Sweetly-Evil Dreams

    Though it's been a while since I last smeared ethereal ink here, this decided it couldn't not be written.  There have been all kinds of other story ideas floating around, but none ready to be released yet.  Soon though, be patient.

    This one though...started during a conversation with a friend.  Not even sure what was being discussed at the time, but the idea struck, and stuck.  And I said as much.  "I've got a great story idea....".  During the derision I suffered that followed my comment, I finished mapping out how the story was going to go.

    By the way, it's kind of long.  So be prepared to read it in shifts if time is an issue.

---------------------------------

   
    Ever have a dream so real that left you wondering if it wasn't?  Or maybe, it really was....

 

Sweetly-Evil Dreams

 

            Tyrone was enough to drive me crazy.  Excited energy had him fairly bouncing in his seat as he drove.  He was determined to help me with, what I thought, was a small, insignificant problem.

            "Bro.  This gonna fix you up right.  Get you back to your sunny, 'all is right in the world' rose-tinted space.  Gottit?  No more moping around, looking like you ain't slept in a month."

 

            "Yeah.  Got it.  Now where exactly are we heading?"

 

            "To a little place I found.  Remember about a year and a half ago, when things at the bar were getting hinky?  Couldn't sleep, worrying all the time about losing my place?  Well, this place helped me get right, and keep things straight at the shop."

 

            Yeah, I remembered.  He was sideways on permits, taxes, pay, and had some Gestapo Cop twisting his jewels trying to close his bar for everything from being too loud, to allowing underage drinking, to letting patrons urinate in nearby parking lots.  Even tried to boost him on a flaky charge of watering drinks with ice cubes in it.  He was not in good shape back then.

 

            "Okay.  So, where are we headed?"

 

            "To 'Chappers Quad'.  there's a shop there you gotta check."

 

            "Chappers Quad" is a bunch of hundred-plus year old houses, now part of the roughly four square blocks that made up the "Dandry Restoration Project".  Small, three to four story houses, with little more floor space than a broom closet on each level.  Once the "thriving center" of town when it was first settled.  At least, before the town grew AROUND it.  Then the old places fell to be a mere tourist trap, referred to as "The Old Town".  No one actually lived in the houses for close to 70 years.  But, little by little they were taken over as small shops for fresh entrepreneurs to get a start in.

 

            An eccentric, but nice place to go shopping for odd stuff.  Every shop sold practical items mostly.  Things like yarn, kitchen utensils, quilting supplies, postcards, knick-knacks, you name it.  But whatever that shop sold; that was all they sold.

 

            And I was wondering just how the hell this was going to help me out.  Though I gave Ty credit for trying.  He had been my shoulder to lean, and cry, on since the break up with my old girlfriend.  And he'd listened to me complain about not sleeping well, and not being able to dream, or at least remember them, since then.

 

            But whatever, it was his time, dime, and gas.  Besides, I had nothing better to do on a Friday night, except maybe go to his bar.  Which he should be at right now, getting it ready for a hopping Friday night, instead of dragging me around.

 

            Tyrone swung the car into an open parking spot on the street and turned it off.  "Gotta foot it the rest.  'Restoration Project' ya know.  No driving in the Quad."  So we got out and headed to the sidewalk that took us in.

    

***************     

  

            As part of the Restoration Project, the streets inside the Quad were not open to traffic except during the day to supply the shops.  In the late afternoon, barriers were dropped to keep vehicles out.  Only foot traffic was allowed when they were down; no bikes, skateboards, roller blades, almost anything with wheels.  And no pets.  Only people on foot, and kids in strollers were allowed.  Couldn't complain, made for a nice quiet, turn of the century atmosphere.

 

            And it drew the tourists.  Nothing says love more than the sound of a cash register, right?

 

            I was enjoying the old, odd look of the houses.  Every one of them painted a pastel color with sharp, contrasting color, edge work mixed in.  Shuttered windows with scalloped bordering like you find in fairy tales.  Slate roofs, and stained glass doors, all of them.  It looked like all the witches of the Brothers Grimm were at a mushroom party, and took an LSD laced, pastel puke, on the entire area.

 

            And the placement of the houses reminded me of something you might find in an amusement park.  All too close, and at odd angles with each other.  On most of them, you could reach out one window and hand something over to the house next to it.  And the walkways and pavement made curlicues on the ground, like  a meandering path through a wooded glen.  Or the streets of an old English village.

 

            Peaceful, but still...where was he taking me to fix my "problem"?

 

            We turned a corner and slid between two houses, one with a shingle announcing it as "The Light Side - Religious Books", and directly across from it, an erotic novel shop named, appropriately, "The Otherside".  Passing them, Ty got energetic again, "DUDE!  We're here."

 

            Here?  Here, where?  I was looking at a ground floor shop that did tattoos named "Sizzlin' Sensations", with  a piercing parlor above it named "No Holes Barred".  I doubt a tat' or piercing was going to help ME sleep.  Though I might have some pretty unusual dreams from it.

