Even in my sleep the beast stirs, does battle with my conscious self.
Last night I dreamt of a coworker, she was going to accompany me on a business trip, but for some inexplicable reason she first had to give blood.
I came upon her in a little room, laying on an exam bed, the red tube snaking from her arm, she was in a hospital gown, legs bare, no bra.
She turned and smiled asking for me to sit with her while she waited for the nurse to return.
Sitting there I could not take my eyes from the blood running from her body, the smell intoxicating.
As she talked her lips began to turn blue and she started to shake, a reaction to the blood letting.
Standing up I came to her side and asked if there was anything I could do, she said that she was cold.
Laying next to her I pressed my warm body against hers, reaching around to pull her to me, my hand traveled from back to the valley of her ass, I stroked the valley from the waistband of her panties to where her moist warm heat began. Up and down murmuring soothing sounds into her ear. I felt her body respond, her hips press forward, a moan of pleasure.
I delayed pushing the button to call the nurse, instead feeling her body convulse and teeth chatter, I kissed her cheek and tasted tears, hers and mine.
Reaching up I pressed the call button, humanity winning over the beast within.
The nurse came, shooting me a glare as I slid off the bed, she took over as I slipped out.
Wandering the halls while I waited, I ran into one of her friends, a guy with grey hair, hunters cap and impossibly long eye lashes, wild and tangled like stag horns. He glared a warning at the beast within, and said, no funny business on this trip, she is a good girl. I sensed an unreciprocated love for this woman.
Turning with a snarl, I walked on into my dream, raising my hand to my nose, smelling the fecund scent, wanting to rend the huntsman and looking forward to tasting her flesh.
© The Sleeping Beast, 2013