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Message-ID: <48845asstr$1092597003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Jim C" <jimc_author@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Dream State 05 (MF FF Mult fant rom cons mc Mdom oral) by JiMC
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Date: Sun, 15 Aug 2004 15:10:03 -0400
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JiMC is only a pseudonym.  Respect my privacy and I'll respect yours.

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<1st attachment, "DreamState-05.txt" begin>

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Copyright

    This work is copyright (c) 2000-2004 with all rights
reserved by its author.  The author specifically states that
this work may be redistributed, without charge, as long as it
is published with the same the story name ("Dream State"),
author ("JimC"), and that the story is distributed in its
entirety, including the disclaimer and all chapters.  You may
also modify this story by partitioning this into multiple
parts, as long as this disclaimer is included on each part.
I specifically do NOT permit this story to be published on
any site that charges any mandatory membership fees.

    The web sites StoriesOnline (http://storiesonline.net)
and ASSTR (http://asstr-mirror.org) have explicit permission to
archive this story.

    The following is a work of fiction (actually, "FANTASY").
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental and rather far fetched, if you ask me.

    This is a story that describes some sexually explicit
situations in a fictional (remember fiction?) setting.  The
target audience is adults (people over the age of eighteen)
with broad minds.  This audience is getting harder and harder
to find each year.

    Final disclaimer--I doubt that any of the people would
act in the way described herein, or even if things described
herein are even possible.  This is just fantasy, and should
be treated as such.  This fantasy takes place in the mid
1970s to late 1980s, without any fear from AIDS or any other
sexually transmitted diseases, so don't try this at home.

[Author's note: The first two parts to this story were
written as a setup for the rest of the story.  As such, they
are trying to convey a rather unique experience and don't
convey much (or even any!) sexual debauchery.  But you really
should read them if you wish to enjoy or understand the rest
of the story.]

Title: Dream State

Author: JiMC

Version: $Revision: 1.17 $ $Date: 2004/07/28 11:34:34 $

Chapter 5--"I'd do anything to get you into my world..."

    I must make an admission right here.

    Having two gorgeous women, naked and kneeling at your
feet, telling you that they are your slaves is one hell of a
mind blast.  Don't let anybody tell you any different.

    So, how does one actually deal with such an event?

    I looked at the two lovely ladies, and they were looking
up at me expectantly.

    I ended up asking probably the stupidest question you
could think of.  "What do you mean, 'slaves?'"

    Mary looked up at me.  "That's not the right word, but
the closest I can think of.  There's something..." She
paused, thinking of the right word.  "Something... magical
about you.  Debbie and I both feel it."

    I looked at Debbie, and she was nodding her head
vigorously.

    I shook my head.  "Up until tonight, neither of us had
ever met Debbie before!"

    It was Mary's turn to shake her head.  "Not true.  She
owns this apartment building.  I've seen her a few times over
the week or so."

    Debbie was still nodding her head in agreement.

    "So, do the two of you do this sort of thing often?" I
asked.

    Debbie giggled.

    Mary looked at me seriously.  "Never, Jim.  In fact,
until I woke up, I never considered sharing any guy with any
girl."

    "Me, neither," Debbie added.

    I sighed.  My dick was getting hard again.  It was like I
was a teenager again.  Debbie noticed, and started flicking
at it with her tongue.

    "Stop that, Debbie!" I said.

    "Can you answer me a question," Debbie asked.

    "You mean, why am I refusing your services?"

    "No," Debbie answered.  "How do you know my name?"

    "I... um... well..."

    "You see?" Debbie asked.  "That's how I know that you're
our... Master.  I mean..." Debbie looked at Mary for help.

    "Do you know how we connected last night, Jim?" Mary
asked.

    "I'm still having trouble with that," I admitted.

    "Debbie seems to have tuned into us," Mary explained.
"It's through you that we met.  It's like we're sisters with
a common father, except the sex angle is weird.  Maybe two
slaves with one master, but that's not quite right, either."

    This was too much for me to understand.

    "You don't mind that the three of us are naked?" I asked
Mary.

    Mary shook her head.  "I've never shared my man before,
and never even considered it before.  I felt Debbie come in,
and I immediately felt some sort of kinship with her, even
though she was having oral sex with you.  Everything changed
at that minute."

    "I need some time to think things through," I said.

    Both girls got up together, silently, and without any
protest.  They walked out of the living room into the
bathroom.  A few seconds later, I heard the water start.
About thirty seconds after that, I heard some squeals coming
from the bathroom, and I could tell that they were bathing
together.

    I sighed.

    I thought back to that dream of mine.  I know for a fact
that I was dreaming when I first saw Debbie.  How did she get
into Mary's apartment?

