Dreamtime

I watch the needle slip out of my vein through half-lucid eyelids. That’s the general anaesthetic administered, supposedly, and I look up at the five masked faces staring down at me. Their serious faces are backlit by the bright surgical lights.

Jessica has her hair tied back up again. She’s looking good, I think to myself, and I find myself wanting to say it aloud, but my mouth isn’t responding, isn’t working, and I can see the way she’s looking at me.

“I thought you said that you’d hated him.” I hear Dr. Bo’s voice like a lone summer cloud, drifting quietly amongst a pale sky.

“I thought I did,” I hear Jessica reply. It sounds uncertain, confused, cloudy, fluffy, mmm…

Her face floats up in my minds eye, her smile, the slight raise in her eyebrows as she smiles, so pretty, such pretty lights and such a pretty face…

Jessica’s face is up against mine, a snarl of frustration writ across it. We are standing by the main pool at home, the stone underfoot uncomfortably warm despite the shade from the overhanging trees. We are alone.

“Mrrrmm mrrmmm mrrmmm mmm,” Jessica shouts, her hair flying as she gestures. I notice her body. She is just a bit taller than me—she went through puberty earlier—but she is slim, and she is dressed in a black one-piece swimsuit that exposes a tantalising amount of cleavage and the delightful curve of her ass.

I say something in response.

“Mrmm mm mmrmm!” Jessica shouts, but I disagree, and I shake my head, no, she is not right. This must be made clear.

Jessica rolls her eyes, and then she shoves me.

I fly backwards. I am wearing clothes, I notice now, a t-shirt and white thin shorts for the summer heat. I am going commando. I am falling backwards. The pool behind me is a yawning expanse of blue, and I feel myself being sucked into it, my arms flailing in the air, my body pulled backwards and downwards by some inexorable ****.

In the distance, I see Jessica’s face, still angry, but also a little shocked, and it grows smaller as the blueness surrounds me, I fall down and through and into the blue, past a rush of sun-kissed turquoise droplets that swirl into feminine figures around me, and then I fall into her bedroom, complete with the baby blue wallpaper and that small chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I am on her bed, those fluffy white sheets that I remember dearly, and…

And there is a hand wrapped around my cock.

“Jessica?” I whisper, because it should be her hand there.

I look up.

Those are Hyerim’s dark eyes I am looking into, and I realise now that it is Hyerim’s face I am looking into. Father’s second wife, oh so seductive, always the perfect amount of make-up on, making me question if she even has any on, but she must, because no woman has skin that smooth, or lips so red, but maybe, just maybe…

I groan in pleasure, loving the way her fingers curl around my cock, and when my eyes open again she is still there, but I realise that she is not alone. Another figure sits next to Hyerim on the bed, a hand on her shoulder, the other hand reaching out for my cock too, and the outline of the hourglass figure crystallizes. I recognise her. Salome, Father’s third wife, Colombian goddess, her tits like twin suns, so captivating, so hot…

I hear a voice in the distance. It’s been calling for a while, but only now do I hear it.

It’s not a voice that I’ve ever heard in real life, but I recognise it, because I’ve seen the interviews and the movies and the TV shows and everything else that she’s done. It’s Tiffany Najbreit’s voice, so girlishly high and sweet, and then I realise what she is saying and my blood runs cold.

“Daddy, daddy,” she cries out from some far corner of the house, and oh fuck Father is here, where is he, I can’t see him, but surely he is here, and I am fucked, so fucked, he is going to kill me, I can feel him gripping me, oh fuck, the scene before me unravels and fades and my eyes snap open.