Message-ID: <40213asstr$1041401403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: eidelon262@aol.com (Eidelon262) X-Original-Message-ID: <20021231165255.08085.00000416@mb-fw.aol.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 31 Dec 2002 21:52:55 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Last Night I Dreamt I was the Air Date: Wed, 1 Jan 2003 01:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates All the usual yadda yadda yadda. by Eidelon262 I had to lean against the bricks of the bank's facade when I saw her come out of the used book store next door carrying probably two or three paperbacks. She paused to examine the outside table - probably for the second time, since she seemed to scan the titles like she already knew them. Still, I studied her. She was stunning. I knew her. Last night I dreamed I was the air. It's not an uncommon dream when you've got wings growing out of your back. Brain studies on birds show that a lot of the same areas get charged up in dreams. But, as far as we know, when birds dream, they remain airborne projectiles, while human fliers acquire an expanding sense of omniscience. Just a dream though. But boy, does it help you in the sky. What was different last night was that I saw that particular woman and wrapped her in a warm breeze. She looked so cold, and I was attracted. She had dismissed the table and was walking toward me. "Miss? Hi, I'm Taq, and I was just wondering ... were you near Yakuza Club last night?" Her eyes were focused coldly. "None of your business." Which was true. Stupid question. Nobody would admit to being at or not being at Yakuza, because either answer would mean a painful search for illegal nanites. "I'm sorry, I just thought I recognized you from ... a flight last night. I wanted to tell you how pretty you are." She laughed, making her soft dark hair shake. "Some people shouldn't have wings." Then she continued to walk. But I thought I sensed recognition. *** I saw her again last night. I was the air again and I injured someone who wanted to attack her. She wouldn't know, because he was a long way away, more than ten minutes. Since I knew it was only a dream, I used the force of the air to cut off his head. I saw him crumple against the side of his Buick, which was already hovering for him. Then I saw her outside Club Yazuka and warmed her again, enjoying her curves and shivers. A taxi picked her up moments later. The dream ended. *** I paused over a story on my news download that described the decapitation of a local mobster. Cops said it was "Cleaner than Skeeter's Peter." Something turned in me then. What happened in my dreams was matching real life a little too close. Nothing in research to show this could happen, but nothing against it, either. I decided to pick up a lolita and head to the lake. Chicago's North Lake Drive has the best, so that's where I went. C'mon, ya don't get wings without a big cash reserve, right? My old man made a fortune in nanostructure, and I invested it for him. One-two punch. I picked up a 12-year-old girl. Strawberry hair and a sweet little body. Born 40 years before me. "It's expensive, but worth it. You get a virgin, I get a profit., we both have fun." "Any weird dreams?" "Only about my 50s, before I got turned back to 12. Once in a while I get nightmares about getting old." -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+