    I looked around, and didn't see any of her clothes--or
Mary's, for that matter--on the floor.  Did she walk
downstairs naked?

    How did I know that she lived upstairs, anyway?  Nobody
had told me that, but I knew it.

    What does all this mean, anyway?

    The girls had left the bathroom door open.  I wondered if
they wanted me to join in.  They probably did, but I decided
that it might not be a good idea.

    I had found that Mary was quite insatiable last
night--four orgasms (and I came during every one--which was
even more unbelievable).  I now had a second female to deal
with... it seemed inhuman.

    Moans from the bathroom interrupted my thoughts, and it
was quite apparent that they were getting it on in there.
I'd never seen two girls going at it before, except when
Debbie and Mary were sharing my cock.

    My curiosity got the better of me, and I tiptoed into the
bathroom.  There was steam coming out of the shower stall,
and I could barely make out a body from behind the
translucent curtain.  There was darkness at the bottom, and
it dawned on me that one girl was squatting down in front of
the other.

    I quietly moved the shower curtain so that I could peek
in.  Debbie had her face to Mary's crotch.  Mary's eyes were
closed, and her lips had a smile on them that made it clear
she was enjoying Debbie's attentions.

    My guess was that Debbie was bisexual, and was teaching
Mary the ropes.

    My boner wanted me to join the action, but my other brain
decided to leave quietly.  I did, silently closing the
bathroom door behind me.

    I realized my mistake almost immediately.  Now, I not
only had a boner so hard that it hurt, but I also had to piss
something awful.  I had closed the door, so getting into the
bathroom again wasn't going to be as quiet as the last time.

    Debating what to do, I heard a girl's voice cry out in
pleasure.  To my surprise, it wasn't Mary's voice, but
Debbie's.  Did they trade places?

    I needed to get dressed.  Walking around the apartment
naked with two nude females wasn't going to allow me to
figure things out.

    I went into Mary's bedroom, and looked for my clothes
from the previous evening.  After a few minutes, I was
dressed.  I decided to go without my boxers, since the ones
from last night were dirty.

    When I left the bedroom, I saw Mary and Debbie sitting on
Mary's sofa, both girls wearing towels around their
heads--and nothing else.

    "Debbie, where are your clothes?" I asked.

    She shrugged.  "Upstairs."

    Figures.

    I tried to figure out if the two girls were the same
size.  They looked about the same, with Mary a bit older and
maybe a few pounds on Debbie.  Mary's hips were a bit broader
than Debbie's.

    "Can you find something to put on here?" I asked.

    She looked at Mary and then sighed.  "I guess..." she
pouted.

    "You too, Mary.  Get dressed, and let's all have some
breakfast."

    The two girls quickly got up and went into Mary's bedroom.

    I expected them to start going at each other on Mary's
bed, but I didn't hear any such activity going on.  After
about ten minutes, they both emerged.  Debbie wearing a pair
of jeans that would have been skin tight on Mary, but seemed
to fit Debbie just wonderfully.  Mary was wearing jeans that
were tighter on her.  Both girls decided to wear tube tops;
Debbie's was pulled so low that I could almost see the tips
of her nipples peeking out.

    When they saw me, they smiled.  Mary asked me if I wanted
breakfast.  Debbie looked me in the eyes and announced that
she was hungry for a sausage, and then looked down at my
crotch pointedly in order to make it clear what kind of a
sausage she was considering.

    "Um... how about some actual food?" I asked.

    "Fine.  What will you guys have?" asked Mary.

    Mary got our breakfast orders, and disappeared into the
kitchen.

    Debbie asked Mary if she could borrow her phone, and Mary
said fine.  Debbie looked at me, and told me she would call
her assistant and tell her that she was going to be staying
in today.

    I didn't see any problem with that.

    Debbie made a call.  I only heard half the conversation,
of course, but it sounded like the person she called was
named "Amy."

    Debbie's call wasn't that long, and about fifteen minutes
after she hung up the phone, Mary came back in from the
kitchen with a tray holding three bagels and three steaming
cups of coffee.

    After that marathon lovemaking session last night, I
needed the caffeine in my system.  I drank mine black.

    When I bit into the bagel, I was in for a big surprise.
They were... GOOD!

* * *

    I need to digress from my story here.  I promise to keep
it short.

    When I was first stationed in the service, I had a friend
nicknamed "Brooklyn" (due to his accent, of course).  He once
took me on a train ride to his home, and when he arrived
there, the first thing he did was take me into a bagel shop.

    "What's this?" I asked Brooklyn.

    "A bagel shop.  Don't they have any where you live?" he
asked.

    I told him that I was from the other coast.  All I knew
about bagels were that they were things you got from your
freezer.

    "Frozen bagels?  You got to be shittin' me!" he cried.

