Dream Couch

"I will mark each spot with the corresponding number of the solution in each bottle. I chose a sprayer to limit the area and do the least possible harm. Okay, here goes with bottle number one...."

A slight spritz of chemicals, and then they waited for ten minutes to see if anything had occurred. When nothing happened, they moved to a new spot and a new bottle. While they waited, Farahd got his first honest look at the object and the hints of markings all over its surface. After the third bottle failed, Farahd began removing the metal tacks used to hold the material that covered the long-since rotted cushions. He examined the bits for color, patterns, and composition to reproduce a reasonable facsimile. It might also give him a timeline of when the last pillows were present on the couch.

"Six is looking promising," Dick said. "It is beginning to fade, and I can see some wood beneath. Let's give it a few more minutes before we move on. Worse case, we try blending one or more of them."

It wasn't until he used bottle eight that an immediate and positive reaction occurred. When the chemicals struck the coating, it shone like burnished gold before dripping onto the tarp below. To be sure, Dick tried a nearby spot to be positive. Farahd brought out a work lamp and directed it at the location to examine the wood to ensure the remover wasn't harming it. He wiped the area clean and grinned when he saw the grains were healthy and undamaged. They agreed to use the number eight on the rest of the couch. The cameras recorded every moment as the coating liquified and dribbled down, revealing the gorgeous carvings, pictographs, and beauty of the Yocatta wood.

"It seems to have a natural blue tint; how unusual," Farahd narrated. "The markings are simplistic, yet the wood joining complexity is beyond what you'd expect of a primitive society. The intricacy is amazing, and the craftsmanship is inspired. I feel we have revealed a new culture that had developed to at least the level of Renaissance. We may never be able to decipher these characters, but perhaps Gemma and her contacts might find a way. Jeez, I need to call her."

Farahd went to a drawer in his smaller work area and retrieved his smartphone and its charger. As he feared, the phone was dead, and he'd have to wait until it recharged to call her. It took both men to shift the couch, lift the sides of the tarp, and safely channel the liquified coating into a receptacle. Dick sealed the container, and while he got the legal documents crafted, Farahd held onto the vessel for safekeeping. It was only fair, after all.

One hour later, Farahd switched on his phone, and it immediately began to vibrate, chirp, and beep. Gemma's texts and messages filled his inbox and had arrived in the last seventy-two hours. They were all concerned about the couch and being ultra cautious when handling it. She never mentioned the source of her fears, but he called her to let her know that all was well.

"Hey, I got your texts," Farahd said.

"Did it arrive intact?"

"Not a scratch, and the best part is a chemist friend of mine found a way of removing that ugly coating without damaging the Yocatta wood. The sculptor carved it from an extinct tree, how cool is that?"

"That doesn't surprise me; I traced the ownership of the couch back to Egypt. It looks like the pharaohs used it for inspiration. Well, that is what the professor said, but he is looking over the papyrus scrolls to ensure he has the correct translation. Send me any photos you take so I can look them over."

"Sure thing, we may have a huge bonus heading our way. My friend, the chemist, says that if he can reproduce the coating, we could make a ton of money making it and selling it to places like NASA, the Pentagon, and the like. It acts as a radiation shield, a lightweight coating that protects against harmful energy. What do you think of that?"

"Why would someone paint a couch with stuff that keeps out radiation? Hold on, is the couch radioactive?"

"Nope," Dick chimed in and held up a handheld Geiger counter. "I thought of that before we started. We are perfectly safe."

"Thank the gods," Gemma replied. "Well, send me a copy of whatever his lawyer's draft and do not sign anything until I give you the okay. No hard feelings, Dick."

"None taken; I am a professional."

"I think we need to take a break, and I don't know about you, but I'm emotionally exhausted and could use a good night's sleep."

"Agreed. I'll go to my hotel, call my lawyer in the morning, and we'll get the ball rolling. Here's to a bright and interesting future."

Farahd locked up the house, fed Rasputin and himself, and slept upstairs. His last conscious thought was touching the icon on his smartwatch and activating the alarm system. He felt his body tumbling like something out of Alice in Wonderland. When he hit bottom, his body bolted upright where he was seated. Instead of his workshop, he sat on the sofa with an expensive video camera next to him. He saw the 8K marking on the side and wondered what was happening. The words seemed to bubble up from inside, and he began to speak.

