Chapter 43

“WICKED is good.”
—James Dashner, The Death Cure

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT it was safe ... I hadn’t had a severe nightmare in three weeks or more. I’d had some of the typical anxiety dreams, like walking into the Human Geography AP exam and realizing I’d read the books for a different course. Or dreaming that Beca wanted to make love to me and my cock wouldn’t get hard. I sort of understood that one. She was too sweet to have a sex dream about. Even though she was wearing more feminine clothing and really starting to be comfortable in her body, I thought.

The world collapsed. Like a building imploding, everything fell in on me and crushed me. I was paralyzed. No time for fear. No chance to escape. And no chance I’d ever wake up again.

It was a dream. I could see it all taking place, but my senses wouldn’t let me escape it. I tried to replace the vision with music, with touch, with a closeup look at Joan’s pussy ... but each time I grasped at a straw to save me it dissolved into the dark, airless pressure and silence.

“J! Look at me! Wake up. It’s just a dream. I won’t let go of you. I’m here, baby. I won’t let go.”

The long, whining groan that came out of my mouth as I struggled up to consciousness echoed with Em’s words and I gasped oxygen into my lungs. It hurt. Everything hurt. I could still feel the pressure against my eyelids and the grip of Em’s hand in mine. I forced my eyes open and a flood of tears poured out of them. I kicked off the blanket I was covered with, unable to stand even that much pressure against my body. That much confinement. I fought against the walls of the room closing in on me—pressed back against the claustrophobia.

“I’m here, Jacob. I won’t let go.”

“What am I going to do, Em? What am I going to do when you go to service and I’m alone? I’m scared, Em. Hold me.”

I couldn’t recall V1 having ever been frightened like a little boy clinging to another person. I’d never been claustrophobic. Never agoraphobic. Never acrophobic. I wasn’t even afraid of spiders. Not that I was reckless but those situations didn’t strike me as any more or less dangerous than any other daily activity. But this nightmare of the world collapsing was something I didn’t know how to deal with. My sisters could wake me up. My parents seemed oblivious to them. I’d heard that if you dream you are falling and don’t wake up before you hit the ground, you’d never wake up. Daft, I know. I’d never had one where I did more than trip. But I wondered. If I died in my dream, would I simply stay dead?

Em cradled me in her arms. I was sweating and she comforted me, telling me she’d get a washcloth and towel. She was back in a flash, stripping off the nightshirt she wore and crawling into my bed with me. She washed the tears from my face, bathed my pits and dried them, and wiped down my torso. I felt her lift my flaccid cock and gently wipe it down, making sure even my crack was cleaned and dry.

I understood my cock’s lack of response. Joan and I had overdone it a bit. Prom night, we’d consummated our relationship with vigorous loving. Sunday morning, she came to my house and we spent three hours trying to discover how many ways we could fit together. After we’d gone out to lunch, we ended up at her house, fucking until we were too sore to move. If I was a bit soft now, it was only natural. I’d been drained.

That didn’t stop Emily. She took my limp dick in her mouth and just held it there, sucking softly and rolling it around with her tongue. I wasn’t sure I’d ever come again, but the blood started to engorge my tool and it slowly filled her mouth, erasing even the slightest trace of the dream from my memory.

As I became more present in the moment, I caressed Em’s soft skin and pert breasts, nudging her to straddle my face as she continued her languorous blowjob. Opening Em’s pussy in the dim light was like opening a treasure and I took the hint to slowly tease open the petals of her sex with my tongue. Eating Em was a totally different experience than being with any of my other lovers. With Francie, it was all about the relief. With Rachel it is pure love. And with Joan, there was a constant drive toward orgasm, as often as we could manage it. But somehow, with Em I was totally relaxed, absorbed in the sensations of our mouths providing mutual pleasure. I loved to handle her breasts as she crouched over me, drawing lazy circles around her nipples. My tongue sought out every fold of her flesh and drank deeply of her fluids.