    The shop we went into smelled like a bakery back home,
with a big difference.  There were other smells that I had
never associated with a bakery before... onion... and even
garlic!

    Brooklyn went straight to the counter and yelled to the
lady behind the counter, "Martha?  Your ol' man still got you
workin' in this piece of shit?"

    Martha looked at Brooklyn, and burst out with the biggest
smile that I'd ever seen.  "Anthony!" she shouted.  "You're
back from the war!"

    "Ain't-a gonna study war no more!" he sang gleefully.  He
pointed to me and said, "This here's Jim and we're gonna be
here for a few days."

    Martha was walking around the counter to get closer to
Brooklyn.  I hadn't been ready for the family reunion that
was happening.

    She made it to Brooklyn, and then hugged him so tight to
her bosom that I thought he would suffocate.

    "Watch it, Martha," he yelled, although his voice was
muffled by her large body.  "I don't need no nursin'!"

    Martha held the hug for a few seconds more, and then
seemed to notice me.  She released Brooklyn, and took a
couple of steps in my direction.

    Instinctively, I stepped back, and found myself against
the closed door to the shop.  "Welcome, Jimmy.  Any friend of
Anthony is a friend of mine!" she said as she drew me into a
hug.

* * *

    The reason I digressed into that flashback is because I
experienced my own flashback as I bit into that bagel.

    That bagel Mary had prepared had brought to mind that
image of that time in Brooklyn where I had my first "real"
bagel.  Warm, doughy, and dripping with butter on the inside
slice.  Sliced twice... not toasted.  A real, honest to
goodness bagel.

    "This bagel is... wonderful!" I gushed, immediately
taking another bite.  "Are freezer bagels this good nowadays?"

    Mary looked at Debbie, and shook her head no.  "No. I was
going to make some English muffins for breakfast when there
was a knock at the kitchen door.  An Asian girl had a bag
with a half dozen onion bagels and told me that Debbie had
told her to deliver them."

    I looked at Debbie in confusion.

    "Delivery?  From where?  Brooklyn???"

    Debbie grinned at me.  "Not Brooklyn.  There's a bagel
shop just around the corner..."

    "Wait a minute!" I interrupted her.  "A bagel shop...?
In California?"

    "Of course," she said, wondering what I was confused
about.  "There have been bagel shops here for years."

    "Years?" I asked, not believing.  I could still remember
thinking about how somebody could make a fortune by opening a
chain of bagel shops on the west coast back when I was
stationed in New York.

    Mary had a worried look on her face, and it hit me all of
a sudden why I was confused.

    I had been in a coma for a dozen or so years!

    An uneasy silence descended in the living room, as this
all hit me.  Debbie looked at me, and then Mary, trying to
figure out what was going on.

    Mary caught Debbie's confusion, and called my name,
softly.  "Jim?"

    I looked up at Mary.  "Uh... yeah?"

    "Do you think I should explain to Debbie about how..."
she paused, trying to think of the right word.  "How we...
met?"

    I suddenly got an image of myself as Rip Van Winkle, and
started to giggle.  This eased the tension considerably, and
Mary started to giggle.  After a couple of seconds, even
Debbie was giggling.

    "Um..." said Debbie, in between giggles.  "Why are we...
(giggle)... laughing?"

    "Tell her," I instructed Mary.

    Mary proceeded to tell the story of my accident to
Debbie.  I listened, fascinated, since this was one of the
first times that I had ever heard Mary describe it from her
point of view.

    When Debbie had heard that I had been in a coma for
years, her eyes opened wide.  Then, as Mary explained about
visiting daily at the hospital, Debbie's eyes took on a more
maternal look when she looked at me.

    Mary explained how we met in her dreams, which Debbie
understood right away, since I guess that is how I met
Debbie, herself.

    I finished that wonderful bagel, and ate the bacon from
my plate as Mary brought Debbie up to date.  I found myself
helping Mary (OK.  I was interrupting her.  Big deal!) when
she started describing the stuff that had happened more
recently.

    When Mary and I were done with the story, Debbie looked
from me to Mary and just shook her head.  "You know, that's
about the most romantic thing I've ever heard.  It was a
match made in the heavens, like you said, Mary!"

    We smiled, and then looked at each other.  I then looked
at Debbie, wondering if there was any jealousy over my
feelings for Mary.  I didn't see any... just love.  Weird.

    Something had been nagging at me while Mary had been
telling her story.  I thought hard, and it came to me.

    "Mary, you said that the Asian girl brought SIX bagels?"

    Mary looked at me and laughed.  She was about to go back
into the kitchen when Debbie corrected me.  "That would be
Aimee, my assistant.  She's not Asian, she's Polynesian."