 

            "You're kidding, right?  Ink and, or steel?  This sounds like a big help bro."

 

            "No Dave.  The other shop."

 

            "What 'other' shop?"

 

            "Up one more, man.  "Sweetly-Evil Dreams", that's where we're headed, bro.  C'mon."  And he lead me around the house to one of the external staircases, typical in this complex of confusion and fashion, for getting to each level.  As the shops were added, the inside staircases were closed off.  Exterior stairs that wrapped around the houses and ended with landings, were added to the outside to gain access to the upper levels.

 

            Up three flights of stairs we went.  And once we gained the outer platform by the door, only then, did I see the postcard sized sign above the door announcing the place.  Ty noticed me eyeing the sign skeptically.  "Dave, bro.  It can't hurt.  Trust me on this."

 

            "And just what am I going to gain here, Ty?  Some incense, maybe a crystal?  To help me sleep better, and have dreams again?  You really think a 'head shop' will handle this issue?  A new bong.  That's what I need.  Or a really cool hookah.  I could do the Alice in Wonderland bit and play with caterpillars."

 

            Ty looked at me, very hurt and insulted.  "Dude, trust me.  I'm here, trying to help a friend.  Don't dis me, man."

           

            "Okay, okay.  Sorry, bro.  Let's have a look."

 

            A big old smile spread across his face and he said, "Now that's the spirit.  C'mon."  And he pushed the door open, and practically shoved me inside.

 

            "Give it a second for your eyes to adjust.  Don't want you hurting yourself any time soon, man."  Ty said as the door shut behind us.

 

            As my eyes grew used to the light, or should I say dark, my mind started having a hard time grasping things.  When you add confusion, bewilderment, amazement, and enchantment together, you produce a state of minor vertigo.  Keeping my feet under me was becoming a challenge.  The room we were in seemed to grow larger, and longer, as my eyes adjusted.  Not that it was really dark, per se, more of a twilight.

 

            And the twilight lighting was coming from a combination of windows high in the walls around room, and single bulb lamps, hanging from a too-high ceiling, at irregular intervals.  But still, what I was seeing...

 

            What I WAS seeing, defied belief.  In front of me were book cases; TALL book cases.  Fifteen feet tall at least.  And I don't know how long.  With "trolley-ladders" reaching to the tops of each one.  And they were close enough to make using the ladders difficult.  And the rows of cases went on in ALL directions, to the left, the right, and forward, way too far.

 

            I know these houses only have small floor spaces.  But the book cases appeared to go on for at least fifty feet in all directions.  With more across a center aisle.  And the ceilings in these houses are only eight to ten feet tall, tops.  Yet, not only did these tall cases fit, they left room at the top for light to filter in from windows above them.

 

            The bookcases were of some old dark wood.  And all the books were leather bound.  Yet, there wasn't the smell of old books.  And the titles and authors seemed to be in no particular order.  In fact, some titles I couldn't even begin to translate.  Most were in English.  But there were others in French, Arabic, and Russian, and a few in glyphs that looked more at home in a Predator or Alien movie then on a book shelf.

 

            "Ty," I whispered, "what is this place?"

 

            "A dream shop."  He replied, all excited and wide eyed like a kid turned loose in a toy store.  "Ain't it KEWL!"

 

            I decided to play along with this sleep deprived fantasy I was having.  Couldn't hurt.  "Okay.  It's cool.  But how do you get dreams from a library?"

           

            "Don't."  A female voice emanating from around us said.

 

            Ty just looked at me, and with a nod of his head, motioned me to follow him.  He led me down a row toward the center of the impossibly too-long room.  In the center, I found myself looking at the source of the statement.  Perched on a stool inside an "L" shaped counter, with her face glued to an E-Book, was a young lady.  Even seated, it was easy to see she was slight of build, like a runner or a dancer, thin and willowy. 

 

            On the two counter tops comprising the "L" shaped counter, were computer screens with the store name floating around as a screen saver.  Nothing else was in, on, or under, the counter.  Just her, two computers, and the E-Book.  And, she appeared to be too interested in her reading to even be aware of our close presence, let alone respond to the comment at the door.  But, looks can be deceiving.

 

            "Don't?"  I repeated her answer, more as a question than an affirmative.

 

            "Newp."  She said, not looking up.  "Don't get dreams from libraries.  Though you could get them from the books.  It's a symbiotic relationship, yano.  Dreams beget books, and books create dreams.  It's a viscous circle."

 

            "You mean, 'a vicious circle'.  Right?"

 

            "Newp, 'viscous'.  Slow and syrupy.  These things take time.  Not very fast.  Full circles don't happen fast at all."

 

            Pondering all Ty said, what I've seen so far, and the odd remarks by the counter lady, I was just a wee bit confused.  "Okay.  So, what exactly, do, you sell?" with a heavy emphasis on "do".  "Are the books involved somehow?  And how did you fit all this," waving my arms around, "in this store?"

 

            "Dreams," she answered flatly, without looking up from the E-Book.  "The books help people find just the right one they are wanting to have: action, comedy, adventure, horror, whatever.  They want specific dreams.  And fitting all this stuff in here?  Easy.  It's a dream."

