Maybe the Dream Knows What’s Real – Part Five – Novella by Steve Grogan

novella

Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)

He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”

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Lindsay knew my “girlfriend” Joanna through a friend of a friend kind of arrangement. (I put “girlfriend” in quotes because to me she was nothing more than a fuck buddy, but in her mind we were practically engaged.) Joanna told Lindsay what a great guy I was, which inspired Lindsay to leave a message in my mailbox on Quest. She said I sounded interesting and she hoped to hear back from me. So I gave her my number and waited for her to call. Two days later, she did.

Our first conversation wasn’t long. She didn’t seem very interested in talking to me. So I figured, “Another female not attracted to me. What a shock.”

To my surprise Lindsay called me again a few days later, and she seemed absolutely nuts about me. In fact, she got so into me that we wound up having phone sex. The turnaround made no sense, but I was too excited to think about it. If I only knew then what I know now, I would have immediately gone into inquisitive mode and found out what was happening.

When it was over, Lindsay dropped a huge bomb on me: she said she wanted me to be the first guy to fuck her in the ass. Naturally, I told her the pleasure would be all mine. Then we set up a time to meet.

December 28, 1997. The first Sunday after Christmas. Lindsay and I decided to see a movie before we got it on. (For the record, it was I Know What You Did Last Summer, which many people were saying was just a poor Scream knockoff, but I felt the film stood on its own two feet quite nicely.) I picked Lindsay up from her house. She was tall and thin with short black hair and enormous blue eyes. She had that whole “indie rock chick” vibe going on, which I was a complete sucker for.

Lindsay gave me a hug when she saw me. (Only one thought kept running through my head: “I need more nights like this.”) I held the door for her, as a gentleman should, and we were off to our first date. When we got to the movie theater, she surprised me by offering to buy everything: my ticket, the candy, the soda. I tried refusing, but she refused my refusal! It was a thrill to have a girl that was actually thin like me so much.

However, it was a thrill that would not last. As we sat in the dark, waiting for the previews to begin, doubt started to set in. I sensed there was something wrong with the picture, but that was all my intuition told me. There were no clues to help me figure out exactly what was askew. Since there was no evidence to confirm my feelings, I tried to give myself a break. I told myself that it was just my knee-jerk reaction to what was a very unusual situation: I was so used to women hating me that I got suspicious when one liked me.

For the first ten to fifteen minutes of our date, I kept my distance. I was afraid to get close because it crossed my mind that Lindsay and Joanna were conspiring to get revenge for what happened between Joanna and I. It was still possible that this was all some elaborate ruse to build up to some soul-crushing humiliation.

This thought was shattered when Lindsay leaned over during the previews and kissed me first. When the movie scared her, Lindsay pulled my arms toward her, directing them around her body to hold her when she got nervous. My left hand accidentally settled on her breast, but neither one of us did anything to remove it.

The movie ended around quarter to nine. Since the rest of the mall was closed, Lindsay and I had no choice but to head out to my car.

Before I could even get the key in the ignition, she leaned across the seat and kissed me, pushing her tongue roughly into my mouth. I returned the gesture happily. When I wrapped my arms around her, I found that I could touch my hands behind her back; I could even reach far enough to touch the opposite elbow. No one can understand the relief I felt over this. Finally, a skinny girl liked me! Before her, the only other attractive female I’d been with was this one named Christine from Middleburgh, but that was just sex. This was so much more.

My hand slipped inside Lindsay’s jeans to feel her firm ass. She loved the magic my fingers worked. We had discussed her ass and all that I would do to it for weeks. Now I was cupping it in my hands for REAL. It was so wonderful that I forgot all the years of painful rejection. None of it mattered now that I had this beautiful woman in my arms.

The movie crowd was still filtering out and walking by the car, but their presence did not disturb us. I licked one of my fingers while Lindsay kissed my neck. Very gently I pressed my finger into her backside. She gasped. At first I thought I had hurt her. When she responded by kissing me harder, I knew she was enjoying it.

This was what I had always wanted…to be a lover, not a fighter. Despite my wishes I had been forced into confrontations all my life. Finally, I was loving someone. I was loving her. My beauty queen. That was what I christened her, that night of all nights which saw more passion flow through my heart than all the nights spent with my other girlfriends put together.

Passion for her, for Lindsay. Passion for the heart that pulsed behind her ribs, the brain that hummed inside her skull. Passion for the hands and lips that greedily explored my body. Passion for the lips between her legs that became increasingly saturated as I kissed and touched her. Passion burning and urging me to rip off her clothes right there and slam my cock in and out of her lovely shaved pussy, the pussy of a thousand years, pussy of a young woman dying to find herself, pussy of falling stars and crumbling planets, pussy meant to belong to my cock and trembling in its longing to be branded by me, just desiring beyond all belief to feel me enter her, to spill my warm fluid into her and douse the fire in her loins.

We took a break from making out. It was only nine o’clock. She was on winter break, so Lindsay did not have to be home until eleven. At this point my beauty queen was only seventeen. Despite her age she was still in high school and condemned to the torture of having to simultaneously complete her junior and senior year.

That was the story she gave me, and at the time I believed her. There was also another story about the time when she had a drum set and was in a band. Another tale (which I never really believed) was that she worked at a nursing home and earned $500 a week. Out of all of these tall tales, the most amazing one was about the time when she lived in Chicago.

Wait a minute. Let me start a new paragraph for this one. It is quite a whopper.

Lindsay told me she used to live in Chicago. The year was 1988. Many people do not know how significant this year was. However, a Smashing Pumpkins fanatic like me knows that 1988 was the year when two young men (Billy Corgan and James Iha) played a small and somewhat unsuccessful set in a club called the Cabaret Metro. Back then Billy played bass, James played guitar, and they had a drum machine instead of a human drummer. What Lindsay claimed was that she saw them play and talked to them once their set ended. Of course the tall tale would not be complete if she didn’t say she got the autographs of both Pumpkins.

When I mentioned this story to my SUNY roommate (a young man named Theo), he told me to ask her to bring the autograph when I met her. But what would that prove? First of all, I had no way of knowing what Billy Corgan’s handwriting looked like, so I wouldn’t be able to authenticate it. Second there would be the question of how old the signed article really was. How could she prove that it was from the 1988 show and not sometime later? For all I knew, they could have done an in-store signing in 1996, and THAT was where she got the autograph instead of at their debut gig.

So as you can see, right from the start I wasn’t sure if I should trust her. Perhaps if I have decided not to, my life would not have gone down the horrible, dark path that I have traveled.

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If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $2 to Steve via PayPal: wcman1976@yahoo.com

Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:

REDemption

Steve’s Amazon Author Page

Steve’s Writer to Writers Publications

Author: Redemption Comics

Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).

Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.

He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.

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