Chapter 6

May 15th, 2024. Julie Lambert.

Julie had been meditating outside the Dalton’s Five-and-Ten. As the “first DalMart”, it was a minor place of power attuned to Yesod and Chômsolivël, the third-order governing Aethyr of Prototypes; Julie was on good terms with its genius loci and could replenish her mystic reserves there. She closed her eyes, opened her mind and let the mystic light of Ain Soph Aur ripple down the ten Sephirah and into her body.

As a result, she didn’t see Lorcan sit down beside her until he’d been there a few seconds. She started, the Qabalistic visualization crumbing as her mind returned to reality. “Oh. Hi, Lorcan. Sorry, I guess I zoned out a bit there.”

She knew Lorcan Flannigan. Obviously — she knew everyone. Weird kid, in with the stoners clique. Recent immigrant from North Ireland. Really into environmentalism and nature-stuff. Hung out with Albert, Toshia and Lynn Harland. Dressed like shit in ratty clothes and still managed to look handsome, with his pretty-boy features, subtly muscled torso and messy, tousled brown relaxed quiff. Nice leather jacket, though. Bit of a rebel, but in a quiet rather than an overt way. He was semi-cool, at least, and seemed like a nice enough person when they talked. Julie was cautious of ending up on the wrong side of his wit, though.

Today, though, his cocky confidence was gone. He looked awkward and really uncomfortable. “Julie, um ... I really need to talk to you. This will be a bit of a serious conversation, and not one we want to have in public. Some place quiet and neutral would be best.”

The tone concerned her. Five minutes later, they sat opposite each other in a shady, tidy alley behind the Crystal Bridges Museum. “I guess I should just spit it out,” Lorcan said. “I’m an Adept, just like you. I’ve done ill by you and want to make atonement.”

Julie’s heart skipped a beat. Fear clenched her. Seriously?! There are two Adepts in fuckin’ Bentonville? This did not amuse her. She’d astrally nudged her parents into moving here specifically to avoid the kinds of occult intrigue and murderous True Lodge politics that went down depressingly frequently in places like New York, London, Hong Kong or San Francisco. Had he tracked her here, or was it really coincidence?

And why didn’t her precognitive danger sense go off? Either he wasn’t dangerous to her, or his esoteric masking was able to foil her divinatory abilities. Adepts are always dangerous, so that leaves only one option.

Julie centered her mind, stood up, put on her best poker face and bowed formally. “Julia Lambert, solitary pathworker of the Practicus grade in the Hermetic Order of the Interior Adytum, apprentice to and released under the recognisance of Adeptus Major Lady Catherine Eleanor Grimwald of the Themis-by-Maat Chapter House of Abditus Argentum in Boston.”

Lorcan stood up as well, looked even more flustered. “Um, yeah, uh ... wow. My name’s Lorcan Flannigan, apprentice to, um ... Big Willie. I don’t think he actually has a last name. We never had a formal freehold, but we used to get together in the Lion and Eagle pub in Belfast. Solitary. I think you’d call what he taught me Celtic-shamanic primal working? You know, Old Faith tree magick stuff. But with bits of Wicca, phonomancy, Kundalini and a bunch of other stuff mixed in. Big Willie was never big on categories and labels, y’know?”

Julie nodded, perceiving his discomfort. Well, that explains his reputation for pharmaceuticals, I guess. “It’s cool. If I was big into Hermetic status games, I wouldn’t be in Bentonville, now, would I?”

He laughed, but it was awkward and strained. “I think you may have stumbled into my dreamspace, and I may have gravely disrespected you while you were there. I come to apologize, beg forgiveness and bring an offering of atonement.”

Julie frowned, knowing she had to be terribly cautious. She did not want to admit to casual dream-walking, though given what the boys had been talking about in school it was all but impossible a fellow Adept wouldn’t have figured it out. Politically, though, that wasn’t quite the same thing as an actual confession. It wasn’t an actual crime, mind you. The True Lodges didn’t have many crimes related to mortals. But it could be ... embarrassing in some circles. He would also logically have to know she was a total dreamslut, but she didn’t let that concern reach her face. “Please clarify.”

“I didn’t know you were, um, real — let alone a fellow Adept — until the morning when my familiar daimon told me I’d been dream-working with someone else.”

She couldn’t remember a dream with him. She was sure she would; he was pretty handsome. Had he erased her memory in the dream? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. A chill crept up her spine. “I don’t recall a dream about you. Not all dreams are remembered, however.”