 

            "I'm dreaming?"  The shock in my voice must have been as transparent as the look my face.

 

            She smiled and said, "Naw.  It's all illusion.  How else could you fit three thousand square feet of books, and shelves mind you, in a three hundred foot space."

           

            Then, she set the E-book down and finally looked up. And I completely forgot why we were here.  She looked straight at me, and her eyes captivated me.  They were clear, crystalline colored, but shifted across several colors as her head moved slightly: green, hazel, blue, brown, violet.  All with a dark outer circle that took the tint of the color that sat primary.  And in the whole mix, were gold flecks like you would normally find in true hazel eyes.  Only these flecks seemed to float around.

 

            These fascinating eyes were framed by shoulder length, black hair, tinted with black-cherry highlights.   Which contrasted perfectly with her milk white skin, button nose, full lipped, wide mouth, and dainty chin.  The blinding smile she gave when she first looked up didn't do anything to diminish the effect.  I just stared, enraptured.

 

            "So!  Wajawant?"  She said, as she stood up and stretched. 

 

            When she looked away, that broke the spell holding me.  I hadn't even realized she had gotten up until that moment.  Though standing did confirm my first impression, she was slim and willowy.  But, not as tall as I first imagined.  Apparently the stool she was on was taller than I thought, giving the impression of height.  Realizing I was staring at her, (and not drooling, I hope), I stammered, "Excuse me?"

 

            "What...kind...of...dream?"  She repeated slowly.  She must have read the look on my face because one eyebrow went up slightly, and she grinned that dazzling smile again.

           

            Suddenly, I was lost.  I had absolutely no clue what kind of dream I wanted.  I wasn't even prepared to ask for one, not knowing what Tyrone had in store for me till the last minute.  I was caught flatfooted with all that had happened so fast.  "I, um...I...,"  I babbled as I tried to recover some sense of dignity.  "I really, don't, know?"

 

            She pursed those lips, and I could tell she had started down a mental list.  She scanned me top to bottom with those fantastic eyes, sizing me up, and ticking off the choices.  "KK.  Let's see,  Action?...no.  Adventure?...no.  Romance...ehhhh, never mind...sucky choice, my bad.  Let's see...hmmm."

 

            "I'm open to suggestions?"  I offered.   I was fishing at this point for ideas to help me think this through.  But I was unable to think straight at this point.  Especially with the vision I stared at in front of me.

 

            "Yep, okay.  Got it."  She snapped, in a perky, cheerful manner.  "When most folk come in and have no idea,...then they need a Sweetly-Evil dream."  Her tone was one from experience.  Not guessing, just simply stated.  Well, maybe not "simply stated".  More like, "enthusiastically stated".

 

            "Sounds more like a nightmare, judging by the name."  Though caught up with her spirit on this, I was feeling a bit apprehensive, and that made my comment rather lame.  Even to my ears.  And, I could just see Ty out of the corner of my eyes.  His head shake, and body language, confirmed I was doing a fabulous impression of a gawky, pathetic, high school boy trying to ask the head cheerleader out for a date.

 

            "No-o-o-o-o!"  She said reassuringly, her eyebrows up, with the face of innocence, saving me from any further embarrassment.  "These are Sweetly-Evil."  Emphasis on the "Sweetly".  All while she made a face like one of those big eyed, goofy puppies you see in a 'Cute Calendar' to drive the 'Sweetly' aspect home.  "A touch of nice, with a bit of tart, and a hint of bite to it.  You'll like it."  And she finished with a slight head drop that had her looking through her eyebrows, with a half serious, half devious look you would get from a used car salesman, she said, "Trust me."  Then replaced that smile again.

           

            If the counter hadn't been between us, I'd swear she would have nudged my ribs with her elbow while making that last statement.  But her bubbly, goofy explanation seemed to be infectious, and with no better suggestion, I took her lead.

 

            "Okay.  Let's go with that.  Now, how do I make it happen?  Burn leaves, drink some exotic elixir, smoke something?"  I was trying not to sound sarcastic or unbelieving, but I was failing.  Sometimes, it's better to keep my mouth shut.  Fortunately for me, she didn't appear to notice.  She just looked amused.

 

             "Newp.  Ya already got it.  Just get some shut-eye."  Then with a serious look on her face, she said, "Oh, and leave the leaves alone, you might set fire to the bed, yano?"  raising her eyebrows to make the point.  "Bad for business.  And doesn't help the dream any either."

 

            Ty gave a snort in the background at her tease, and that brought the grin back to her face.  But I missed the joke as I was still a bit baffled, and got the feeling I would stay that way for a while.  I looked at her and said, "That's it, huh?  Okay.  So how much does this 'Sweetly-Evil' dream cost?"  I started to pull out my wallet, but Ty stopped me with a shake of his head.

 

            Matter of fact like, she said, "See me after you enjoy the dream.  Payment not due, till services rendered.  Yano."  And with that she settled back on her stool and went back to her E-Book, still looking amused.

