Under My Dress

In my dreams I am someone else. In my dreams I am her.

For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamed of a town and a life that I never really believed existed. I can see it when I close my eyes and I can see the woman who lives in that world, a woman I want more than anything to be. A woman who is loved by him.

He is strong and he is handsome. He smiles when he sees her, because the sight of her alone can warm his heart.

And when I find that town and I find the little cottage in that clearing in the woods it all seems like fate. When I take the leap to take a chance and see if I can taste one ounce of the dream that has followed me my whole life, the last thing I expect is for it to be real in nearly every way.

I don’t expect him to be there, but he is. He’s just as handsome as I imagined him to be and when he smiles at me my heart melts with need for him. My body aches to feel him on me, even if I know that letting that happen is crossing a line.

Because he’s expecting me to be something that I’m not. He doesn’t know my secret. He doesn’t know what’s hidden beneath my dress.

The man of my dreams only sees the woman that he loves and doesn’t realize that I’m not a woman at all.

Excerpt

I step forward alone as he falls back a little. I walk to the edge and I see the whole town laid out and it looks so much like it does in my dreams. The whole place perfectly adorned, a little spot of civilization among the greenery.

“Your house is there,” he says from behind me, stepping up and pointing over my shoulder at a little glimpse of my clearing before moving his finger a few inches to one side where I can see the little pale green spot of another clearing, “That’s mine.”

“Wow,” I remark, “We are close to neighbors. Closer than you indicated.”

“Not that close,” he tells me, “Not quite…”

But I turn and I find that he’s very close indeed. He’s so close that he towers over me right now and I look up into those eyes of his and I feel my heart quicken as he swallows, as I swallow, as I wait for him to kiss me.

I shouldn’t let him kiss me. I shouldn’t lead him on like this. It isn’t fair to the poor man to make him fall for me, to make him think that maybe I could be the woman he wants and needs me to be but god I want to be her for him and god I want for just one moment for me to be able to close my eyes and forget everything about my past but her.

So I close my eyes and I let him kiss me and his lips are firm and his taste is warm. I let him press against me, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls me into him and I feel so slight in contrast to his hard bulk.

I am crushed into him. I am falling into him and my heart pulses in my chest. It aches and it burns for the beauty of this moment and the perfection of it as I hear him grumble with his urges and I feel his hand push down my lower back and pull me deeper into him.

And I feel it. I feel every inch of his need for me. I feel it hard in his jeans against my belly and it’s so close to a matching need of my own.

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