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Message-ID: <40213asstr$1041401403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: eidelon262@aol.com (Eidelon262)
Subject: {ASSM} Last Night I Dreamt I was the Air <M/f, D/s, cyberpunk, horror>
Date: Wed,  1 Jan 2003 01:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

All the usual yadda yadda yadda.

by Eidelon262

I had to lean against the bricks of the bank's facade when I saw her come out
of the used book store next door carrying probably two or three paperbacks. She
paused to examine the outside table - probably for the second time, since she
seemed to scan the titles like she already knew them. Still, I studied her. She
was stunning. I knew her. Last night I dreamed I was the air.

It's not an uncommon dream when you've got wings growing out of your back.
Brain studies on birds show that a lot of the same areas get charged up in
dreams. But, as far as we know, when birds dream, they remain airborne
projectiles, while human fliers acquire an expanding sense of omniscience. Just
a dream though. But boy, does it help you in the sky.

What was different last night was that I saw that particular woman and wrapped
her in a warm breeze. She looked so cold, and I was attracted. She had
dismissed the table and was walking toward me.

"Miss? Hi, I'm Taq, and I was just wondering ... were you near Yakuza Club last
night?"

Her eyes were focused coldly. "None of your business."

Which was true. Stupid question. Nobody would admit to being at or not being at
Yakuza, because either answer would mean a painful search for illegal nanites.
"I'm sorry, I just thought I recognized you from ... a flight last night. I
wanted to tell you how pretty you are."

She laughed, making her soft dark hair shake. "Some people shouldn't have
wings." Then she continued to walk. But I thought I sensed recognition.

***

I saw her again last night. I was the air again and I injured someone who
wanted to attack her. She wouldn't know, because he was a long way away, more
than ten minutes. Since I knew it was only a dream, I used the force of the air
to cut off his head. I saw him crumple against the side of his Buick, which was
already hovering for him. Then I saw her outside Club Yazuka and warmed her
again, enjoying her curves and shivers. A taxi picked her up moments later. The
dream ended. 

***

I paused over a story on my news download that described the decapitation of a
local mobster. Cops said it was "Cleaner than Skeeter's Peter."

Something turned in me then. What happened in my dreams was matching real life
a little too close. Nothing in research to show this could happen, but nothing
against it, either. I decided to pick up a lolita and head to the lake.

Chicago's North Lake Drive has the best, so that's where I went. C'mon, ya
don't get wings without a big cash reserve, right? My old man made a fortune in
nanostructure, and I invested it for him. One-two punch. I picked up a
12-year-old girl. Strawberry hair and a sweet little body. Born 40 years before
me.

"It's expensive, but worth it. You get a virgin, I get a profit., we both have
fun."

"Any weird dreams?"

"Only about my 50s, before I got turned back to 12. Once in a while I get
nightmares about getting old."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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