She phrased the last statement carefully to avoid any lie-detecting dweomers — with Qabalist mnemonic training, she personally certainly did remember all her dreams.

Lorcan was turning scarlet. He squirmed around with his hands in his pockets, clearly mortified. “You wouldn’t have been able to see me, Julie. I was invisible. I, uh ... came on you. And I beg your forgiveness.”

Oh, wow! Julie had a moment of total mental dissonance as she tried to reconcile her image of Lorcan with her assumptions about what kind of a person the Oscars dreamer must have been. And he was an Adept! It just goes to show, I guess; people are not their fetishes...

She clenched her hands in anger — not at Lorcan, though. “You have done no wrong. No one should ever have to apologize for their fantasies and dreams, Magister Flannigan. Not ever, under any circumstances.”

He nodded slowly. “Please. Just Lorcan. I mean, we’re in Physics 30 together. I’d be failing if you hadn’t let me copy your notes. Still, it was ... unsavory, and not a fantasy I ever wanted anywhere other than my own mind.”

Part of Julie wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed it, how hot it got her after she processed the unreality of it, to dispel the aura of sullen shame that clung to him. Her smarts kept her silent, however. She could, in theory, still claim she had blundered into his dreams in an unusual pathworking accident. She had no desire to confess her voyeuristic sprees — even, especially, to a fellow Adept who would actually believe her, and could be a serious threat to her. She had made more than her annual quota of selfless and stupid decisions recently, and wasn’t about to say things to a stranger her political instincts warned her could bite her in the ass at a later point.

Maybe he really isn’t dangerous, an idealistic part of her mind offered. Then her more disciplined mind clamped down on that. Choose to believe he is. It’s a good bet, because the consequences of being wrong are far less serious than the other way around.

A moment of inspiration struck Julie then. Lorcan was penitent and off-balance now. She should press the advantage while it existed — and maybe help him a bit in the process. She flashed him her best winning prom queen smile and put a hand on his shoulder casually. “Tell you what. I’ll totally forgive you for your dream — and any other dreams, too. I’ll never hold it against you or seek any form of physical, social or mystic retaliation. In exchange, you overlook my little nocturnal adventures and never tell anyone about them, or me being in Bentonville or being an Adept at all. Agreed?”

The terms wildly favored her, but his face still flashed with delight and sheer “thank god” stress relief when she made the offer. “Yeah! Absolutely! So totes a deal!”

She held out her hand. “Shake on it.”

He clasped her hand and shook it vigorously, delighted to be free of the Damocles sword he perceived to be hanging over his head.

“Then it is sealed,” she said more formally.

She saw in his brown eyes that he understood, that she had lured him into a formal magus compact. He didn’t care, though, still just relieved that the matter was resolved. Julie was relieved too, honestly — the only person who could really understand her nocturnal adventures was now sworn to secrecy regarding them.

It turned out, though, that she needn’t have worried at all. “Julie, your dream-walking stunt is so cool. I’d never narc on you, I swear. I wish I could do shit like that. It sounds like you’re having so much fun, and even helping some people along the way. I owe you one for Donny Broekner, honestly. And were you responsible for Harry the Creeper dropping out?”

“No comment.”

He laughed. It was a deep, good-natured laugh. “You’re really cool, Julie, even if you’re like super-formal an’ shit. I’m glad everything’s good between us.”

She was glad too, but while spirits were high she decided to press for one other piece of very valuable tactical information. “Everything is great between us, Lorcan. I have to admit to being curious, though. Have you really mastered the Manifold Shroud of Gyges? I mean, in Malkuth, not Yesod?”

He laughed. “What, turning invisible in real life? Fuck no; that shit is super hard! I’ve read about it, but I don’t know if anyone could pull it off for real in the modern world. I doubt it.”

Julie, conversely, knew of three people confirmed to be able to do it. She didn’t volunteer that, though. She was just glad she didn’t have another thing to be paranoid about here in Bentonville.

Suddenly, though, Lorcan blushed again. “Julie, you have to know I’d never —”

“Lorcan, I know. People are not their fetishes and fantasies. Believe me, I really understand that as a deep truth. It’s the DEO, getting inside everyone’s head and blurring the lines on that. Never apologize for you dreams, even — especially — the raunchy ones. It does not befit either the station of an Adept or the basic dignity of a human being.”