"Welcome everyone to Farahd's Casting Couch; send in our next potential starlet."

He heard the pistons working as the metallic door slid open, and a hooded figure sauntered into the room. The hiss-clang of the door closing echoed momentarily as the woman approached and stood before him and the camera.

"Welcome to the show. Who do we have tonight for my audience to drool over," Farahd asked.

The woman reached for the clasp of the robe, unlocked it, and rolled her shoulders, sending the dark cloth to the floor. He recognized her instantly.

"Ahsoka Tano, well, look at you all grown up. Have a seat, and we can chat before we get you naked and sweaty," he said, but while the woman looked like the character, her features were those of Claudette Melvin. He must be dreaming because she wasn't wearing a costume; she was Ahsoka. "Why are you here tonight?"

"To get fucked rotten and earn some credits along the way."

"Honesty, I like that, so do you prefer any favorite positions or acts over others? My audience is dying to know."

"Getting it from behind is the best for deep penetration; as for what I like doing for my partner... just about anything. I'm not what you'd call shy."

"How about any war stories, fond memories, or anything else you'd like to share tonight?"

"Hmm, I once took on six men of profound length and thickness as part of an initiation ceremony. They planned to leave me covered in cum and broken. Instead, they were asleep, exhausted, or fled out of fear by the time the sun rose. I stood triumphant, if a little sore in my backdoor. Some of them were overzealous when it came to pounding the round."

"Speaking of round, how about you do a nice slow dance and show us what is under your uniform."

Farahd licked his lips as the faux Ahsoka stood and began to dance in place as she undressed. The same expression of complete abandon painted her features as she entertained Farahd and anyone watching. When the last bit of cloth was on the floor, Claudette let Farahd direct poses for her, and she never flinched once.

"Let's see this legendary ass of yours," he said. "Face away and bend over. Ooh, would you look at that... pull those cheeks apart for us. Yowzah, now that is an ass that launched a thousand starships. Have a seat, and we can continue."

Farahd spoke the words, but they weren't his. Some force had taken over, but that dark secret part of him enjoyed seeing Claudette naked, and so close this time. Would the dream end before they had sex? He'd have to wait and see.

"My audience wants to know if you masturbate?" Farahd asked, and the Ahsoka persona smiled and replied.

"Every day," she said. "My sex drive has only gotten stronger with age. I often go outside without panties and a toy or two to stimulate myself when I shop or even go to a diner or pick up food—the rush from knowing that people have no clue what goes on under my skirt. Sometimes I pretend they can hear the soft buzz of the toys at work. Damn, look at me soaked already."

Farahd tossed her a vibrator, which she used without a second thought. Ahsoka slumped in her seat until her ass was on the edge of the cushion. She spread her legs as wide as possible before turning on the toy and using it.

"Oh fuck," she cried out. "Feels so good. Here, how about this angle."

Ahsoka knelt on the couch with her ass facing the camera and used the toy until her body bucked, and she had her first orgasm. Farahd tossed her the second toy, a dildo of length and girth.

"Let's see how you take a cock," Farahd said, and she prepped the toy by pretending it was real and deep-throated it with ease. "Damn, that is impressive."

"You haven't seen anything yet. Watch this," Claudette whimpered as she placed the tip against her sphincter and pushed. "Unn... see how tight my ass is. Watch me bury this back there, and then you can follow it up with your cock."

Farahd watched and felt his erection strain in its confinement and knew it was time to interact with his interviewee. She watched him undress as she drove the faux dick in and out of her ass. Farahd repositioned her so that instead of facing the wall, she kneeled on the couch lengthwise. He teased her labia for a bit before plunging into Claudette's depths. As he thrust, she shoved her hips backward to maximize the force and impact of their actions. Farahd took the toy from her to simulate her getting DP'd.

"I wish you had two cocks," Claudette whimpered.

"Me too; I wish I could DP you by myself," Farahd agreed.

"He repeated the magic words," Sorrow whispered from the sidelines.

"I know, here we go," Despair giggled and made arcane gestures.

