.”
“Don’t pout, dear,” the soft voice said. “Let’s just get this done, shall we?”
“You know I hate it when you take over,” Lucy said.
“I know you do, but when you do the introductions, you tend to get pushy and scare people to death, so to speak.”
Maggie took another few steps and was finally able to make out the shapes of two women seated at a long table. “Maggie, my dear,” the soft voice said, “do sit down.”
The speaker was a blonde, with shoulder-length hair that waved softly around her ears. She was extremely attractive with a perfect, heart-shaped face, tiny, sloping nose, and beautiful lips. Her most arresting feature was her eyes, sky blue and fathomless, making Maggie suddenly picture calm seas or featureless blue skies. Those eyes should look cold and distant, Maggie thought, but they gazed almost lovingly at Maggie and made her feel warm, somehow. The woman motioned Maggie to a folding chair at the table, her long graceful fingers almost hidden beneath the sleeve of the diaphanous white gown she wore.
“Yes, yes, sit. Please.” The harsher voice came from a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, dressed in a tight black scoop-necked top that showed off her deep cleavage to its greatest advantage. She wore heavy makeup that accentuated the slight catlike tilt to her deep-set eyes. Her eyes, like her tablemate’s, were her most amazing feature, so dark brown they were almost black, with long curling lashes and magnificently arched black brows. As Maggie looked into this dark woman’s eyes, she fleetingly pictured a deep, bottomless well. “I’m Lucy,” the dark woman said.
“She already knows that,” the woman in white said gently but firmly to her neighbor. Then she turned to Maggie. “And I’m Angela.”
Maggie took a seat at the table, and crossed her legs in a businesslike fashion. “How do you do. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, would one of you two ladies tell me what this is all about?”
“Yes, yes,” the one called Lucy said. “You see, you’ve presented us with a considerable problem.”
“I’m afraid Lucy’s right,” Angela said. “A considerable problem.” She checked the computer monitor at her elbow, pressed a few keys and continued. “Most people are easy. One or two keystrokes, a peek at their history and the decision’s made. Actually, we’re going to introduce a system whereby the computer actually makes most of the decisions. Very straightforward. Usually.”
Maggie looked at the two women, so different, yet unconsciously mimicking each other’s motions. Patience, she told herself. I will understand this eventually.
“You, on the other hand,” Lucy said, clicking a few keys on her own console, “are a real dilemma.”
“I’m really sorry about that,” Maggie said, having no idea what was going on but willing herself to play along with this dream or hallucination or whatever it was.
“No, dear,” Angela said, “it’s not a hallucination either.”
“No, no, of course not.” Lucy turned to Angela. “I told you that the mist might be misunderstood. But no, you had to add it. ‘Gives the place an ethereal air,’ you said.” Lucy grumbled, “Now you see? It just adds to the natural confusion.”
“It might help if you’d begin,” Maggie said, “by telling me where we are. That might end some of the confusion.”