    "Oh, I'm sorry," Mary said.

    "Not a problem, Aimee say that it's a common mistake."

    "I'll remember that," I said.

    Mary left into the kitchen and came back with another
bagel, still warm, and like the first one, it was also
dripping with butter.

    This was MY idea of heaven, anyway.

* * *

    Breakfast was long gone, and we were just lounging in the
living room, making small talk.

    It suddenly occurred that I didn't know anything about
Debbie... except that she was Mary's landlady.

    "So, Debbie.  You've heard the story of Mary and me.  How
did you become the landlady here?" I asked.

    "I'm not the landlady," Debbie replied, simply.  "I own
the building."

    "You own the building?" I repeated.

    "Actually, most of the whole block.  That's how I knew
that Goldstein's Bagels were downstairs," she explained.

    There was a bagel shop downstairs and I never knew it?
Mary caught my reaction, and figured out what I was thinking
and giggled.

    "So.  What's your story?  How did you end up owning a
building?" I asked.

* * *

    Yes.  It's time for another digression.

    Debbie's mother died when Debbie was about fifteen.

    Her father was devastated by her mother's death, and
afterward, put all his effort into his work.  Debbie had seen
very little of her father before, and she now saw even less
of him after the death of her mother.  He had worked for the
government before, and now had an agency on Wall Street,
always going after bigger and bigger deals.  He was a
successful broker, and had his own firm.  All Debbie knew was
that he was making money hand over fist, and the more money
he had, the more that his job demanded of his time.

    After graduating from the private school Debbie attended
after the death of her mother, Debbie got a scholarship to a
couple of colleges, and her father wanted her to go to an ivy
league school.  He had hoped that she'd get her MBA and join
him in his business.

    Debbie, on the other hand, saw what his blind pursuit of
money had gotten him... loneliness.  She didn't want that.

    Instead, Debbie took one of her scholarships and went to
a lovely little private school on the west coast.  She
majored in liberal arts.  "So I could learn how to enjoy
life," she explained.

    She did very well in college, becoming the class
valedictorian.  Her father was proud.  So proud, in fact,
that he was going to fly out to the west coast on a special
trip to see her commencement address.

    Unfortunately, the flight he was on never made it to
California.  There was a malfunction in the plane, and the
crew tried to make an emergency landing.  They were
unsuccessful, and her father was among those that perished on
that flight.

    The airline offered to fly Debbie out to the place where
her father died.  She had been prepared to accept when she
got a call from "Uncle Chuck," her father's best friend and
business partner.  He told Debbie to take a different flight
and meet him in New York, instead.

    She decided to take Chuck's advice, and there was a first
class ticket for her waiting for her flight to JFK.  When she
arrived, Chuck met her at the gate and gave her a big hug.
He took her to the firm's main office in Manhattan, and
explained that they knew that Debbie had undergone a great
loss.  They also explained to Debbie that her father was
quite a rich man... extremely rich.

    Debbie and Uncle Chuck went together to the Midwest to
identify and claim her father's body.  Since neither her
father nor Debbie were particularly religious, she had his
remains cremated.

    It was a few days before the will was read, and Debbie
found herself the beneficiary of just less than eight hundred
million dollars.  She also found out that there was a couple
of bank accounts that her father had in her name, totaling
millions more.  She also held stocks in her father's firm and
other companies as well, which she decided to have Uncle
Chuck proxy for her.

    All told, Debbie had liquid assets of more than two
hundred million dollars, and close to four times more than
that in other assets.  Her father also had some properties
all over the country, which she inherited.

    The brokerage was relieved that Debbie wasn't going to
liquidate all her father's assets.  In actuality, Debbie
didn't have the heart to truly disband the company that her
father had spent his whole life building.  Besides, she could
use the brokerage to manage her assets.  Debbie allowed Chuck
to run his own company, Penet Holdings, with Malen
Associates' clientele, and left the original company as a
holding company for her newly acquired assets.  Charles Penet
would manage Malen Associates for her.

    Chuck and Debbie selected a portfolio of stocks and other
investments, some high risk and high yield, some low risk
with small but steady growth.  Chuck said that her portfolio
was much more conservative than her father's had been, but
then, she already had her first million when she started!

    Debbie also met her father's personal assistant, a young
Polynesian woman named Aimee who was about the same age as
Debbie.  Chuck had told her that Aimee had been working for
her father for a few years, but she was extremely bright and
with people.  Aimee and Debbie got along right off the bat,
and Debbie offered to have Aimee continue working for her if
she wanted to.  Aimee agreed and became her personal
assistant.

    If Chuck had been the one to see to Debbie's financial
future, it was Aimee that had taken Debbie from a recent
college graduate and new orphan and taught her the ropes of
the world of high finance.