 

            I was about to let Ty lead me out of there when I noticed movement passing through the soft light coming through one of the windows.  It looked like it might be a humming bird; small, with fast beating, iridescent wings.  Since it was inside the store, I figured I better mention it.

 

            Pointing up toward the window, I said, "Excuse me.  But, I think you have a bird, or maybe a large moth, caught in the store."

 

            She turned a little, looked up and back, and nonchalantly said, "Newp."

 

            I know I saw something there.  "Newp?  Are you sure?"

 

            "Yep.  It's a pixie.  Keeps the place clean."

 

            I blinked at least twice.  Pixie.  She did say "Pixie".  Didn't she?  I blinked two more times just to be safe.  But her lack of concern or interest,  and the odd statement, made me decide not to pursue it.  I looked at Ty, tipped my head towards the door, and he got the drift.  It was time to go.

 

            It was late, and full dark, when we left.  Ty had to get his bar ready for the Friday crowd, so we headed over there.  During the walk back to the car, then the drive to his bar, Ty stayed quiet, but kept this smug look of satisfaction, and "I told you so", on his face.

 

            Myself, all I could think of was the peculiar atmosphere of this whole trip.  That was an odd place, with an odd product, unrealistic and impossible decor, run by an equally odd, though very attractive proprietor.  And, had pixies keeping the place clean. 

 

            And if my head didn't have enough to keep it occupied with all that, what about the high windows?  And even though it was full dark when we left, not that it was very light when we arrived, there was still light filtering in through those windows.  Now how was that pulled off?

 

            And did I mention a very attractive proprietor?  With a cleaning pixie?  Yeah, that kept my mind occupied to boot.

 

**************

 

            The questions kept coming, but no answers followed.  By the time we got to the bar, I was ready for a drink, or three, and a game of pool.  With Ty having to get right at the work that needed done for the night, I played anyone willing to rack the balls up on the table.

 

            I shot several games.  Had a couple drinks, mostly to wash down one of Ty's famous ham sandwiches.  Listened to the band go through their set up, sound check, and opening set.  And tried to not think about everything from earlier.  By now, the place was packed, and the band was jamming.  And I decided to call it an early night.  My brain was toast.

 

            Since I was drinking, Ty was driving...what are friends for, right?  So I made my way through the patrons, and the servers, to the bar, to tell him it was time for my taxi.

 

            When I finally waded my way to the bar, I ran into Laurie, the bar manager.  She ran the floor most nights, and Ty couldn't find a better manager.  She handled a lot of the daily work and kept the help in line.  Not that too many would argue with her.  She was a big woman, and in all the right ways, a tall, leggy, blonde, with a no-nonsense carriage, and body to back it up.  And she could hold her own in almost any situation.  Not only did she ride a big "V-twin" to work, but during the day you could find her at the local gym.

 

            And if all else failed, the fact that she helped the bouncers march the rowdies out the door, especially the female rowdies, convinced most to leave her alone and treat her with respect.  Strangely, as counter-point, it didn't hurt that she was also the most upbeat and pleasant person you'd ever want to meet, even on a "take no prisoners" night.  She was good for the place.

 

            "How ya doin', Sport?"  She beamed.  "Ty keep ya hopping today?  Ya look a bit wiped out."

 

            "So!  You're the one hanging up my help."  Ty appeared as if on cue, and hollered at me over the bar, and over the noise.

 

            Laurie looked over the bar and started hanging it on him.  "You're too rough on him, Ty.  Looks ready to drop.  Better get him a cab before we have to pay for an ambulance."  She laughed, and gave me a pat on the shoulder.  "Go home and take care, Sport."  And without further ado, she turned on her heels and braved the ebb and flow of the crowd, while carrying a tray of longnecks.

 

            "Yer a better man than me, Gungha Dinn." Was all I could think as she was swallowed up by the masses.

 

            Ty made the call.  Then, over the din, he grilled me.  "Ya goin' home to get dreamin'?  Can't wait, huh?"

 

            "No."  I yelled back.  "I'm just, 'not there', tonight.  Mind's fried.  Better off home."

 

            "Alright, man.  Cab should be out front by now.  Try and get some sleep.  I'll catch ya when I get up.  Grab ya for some breakfast.  Cool?"

 

            "Cool.  Later, bro."  I headed out, and grabbed the cab just as it hit the gravel.  I was at home, and in bed, before 10.  Earliest I hit the sack on a Friday night, since high school.  And out before my head hit the pillow.

 

***************

 

            When I woke, there was way more light in the room than there should be, almost blinding.  It hurt.  I debated, for a fraction of a second, about pulling the covers over my head to make it go away.   Then gave up the idea.  Threw my legs over the side and rolled to a sitting position, and almost fell back down again.  Bad move.  I ached all over.  I know I didn't have that much to drink last night.  And it's been forever since my last hangover.  I do learn quick sometimes.  But I still felt like hell.

