I posted this last year and it received two votes (one of which was mine) so I'm re-sharing it.
The work is all mine. I published it as an Ebook and the link to the free download is included here.
A few years ago I had the notion that I should write a Young Adult novel. Trev was looking at writing a short story and we sat quietly in our office, he was trying to get the story out of his head and I was trying to support him without writing it for him.
"Let's have a competition," he said.
"No. We don't need to do that, let's just make sure you get your story written..." says I.
He insisted and started writing his story. Actually, he'd told me how he wanted it to go, a time-travelling story that involved a lot of research. It actually sounded like a lot of fun.
After a while, he brought up the subject of the 'competition' again.
"I've written 160 words! How many do you have?"
"1640..." I said, quietly.
End of competition I think, and he never finished his story.
I finished mine though. It was like Dusty came to sit down beside me and she sat there and told me all about this one adventure she had.
I hope you like it.
I must stress that although this story has a bit of a steamy start, that theme does not continue.
This image is mine, all others from Google Free to use image search
He approached her from behind – as he had done every night since he started to visit her.
He came closer to her slowly so that the tiny hairs on her neck bristled with his nearness before he touched her and her body shuddered deliciously.
She was tense with excitement and shaking as he got close enough to touch her with the tips of his fingers. The first touch from him was electric and her skin tingled wherever his feather-light touch stroked.
His lips brushed her neck and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on his broad shoulder. His arms snaked around her and folded her into his embrace. His lips were replaced by his teeth on her tender and sensitive neck and again she shuddered, the nips were gentle yet insistent.
His breathing was becoming laboured as his passion rose to match hers and he pressed himself against her. She could feel his excitement and her mouth opened to allow her panting breath an escape route.
He stopped nibbling but held his teeth close to her neck and his tongue flicked out between them to tease her earlobe and he listened to her. She was impatient for him to restart his seduction but he knew that he was in complete control and he made her wait.
His hand went up to her throat and with his fingernails he gently traced from her chin down... the tension was excruciating and almost beyond her endurance.
She wanted to take his hands and place one on her breast and the other between her legs but she seemed unable to control her limbs. Her hands and arms were immobile and a fleeting thought crossed her mind “Oh no, not again!”
With that thought embedded in her mind and her body unwilling to respond to her commands, his caresses and strokes were perceived differently and they became more invasive and she still could do nothing. Her mind was screaming her protest but her body, her treacherous and lustful body was urging him on!
As he laid her down she closed her eyes because she did not wish to see the person that was pleasuring her and yet violating her night after night in her dreams.
She knew that he was aware that she was protesting inside her mind. He knew that her free will was locked away in the dream-state. He knew and he took full advantage of her instincts to mate and he laughed. It was a sinister and dark laugh and she cringed from it.
As he lowered his body onto her, she gasped for his flesh was ice cold, almost painfully so. She could not move her arms to stop him but it seemed that her legs were under no such restrictions; they wrapped themselves around him.
He was the consummate expert in seduction and he controlled himself perfectly. He continued to work his magic upon her and she had no choice in the matter as she was compelled to wrap her suddenly movable arms around his neck to pull her up close to his body.
The cold of his skin was still disturbing to her inner mind, she thought that he would have warmed up a little, but no, he was still unnaturally cold and she was still so very hot and she wanted his coldness to douse the fire between her legs and yet she didn’t!
She hung onto him with arms and legs squeezing his body until her muscles ached. Her head hung down back toward her pillow but still she did not let go, her arms couldn’t let go, they were not hers to command yet.
She was still aching for more of him and she did not want it to end.
Her mating instinct had swamped her free will and it was all but silent as her legs pulled her yet closer to his deathly-cold body, her arms crushing her breasts into his chest and her fingers entwining themselves in his hair.
The difference in temperature between the two was making condensation on her perspiring body and where they were touching, flesh to flesh began to feel slimy and clammy.
As he approached his own end, his body began to change. His skin became coarser, as did his hair. She felt as though she had hold of hanks of horse tail rather than the silky smooth hair of her lover.
His skin became scaled and the part of her that was based in reality was repulsed but the dreaming part was striving for more before he released her and left.
She was unsatisfied, she felt dirty and defiled even as her body was shuddering with ecstasy. Her body was over the throes of passion as she felt the beginning of his. Her arms became weakened and she flopped back onto the bed.