    At Aimee's advice, she hired two more staff.

    The first was a driver named June.  Aimee explained that
when you are worth millions of dollars, it is not an
extravagance to have a chauffeur but a necessity.  If Debbie
were to drive and get into an accident, lawyers could make
her pay every last cent that she owned.  Her chauffeur June
loved driving, and even had a pilot's license.

    Debbie hired her next staff member after Uncle Chuck had
explained that among her father's "miscellaneous" assets was
a converted 737 jet.  The jet was in a private air strip at a
recently closed Air Force Base.  When Aimee, June, and Debbie
went to take a look at it, they met a Filipino lady named
Mely who worked at the air strip.  It turned out that
although June had a pilot's license, she had no certification
on a jumbo jet.  Mely, however, did.

    Aimee and June left Debbie at the air strip while Mely
gave Debbie a tour of Debbie's new acquisition.  When Aimee
and June came back, an hour later, Aimee simply handed a
sheaf of papers to Debbie.

    Debbie glanced at the sheaf of papers, and then found
Aimee's one-page handwritten summary.  She turned to Mely and
offered her a raise of twice her current salary if she'd hire
on as Debbie's personal pilot.  Mely ecstatically agreed.

    The four ladies decided to go on a tour of her father's
properties throughout the United States, followed by a trip
around the world to his other properties.  They were still in
the USA part of the trip, examining the property that was the
block where Mary's apartment was located.  Debbie had given
June and Mely a few weeks off to explore Southern California,
and Aimee would stay in San Diego with Debbie, accompanying
Debbie, although staying at a hotel, since the apartment
complex that she owned only had a one bedroom apartment
available.  In addition, Aimee would also act as her driver,
if necessary.

* * *

    "Aimee was the one that got the bagels this morning?"
Mary asked.

    "Yes.  Aimee has a weird... almost psychic... quality to
her," Debbie explained.  "When I called her, you see, she
knew that I was not in my room.  I asked her to get us some
bagels, and she mentioned that Goldstein's was just
downstairs."

    This Aimee sounded like an interesting person.

    The three of us were startled when we heard a knock at
the front door.

    Mary got up and answered it.

    A small but lovely lady was on the other side.

    "You must be Aimee," Mary said.  "I'm happy to meet you
again."

    "How do you do?" Aimee asked.

    "Won't you come in?" Mary asked.

    Aimee gave her a big smile, and whispered something to
Mary as she entered the room.  Mary looked at her, confused.

    I got up as Aimee entered, and extended my hand.
"Hello," I said.

    "Hello," she replied, giving me a warm smile.  Her hair
was dark, and framed her face beautifully, held on each side
of her face with a barrette made from tiny pearls at eye
level, accentuating her warm brown eyes.  Her teeth were
whiter than the pearls, and provided a great contrast to her
red lips.

    She was wearing a yellow mini skirt, which showed off her
long, shapely legs.  Her blouse was a white lace with white
and yellow flower pattern that massed to provide the
necessary opaqueness at the important points.

    In short, she was gorgeous.

    I knew that I was staring at her, but I saw that she was
staring at me, as well.  She shook my hand, bringing me out
of my reverie.

    She then turned her attention to Debbie.  "Hi, boss!"

    Debbie smiled at her assistant.  "I guess you already
know everything there is to know about Jim and Mary here."

    Aimee simply nodded and said, cryptically, "They are good
people."

    Debbie nodded.

    "That's what she said to me," Mary said.  "What do you
mean by that, Aimee?"

    Debbie answered, "That's about the nicest thing she can
say about somebody."

    Aimee nodded.  "I'm glad I passed some sort of test," I
said, a bit put off.

    "Mr. Montgomery..." Aimee started.

    I held up my hand.  "Jim, please."

    "Jim... I am paid to look out for Debbie, and to advise
her.  You didn't pass any test.  I can see just by looking at
you..." She paused, looking to Debbie for help.

    Debbie sighed.  "Jim, Mary.  I told you that Aimee has a
gift of insight into other people.  If she says you are good
people, she means it.  She just knows it."

    I just shrugged, still put off by this exotic creature.

    Aimee was staring at me, her brown eyes piercing into my
being.  I blinked, and she was just nodding at me, her smile
having changed to a look of concern.

    "Whatever," I said.  "How about some lunch?"

* * *

    Debbie talked Mary and I into a nice little Thai
restaurant that Debbie and Aimee liked in the area.  I'd
never had any Thai food before, but a few friends back when I
was in the service said that it was good food.  I was game to
try it.

    The restaurant was quiet, but brightly lit up.  When we
arrived, Aimee immediately said something to the hostess in a
foreign language.

