Ronnie and Max – weird dreams Part I
The laptop’s light was too bright. Max complained: ‘Babe, really, it’s midnight. Sleep, goddamn you.’ Ronnie shushed her. ‘You’ll wake the dogs.’ She put a wet finger on Max’ lips. Max licked it tentatively. It tasted like Ronnie. ‘Why are you wet?’ She whispered. Ronnie nodded at the laptop screen. It was a word document. She was typing furiously. ‘Ah, wet dream again?’ ‘Weird, wet and wild. Now shush, before I start forgetting details.’
Max cuddled up to her girlfriend and grabbed her reading glasses. She considered getting her sunglasses for outside reading, but felt too comfy to leave the bed. Also she’d trip over all the dogs and wake some of the idiots that’d assume that it was time to play. Best to stay in bed.
She started reading what Ronnie was typing, as she did so, she quietly dipped her finger inside Ronnie, much to her chagrin. As she needed to finish getting the story on the computer before she lost cohesion and more importantly her mind due to the orgasm that was inevitably building now that Max was diddling her surreptitiously.
I’m in my old house, the apartment, with only one bedroom and the kitchenette in the living room, my old furniture is all there, but all swept and stacked to the side. For what reason is unclear to me. I’m not even sure how I got there and what day it is. I do know of our new home and realise it’s weird that I’m here. Still, it feels as if it’s mine. I mean: my furniture is right there.
For some reason my washer isn’t in the bathroom, but in the bedroom? And it’s on? Without being connected to the water mains? Or more importantly perhaps: the sewage line? Still it’s happy to spin the load of washing that’s inside. I don’t recognise the clothing, but it could be mine.
Max kept reading, whilst Ronnie typed furiously. A small wet plopping sound was heard, Max licked her fingertip and walked it back under the sheets over Ronnie’s tummy, right to its earlier seat. Ronnie wiggled, half annoyed, half aroused, not willing to commit to either emotion fully, still concentrating and recollecting. Max visualised what Ronnie was typing in her mind.
A set of four folding chairs and two knee high stack of cement or gypsum or whatever was inside the bags topped with a plank, made a make shift table and together formed a lunch setting. There were empty carton cups still there, with the dregs of this mornings’ coffee. That certainly wasn’t hers. She couldn’t abide coffee, it kept her up for 48 hours if not more. And an ash tray. They’d smoked here. The audacity!
Just when Ronnie was about to start cursing out loud, the front door opened, by someone using a key. She turned around in anger and was surprised to see two cleaning ladies, armed with bucket, a mop and other paraphernalia that clearly marked their stated intent. They’d make poor bank robbers. Though, on second thought, it’d be the perfect crime, wouldn’t it. Who’d stop a cleaning woman with a bucket. Hiding a gun and wads of cash and jewelry in the bucket, in a seal bag. Ronnie stopped her mind wandering and looked at them expectantly, in a sort of Mexican stand off.
The cleaning ladies looked back at her. Not knowing what to say and afraid to set her off, cause they could see Ronnie was obviously perturbed. ‘We’ll come back later.’ ‘Good idea’ Ronnie replied dryly, stopping her self from venting her anger and lack of understanding on these poor women. They didn’t deserve that. But likewise she didn’t deserve this. She closed the door behind them and locked it from the inside, with her front door key, which shouldn’t be on her current key chain. Her key chain showed the house keys of the house she lived in. It was very confusing.
She went back to what used to be her bedroom and sat down on a chair. She looked at the table again. The coffee cups. An empty wrapper of a sausage roll. Another thing she wouldn’t touch. She didn’t eat sausage or meat. Or at least. Not that type of meat or sausage. She grinned to her self. Then got angry at her self. Stop joking. How did you get here? What are you doing here? She was sure she’d sold off that couch that was on it’s side, standing up against the wall in the living room. The water cooker on the kitchen counter had quit working years ago. But there it was.