 

            I sat there for a couple minutes to get my bearings.  Then looking at the clock, it showed it was almost 11.  Damn.  No wonder I feel like hell.  I'm usually up by 7 even on the weekends.  I decided if it was going to be a hangover, better get some fluids and food in me.  Why did I sleep so long?

 

            Pinballing my way to the kitchen, I downed a large glass of O.J.; some fluids, some sugar, and some vitamin "C", Doctors orders.

 

            Leaning against the counter as I finished the glass, I clawed at the cobwebs in my mind of the night before.  Got home.  Quick shower.  Hit the bed...Then what...Then what...then...like the parting of fog from a stiff wind, clarity slowly came visible.  Oh, yeah...

 

            I remember waking up and looking at the clock at 11:45.  When I rolled over, there was a figure at the foot of the bed.  Scared the hell out of me.  Tall, and in what looked like a black cape.  I remember thinking, "Did someone break in, or is this my dream?"

 

            Before I could get my voice to work, the figure raised its head.  What looked to be the hood of the cape, was actually hair.  Long black hair, that soaked up the light.  And in the darkness, I made out the delicate features of a woman's face.  But my mind, and memories, will swear her eyes glowed yellow, like a cats eyes in the dark.  She made no noise, just looked at me.

 

            Then her hands appeared from the fabric.  They reached up and undid a tie at her neck, then raised her arms upward to slip the material from her shoulders.  Underneath the covering, she wore a leather corset, or cincher.  Whatever it was, it didn't cover anything from her collar bones up, or her ribs down.  And her skin fairly glowed in the dark, it was so pale.  Below her corset/cincher, hanging from her hips, was  a black skirt, leather or fabric, I couldn't tell.  Everything she had on, except her skin, was black: hair, bodice, and skirt.  As I stared, I tried to mentally force more light from my clock to help illuminate this presence.

 

            Her hands went to work again.  This time, slowly working the hooks of her bodice.  It joined the cape on the floor, and that, quickly joined by the skirt.  I have no idea if she had shoes on, or not.  All I know is, that right after her skirt hit the floor, she was climbing across the bed towards me, wearing nothing more than hair and mystery.  I recall we did everything imaginable, and a few that weren't.  I suppose that explained why I ached; serious exercise and lack of sleep.

 

            I headed back to the bedroom for any signs that would prove, or disprove last night.  And, to make sure I hadn't lost my mind.  Uh, huh.  The bed was a disaster.  But neither myself, nor the bedroom, had the cloying scent of mad, passionate rutting, that my mind said went on last night.  Nor were there any other physical signs, forgotten clothing, stains, an earring...nothing, other than the destroyed bedding to support the evening.  I even checked my boxers for any signs.  Nothing.  Not even a stain to allow me to call it a wet-dream.  Only a couple dried reddish/brown flecks on my boxers, but no injury to support their existence.

 

            By now, my legs were getting wobbly from the mental, and very limited, physical exercise I just went through.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for things to settle down.  When my knees quit shaking, I got another glass of orange juice, downed some aspirin, took a long hot shower, and tried not to think for a bit.  By the time I got out of the shower, and finished the last of the orange juice, I felt almost human.  From there, it didn't take much to convince myself to get dressed and go grab some coffee.

 

**************

 

            I have no idea what time it was when I left the house and walked down to the corner Coffee Shop for coffee and a Danish.  I do know, that is where Ty found me, around 3.  He parked at the curb and came in.

 

            "Figured I'd find you here.  No one home, but the car in the drive and all."  He sat down across from me and took a good look at me.  "You okay?"

 

            "Recovering.  That seems to sum it up pretty well."

 

            "You didn't drink that much last night.  You coming down with something?  You're even whiter than normal, my pale skinned brotha.  Almost phosphorescent."  Concern written across his face.

 

            "I'm fine.  Just tired and a bit worn out."

 

            "Okay.  Well 'Mr. Tired and Worn-out', let's blow this place and get you some real food."  Ty stood and helped me up, then led me to the car.  He drove us to a nearby restaurant.  He ordered a fruit salad, English Muffin and coffee.  I was famished and ordered the Sampler Special, a HUGE plate with a little bit of everything, coffee, and more orange juice.

 

            We made small talk while waiting on the food.  Seemed the best way to get things, and my brain, moving along.  "How was the night at the bar?  Anything interesting happen?  How was the band?", and so on.  In short order, our food showed up and we both dug in.  Ty waited till our plates were almost empty before asking the question he was dying to hear the answer to.

 

            "So."  He tried to sound nonchalant, but his curiosity had him fidgeting badly.  "Ya have your 'Sweetly-Evil' dream?  How'd it go?"

 

            I gave him the condensed, P.G. version.  I wasn't feeling quite like opening up on all sorts of lurid details, that I hadn't even finished placing in order yet, in my own mind.

 

            "Dave, buddy.  You're holding back on me, man.  Is that all you got out of, and are willing to share of, the evening?  Some vaporous manifestations of a night of mad, monster, mattress Mambo with a mysterious woman of unknown origin?  C'mon."  He looked at me with this visage of extreme disappointment.

