Ben fell quickly into a deep and easy sleep himself, but sometime in the dark small hours, he was stirred by a powerful dream. He found himself trapped on a type of weights machine at the gym, in the seat of something like a chest press with a leg extension bar across his shins. He urgently wanted to free himself, as a bell was ringing that he knew to be the fire alarm, but he felt so weak that he was effectively paralysed. He was beginning to panic, becoming short of breath and desperate to evacuate the now empty building, but unable to free either his legs or outstretched arms.
He felt great relief to see his mum coming into the room to look for him, yet she seemed unwilling to approach. Instead she introduced him to a shorter dark-haired young woman who’d been following her. “Do you remember Gabriella?” she said, “You used to play together when you were little. She used to be a Spanish pony.”
Ben didn’t think this last statement at all odd, as he said, “I remember.” He felt confident saying that as he’d just recalled a clear image of a small lithe dun mare, her golden flanks glossy with sweat from running in the morning sun, her thick dark mane, grown exceptionally long, flowing in slow-motion with her movement.
“Here, let me help you,” Gabriella said, stepping forwards and reaching towards his waist to undo a carabiner that was looped around a climbing harness, which he only now realised was securing him to the machine. As she came close, bringing her small hands close to his groin to unscrew the gate, Ben was aware that he was only wearing his boxer shorts. His erect penis was obscenely poking through their meagre covering, its unnaturally dark purple head exposed and clearly visible to both of them.
“I’m sorry, Gabriella,” he said, apologising for getting himself stuck as much as for exposing himself to her, something that he realised she was utterly unconcerned by.
“Oh Ben, call me Marie,” she replied, standing up straight before him again now that she’d freed the carabiner. As she said this, smiling down at him with an open loving warmth, Ben realised that she already knew him very well. Though he’d forgotten that he’d previously known her, at that moment he felt sure that they would become very close again, utterly at ease in each other’s company, with deep trust, mutual honesty and the non-judgemental kindness of unconditionally loving friends.
He’d thought nothing of the apparent change to her name from the angelic Gabriella, but he remarked on her use of Marie, “Like the saint.”
“No, I’m not her,” she said crossly, then instructed him firmly, “Now come on, you need to fly out of here. Just follow me.”
Ben watched her turn in the air as if it were water, noticing only now that she was naked. She used powerful strokes in the confident coordination of her legs and arms to twist toward the wide exit, casting an encouraging glance back towards him over her shoulder. “But I need to bring my oxygen,” he said plaintively, even as he sought just a glimpse of her nude body, frustrated that her long dark hair obscured so much as it trailed behind her in waves. Then he felt a surge of sexual excitement as she swung and flexed her broad hips towards him, letting him see her pale round buttocks. As she bent over, he noticed the dark crease of her bottom disappearing suggestively into the shadows between her thighs, and he felt honoured that she might have been at ease with showing her vulva to him.
Yet as he tried to reach for the oxygen cylinder that he knew was beside him, he found himself still stuck to his bench seat, with his arms pinned back, his legs unable to move. Whilst she swam through the air away from him with a strong breaststroke, her body flexing like a dolphin under her cloud of seaweed-like hair, he felt panic rising again as he remembered the unseen fire behind him.
“Don’t look back!” she called out urgently without turning or slowing. Ben realised her cautionary warning was serious, becoming deeply fearful of the all-consuming threat that was creeping up on him as he strained to move his arms. Then, by jerking them in reality, he brought himself awake suddenly.
He stared wide-eyed into the darkness of Marcie’s bedroom, panting and realising with relief where he was. He deliberately took a deep slow breath, feeling his hammering heart begin to slow as well, yet he was aware he had a strong erection in the real world too. He turned towards the shadow of Marcie’s sleeping form, listening to the small noises of her breathing, also long and slow. He was glad he’d not woken her, yet he still felt reassured by her close presence. Though his memory of the dream was already fading, he knew that the horse woman was undoubtedly just a slightly distorted version of her. He also knew that his panic had been more to do with his fear of losing her and not seeing her again, rather than the pragmatic fear of being unable to reach his breathing aid or escape the fire.
He risked cuddling up a little closer to her, bringing his face toward her tightly braided hair as he rested his head on her pillow. He felt the warmth of her skin as her nightshirt brushed his bare chest, and he was aware that his erection was burying itself between her hip and the mattress. He felt a little guilty as her unwitting stimulation brought him some stealthy sexual satisfaction. As he rolled his own hips to get more comfortable, a shivering spasm made him tense hard against the soft cushions of her buttocks. But he knew he would do nothing more about his arousal as he willed his body to relax, continuing to inhale his own long slow breaths. With it, he caught the melange of scents from Marcie’s sleeping body, the feminine perfumes of her shampoo and soap, as well as the lived-in laundry of the tired bedsheets and her nightdress, but also the simple fragrance of her warm skin, perhaps with just lingering hints of her sweaty exertions and her intimate arousal. Ben found profound comfort and reassurance in his combined senses of her physical presence and her unpretentious bodily scents, and he quickly drifted back into unconsciousness.