Ronnie felt physically icky. She didn’t dare move towards the water cooker. If she turned it on, and it worked, it confirmed something was wrong. If it didn’t work, it confirmed something was wrong still. Neither outcome was putting her ease. She was frozen in indecision. And the smell of the coffee mixed with sweat from the workers was somehow getting to her. Her house should smell of cinnamon scents. From the incense she burned. From the ears of her first girl. Who wasn’t here. Neither were her things. Nor were any dogs. Or other dog things. That’s weird. Her house was about two thirds devoted to dog paraphernalia first and one third her own. Her head spun.
The door lock made itself known again. It was turning again from the outside, someone used a key outside again. If she’d left the key in the door, they wouldn’t have been able. In her haste to get to the door, she tripped over the power cord of the washer and interrupted the program. It reset and started emptying. The pump gurgled and the hose started spewing water. On the concrete floor. There was no laminate or anything. Ronnie found a large black mixing tub for cement and put the hose in there.
She looked at the by now open door and saw Michael walking in? With a key. He’d never gotten? And he had Kyara with him? But they’d only entered her life after the move to the new house. Ronnie started getting dizzy. She dropped on the folding chair, destabilising it and just as she was about to tip it, he helped her stay upright. She clamped her hands around his midsection and put her head against his hips, willing the world to make sense.
Kyara spoke: ‘Ver? You OK? You look. . hassled?’ Kyara never used her preferred name. Ronnie didn’t know exactly why. She looked up at Kyara and Michael and shook her head. ‘Something’s off? I’m not sure. . what.’ Not wanting to tell that she was feeling like she was losing her mind. Melissa put her hands on her shoulders and pinched them encouragingly. Where the hell did she come from? Did she walk in with Michael and Kyara? She. .. this didn’t make sense. She had sued Melissa for all she’d done. And now she was here? In her old apartment? She looked younger. Less tired. Less mean. Like she used to know and love her.
A tear started forming in the corner of her eye and Ronnie was doing her utmost to hold it together. ‘It’s OK. It’s just a water spill. Don’t worry about it. Let me go find a mop, I’ll clean it up.’ Kyara said. Melissa let her hands wander from her shoulders, one to her chin, forcing Ronnie to look up in her kind face and one went down casually, not exactly resting on her breast, but definitely making contact, which could not be interpreted in any other way then in an erotic context. She lowered her own face and kissed Ronnie.
The kiss was good. It was less complex that trying to figure out this temporal mismatch. Ronnie gave in. Kissing was better then crying. She moved her hands to the side of Melissa’s face and kissed back, trying to feel things, trying to ascertain what was real. If this felt real, what about Max? And the dogs? And her life? That she imagined? No she can’t have imagined it all, the keys to the new house are on her key chain. She lowered one hand and checked the key chain again, going by feel alone, closing her eyes, whilst playing tongue hockey with Melissa. The key was there. She just needed to figure out where time started to play weird games.
The front door was closed by Kyara with a soft thud and she turned the lock with the key Michael must have used to let them in and then left the key in the lock, to prevent others opening it from the other side. As she was used to doing herself. She didn’t hear the key being withdrawn. Melissa tapped her gently on the shoulder. ‘Need air. .’ She mumbled, slightly embarrassed as she disconnected from Ronnie’s lips.
‘I think I’m going insane.’ She blurted out. And fell to her knees on the floor. She looked at the shoes or sandals or well, whatever you should call those things that Melissa was wearing. It was like a sandal with fine chains and small plates of high shine metal. It would most definitely fit into a harem collection. It didn’t offer any protection from the elements or armour value in an online game. Definitely girl armour. Sexy girl armour. Ronnie laughed at herself for that internal aside.
‘You like?’ Melissa asked, if you want you can try and take em off?’ She offered her leg to Ronnie and Ronnie started fiddling with the sandal, instantly got all tangled up, she even managed to get her hair tangled in it! Melissa and Kyara laughed and helped Michael disentangling her hair. Their scents, demeanour and closeness calmed Ronnie somewhat. And turned her on. It was all very intimate, being this close physically to each other.