    The hostess smiled, and said something rapidly back to
Aimee.  She then looked at the four of us and said, "Right
this way!"

    We followed her to a large round table near a corner of
the room.  The table could easily have sit six people.  I had
noticed that there were plenty of tables for four already set
up, and then realized that where we were sitting was probably
the most secluded table in the room--Aimee probably had asked
for a little privacy.

    "Were you speaking Thai... or is it called Siamese?" I
asked.

    "That was Mandarin," she replied.

    "Chinese?" I asked.

    She nodded.

    I was wondering about Aimee's nationality.  Debbie said
she was Polynesian, but that could mean she was from any of
quite a few places.  Mandarin Chinese wasn't spoken in many
Polynesian islands.

    Aimee looked at me and answered my question for me.

    "My mother was Hawaiian, and my father was French
Polynesian," she said.

    I smiled at her.  "I guess I'm just your average White
Anglo-Saxon Atheist," I said, sarcastically.  Aimee's manner
somehow spooked me.

    Aimee's eyes opened wide and looked concerned when I said
that, and she gave me that penetrating glance again.

    We were sitting there about five minutes when I realized
that we hadn't gotten any menus yet.  I started looking for
the waitress, and Aimee noticed.

    "Jim, there's no need to order here.  The waitress will
just bring out food.  Like a smorgasbord.  I assure you that
nothing will go to waste."

    I looked at Aimee.  She did seem to know what I was
thinking.  I'd better be careful about what I thought when
she was around.

    Aimee looked at me again with that knowing smile.  Damn
it... she was doing it again!

    The waitress appeared with four glasses and a bottle of
wine with the name "Lotus Blossom" or "Thai Blossom" or
something similar.  I was never a wine snob, but Aimee'
simply nodded to the waitress, and she opened the bottle
without any fanfare and poured the four glasses.

    "Here's to Mary and Jim.  Two good people," said Aimee,
raising her glass.

    "Here's to all of us.  All good people," I answered,
looking her straight in her eyes.

    The meal was extraordinary.  I am not a man that likes
vegetables, but the combination of greens, with fruits, meat,
and exotic spices was quite memorable.  It was as if
everything was different from each other.  Some stuff was
spicy, but enjoyable.  Others were just simply delicious.  My
stomach told me that I should visit more Thai restaurants,
and maybe find my way to visiting the country.

    After that glorious meal, Debbie offered to take Mary
shopping.  Aimee said that she needed to do some more
research, and gave the keys to the limo to Mary.

    As the two girls walked off, Aimee turned to me and said,
"We need to talk, Captain James Montgomery."

    "Oh?" I asked, taken aback.

    "Yes.  Let's go back to Mary's apartment.  It's a little
bigger than Debbie's."

    I nodded in agreement, and followed the gorgeous
Polynesian woman out of the restaurant and back to the
apartment.

* * *

    "Captain Montgomery," Aimee said as soon as the door was
shut.  "I know a few things about you.  First, I wish to put
your mind at ease.  I do know you hold a power over my boss,
but it is not my opinion that you are dangerous.  It is my
opinion that you are special."

    "You appear to know quite a lot about me.  Including my
name, rank and probably my serial number as well." Aimee had
this knack for putting me off like that.

    "It's my job to look out for Debbie.  I've told you that
before," Aimee explained.  "I'll have you know that your
background information isn't what formed my opinion of you."

    "Huh?" I asked, confused.  "Would you mind explaining?"

    "Well," she began, "when I was growing up, there were
stories.  Most people thought they were myths, but I always
knew that at some level, they were true.  Now, I am
witnessing you."

    "I don't follow.  What stories?" I asked.

    "About men that sleep, but never wake up.  They invade
the dreams of the living."

    If she was referring to me, I was confused.  I never had
any trouble waking up.  "You think that I sleep, and don't
wake up?" I asked.

    "I'm not totally sure what to think," she answered
slowly.  She paused, and then said, "When Ms. Malen called me
up this morning..."

    "Ms. Malen?" I asked, interrupting her.

    "Debbie.  Sorry.  When she called me up this morning, she
described you as 'the man of her dreams.' This was totally
unlike her.  She basically uses men for a bit and discards
them, never devoting any real love or affection on them."

    That's a terrible thing to say about a woman, I thought.

    "Yes, it is a terrible thing to say, but it is true,"
Aimee admitted.

    Damn.  She was reading my mind again.  I knew that I
didn't say that out loud.  I really was going to have to be
careful what I thought around Aimee.

    Aimee smiled at me and continued.  "When I talked to her
this morning, I knew that something had changed.  When I saw
Mary in her kitchen, later, I saw something strange in Mary's
eyes."

