Dreams might really come true

I've found that when writing a story, I have more fun the more I go into the reality of it. The more I look at the way people think, about why they want what they want, the better it seems to come off.

In that vein, I present to you a moment of choice, a decision of whether or not to go through with something.

Dreams Might Really Come True

The card slid into the slot, then back out. The light on the door turned green, and Vivian heard the click as the lock opened. The shiver that ran down her back made her hand shake. She took a deep breath to settle herself, then turned the handle and stepped into the hotel room.

Candles flickered on the night stand. The air smelled of roses and cinnamon; her favorites. Next to the bed was a giant wrapped gift box. There was a tag with her name on it. There was a heart surrounding her name. It made her smile as she slid it out from beside the bed and to the middle of the room.

The entire box lifted, revealing a flat wooden base with three long stands. One had a collar on it, one had a pad, and one had a pair of shackles. The heights were adjustable, but she saw that they were all set for her.

Vivian ran her hand along the cherry wood base and smiled to herself. It was for her. It was really going to happen. After all that time, all those conversations, all that time talking. She could really do it. Could really experience it.

The pad was soft, and would spread out her weight. The shackles were thick and padded, as was the collar. It would be comfortable. All she had to do was strap herself in. If that's what she wanted.

She bit her finger and looked down at the shackles. She let her eyes trace along the wood, along the padding. At the shiny locks waiting there, so enticing, so carefully laid out. She took a deep breath, licked her lips. She was shaking. Wrung her hands.

The phone rang, startling her.

She sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver. Her eyes were closed, and her voice was weak. “Hello?”

“If you're really sure, we'll be up in five minutes.”

“We?”

His laugh is gentle. “You didn't really think I'd be the only one interested, did you?”

The line went dead.

Vivian hung up the receiver and looked at the clock. Seven fifty-five. They'd be upstairs at eight. She had until then to make her decision.

She unbuttoned her blouse and strolled around the bed, biting her lip and trying to decide what she wanted to do. That's the thing about fantasies; as soon as they become possible realities, the fear comes in.

Laying in bed at night, dreaming about the idea, that's one thing. Imagining the feel of being fucked by two men at the same time, the fullness of the cock in her mouth and one thrusting into her from behind. The sweat, the musk, the orgasms. When she dreamed about it, when she imagined it, that was one thing.

The reality is different. The reality has all the boring and bad parts. It has the waiting, the cleanup, the lubricant. The reality has the wondering. It has the gag reflex, the sore muscles. Reality has the shame.

Vivian unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She picked it up, folded it, and placed it on the bed. She folded her blouse and put it with her skirt.

When you have a fantasy, when you think about it, dream about it, that's all it is. A beautiful experience, but one that didn't happen. You wake up the next day, you go about your normal life, and there's nothing to feel guilt about. No need to look at yourself in the mirror and feel like you've done something you can't undo. No need to take that extra long shower, to try in vain to scrub away the dirt of what you did.

She wriggled out of her panties, tossed them on the bed, and stood in front of the stands. She looked over at the clock. Seven fifty-eight. Two minutes left to decide.

She took a deep breath and chewed her lip.

Was this what she really wanted to do? Did she want to wake up in the morning, look at herself in the mirror, and see a woman who fucked two men not only in the same night, but at the same time? Did she want to be that kind of girl?

She looked at the mirror on the wall. Standing there, wearing a bra, a garter belt, stockings and high heels, she looked sexy. The flickering light cast shadows across her skin, hiding the parts of her that she wasn't proud of, the parts that she kept telling herself she needs to tone up. She admires herself, then her eyes travel up to lock with the eyes of the woman in the reflection.

Could she look into those eyes every day for the rest of her life, knowing they were the eyes of someone who let two men fuck her at the same time?

She put her hands on her head and closed her eyes.

Living out a fantasy is terrifying. But is fear enough reason not to do it? Is being afraid of living with the experience enough reason to avoid the experience itself? Did she want to look at herself in the mirror and know that she had the opportunity to live out this fantasy, that she had not one, but two men who wanted to sleep with her, and she turned them down?

It's scary living out your fantasies. But when the opportunity is there, and you still refuse to do it, isn't that worse? Doesn't that make you a coward? Vivian took a deep breath. Did she want to be a coward?

Was it better to be a coward or a whore?

She shook her head. That wasn't the choice. She wasn't getting paid for this. She wasn't paying for it. No money was changing hands. No one was being forced. It was just an activity, just three consenting adults having a good time.

Consenting adults. Vivian took a deep breath. She was an adult. She knew what she was doing. It was her choice. Her opportunity to live out her fantasy.

She looked down at the contraption on the floor, then over at the clock. One minute left.

She put her hair back into a pony tail, wondering if it would get used as a handle. She considered leaving the shoes on, but decided it was better to be comfortable. No need to remove the stockings.

Vivian took a deep breath. Was she really going to do this?

Was it better to do something that she might be ashamed of, or to not do something she had been dreaming about for so long?

The clock ticked over. Any second, they'd be coming in the door. Any second, her chance would be past. Do or not do? Moment of truth.

She looked at her clothes, so carefully folded. Her safety, her past; let the fantasy stay a fantasy. The rest of her life to regret not doing something. Or to try again and do it after all.

But if she's going to do it after all, if she knows she will eventually live out the fantasy, then why put it off? Why be a coward now?

Vivian took a deep breath and knelt down, her eyes still locked on her clothes. She leaned forward, laying down on the cushion. Slid her head through the collar.

She was fastening the locks on her wrists when the door opened behind her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tried to stop herself from shaking.

“What do you think?” he asked. He wasn't talking to her. “Do you think she's been like that since we talked on the phone?”

The other man laughed. It was a friendly laugh, a familiar laugh. It made her feel warm inside, knowing that he was the other man. That he was the other one who wanted to do this.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe she just got in. Does it matter?”

She heard them step closer, felt a warm hand on her bare ass.

Vivian closed her eyes and felt herself relax. He was right.

It really didn't matter.