Dream Couch

Farahd rose and followed the sisters to the room they had prepared for this dream. The furnishings and atmosphere were pure classic Star Trek. The wall's decorations referred to many of the worlds and aliens the Enterprise crew had encountered. In the center was a large pool fed by underground hot springs and Aurora, the Orion slave girl.

"Master," she moaned. "I am here for your every whim."

Farahd left a trail of clothing behind him as he entered the pool and sat opposite Aurora as she used a small bucket to scoop up water and pour it over her head and body.

"I always wanted to be a natural redhead," Aurora purred. "See, au natural even down to the racing stripe. Tell me what...."

Farahd kissed her into silence, and the bucket tumbled from her fingers which slid into his dark hair. Aurora hadn't missed Farahd's almost clumsy lovemaking when they first got together to the emboldened man before her now. He had grown in a few short weeks, and the blistering kiss was proof of that. Farahd cupped her breasts and planted kisses on her nipples, forcing her back to arch so she could push them into his face. His teeth lightly bit down, sending jolts of pleasure through her, and this was only the beginning. He had taught her to be patient. If she were out on a date, her hands would have been wrapped around his cock by now. Instead, she waited and let him guide her where he wanted to go.

"Turn around," Farahd said, and she did so instinctively. His hands cupped her tits as he planted kisses on her neck while he weighed her heavy breasts in his hands. His erection slid between her ass cheeks, and Aurora wanted to feel him inside her.

"Patience," Aurora whispered to herself. "He is in charge."

One of his hands strayed downward, and Aurora's legs spread for him. Farahd's clever fingers found her clit and labia and lightly touched, teased, and rubbed her leisurely. He never seemed to be in a rush, which drove her crazy, but in a good way. When he bit the side of her neck Aurora nearly climaxed. The sudden pressure took her off guard, and she loved being surprised.

"I want a taste," Farahd said as he leaned forward until Aurora was on her knees and the water in the pool dropped to accommodate them. She felt the head of his cock slowly align with her slit until he pushed his hips forward and buried it deep.

"More than a taste," she cried out.

Farahd began moving his hips as the window above them opened, and the light of three moons converged upon them and illuminated their lovemaking. His motions were slow and gentle for now, and Aurora felt a warm glow envelope her as he pleasured her body. When the time was right, she began thrusting to meet him, and a natural progression happened. Farahd and Aurora became more forceful until they were pounding against each other.

"Close," Aurora wailed as her climax crested.

She felt Farahd's fingers in her long scarlet tresses as he pulled her head back and pummeled her as hard and fast as he could. His cock swelled inside of her, and she knew they would come together. Aurora gasped for breath as her heart raced in her chest. So close, she thought, make me cum, please. Farahd pulled back until only the tip remained and slammed his body forward. They both cried out simultaneously as jets of his load sprayed her insides, and her orgasm tore through her entire being.

"Damn," Aurora cursed as her eyes snapped open, and the dream ended. She lifted her covers, half expecting to see physical evidence of his climax in her bed. "I need to fuck him while I'm awake."

Farahd did not wake but instead tumbled deeper into his dreams. He strolled amidst a great savannah that bordered a dark foreboding jungle.

"Where there is a dream, can a nightmare be far away," the lady of the waterfalls asked. "How did you like your reward?"

"Intense," Farahd replied. "I want to ask you a question, but not at the cost of angering or annoying you." The woman laughed and gestured that he should continue. "Thank you, I found a scroll inside the couch."

"The dream couch, go on."

"Dream couch? Well, now things begin to make sense. The scroll's art appears to depict something out of the book of the dead. Is that so?"

"It does indeed, and since you asked so nicely, I will tell you this, the scroll and bottle are linked. The contents have been preserved and are as safe as when brewed and sealed away. No, I will not share that secret. Your curiosity and intellect must decide whether tasting an ancient alchemical formula is worth the risk?"

