WARNING! The following story contains explicit depictions of sexual acts. If you are under-age, offended by such material or if this kind of material is illegal where you live then DO NOT READ THIS!! email@example.com http://www.asstr.org/~julian ==== The Appointment Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 2000 All rights reserved. She felt herself floating almost weightless in the hot spa, the bubbles delicately caressing every inch of her body. In a dream-like state she slid her hand across her breast, marvelling at her heightened sense of touch. With a shiver she traced a fingertip slowly around her nipple, her breath quickening in response. Without warning, the spa and everything else around her faded. She found herself immersed in a grey empty void. There was no sense of warmth or cold, no sounds or textures. It lasted the briefest of moments and then... Suddenly there was light, blinding dazzling light. And warmth. She walked alone along a broad expanse of beach, her body warmed by the rays of the sun. Her string bikini fit perfectly over smooth toned curves, accentuating her feminine shape. The gentle sound of surf filled her ears as a light warm breeze caressed her body. She felt remarkably free, alive and sexually charged. She skipped, filled with excitement and energy. On an impulse, she plunged into the surf. The shock of chill water stunned her, causing her to shriek and then laugh. A pelican, disturbed by her outburst, launched itself forward in a flurry, striving to break into flight. She watched it beat its huge wings and paddle frantically with its comical feet. Then... Once again her world faded. A brief moment of frustration followed but it was quickly displaced by anticipation. There was silence. She stood alone in a palatial apartment. The lighting was subdued, its source difficult to ascertain. She gazed around in wonder, marvelling at the exquisite appointments; the four-poster bed, the black marble bath, already filled and steaming. The view over the city took her breath away. One entire wall was glassed, making it seem that the sparkling lights of the city were there for her pleasure alone. Reflected in the glass she could see herself, a ghost image superimposed on the marvellous vista. Her dress, so elegant and feminine, felt wonderful against her skin as she moved forward to the window. She breathed deeply, charmed by her own sensuality. Through the reflection she saw him approach, attractive, confident. His eyes never left her as he moved in close behind her. Strong kind hands gently encircled her waist as his lips pressed softly to her bare shoulder. She shuddered inside with pleasure as his warm breath bathed her skin. Again it faded to the familiar grey of nothing. Then... A glowing panel hung before her, suspended in the emptiness. Wherever she turned, it followed, demanding her attention, refusing to leave until she acknowledged it. She already knew what it said but found herself reading it slowly regardless, allowing herself one final chance to change her mind. The text was a standard disclaimer, a terse legal statement with a very clear message. She reached up to the glowing green button labelled 'Proceed' and placed her finger within its centre. The panel disappeared and immediately she was somewhere else. It was night. She walked alone in a quiet empty street. A quick glance in a dark shop window did nothing to alleviate her growing sense of vulnerability. She wore a short elegant cocktail dress, with black stockings and expensive high-heeled shoes. A distant manufactured memory of an argument with a lover was the only explanation for her current dilemma. As she walked the dim street, a nervous dread battled with a sense of tingling anticipation. She reminded herself that she was utterly safe, though it did little to calm her nerves. Ahead, from a shadow filled doorway, a figure emerged. With the street light behind him she could not see his face but his strength and confidence were unmistakable. She stopped, unable to approach him. He stood directly in her path and she could not bring herself to move. Footsteps drew in close from behind, confirming her suspicions. She was already surrounded. The man in front approached in a slow calm manner. When he spoke, his voice was low but laced with threats. He told how dangerous it was for a woman here, in this neighbourhood. Behind her, strong hands took hold of her arms and held them firm. She did not look around. The heady sense of helplessness, coupled with the knowledge that this was not real, sent a strong pulse of excitement through her. The man in front held her attention as a serpent stares down its prey. She could not speak. Her body trembled from the powerful mixture of emotions that coursed through her. He traced a finger lightly over her cheek and told her how lovely she was. Then, with casual ease, he deftly slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders. Her nipples grew hard even before he started to lightly thumb them. Once more the scene faded to grey; safe, comforting, disappointing grey. A small panel appeared, offering assistance should she feel any distress. She dismissed it with an offhand gesture, too consumed with frustration to give it a moment's thought. The grey slowly dissolved to be replaced with something different; something inherently familiar. It was the subdued light of the room filtering through her closed eyelids - her real eyelids. She sat in silence, composing herself before finally opening them. The small plush room with its thick blue carpet and subtly glowing walls brought her immediately back to reality. For a few brief moments, the disorientation she felt threatened to unbalance her but after a few deep breaths it passed. The whole experience had left her feeling weak but exhilarated. Sitting up, she removed the fashionable headset and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. Its moulded contours adjusted themselves to assist when she started to rise. On shaking legs, she hurriedly made herself presentable and then activated the door. As the door whispered open, a woman looked up from her desk, greeting her with a business-like smile that was practised but convincing. "Have you made a choice?" The woman asked mildly, in the manner of her kind. They could have easily have been talking about hair colour. "Yes thank you. I have." She replied, seating herself opposite. The console before her came to life, presenting her with a list of choices. She quickly chose two, hesitated, then changed her selection. Her cheeks flushed hotly at the thought of what she was doing. The woman seemed too busy at her own console to take much notice. Taking a slow deep breath, she confirmed her selection and requested the earliest available session. The console offered her a timeslot two days hence, lasting twelve hours. She accepted it with shaking hands and when the credits were transferred, the transaction was complete. As the screen went blank, she rose eagerly from the chair. "We'll see you on... Wednesday." The woman said, after checking her own console. "Pleasant dreams." She beamed in the cliché manner of their latest advertisement. In hindsight now, it seemed such bad marketing. This had been far more real than any dream. Mumbling a polite good-bye, she walked with relief from the Preview Suite into the bustling mall beyond. With a light spring to her step and a subdued smile of pride, she joined the crowd and became anonymous once again. ==== If you liked this story you can find more at "Julian's Dark Dreams" http://www.asstr.org/~julian Comments are always welcome and very much appreciated. You can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org ==== Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 1996 All rights reserved. Permission is granted for this work to be archived or redistributed in electronic form as long as this notice is included and no modifications whatsoever are made. It may not be distributed in printed form or for profit without the author's prior written consent.