    She paused, looking at me.  "Later, when I saw Debbie, at
the apartment, I saw the same thing in Debbie's eyes.
However, I saw Mary's aura, and she is a good person.  She's
a deadly and dangerous person, but not to Debbie, or anybody
else near her, and she's a good person."

    I wasn't sure what Aimee meant about "deadly and
dangerous" about Mary.  I thought she was just a lovely woman.

    "Yes, I agree with most of that," I said carefully.

    "When I saw you, I knew that you were a good person as
well.  All of you had that same aura.  Your is much stronger,
almost tangible.  It is as if you could look into my mind and
read my most private thoughts."

    Me read Aimee's mind?  Huh?

    "Yes, you have powers," Aimee said, anticipating my
response.  "I don't know how you came about them.  The only
people I heard with the strong power I see in you are
supposed to be ghosts: 'The people that sleep and never wake
up.'"

    That phrase echoed in my mind as she had said it a few
times now.  People that sleep and don't wake up.  Like a...

    Holy Shit!  Was she talking about what I think she was
talking about???

    "Aimee, Mary and I told Debbie how we met.  I think I
should let you know as well, if you will tell me what you
think."

    Aimee looked at me with a serious face, and simply nodded.

    I told Aimee the story about how I had gotten hit by a
jeep driven by Mary.  How I was in a coma for so many years.
How I met Mary in her dreams.  I told her how last night, I
met Debbie as well.

    Aimee didn't interrupt me at all.  She seemed to accept
the story, and nodded even at the strangest things.  I even
found myself admitting to her that Mary and Debbie had
referred to me as their Master.

    I finished my story, and looked at Aimee for comments.
She had a thoughtful look on her face, and after about three
minutes, she said, "So you think that a person in a coma
could be a person that sleeps and never wakes up?"

    I shrugged.  It was a thought, anyway.

    Slowly, she nodded.  "It could be.  It certainly fits
with the legends.  You have invaded the dreams of both Mary
and Debbie, and I think that matches the legends more than a
coma."

    "So, what do these 'ghost people' do?  I'm not really
dead, thinking that I'm alive, am I?" I asked, suddenly
feeling a chill go up my spine.

    "You are definitely alive, Captain Jim Montgomery," she
said with an assurance that I found quite convincing.  "You
have two beautiful ladies in love with you.  There are
actually three ladies that would do anything for you."

    I nodded, and then realized what she said.  "Three?"

    "As I said, Jim, you are a good person," she said,
looking me in the eyes.  "I know that the next time you fall
asleep, you may visit me in my dreams.  I will not fight you.
I will be in love with you.  I will truly be with you."

    This was no longer funny.  I was acquiring more women
than I knew what to do with.

    "Aimee, this is not funny.  I don't want slaves.  I just
want Mary." Well, I just wanted Mary... and Debbie... and
perhaps Aimee...

    Her eyes drilled into mine.  "You may not think you want
slaves, but Mary and Debbie both see you as their focus."

    "I think I need help, Aimee, and you seem to be the one
person that may be able to help me.  I really don't want
slaves."

    Aimee just looked at me, thoughtfully.

    Neither one of us spoke for about fifteen minutes.  Aimee
was staring at me.  Her expression would get solemn, and then
it would look like she was ready to ask a question.  Somehow,
I knew that she didn't want to be interrupted, so I let her
think.

    "Jim.  Quick.  Without thinking, tell me where Debbie and
Mary are."

    "Huh?  How do I know where they are?  A mall, probably,"
I answered.  Just then, suddenly, a name popped into my head.
"Um... Neiman-Marcus," I said.

    "How do you know that?" Aimee asked, smiling.

    "I don't know.  The name just popped into my head," I
said.

    "Are they in any danger?" she asked.

    "Danger?" I asked.  "How should I know?  Wait... No. They
are not in any danger.  Aimee, how do I know this?"

    Aimee had a warm smile.  "This is new to you, isn't it?"
she asked.

    Of course!  I simply nodded to Aimee.

    "Truthfully, you don't want slaves.  Correct?" she asked.

    "I don't think so," I answered, truthfully.

    "Well, I think that the term 'Master' and 'Slave' aren't
exactly the right terms.  Would you prefer, say, 'Parent' and
'Child?'"

    Parent and child?  Mary suggested that, but I realized
that it would make my relation to Mary and Debbie incestuous.
I shook my head briskly.  Nope.  I don't want to get kinky or
anything!

    "Hmmm..." Aimee said, thinking.  "How about 'Teacher' and
'Student?'"

    That sounded better.  I nodded, but wondered, what was I
"teaching" them?

    Aimee sighed.  "English is such an expressive language,
but sometimes it is difficult to come up with the perfect
terms.  Let's use 'Teacher' and 'Student' from now on.  I
think the 'Master/Slave' thing is worrying you too much."