"Do you know Sorrow and Despair?"

"Hmm, those two have been around as long as the world has possessed life. They aren't what they seem, and their titles can be misleading. This story isn't my tale to tell, but let me suppose for a moment and tell me what you think. Sorrow on her face represents a loss or the end of things as we know them. The death of a loved one, losing a job, or the end of a relationship are all within her domain. You could just as easily call her grief; she isn't a bad thing on her own. Her sister Despair, on the other hand, is the loss of hope and can be a slippery slope to bitterness. The Black Spiral Dancers worship Despair and offer up their anguish as a token of their fondness. You've met people who wallow in hopelessness and do their best to drag others down. Yet, she can be a warning to the wise and help them turn away and embrace her sister, Hope. Nothing and no one lives in a vacuum, and you aren't alone."

Farahd awoke and wiped the tears from his eyes. He absently turned the ring on his finger just as the duke had done. "I wear Despair on my hand, but I still have hope."

Jarred by the intensity of his dream, he rose, showered, and returned to his workshop. The scroll was safely in his wall safe, but the clay vial lay where he had left it. He could smash it to the floor, end the temptation, send it to Dick for analysis, or fulfill his curiosity and drink its contents. It had been hidden for a reason, and so had the scroll. Perhaps the formula for the liquid was etched on the surface of the papyrus. If so, he might be able to reproduce it himself.

"Mow?"

"Do you think I should throw caution to the wind, Rasputin?"

"Mow."

"You are right. She wouldn't lead me astray, and what is the worst that could happen?"

Farahd picked up the clay bottle, used the nail on his thumb to break the seal, removed the wax, and drank the contents. There wasn't much to imbibe, and its taste blended fruit and flowers. He waited, but nothing happened.

"No Dr. Jekyll and Mister Hyde today," Farahd joked. "Let's get started putting this bad boy back together. Wait. It doesn't seem fair to take it apart and not leave anything in its place. The space is deep enough for a book, and I know which one to place there."

Farahd spent the next week repairing the damage over the centuries and sealing the wood with a natural compound that would protect and leave the wood grain exposed, revealing its beauty. Once everything was dry, he placed the book into the cavity and reassembled the dream couch. That is what the woman called it, and his strange nocturnal encounters confirmed her words. Once it was in one piece, he added the cushions that would allow him to lie on it comfortably. The material and pattern he had selected didn't precisely match the older samples but tied the theme and nicely complimented the wood's color. He took his time, and once the last tack was in place, the dream couch was ready for its first occupant.

"Mow."

"The sun is still up, and I'm not tired. So, I guess we have the rest of the day to do nothing. Rasputin, what do you want to do?"

"Mow!"

"Sure, why not."

Farahd filled the sink with warm soapy water, bathed Rasputin, and spoiled him until the sun went down. There were plenty of scritches, treats, and general attention-giving. So, when the sun began to set, they were both nicely worn out and would sleep until dawn.

"So, do you want to try out the dream couch with me?"

"Mow," Rasputin said as he yawned, revealing his gleaming canines.

"Let's do this," Farahd laughed. "Me in my pajamas, and you can smurgle my chest."

Farahd picked out a clean blanket, sat on the couch, and as he lay prone, he placed Rasputin on his chest. He winced as the kitten's claws dug into his skin through the material of his night clothes. They both settled and soon fell asleep.

"Are you kidding me," Farahd laughed. "This jungle again, let's hope that sabretooth panther doesn't find me. Time to explore."

This dream was different. He could feel the humidity and perspired in no time at all. Farahd wandered around using well-defined paths until he came to a crossroads where six other paths intersected. Near the opening of the dark course was a stack of pitted black stones stacked to form a marker. Farahd looked down that way and shivered. It was shrouded in shadows and felt wrong on an instinctual level.

"If you go that way, you go alone," Sorrow said, startling him.

"We cannot follow," Despair explained. "You have carried us with you for so long, but down that way is the domain of another."