Lorcan nodded. “Thanks. Really. Speaking of the DEO, though, I did bring a gift of formal atonement I still have to give you.”

He fished out his wallet and held up a little pot baggie. At first, Julie thought he was offering her drugs and was trying to figure out a polite refusal — and then she saw the cutting of hair inside the bag. Unnaturally neon red hair.

“Is ... is that really...”

Lorcan grinned. “Yeah, it sure is. I heard you Hermetics can make sympathetic links out of this kind of thing.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “We can. How did you ... I mean, it is possible she suspects...”

“Miss Dikscheide has no idea. I was very sneaky. She has a pet black lab. I sent my daimon to inhabit the dog, bite off a lock of her hair, run off and bury it in a pre-selected spot. I waited a full day to collect it. She’ll have no way to connect anything you do to her to you, me or anyone else.”

Julie snatched the baggie and pocketed it possessively. “Lorcan ... thank you. Deeply. The balance of profit is now with me. I will find a way to repay that to you, I swear — though likely after graduation at this point.”

“You don’t have to. Really, we’re good.”

It occurred to Julie that Lorcan might be using her here, or at least gaining a dual advantage. He might have his own reasons to hate the Coordinator. Honestly, everyone probably had a reason to hate the Coordinator. But this wasn’t a problem — he really owed her nothing, and friends with shared interests were always a good thing.

“If you wanted, I could take you to prom. It would probably be a status boost...”

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t care about status. I’ve already got a date; we’re becoming a bit of an item. Well, hopefully, if I don’t mess things up. It’s a weird relationship, and a bit new to me.”

Julie smiled warmly. “Sounds cool.”

“Julie?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck her up. Don’t hold back. She’s a genuinely evil woman. She has it coming, more than you will ever know.”

Julie nodded slowly. “Count on it.”

May 18th, 2024. Julie Lambert.

Julie leaned back, laying on the hood of the vintage ‘22 Silver Ghost Rolls Royce. Julie cherished status symbols, so posing on the antique Ghost was a thrill to her in and of itself.

She wore only a skimpy purple string bikini with grey strings, matching the colors of the Magnolia Stallions and Angels. It was a thong. She’d worn a fair few sexy things in her time, but never actually a thong; it felt odd and exciting running up her ass crack. Her silky red hair was loose, splayed around her head like a corona. Her legs were spread, bent at the knee, one ankle hanging over each of the beautiful antique’s headlights. The Spirit of Ecstasy — the Rolls-Royce hood ornament — stuck up right between her spread legs in a bit of deliciously naughty symbolism. Yeah, well, I bet my own little Spirit of Ecstasy tastes better. In the waking world, it’s probably more expensive, too! Here, though, you can get it at a real bargain price...

Chinese Bonnie was bent over, her ass thrust up in the air, her hands on Julie’s knees and her toned and tawny legs spread in an inviting V as the photog snapped pictures. She was wearing glossy purple fuck-me pumps, as if her long legs weren’t great enough already. Snap, snap, snap — the photog got shots of her upthrust ass. Julie wanted to see those pictures, even though she knew she never would. CB smiled nervously down at Julie, finding the photoshoot a bit awkward.

“Climb right on top of Julie,” the photog told CB. His words did not brook disobedience, so she didn’t disobey. “Get your face right close to hers, and sweep your hair to the right side so I can shoot you face to face.

She slowly climbed on top of Julie, step by aching step. Her substantial collection of gold necklaces dangled down as she crawled over her friend’s prone body, scraping Julie’s chest, teasing her. Julie marveled once again at what a beautiful young lady her friend was. Her long, silky chestnut hair hung down from her head like a curtain. She wasn’t an especially busty girl, but the tight string bikini gave even her B-cups an impressive cleavage. Her nipples were hard, and quite visible through the thin purple fabric. Her skin was a smooth and flawless toast-brown, matching her glittering brown eyes; she had a perfect hourglass figure.

She was more glammed up than usual for the photoshoot, with silver eyeshadow, black eyeliner and a nude but glossy lipstick. Her round face still held its fundamental, playful impishness, however — even if right now she was really nervous. She felt vulnerable in the skimpy string bikini, and that vulnerability made her unspeakably appealing to Julie. She swept her hair like an especially feisty glamour girl, though! Snap! Snap!