 

            "Well.  What about you?"  I asked, maybe a bit snottily.  "You ever try a 'Sweetly-Evil' dream, instead of a rerun of the 'Untouchables', and the Great Prohibition?"

 

            He got this funny grin on his face at the question.  "Not me, man.  Laurie would go ballistic if I had a hot dream, that I couldn't even talk to my best bud about, like that."

 

            Seems to be a day of dumb looks for me.  "Laurie?  Your manager?  She'd go ballistic?"

 

            Ty rocked in his seat laughing at loud.  "Man, you should see the look on yo face."  And another gale of laughter sprang from him.  Catching his breath, he continued, more seriously.  "Yeah!  Laurie!  My manager!  We've been involved since things turned around at the bar.  Once she saw the place wasn't some pipe-dream, I wasn't going to melt-down, and it was worth hanging around for, we hit it off.  She wasn't going to hang around for another let down and get crushed again."

 

            He let that soak in for a minute, then continued.  "How many bars you think she's worked?  And why do you think she keeps moving on?  They weren't worth it.  Mine is.  And, we're cozy together."

 

            "Therefore, no interest in no 'Sweetly-Evil' dream?"  I looked at him, then smirked.  "Got it all covered with the real deal."  Wow.  The things you learn.

 

            "Hey, man.  Not that I wouldn't be interested...provided it was like yours.  Just, she'd get all bent for me not sharing.  She plays with both hands, ya know." He bumped his eyebrows for effect, " If you get my drift.  And would be real cranky if she wasn't invited to join in somehow."

 

            "Du-uude!"  I practically shouted, disbelief at what he was saying spread across my face.

 

            "Hey.  How do you think we manage to keep the staff?  Everyone's happy there, one way or another."  He smirked, and shook his head in a conspiratorial way.  "Both hands..." Waving his hands around for emphasis.

 

            "WHOA, man!  T.M.I., OK!?"  I said, waving my hands in the air back at him.  "Really!  You made your point."

 

            Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I gave up.  I tried to organize the evenings events the best way I could, then gave him a bit more information, without going overboard.  Just a rundown of rudimentary facts.

 

            "No kidding.  All in one night?  You jackin' with me, man?"  Ty had that look you get when someone is pulling a tall one on you.  And not liking it.

 

            "Really, bro.  I wouldn't jive you.  We just rolled from one thing into the next."

 

            "And no 'hinky' stuff?  Uh, huh.  Belee dat."

 

            "Well, there was one thing different going on.  At least new to me..."

 

            "Now, we're getting somewhere.  Give, my vanilla brutha."

 

            "Well, she had this 'nip, kiss, and lick' thing happening.  It was really cool.  Kind of tickly and tingly."  And I think I shivered a bit, remembering it.

 

            Looking at me like I just admitted to being gay, Ty shook his head in wonder.  "My cousin, you are not wrapped right.  How, is that all worth getting excited about?  This chick gives you some body hickies and you go to putty?  Next she'll have you putting a mattress duster on that 'bunny-bed' o' yours.  If she was real that is." 

 

            "No, man.  Not some tiny hickies.  Just this little nip.  Then give a kiss, and follow up with the lick."  I was trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding lame.  "Gave them ALL over.  Not all at once, though.  We'd carry on, then she'd cover a section of me with these little kisses before we moved on to the next thing."

 

            "Uh, huh."  Ty said, still looking at me a bit askance.

 

            "Hey.  She covered every inch of me before we were done.  Places I never would have thought to kiss.  It did things to me, man.  Gave me shivers and seemed to wind me up for the next round."  Then, giving him a look like I knew something he didn't, I said, "Try it on Laurie, and see how she reacts to it."

 

            Following that up with a smile, I said, "She may think you found your sensual side and like it, Rough Rider."  I couldn't help using his old nickname.  He earned that one during a smack-down session over what was a "manly-man" and a "girlie-man".  He wore that one for a long time before it faded to obscurity.  Still got him with it from time to time, to make a point.

 

            "Hey!  No reason to get like that.  I do right by Laurie."  Ty started looking a bit puffed up over what he thought was an insult aimed at his abilities.

 

            "I'm just saying.  Try it, and see what happens.  Did wild things for me.  Might not do anything for her, but if she returns the favor, you might like it."

 

            Ty shot me a look.  But, I could see it in his eyes, he was thinking about it, and would probably give it a whirl.

 

            When he focused again, he looked at me, "So?  She leave any marks on you?  Break skin, or just hickies?"  Flippantly, he added, "Only you would get a dream and end up with some kinky Vampiress, slowly sucking your blood, a couple drops at a time, disguising it as a bunch of kisses."  Then ended with a snort, "Probably why you're so wiped out today, auto-erotic anemia."

 

            "Ty...," I said thoughtfully,  "you do remember we are talking about a dream, right?"

 

            The blank look on his face before he exploded in laughter again was a welcome sign.  "Bro.  You had me goin' there.  I forgot it was a dream.  You were so convincing it happened, I was waiting to meet the woman.  Still, it would explain why you feel so crappy today."