"What do you mean I've carried you?"

The sounds of warfare erupted nearby, and Farahd stepped back. His voice rose above the din of gunfire and explosions. "Grandfather! Dad! Don't die... don't leave me alone."

"That is the moment we met," Sorrow said, her voice soft and tender.

"We supported each other and became constant companions," Despair whispered. "If you face fear, you will be stronger for it."

"The decision is yours and yours alone," Sorrow said.

Farahd felt his resolve and needed to put this behind him. No more running and hiding in projects and work, he thought. He turned and walked down the darkling road. The air cooled, and even the sounds of his footfalls seemed dampened. The further he went, the more the silence and stillness grew until even the color seemed to bleed from the environment.

"Is someone there?"

"Hello?" Farahd called out.

"I know that voice," the man said. "Here, I'm over here."

The path opened into a clearing, and suspended in what appeared to be a pool of black sludge was the Duke of Atwater. He seemed to be naked though his lower body was below the level of the substance trapping him.

"Farahd, help me out of this."

"How did you get here?" Farahd asked, ignoring the man's pleas for aid.

"That damned mirror and that accursed whore," he spat angrily.

"I don't understand. What woman?"

"Not a woman, a demon. I contacted her using my ring. You have it. Give it to me, or at least make her pull me out of this shit."

"I found it in my workshop when you disappeared. It belongs to me now. So, Despair is a demon?"

"That is as good a name as any, I suppose. She grants your heart's desires within limits. It is her fault that I am here. For the love of god, help me."

"Say I did want to free you. How would I do that?"

"Take my place," the duke growled. "Come on, Farahd, look at yourself. You led a pathetic existence while I held the world in my hand. I matter while you do not. Nothing personal, you understand."

"Even here, you can't help yourself. Your ego is indefatigable. My life is as precious as yours, but I didn't squander it or murder anyone. Why? That is the one thing I want to know. Why did you kill her?"

"Yes, cousin, tell him," the woman's voice caused a cool breeze to blow and stir the nearby branches. "Share your deepest darkest secret. Now vouchsafed for all eternity since you silenced me and damned yourself in one discreet knife thrust."

The woman manifested, and her beauty was breathtaking. She was dressed casually in a silver silk blouse, a black skirt that hit just above her knees, and tennis shoes. Farahd didn't feel like she fit the typical bill for an English gentry.

"I had to snuff out your life," the duke raged as he struggled uselessly against the muck holding him. "You were a danger to me, a constant threat of exposure for what I did."

The Duchess lifted her skirt and revealed her naked sex to them. "Speaking of revealing, how do you like this? Oh, poor baby, so close, and yet you'll never do to others what you did to me."

The duke laughed. "You silly stupid slut, I ended three lives before I found myself here. All of them are as beautiful as you and subjugated by my demon. They paid for my escape."

"If this is your measure of freedom, you are welcome to it, cousin. You there, why are you smiling? Do his offenses amuse you?"

"Not at all," Farahd laughed. "Ekaterina and the others are safe and sound. They drove off in the limo and, if they are smart, are writing a tell-all book about their time with the duke."

"You lie," he roared. "I saw them destroyed."

"I warned you," Despair's voice echoed from the ring. "While I cannot be there in person, my words can still reach you. You went against the will of hell and are now paying for your arrogance. I told you the Russian was under another's protection. Still, you demanded her death, and for what? To be locked there for all time with only phantoms and shadows for companionship. Good riddance, your grace."

"Come with me," Farahd said as he extended a hand to the Duchess. "Don't let his bitterness and anger imprison you here. Leave him to his misery alone."

Her touch was cool at first, but as their fingers intertwined and her arm slipped around Farahd's waist, the warmer it became. While still within earshot of her imprisoned cousin, the Duchess bragged about her sexual talents and laughed as the duke cried out in his impotent rage and malice. When the pair reached the crossroads, Sorrow and Despair were there to greet them.

