Fantasies and Nightmares 2 by -KingKarma-
Dive into "Fantasies and Nightmares 2" by KingKarma, an enthralling erotic sex story that explores the boundary between desire and fear. Discover steamy encounters and provocative moments that will ignite your imagination. Perfect for fans of passionate tales and dark fantasies, this story promises to leave you breathless. Read now for an unforgettable experience!<br/>
This is a collection of short stories, meant to be supplemental to a novel I have already written and a novel I am currently working on. The current order as of now is:
1) You Belong to Me
2) You Belong to Me 2
3) Fantasies and Nightmares
4) Fantasies and Nightmares 2
The head on her lap shifted. He was sleeping. Dreaming. When he woke up, he would remember. Everything.
For now it was just a dream. A few memories mixed in for good measure to make it all the more stable, sure, but that was for her benefit—not his. Perhaps she had gotten a little carried away with the stapler. Perhaps she had jumped off the deep end to see some curiosity satiated. She really didn’t have any expectations going into this, and so that made it all the more interesting.
Movie night. That’s how it had started. As the others trickled away, Ehma had laid it on thick. A blanket of comfort. A dampening of the senses.
Gina had issued the challenge, whether she knew it or not. And honestly, she didn’t know who she was messing with. Ehma could do a lot if she wanted to. If she was feeling malicious.
Instead, Ehma settled on a little game of sorts. He was the first to drift off into that place where she held a grip on his mind. The place where they were connected in their hearts. Gina drifted out of conscious thought next. All the while, Ehma had waited. Patient.
Once the couch had been properly vacated, the movie playing on the large television became something different altogether. The memories Gina experienced filtered through his understanding of things. His own memories were smothered in a haze. Like a constant state of Deja Vu, where everything seemed so similar and yet the future was a blank slate.
The two people on the screen acted the way she expected them too. Almost. The chemistry was there, but the events were purified by his unreasonable cynicism.
So, Ehma took it upon herself to place the full glass at his table after he left to get some air. To make that glass of alcohol seem so appealing, Gina would drink it without question. Ehma was ready to pull the plug in case her worst fears were realized. In case he turned out to be some kind of sexual predator.
Events didn’t unfold that way though, so what now? Was this enough to prove to Gina that her own selfish desires were diminutive to Ehma’s? Ehma had a right to be possessive. Gina didn’t.
The head in her lap shifted again and she stroked his hair. “Shhh, shhh. I’m not done yet. Not yet. Just relax.”
He wriggled deeper into the angle of her hips, his breaths a soft puff along her thighs. That was good. She liked that for whatever reason he yearned to trust her words. Yet another point of contention—why she just couldn’t tolerate some girl worming her way into their business.
Her eyes traveled to the woman curled in a fetal position on the loveseat perpendicular to them. Not just her eyes though. All of the eyes that surrounded them. All of the versions of Ehma that she had taken over the years, all projected around them. Dark shapes and towering figures, with all attention planted on the sleeping witch.
With a nod, Ehma directed one of her alters towards the television. A tiny thing. Young. As she watched, it stepped through the screen and into his mind.
****
How does a person become obsessed with someone? How exactly does that happen? Is it something you choose or…
Maybe if she was more like other girls, this wouldn’t have happened. Her idiot brother wouldn’t have been carrying a gun the night he died. Her stupid parents wouldn’t have hit the bottle so hard.
When she finally decided to leave, it wasn’t some big epiphany. There was no ground shaking event. Ehma just stood up one night after they were on their third bottle and started walking. And walked. And walked.
Two hours passed. Then three. Then a day. Then two. Part of her hoped this would be the moment. The moment where they realized their world had long since fallen apart at their feet. After a month she stopped thinking about it.
She found ways to take care of herself. Places to bathe. Which convenience stores threw away food less than a day old and when. If she timed it right and was careful, she could go a whole week without begging for change in front of the grocery store.
Those days were the worst. She was too young to be homeless. Too young to be hungry. And the fact that she was both only made it harder to plead for survival. It was almost too hard to carry around a sign even, but she did—if she had to.
Did those people even know what it was like to be hungry? To be so empty inside, the thought of walking in front of traffic almost seemed a better solution? She doubted it. That didn’t stop them from spouting off about Jesus. That didn’t stop them from quoting Bible verses until they were blue in the face.
She learned to stay out of sight as soon as the afternoon sun started to fade. Quiet places were the best. She hadn’t been raped yet, so it was possible that was one of their God’s blessings. Still, the idea that that was all he was willing to hand out left a thick venom in her throat.
There was a gated community she preferred nearby. Close to both the convenience and grocery stores, and that became her routine. The chairs weren’t all that comfortable near the pool, but if she was lucky she could catch a full six hours of sleep and still manage to swing by for food without anyone noticing.
Ehma couldn’t remember the first time she saw him, or even the second. Maybe she consciously avoided the memory. He’d toss her food out in large bags at night—cold subs, packaged fruit, and such—and then she’d watch him drive home in the early morning hours.
The first time she really remembered his face, she had been slouched in a chair next to the pool. It was a good place to stay out of the rain, and really the gate that separated this area from that was more aesthetic than anything.
She was focused on her feet. The blisters that would be there in a few hours. What that would mean if she had to run. They were sore and ached like a bitch, so she really didn’t notice him until she heard a metal chair scrape against the stone walkway.
Her eyes bulged, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t, even if she wanted to. That was part of the act. You had to pretend like you belonged there. She was just a girl getting out of the house and enjoying the cool night air. Nothing more. Nothing less.
That didn’t stop her from feeling a wave of self-consciousness. How long had it been since she bathed in the grocery store bathroom? A day? How long had it been since she attempted to squeeze the dirt and grime out of her clothes in the fountain? She couldn’t remember.
And what exactly was he doing there? He had a laptop with him, so maybe he was a student? Maybe he was just there for the WiFi? He looked too old to be some kid getting away from his parents. Too young to be homeless like her. And yet she was the homeless one, despite the fact that he was probably at least a handful of years older.