 

            Serious again, he added to that thought.  "You know, I'm thinking that with all your head had to process yesterday, ya know, the Dream Shop, the decor and the idea you can 'special order' a dream.  Then drinks and loud music at the bar, with only a sandwich to eat, lack of restful sleep, thanks to one helluva wild wet dream, it's no wonder you're shot in the butt.  You're suffering from exhaustion, bro."

 

            What he said made a lot of sense.  It had to be a new standard for being drained for me.  We sat there for a while longer talking about almost everything under the sun.  I had more coffee and juice, then ordered a piece of pie.

 

            "Dave, you sure about the pie?"

 

            "Yeah.  Why?"

 

            He pointed at the mostly clean plate off to the side.  The one surrounded by several empty juice glasses.  "You know, the two of us usually share one of those samplers.  And still leave food behind.  You've had all that, and still want more?"

 

            Stunned by the observation, and the truth behind it, and the fact that I really did want that piece of pie, I just nodded.  I was feeling a lot better now, and pie just sounded good.  The food must have hit the spot.

 

            By the time I finished the last of the pie, it was getting late.  I couldn't believe we sat there for so long, the sun was getting pretty low.

 

            "Gotta get, man."  Ty said, hinting we'd been there long enough, and there were other things to do.  "Need to stop by the 'Quad', remember?  And I got a bar to attend to."

 

            We headed out.  I was feeling pretty good after eating, still tired, but almost my old self again.  The drive was spent with Ty doing most of the talking.  But I couldn't tell you anything he said, I was reminiscing bits and pieces of the dream, enjoying them fully.  It was only after the car was parked, and Ty slammed his door, that I realized we had arrived.

 

***************

 

            "Ya with me, dude?"

 

            "Oh, yeah.  Right behind ya, bro."  As we cut through the complex, I noticed the houses looked brighter, bigger, more alive tonight.  Maybe it was the food, or a change in attitude.  Either way, it was like looking at the place with new eyes.

 

            "Gonna get me a dream tonight."  He said, rather jauntily.  "Not one a dat 'Sweetly-Evil' stuff, mind you.  Something more fun, and down my alley."

 

            "By the way, what's the chick's name that we talked to yesterday?"  I didn't recall her telling me, or me asking it.

 

            "Oh.  Her name is, uh...Lemme think a minute."  He looked like he was searching for the "Lost Arc" in his mind.  "Damn!  I know she told me.  But I can't think of it."

 

            "That's okay.  I'll ask when I talk to her.  She work here all day?"

 

            "No.  Shows up late and stays late.  Seems she's the proprietor, and does the dream thing.  Some pimply, skinny, geek of a dude works during the day."  Shaking his head, "Worthless, man, worthless.  Can't do anything but direct you to areas of interest in the shelves.  Gotta wait till she comes in to get anything done though.  She handles the customers and keeps the place open till after 11.  Usually gets in around this time of night."

 

            Ty stopped talking, and thinking, about that time.  He was more interested in getting in, and getting his dream ordered.  There seemed to be a bit more spring to his step as we got closer.  And I was fine with that.  But how he thinks my dream wasn't fun, without enjoying one like it, I'll never  know.

 

            When we hit the door, the girl was behind the counter, typing away at one of the computers.  As we entered though, she stopped.  Ty went off with a big grin, saying he was going to find just the right book to work his dream from, and he'd meet me at the counter.  I nodded my agreement and headed down the aisle.  Maybe it was a change in lighting, anticipation, or angle, but seeing her earlier, and from a distance, she didn't look as thin as I thought she was.  She looked fuller, and in all the right ways.   By the time I got to the counter, the 'saver' was already playing on the screen sitting in front of her.

 

            "Hey."  She said.

 

            "Hey, back."  Up close, I noticed there seemed to be more color in her cheeks tonight.  A bit of a radiant blush to highlight her skin.  Her lips had a warmer glow as well.  I knew I was feeling foolish here, but I had to wonder, did she add some make-up today?  Looking closer, without being too obvious, I dismissed the make-up bit, the color was all hers.

 

            And her eyes seemed to be a bit deeper in color as well.  No less captivating, just deeper, and darker than yesterday.  I felt like I could swim in them, instead of falling in.  The gold flecks though, were absolutely radiant.  Almost made her eyes glow.  I felt like I was trying to map constellations in them.

 

            "So, you enjoy the 'Sweetly-Evil' dream?"

 

            Snapped out of my reverie, I stammered and stuttered a bit while answering, "Uhh, yeah sure.  Great.  I, umm, I enjoyed it.  A lot.  A little tiring though."

 

            She gave a friendly chuckle,  "They can be that way at first.  The vividness and realism tends to drain a person."

 

            "Definitely real.  And vivid."  I agreed.  "And definitely draining.  But worth it."

 

            "Glad to hear.  Ready for another tonight?"  She looked me straight in the eyes, expectantly.