"I thought I would be facing my fears," Farahd said.

"I never said that. I am pretty sure I said fear, and look who you rescued along the way," Despair laughed.

"Just remember me," the Duchess said as she kissed Farahd's cheek. "If you need an intense wet dream, look me up; you won't be disappointed."

Polished white stones marked one of the paths and gleamed in the sunlight, and the Duchess let go of Farahd and began walking down that way. The further she went, the younger she became until a youthful girl skipped out of sight.

"Sometimes we stand along the path to acceptance and redemption. Unhappiness isn't evil anymore than love, and how we love or mourn determines the outcome."

"Well, I am hoping she finds a measure of peace," Farahd said.

"Mow."

"Hey, how did you get here? Oh, I understand; we both slept on the dream couch. I suppose you are my wake-up call."

Rasputin raced over and stopped next to a stack of gleaming silver stones. A sunny path lay beyond it, and it was clear that Rasputin wanted to explore that way.

"Mow."

"Fine, you know I can't say no to you. Let's go, oh wait before we do." Farahd tugged the ring from his finger and gave it to Despair. "This isn't goodbye, but this crossroad seems the best place to say farewell. I want to be happy and let go of the past. Don't be angry with me."

Despair took Farahd into her arms and clung until she wept. Sorrow joined in to make it a group hug.

"Only Farahd could make Despair cry tears of joy," Sorrow laughed. "And make Sorrow giggle like a schoolgirl. You are a rare breed mortal. Keep to the path, and she awaits you at the end."

Everyone heard the sound of falling water in the distance. Farahd scooped up Rasputin and placed him on his shoulder. The pair walked down the silver path and vanished from the sight of Sorrow and Despair.

Epilogue:

No one had seen or heard from Farahd in a week. There was no activity within his home, and the people who saw him daily during his walks noticed his absence. Claudette heard the rumors and called the local police to perform a welfare check on her neighbor.

"We have reached the Wargrave residence. The house appears to be empty. We are going to check the perimeter for foul play and gain entry. Gillman over and out."

The two uniformed police officers looked in through the windows, and it was the same in every room, empty. The shelves were bare, and no apparent signs of violence. When they checked the outer garage door, they found it unlocked and entered that way. The three-car garage was empty and free of dirt though paint stained parts of the concrete. Before going in the house, they donned booties for their shoes and latex gloves, so they didn't contaminate a possible crime scene. Neighbors gathered on the street and sidewalk as the officers slipped inside. Just as their cursory inspection had shown, there was no furniture, personal objects, or anything but bare walls and ceilings. They decided to split up, and officer Gillman stayed inside while his partner questioned the neighbors to see if they witnessed any suspicious activity.

"I knew it," Aurora wept. "I felt it."

"Hush," Claudette urged her daughter. "I'm sure he's happy wherever he is. I wish he had said goodbye."

An unmarked police interceptor entered the neighborhood and parked outside Farahd's home. The FBI agent identified himself and asked for an update.

"Well, sir, the house has been stripped clean. It appears he moved out quietly, and his current whereabouts are unknown. There hasn't been any activity with his bank account, so we are in the dark for now."

"No moving vans showed up in the last week," one of the neighbors said. "How Farahd managed to move that solid oak furniture by himself is a mystery."

"Hey, I found something," Gillman said as he exited the house with a small funeral urn in his grasp. "This was tucked on the upper shelf of the main bedroom's closet. It looks like an animal vase."

"Yeah," Claudetter said. "Farahd's kitten Rasputin died about five or six months ago. He rescued him from a storm, but the poor little guy didn't make it. It affected Farahd hard."

"Until he replaced him," the FBI agent added. "He did get a new cat, right?"

"No. Farahd didn't have the heart to do that. Why do you ask?"

"I... When I interviewed him about the disappearance of a murder suspect, there was a kitten in that house. I saw it."