Lady Trina

She does not walk, she drifts... not a ghost, but an angel on wings of sunlight which become her cloak as she touches the green Earth. Bearing no other adornment, her alabaster skin glows in the light, flawless and divine.

"This is a dream," you say to her. "Lady Trina would not run about naked in open fields."

How little you know, she says without speaking. You crave a woman who is a mystery to you... you know nothing of her life, her desires, her heart. She is a shield to you, nothing more.

"That is not so. Trina means much to me, she is more than my guardian."

The apparition dances away, twirling her cloak-wings about her. One taste of these lips, and you are lovers now? I think not!

"I do not claim to be her lover."

Then what are you? the voice in your mind demands, and now her cloak has gone black, as the Sun also blackens into shadow. Do you call yourself Companion, to one who must obey your every command? Friend, to one whose true name you learnt but hours ago? Confidant, to one who dares not reveal her heart? Speak true, and call yourself her King!

"But she did reveal her heart!" you call out as Trina's dream-form recedes across a verdant meadow, flying from you much faster than you can run. "She could love me, she said it was so!"

A swordmaiden has but one true love. The image of Lady Trina holds a blade in her hands now, a blade which she draws close to herself, embraces as a lover, tenderly kissing the steel and running her tongue along its razor-sharpened edge... and not a drop of blood is drawn.

"If I know nothing of Lady Trina, then nor do you," you insist. "You are a dream, borne from my own mind, and you know only what I know."

If I am a dream, then awaken, she says, very close to you now. If I know nothing, then why do you fear what I reveal to you? If I am not the Lady Trina... then why do you hunger for one more taste of my lips?

She draws closer, and closer... but she does not move, it is YOU who moves to her, irresistibly... the links of steel which are her armor part as you approach, soft and full lips wet and ready, her eyes so deep and so very, very blue...

Kiss me... Kiss me...

Kiss me...

A soft touch of something real upon your lips, and you awaken with a surge in your loins, your cream spurting out onto your bedclothes. You wipe an arm across the tickle on your face and find that it is a feather from your mattress, caught in a draft and blown onto your lips. The first gray light of dawn shimmers in through your balcony window, illuminating the mess you've made of the sheets.

That hasn't happened since I was a boy, you think ruefully, as you stand to go and fetch a linen cloth. The details of the dream have already begun to fade from your mind, as dreams will; as you clean yourself up, it's already hard to recall more than surreal images of Lady Trina drifting across meadows, licking her sword with wanton lust, and then... and then the kiss. The only part of the dream which felt real, because you know how it feels when it IS real. And you know that time passes differently in dreams, that what seems to me seconds may be hours or the other way around... but it feels very much as though that kiss brought you to full arousal and climax in the space between heartbeats!

That rush brought you to full wakefulness in the moment, but as it fades you realize that you do need more sleep. Fortunately, you had awakened on one side of the large bed, and so it is not difficult to make yourself comfortable again and avoid the damp splat you've created.

You cannot keep Trina's face from your mind as you seek sleep again, and before the Sun has shown its first true light over the distant horizon, you've stopped trying and given in to falling asleep with her eyes staring into your own.