Oleander Dreams
Copyright© 2019 by Raisa Greywood
Chapter 5
Suspense Sex Story: Chapter 5 - New Orleans used to be a city of elegance and beauty. It's all gone now, and instead of laissez les bons temps rouler, I get the leftovers from a Cold War era gulag. Except sometimes, I see things. Hear things too. A brass band leading a funeral procession. A whiff of magnolia. The whisper of live oaks draped in Spanish moss. I don't know what's real anymore. And I can't get out.
Caution: This Suspense Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Horror Mystery
“Is she awake yet?”
“No, still coming out of it, I think.”
I hear voices, but I can’t make out the conversation.
I’m lying down on something soft. There’s a blanket covering me, though I’m not cold. I smell the faintest hint of vanilla, like someone has made cookies. It’s a barely remembered fragrance, one I haven’t smelled in years, but sweet and somehow calming and refreshing at the same time.
My head aches like someone is pounding on it with a hammer. When I try to rub my face, I can’t lift my hands. I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. Why am I restrained?
“ ... adjust the dosage.”
Footsteps sound near me and I try to open my eyes. They seem to be glued shut. Finally, I manage to crack them open and slam them shut. The light is blinding. It’s harsh, glaring and fluorescent and I feel like I might be sick.
I turn my head. Thankfully, someone thrusts a basin under my chin before I expel the contents of my stomach.
“The lights,” I whisper hoarsely. “Too bright.” I hear the sound of a shade being drawn as I’m laid back down.
A woman leans over me. She’s the source of the vanilla perfume. She’s dressed in white scrubs, and a stethoscope hangs around her neck. “I know you feel wretched,” she says softly. “Try to stay calm until the meds you took work their way out of your system.”
“What meds? I didn’t...” But I did. I took the meds the government gave me as directed. What were they?
The woman gives me an understanding nod and wipes my face with a damp cloth. “You had quite a cocktail in your system, judging by what we found in your apartment,” she says.
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