Farahd felt the transformation and grinned ferociously. "You aren't going to believe this, but... here we go." He removed the toy, pulled out, and almost immediately slid both his erections into Ahsoka, to her utter amazement. She lowered her head and chest to the cushions and raised her ass for easier penetration.

"Break me if you can," were the last coherent words out of her mouth. Claudette's orgasms blended after a while until, with a gasp of relief, Farahd finally climaxed and filled both her openings. "Best dream ever."

Farahd withdrew and heard falling water nearby. The dream's surroundings changed to the wilderness, and he stood beneath a giant waterfall and let the tumbling water do all the work. Then he realized that it wasn't just the setting that had changed, but something or someone was present nearby, and it wasn't Claudette or her Ahsoka persona.

"He tells me your name is Farahd," the woman's voice seemed to come from nowhere and all directions simultaneously.

"Yes. I am Farahd. Do I know you?"

"Unlikely, though in a minor fashion, you know my nature."

"Are you always so cryptic?"

"Always. To be otherwise would be abandoning my soul and being disingenuous. Farahd, are you true to yourself?"

"I'd like to think so. I follow my curiosity, use my gifts and hands to repair, and am kind even when difficult."

"Your generosity is not in question. Think about my question deeply and ask yourself, am I true to the core of my being?"

Farahd closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts. What was at the center of his soul? The answer became apparent; his outer actions mirrored his inner being. He opened his eyes and found her standing there. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him. It felt like a live wire had been attached to every cell in his body.

He awoke with the dawn. Rasputin was already awake and watching him. Instead of begging or dramatic gestures, the kitten purred and rubbed against his outstretched hand.

"What a dream, eh Rasputin?"

"Mow."

"Do you think I should call Claudette? See, if she shared the same dream."

"Mow."

"Nah, let's eat, besides I have a couch to take apart and examine. I can't wait."

Farahd and Rasputin had breakfast, and afterward, while the kitten raced through the house, Farahd began dismantling the couch to ensure no hidden damage or trouble might linger. As the computer played one of his work playlists and the music filled the air, Farahd lost himself in his task. There was little progress the first day; whoever had designed and constructed the couch had done so as much as a work of art as a puzzle.

"This is Da Vinci's mirror all over again," he chuckled. "Time for a break."

The sun had set, and as he munched on a snack while sitting on his front porch, he watched Claudette's house with interest. Would he dream about her again tonight? What persona, if any, would she adopt? More importantly, would the woman from the waterfall make an appearance?

Three days and nights later, Farahd had his first success and found the first of many hidden catches that held the couch together. He documented the event, filmed his discovery, and treated himself to a cold beer and a small amount of weed to help settle his nerves. Every time he slept, Claudette was there to submit to his ever-growing hunger willingly. So many years of being alone required an outlet, and she provided that unashamedly. But it wasn't just her; her daughter Aurora crept into his dream last night. She waited until her mother had departed and begged for Farahd's attention.

"If she is good enough for you, why not me? I'll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you."

"Why? Why me?"

"All mom does is brag about her dreams, how she wakes up soaked and satisfied. She claims that the sex, while she sleeps is better than anything she had felt while awake. Don't I deserve to be happy too?"

"How did you find me? How did you enter my dream?"

"The pale woman showed me the way. She claimed to be one of your servants and gave me the clues to leave my dream and enter yours. So, Farahd, will you make love to me?"

"Did you come here for love or sex? I don't love you and likely never will. Does that put you off?"

"No. I want you to fuck me senseless. There, I said it, I want your cock inside me."

"Tomorrow night, find the path and dress up for the occasion. Ask the pale lady what fantasy you should fulfill. Got it?"

"I will drain your balls, and that's a promise."

Aurora faded into the mist surrounding his dream realm. The woman from the waterfall appeared and took his hand. Their time together was growing, even if it was only incrementally.

"Truth and dreams rarely coincide with one another, but I like your style. She is like her mother, has a strong libido, and has focused on you. If you want my advice, do not be gentle with her. Give her what she wants and see if she returns."