Her legs weakened a moment after but he maintained the connection between them as he did indeed let loose his final shout of passion. She shuddered anew as he grunted his pleasure, and she was more determined than ever to keep her eyes closed tight against the vision of horror that she knew her dream lover had turned into.
She turned her head as he planted a kiss on her cheek, his lips were no longer inviting and warm, they were scabbed and cold. He laughed at her grimace and then she knew that he had gone.
Her bed was saturated with sweat and something cold and sticky that was the residue of the night’s exertions.
She was repulsed and disgusted and she stripped her bed for the third time that week.
After a fifty minute shower that left her feeling scrubbed but not cleansed, she phoned her best friend, Dusty.
“I can’t take it anymore, I’m exhausted. I’ve rung work to say I’m ill three times this week already and they are starting to ask questions. I can’t tell them I’m having nightmares, not at my age, but what can I do?”
“I’m coming over; I think this is something I have to see for myself.”
“Don’t be daft, there’s nothing to see...”
“Have you washed the sheets from your bed?”
“What? No, not yet, how did you know about the sheets?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, get the kettle on.”
True to her word, Dusty arrived in a little under ten minutes, the roar of her motorcycle announcing her arrival.
Dusty walked right in through the front door and called out for her friend. “Ange! Where are you?”
Dusty went into the kitchen and put her hand on the kettle, it was warm, so Ange had done as she’d been told, but where to find her?
It didn’t take long, she was in the living room, slumped on the sofa in front of the TV, her mug of coffee balanced upon her knee but tipping precariously. Dusty took hold of the mug gently and pulled it out of Ange’s grip.
Ange woke up at the disturbance and startled herself. She jumped in her shock and Dusty saw the dark smudges under her eyes that told of nights without sleep.
When Ange had got a grip of herself again and Dusty had made them both a fresh mug of coffee, Dusty insisted that Ange tell her everything.
“I’m embarrassed though,” Ange complained.
“Yeah, you’re also exhausted. This is a new thing, it’s not like you’ve just had one bad night; you’ve not slept properly for a week if the coal sacks under your eyes are anything to go by. It’s about time you either told me about it or you went to see the doctor.”
Ange looked at her friend and sighed. She knew that Dusty was right; the sleepless nights were killing her and would cost her the job she had strived so hard to get. She knew she was lucky to get her dream job right from leaving college and she would do anything to keep it.
So Ange bit the bullet and told Dusty everything.
“Don’t be mad at me, I know you don’t like them, but I went to Bella’s house last weekend, it was supposed to be an erotic lingerie and toy party but the girl that was supposed to come didn’t show up and we’d got all the wine and everything and we didn’t want to give it up as a wasted night so Bella...” Angie paused.
“Go on, what did Bella do?” Dusty prompted.
“She fetched her Ouija board out.” Angie didn’t say any more, she waited for Dusty’s reaction, which didn’t arrive.
Angie waited for the outburst but Dusty sat in the chair across from her, sipping her coffee and waiting for her to continue, so she continued.
“Well, it was all very funny to start with, only one girl refused to play with it but we called her chicken until she gave in. I’m not sure we should have goaded her like that because as soon as she touched the plant... the plan... whatchamacallit?”
“The planchette.” Dusty helped.
“Yeah that. As soon as she touched it, it started to move.”
“You were touching it too?”
“Yes. There was only me and her touching it, the others put their fingers back on it as soon as it started moving.”
“Then what happened?” Dusty prompted again.
Ange looked at her friend and tears welled in her eyes. “What have we done, Dusty? Have we released something?”
“I don’t know yet. Tell me when your nightmares began.” Dusty put her mug on the table and went to sit at the side of her friend. She didn’t sit too near because she could sense that Ange wasn’t feeling comfortable with the closeness of her.
Dusty could wait until Ange did feel comfortable but for the time being, she sat where she was, next to her on the sofa, but not touching.
Ange looked into her own mug and sighed again.
“The planchette was going crazy, it was whizzing all over the board and we couldn’t tell which letters it was pointing to. Bella was laughing for a bit until the planchette flew off the board and hit her mum’s photo. She got mad at us then and said we’d gone too far. The girl that started it grabbed her coat and left the house. She didn’t take her wine or anything, she just went. I think she ran down the path after she slammed the door. I was a bit scared then. We didn’t throw the planchette, well at least I know I didn’t.”