Scrooge and the Single Girl

She gave in and faced him fully. “All right, what?”

He wiggled his fingers at her in a come-hither gesture.

“You can’t be serious.”

He stared deeply, meaningfully, into her eyes as the sheet, of its own accord, slithered back from his fabulous naked body. Jilly tore her gaze away from those pleading blue eyes and looked lower. Wow. Some dream.

She looked up again, into those tender, pleading eyes and a disembodied voice from somewhere near her left ear said, “Why not?”

“Why not?” she cried. “You’ve got to be kidding. He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him.”

“Jilly,” said the disembodied voice. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t real. It isn’t happening. So what if you hate each other in real life? This isn’t real life. This is only a dream.”

Jilly considered. While she did that, the dream-Will conveniently froze in place—with his hand out and the covers down to his muscular thighs, looking at her longingly, his manliest attribute pointing proudly ceiling-ward.

“Hmm,” said Jilly. It was clear that in this dream he found her overwhelmingly attractive. And she had to admit she really did enjoy having him look at her that way.

Why not just go with it? Why pass up a chance to have him falling all over her for one magical night? Why deny herself? This was one situation where she could do anything she wanted, let this fantasy spin out wherever it wanted to go, and suffer absolutely no consequences after the fact.

There was no “fact.” She wasn’t here. She was upstairs, sound asleep, dreaming all this.

“Okay,” she announced. “I’ve decided. I’m going with this.”

Nobody answered. And Will continued to sit there, still as a statue.

Jilly cleared her throat. “Uh. Hello? Will?”

But he didn’t move. He didn’t even appear to be breathing. She clapped her hands. Twice.

Nothing.

Terrific. What fun was this going to be?

But wait. This was her dream. There had to be some way to—

And it came to her. She put her hand in his.

The room faded and reformed and she found herself on the bed with him, wrapped in those big arms of his.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered. “For so long.” Jilly thought that was carrying the fantasy a little too far, but before she could tell him so, he asked, “You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

She pulled back a little and peered up at him. “Uh. Help you out, how?”

He didn’t answer her question, just gathered her close again, rested his cheek against her hair, and repeated what he’d said before. “Help me, Jilly.”

“But—”

“Help me out. God, do I need it.”

She pulled back again, intending to explain to him that he really had to get a little more specific or she didn’t see how there was much she could do. But before she could say anything, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Good googly-moogly, what a kiss!

He almost burned her lips off. It honestly felt as if steam was coming out of her ears.

When he finally let her come up for air, she realized that her pjs had melted away. She was every bit as naked as he was.

Only a dream, she reminded herself. Only a dream. Enjoy, enjoy…

He guided her back onto the bed, kissing her as they went down. Somehow, it seemed he was kissing her everywhere, every part of her body, all at the same time—her mouth, her neck, lower, and lower still.

Omigoodness. Yes, yes, yes!

His lips were everywhere, all at once. And his hands, well, they were magic hands. He touched every inch of her, found all her most secret, most vulnerable places.

She moaned and she cried out, closing her eyes….

When she looked again, they were joined together. The bed, the room, everything was gone—everything but the two of them. They moved as one, floating in some warm, soft, enveloping space in the middle of nowhere, all wrapped up in each other, arms and legs entwined. She felt stunned by her own intense pleasure. Everything in that warm place seemed to glow. They glowed, Jilly and her fantasy lover, rolling and rippling, rising and falling, forever and ever….

Jilly closed her eyes again.

And they were back in his bedroom, lying contentedly side-by-side. He captured her hand, brought it to his mouth and pressed those wonderful lips of his to the back of it. She actually felt his breath on her skin.

Without stopping to think, she did it again, let her eyes drift shut.

And that time, when she opened them, she found herself lying in the bed upstairs, dressed in her fuzzy pjs once more.

Will had not come with her. Sweet old Mavis was tucking her in, bending close, smiling slightly, blue eyes mysterious and maybe a little bit sad.

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