Whilst disentangling a strand of hair from the shoe’s many fine chains, Michael gently stroked her hair, following it, to her scalp and then tracing her face from the side, going past the neck and stopping just at the cleavage. When she looked up at him, to figure out why he stopped, he raised his eyebrows requesting permission to continue. She nodded enthusiastically. She needed this. She wasn’t even worried about Kyara being married to him. And Melissa being here. If the village people turned up from behind a sliding wall, she wouldn’t blink in surprise, she’d just continue having casual sex and if her arms were free, she’d make the YMCA gestures, providing it didn’t throw her off balance.
They started undressing each other in mounting urgency. The couch that was supposed to be sold off, was put on the floor the right way up and offered a definitely softer place to lay down her by now naked form. She didn’t see her clothes anymore? They’d disappeared? Who worries about clothes when her nipples were being suckled.. . But her keys. . her mind protested. .. fuck the keys. .. her body said.
The four of them were lying on the floor, or no? Not the floor. The floor had been bare concrete a short while ago. It was now something akin to mattresses. Going from wall to wall. No seams, no edges. With a white cover over it. Definitely not something she had or could have had in this apartment, her mind insisted. Her body insisted: Shut up about the apartment. He’s inside.
He was inside! Slowly, gently stroking out and in. In equal parts enraptured by the feeling of deep penetration and the slow slight downwards pressure on his foreskin as her vagina kept pinching him intermittently. As if trembles and spasms of pre-orgasms kept happening. For her part Ronnie’s body and slowly succumbing mind, were in another dimension. She was so close to the stage where she’d cry from the intensity of the orgasm. She knew it confused Max. She wondered how Michael would react.
Next to them Melissa and Kyara were laying entangled deep into each other’s embrace, kissing, biting, pinching, licking. The vision of titillation drove Ronnie over the edge. And she didn’t cry. She wasn’t sure why. She felt the orgasm starting like a thunderstorm in her toes and by the time the storm reached her pudendum, she was bucking wildly. She tried to get him inside deeper. When bucking didn’t work, she clamped her legs around his bum desperately, to pull him in deeper.
She needed stimulation there. It tickled and itched there. She held on to him, mashing her breasts into his hairy chest, and bit his neck. Not knowing how to behave, what to do, to make her body comply. To end the itching. As he started to spurt inside her, the itching stopped and the full body orgasm happened. She did start to cry. ‘Oh thank you! Oh thank you! I love you! I love you! Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ She kept babbling and repeating herself whilst feeling herself sweating from every pore in her body.
She squirted. She only occasionally lost some lubrication. She felt that if he hadn’t been inside she probably could have pretended being a boy and hit something from a distance. She started laughing at the silly realisation. She wished she could shut her mind off. Kyara kissed her and she felt Melissa move to where Michael and her were joined and started licking whatever leaked out.
‘So what’s this place called anyway? Your swingers’ club?’ Kyara asked her. Ronnie blinked at her not understanding and then again blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. ‘What if Danny Devito did IT?’ Kyara giggled. The triple layered gag was instantly picked up by her. That didn’t happen often.
Out of nowhere Sebastian came, carrying a severed head looking like Machete, or whatever the dude was called in real life. Danny Trejo. It was a rubber head. And his tongue was a sleeve. You could put a finger in there. Or a very thin cock. And then use it to pleasure someone else, with Danny Trejo’s rubber head in between the two of you.
Max blinked at the final paragraph and removed her finger from Ronnie’s snatch. ‘Danny Trejo?’ Ronnie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m just writing it down as it happened. I’m not in charge of the department that checks temporal accuracy, silliness, making sense or basically anything. I’m still afraid the Village People will happen here, with that wall sliding away.’ She pointed at the wall across the bed. Max started humming under her breath as she slid down to her goal. Y-MMMM-C- AAAA. Suppressed squeals emanated from the bedroom door. ‘No Bailey! No shush. Back. Go to sleep. It’s not time yet. Mommies are having fun. We don’t need toys. Really.’ The house was quiet and dark again. Some sighs and muffled wet sounds at times escaped. Eventually even those died down and everyone slept the sleep of the just (fucked).