    "OK.  I'm a 'Teacher.' Wouldn't that make you MY
teacher?" I asked.

    Aimee smiled a bit.  "That's the problem with English.
No. I may understand what is happening at a different level,
but there's a deeper bond between you and Mary.  Almost as
deep, perhaps, as the one between Mary and Debbie.  Don't try
to stretch the analogy too far, because the words aren't
perfect."

    "Mary and Debbie have a deeper bond than Mary and I have?"

    Aimee sighed, and tried to think how to explain things.

    "Can you tell me how do you fit in this?" I asked.

    "If you will have me, I'd like to be your student, too."

    Shit.  Another slave.  Even if by another name.  Two
women were going to be difficult to deal with.  Three would
be impossible.  It might be a dream come true for some guys,
but my dick was still sore from last night and this morning!

    Aimee must have sensed my thoughts, because her spirits
drooped noticeably.

    "Aimee, it's not that I don't like you.  The reality is,
I hardly know you.  I sure as hell don't know how I got mixed
up with Debbie.  I don't want to end up with hundreds of
girls all thinking of me as some Master or Teacher or Guru or
something.  There's too much of it out here in California.  I
just want to live my own life."

    "Debbie found you," Aimee said quietly.  "Just like Mary
found you.  Just like I found you, although you don't seem to
want me.  There may even be others.  I cannot truthfully tell
you otherwise."

    "Aimee, I DO want you, but I don't want to hurt Mary, and
I also don't want to hurt Debbie," I said.

    Aimee nodded, understanding.  "I know," she said, quietly.

    The way she said that broke my heart.  I was hurting this
girl by rejecting her.  I could find no words to express the
way that I was feeling.

    After a minute or two, Aimee looked up at me again.  "Is
Mary jealous of Debbie?"

    "Um... I don't think..." I started, and then corrected
myself.  "No. Mary isn't jealous of Debbie."

    Aimee nodded.  "Is Debbie jealous of Mary?"

    "Well..." I said and then sighed.  "No. They aren't
jealous of one another."

    "They are like sisters, are they not?" Aimee asked.

    I flashed back to the memory of the two of them in the
bathroom.  Maybe a bit more than sisters...

    We continued to discuss things, getting no further
really.  Aimee sensed my reluctance to have her become a
"slave" or "student" and didn't bring it up again.

* * *

    Debbie and Mary arrived back in the apartment a few hours
later.  They were enthusiastically carrying about a half
dozen bags.

    When they arrived, however, their conversation stopped.

    Debbie and Aimee exchanged a look between them, and
Debbie told Mary and me that she needed to go somewhere.
Mary looked at me, and smiled.

    "Wait until you see what we got!" Mary said, excitedly.

    Aimee and Debbie left silently.  As Mary was showing me
her purchases, I vaguely wondered where Debbie was.
Immediately, the answer popped into my head... She was
upstairs in Debbie's room.  Debbie was hugging Aimee.

    I felt like a big heel, having hurt Aimee, but truth be
told, this Master/Slave thing scared the shit out of me, even
if you called it Teacher/Student.

    Mary must have sensed my feelings, because she got quiet.

    I noticed the lack of conversation from Mary, and looked
at her.  She had a questioning look in her eyes.

    I sighed and told Mary about my conversation with Aimee.
I neglected to tell her that Aimee had said that she was
willing to be my slave, but instead talked about Aimee's
interpretation of the "people who sleep and don't wake up"
and also her description of the Teacher/Student relationship.

    Mary listened attentively, waiting for me to stop.  When
I finally did, she asked me, simply, "So why is Aimee crying
now?"

    "Aimee is crying?  She wasn't crying when she left!" I
said.

    "Right now... I know... and I know that you know...
Debbie is hugging Aimee in her room, and I can feel Aimee's
tears on Debbie's shoulders.  I know that you can feel that,
too."

    Actually, I didn't know, but I reached out with my mind
and connected to Debbie and found that what Mary said was
true.

    Damn.  If you had asked me a couple of days ago if I
believed in all this mind-reading shit, I would have laughed
in your face.  As of today, I had two slaves, with a third
girl crying because I wouldn't enslave her.

    Mary looked at me, and said, "I know that Debbie is
worried about Aimee.  We both know that you are worried about
her as well."

    I simply nodded, not knowing what to say.

    Mary grinned at me.  "Well, if I'm a slave, this slave
wants to fuck her master.  Do you want to retire to the
bedroom?"

    How can a master refuse?

    "Mary... I may not be up for another marathon session," I
warned her.

    Mary didn't seem very disturbed by that.  "No problem.
We could just cuddle, if you want."

    She led me to her bedroom.
<1st attachment end>


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