One moment their fingers were interlaced, and the next, Farahd was alone and waking up. Something else was happening to him; when he awoke, Farahd felt more and more refreshed. His energy level, his concentration, and mindfulness seemed to be increasing. He renewed his attack on the couch and its secrets. Despite his best efforts, the damn thing revealed those mysteries slowly. Ten days into his actions, he removed the first leg of the couch, and he savored his dreams and the two women competing for his attention. Farahd hoped this rivalry did not spill out into the real world. He would hate to be responsible for mother and daughter hating each other.

"Mow."

"Oh hey, look, I figured out how to detach one of the legs. There is some damage, but not nearly as bad as I feared. If the other parts are in this condition, this will be a breeze to fix. Rasputin tumbled to the floor and sang the song of his people until Farahd picked him up and loved on him. The kitten's purrs nearly drowned out the sound of the front doorbell. "Let's see who it is."

Dick and his lawyer were there and brought the initial paperwork to create an LLC to manufacture and distribute the product. Amongst the papers was the patent for the process that Dick had reverse-engineered. He decided to share its creation with Farahd and Gemma. It wasn't something he had to do, but he felt it was the right thing to do. The money they could make was enough for them to live leisurely. That didn't matter to Farahd; his only goal was to continue restoring treasures. There was the joy in his life, well, that, and his ever-improving dreams.

"How goes taking it apart?" Dick asked.

"It's been roughly ten days, and I safely removed one leg. The wood has little damage, and I hope it stays that way. I'll send Gemma a copy of the legal work and let her take care of that part of things. We should have this resolved shortly."

"Well, I don't want to take away from your work. Keep me in the loop, and I'll do the same."

Farahd returned to his workshop and renewed his attack on the couch's mysteries. Over the next six days, Farahd finished disassembling the largest puzzle box he had ever encountered. And within, a hidden treasure that included a parchment scroll and a small clay bottle sealed with wax. Farahd celebrated the discovery by opening a bottle of scarce wine. He sipped the liquid treasure as he slowly and delicately untied the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.

"Holy shit," Farahd cursed. "I think this is a part of the Egyptian Book of the Dead."

"Mow?" Rasputin purred as he leaped into Farahd's lap and settled in for a nap.

"I'll need to translate it later, but for now, I will savor this wine and your company."

With a wine glass in one hand and his other scratching Rasputin behind the ears, Farahd savored his victory. Tomorrow would be a big day, attempting a quick and dirty translation of the scroll and seeing what was in the clay bottle. After that, the real work would begin, restoring the couch and finding a prominent place until Gemma returned from her scavaging trip.

An intoxicated and blissfully happy Farahd negotiated the steps, undressed, and plopped down and under the covers of his bed.

"I did it. I solved the puzzle. Mmm, I deserve a reward."

The dream began the moment he closed his eyes. Farahd sat in a semicircle of plump pillows with other men watching the scantily clad green-skinned dancer approach the center of the room. A small band of musicians struck a lusty tune, and the entertainment began. The melody was slow and ponderous at first, and she isolated portions of her body and caused her belly or breasts to quiver in time with the beat. As the song continued, the pitch and pace became nearly frenetic.

"She is something," one of them remarked.

"I hear someone purchased her as a gift for a friend. To have companions like that is to live a truly blessed life."

"What about you, Farahd," the third man asked. "Who brings two lovely ladies to watch a third?"

Farahd turned and saw the smiling sisters Sorrow and Despair seated nearby. Sorrow laughed and informed him that he had said he deserved a reward, and it took the form of Aurora as an Orion slave girl. Of course, in reality, she was none of these things, but in her heart, the lust she felt for Farahd bound her to him. He returned his attention to Aurora and enthusiastically watched the carnal display. The warm interior, combined with her exertions into handstands and other feats of strength, soon had Aurora covered in sweat. That sweat interacted with the special silk she wore and turned it transparent. By the end of the first dance, she might as well have been naked.

With the last beat of the last note, the circular window in the ceiling opened, and a torrent of rainwater fell, which cooled off Aurora but also melted her costume, leaving her with nothing to hide her body from all the men surrounding her. She dashed off, and a Trill girl with her spotted skin took the stage and danced in the rain for everyone.

"Don't leave your guest waiting, sir," Despair whispered.

"Yes, she begged so hard for something special to make you crave her tonight," Sorrow added.