We both built slowly toward fulfillment; not rushing to the end point but simply loving and caring as we pleasured each other. I felt her whine on my cock and contracted, not much in my balls to give her but pulsing as she flooded my face with her juices. She moved around to face me, though I would have happily kept licking her for the rest of the night. She wiped my face with the towel and then kissed me. We held each other and kissed in no more hurry than we had been making love. I held her through the rest of the night, sharing her air, our lips sometimes touching as we slept.

“I would like to have Jacob this week,” Desi announced at lunch on Monday.

“What’s up?” I asked. “I think our contract says nothing until October.”

“Not that you could do anything before then,” Desi shot back. “You and Joan can hardly walk today.”

“Things are a little tender,” Joan admitted. “Might have overdone it a little.”

“So why do you want broken Jacob this week?” Rachel asked. “You’ll heal by Wednesday, won’t you?” she whispered in my ear. I nodded and put my arm around her waist. Desi was wedged in on the other side of me with Kent beside her and Brittany and Beca bookending Joan.

“I need a model. And a date for the Indy PopCon.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a comic convention in Indianapolis the weekend of the eighth. I need a cosplay partner.”

“Isn’t that kind of Kent’s specialty?”

“I’m headed for a summer of camping and hiking with my cousins in Colorado as soon as I finish my last final, dude. Besides, she’s your girlfriend,” Kent said.

“So, what do I have to do?”

“Just come over after school tonight so we can get measurements and start putting the pieces together. I’ll tell you about the character and how you need to act.”

“I suppose so. All my final projects are turned in, so from now until next Tuesday it’s just studying for finals. I’ll let my sister know I won’t need a ride. Uh ... How are we getting to your house? Bus?”

“My mother will pick us up after school. She’s very excited to meet you again.” I’d met Desi’s mom at my party the first of March and she seemed like a really nice woman—very funny.

“Say, don’t forget summer school,” Rachel said. “You can’t go on Friday.”

“That’s right. This is just for the day Saturday, right?”

“Did you think I was inviting you away for a dirty weekend?” Desi said. “That could be fun. But no. My dad will drive us down first thing Saturday morning. We need to be there and set to show off by ten.”

My personal experience with cosplay was pretty limited. V1 was no help at all. There were several kids at school who were really into it and Desi wore some character outfit at least once a week. It seemed that on those days every cosplayer in the school swung by to take a look at her cleavage. I mean, her costume. Desi’s costumes always showed off her assets. Most cosplays were based on anime and superhero movies. Even though the movie Suicide Squad was a couple years old, there were Harley Quinns showing up almost every week.

Desi’s costumes were usually more focused on Victorian-style anime that featured elegant dresses and lots of cleavage—mostly from fandoms that I’d never heard of. Every time she wore a costume to school, I ended up watching a few episodes late at night on my laptop. Last week, I’d gone to sleep one night watching Code Geass and had really weird dreams about Desi as C.C.

Mrs. Whitcomb insisted I call her Riko. I don’t think that’s her name. Desi pulled the seat forward and I got in the back of Riko’s VW Beetle. It was about ten years old and was showing some rust in the yellow paint. I was surprised when Desi shoved me the rest of the way in and landed mostly on top of me in the back seat. With the door closed, Riko hit the gas.

“Cuddle up, buttercup!” she called gleefully. There wasn’t much else I could do with Desi lying mostly on top of me. With interesting parts of her in contact with me, like the big boob in the palm of my right hand. Riko turned a corner at speed and Desi’s body shifted on top of me like it was spring loaded on her boobs.

“Whee!” she called as she tried to crawl up my torso to kiss me. I prayed Riko wouldn’t get in an accident and then forgot about it as Desi kissed me and I squeezed her breast.

“Wow!” I said when we finally reached the house. “You should go to work at the amusement park and just offer rides in the back of your Beetle.”

“Would you really want Desi lying on top of every boy who wanted a ride?” Riko asked. “Or under him? Now, let’s get things ready so we can get this costume constructed. What have you told him, Desi?”