 

            I had to shake my head and look to the side, so I could think, before answering, "Not tonight.  It was...a lot draining.  I'll need to get a good night's rest before the next one."

 

            "Totally understand."

 

            "Can I ask you a question?"

 

            Her eyebrows went up just a fraction, more amused, than anything, "Yep."

 

            "Why do you work so late?"

 

            "Day job, for now anyway.  It helps pay the rent and stuff here, till I get more traffic."

 

            "Try advertising?"

 

            "Newp."  She said, with a slight shake of the head.  "I only want those who want, or need dreams, to find me.  Fulfilling that need, satisfies me, and is what I'm about.  Not money."

 

            "I can see that."  I said, shaking my head.  And to me, her explanation made perfect sense. 

 

            Smiling, I asked,  "So, how do I settle my account for a vivid, and tiring, dream?"

 

            "Settled."  She said, shocking me.

 

            Incredulously, I said, "Settled?"

 

            "Yep.  Settled."  Smiling back and raising her eyebrows again.  "How do you charge for a service you can't see, touch, or use any of your senses on?  Even with massage, or aromatherapy, there is some close exchange that is mutually recognized as a service."

 

            Caught off guard by the "no charge" comment, it took me a couple seconds to start thinking again.  But before I could ask any more questions, Ty slid up next to me.

 

            "Hey, hey." He said, across the counter.  Then turning back to me, he continued in a mock attempt to show patience, "Dude, if you're done, I'm ready to order."

 

            Still mentally off balance, I nodded assent.

 

            "So.  Whajawant today?"  Asked the counter girl, cheerfully.

 

            "Something in a 'speak-easy'.  Set in the 'Roarin 20's'.  With hot-shot gangsters."

 

            "Proprietor?"

 

            "Yeah."

 

            "Guns and shoot-out, or schmoozing and hob-knobbing for the evening's entertainment?"

 

            "Schmooze."

 

            "Band?"

 

            "Oh, yeah."

 

            "Jazz, blues, swing, big band,...?"

 

            "Bluesy-jazz.  Only thing for a speak-easy.  Doesn't make too much noise and attract the  law."

 

            "Singer?  Or just a band?"

 

            "Smoky, siren singer.  All soul and passion, but slow and low."

 

            "Anything else to add?"

 

            "Naw.  We'll let it play out from there."

 

            "Okay then.  Enjoy."

 

            For the minute or two they talked, I picked up that along with the other differences I already noticed, she also looked a bit tired.  Having two jobs will do that to a person.  Then again, so will lack of sleep.

 

            I was ready to pick up where we got interrupted, when Ty turned to me, "C'mon, man.  Gotta get.  Time for me to get to the bar."  With that, he ushered me in the direction of the door before I could protest.

 

            I looked over my shoulder and watched her wave.  "I'll be seeing you again.  Soon."  I said.

 

            Then looking at Ty, I continued, "I wasn't done talking to her.  She didn't charge me for the dream."

 

            "Oh.  That.  I forgot to tell you, she doesn't charge.  There's a 'Tip Jar' by the door.  Drop what you think it's worth in that."

 

            "You sure are forgetful around here."  I looked at him again as we walked down the row of books, "So.  You think she's hot?"

 

            "Her?"  His voice went up at least two octaves with that reply.  "No way, bro."

 

            "You crazy!?"

 

            "No!  Are you!?  Why would I think some chick with dishwater blonde hair, muddy brown eyes, and a bad complexion is hot?"

 

            For some reason, with all that has gone on in the last 24 hours, I didn't even raise an eyebrow over that statement.  If that is how he saw her, I'm willing to believe it.  Even though I know better.  I think.  I'll take my fantasy over his any day.

 

            By that time, we were by the door and Ty pointed out the  "Tip Jar".  Big thing, right near the door.  How had I walked past it twice and not seen it?  Oh, yeah.  The last 24 hours...  I really needed to get to his bar and have a drink before heading home again.

 

            Stuffing a handful of bills in the jar as we hit the door, I reconsidered going to the bar tonight.  Maybe, I'll just have Ty drop me off at home on the way to the bar.

 

**************

 

            As the door closed behind them, a couple keystrokes were heard at the counter, and the screen-saver slid away to display an IM screen;

            *Blood Queen says*:  so.  tonight?

 

            *Dream Weaver says*:  newp.  both tired

 

            *Blood Queen says*:  future?

 

            *Dream Weaver says*:  looking solid and long term

 

            *Blood Queen says*:  excellent

 

            *Blood Queen says*:  how was he?

 

            *Dream Weaver says*:  scrumptious

 

            *Blood Queen says*:  lol  why do you think?

 

            *Dream Weaver says*:  must have been the drinks

 

            *Blood Queen says*:  ROTFL

 

 

            In the distance, a car pulls into traffic, and the driver is heard to say, "Really, man.  You can always come back tomorrow.  Now, tell me more details, bro..."

 

            A "Sweetly-Evil" smile, with two very small, and sharp, teeth, illuminated the room.

 

            *Dream Weaver says*:  TTFN