Chinese Bonnie’s lips were slightly open, and just two inches away. Julie could smell her familiar YSL Black Opium. She was surprised the dreamer got that right — boys weren’t usually that attuned to perfume. Could ... could this be Chinese Bonnie’s dream? Julie’s heart fluttered with taboo excitement. The perfume wasn’t the only sign. The shoot included Julie, Chinese Bonnie, Pink Highlights Bonnie and 80s-hair Bonnie, but had left out Decepticon Bonnie and her minions Jen and Rich Bonnie. Not that Julie wasn’t thankful, but you had to know the squad to do that. All the bodies also seemed true-to-life so far, and Julie could see rather a lot of them in these bikinis. A few times she’d wondered if Chinese Bonnie had a bit of a girl-crush on her — she was so snarky, though, that it was hard to tell.

Was it even possible? Taking time to think about it, she realized it was even probable. Sure, she’d set up her orrery to link Mars and Venus with Mercurian energies, just like she did every night but it was just a model. She’d put too much focus on the model and not enough on the real night sky. If Mars and Venus were in opposition in reality, she might get shunted to a girl’s wet dream about her by default. She felt an angry shame, the same way she did whenever she messed anything up that she had the skill to prevail at. Then she glanced around at the nubile young bodies filling out skimpy bikinis surrounding her, and grinned. As mistakes go, this one looks to be turning out pretty sexy so far. It might just be time to ride the delightfully-curved waves of the sapphic seas...

Her eight-cornered mirror was between Mars and Saturn, so this dream wouldn’t alter confidence and accidentally motivate anyone to out themselves the way the boys had on the DEO tape. That was good — Julie really didn’t want to be responsible for her friends outing themselves.

The photographer was a balding, pot-bellied, sleazy guy with taped-together glasses — but his voice was the stuff of raw command. Julie had mentally nicknamed him Sleazo. She didn’t recognize him from the school, as either faculty or student — he could be a janitor or some maintenance guy, perhaps. But his very tropic genericness was another point of evidence that this might be Chinese Bonnie’s dream.

Everyone had just been calling him Sir so far, and Julie just went with it. She was getting pretty adept at fetish dynamics from her nocturnal sojourns, and enjoyed the BDSM subtext. Given that subtext, the critical words fell like a sack of hammers when he said them.

“Chinese Bonnie, kiss Julie.”

Julie’s heart skipped a beat. She’d wanted this since, well ... at least since the parade. Maybe longer. Oh, god, do it! Do it!

But CB hesitated. Nora stepped into frame (and wow, Nora’s chest looked just mouth-watering in a string bikini!) and took CB’s hand gently and nurturingly. Her big, round doe-eyes were even wider than usual, and her voice was filled with desperation. “CeeBee, we have to do this! It’s a charity calender, and they’re going to keep all the nudity hidden with objects and camera angles anyway! It’s for the Stallions, for MWA and for the future of our squad! We’ve got to just do whatever he says and get through it! We can’t let our friends down.”

It all clicked into place for Julie then. No one other than a squad member would call Chinese Bonnie that in 2024, so Sleazo wasn’t the dreamer. CB was. She knew the script, too. This was what they call a ‘permission fantasy’ — Bonnie’s psyche needed an external authority figure to tell her it was okay to make out with girls. Hence the photoshoot dream. It was a healthy way to explore a taboo fantasy, and Julie would be more than happy to help her out with it!

Chinese Bonnie nodded nervously. She closed her eyes, leaned down and kissed Julie. It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It wasn’t exactly Frenching at first, but there sure was lip smacking and slurping involved. Julie felt Chinese Bonnie lower her body down until it crushed against Julie’s own, sharing body heat. CB’s hard nipples dug into Julie’s breasts, and Julie had no doubt she was returning the favor. Julie’s arms rose up to hug CB, crushing them together. After a while her fingernails slid over the most sensual recesses of her neck, massaging her and stealthily building up her feminine heat. When their lips finally broke apart, it was only so Chinese Bonnie could gasp and moan. A few seconds later, they were locked together again, this time wide open as CB’s tongue explored Julie’s mouth.

“That’s enough.”

No it isn’t! But Julie obeyed, pulling back. She had a feeling that voice was going to tell them to do some hot shit, after all, and the permission fantasy wouldn’t work if she subverted it by undercutting the authority.

A minute later, Sleazo had Nora, Pink Highlights Bonnie and 80s-hair Bonnie lined up in a row, arms around each other’s waists — Nora was in the middle. He handed Julie and CB big litre-tubs of vanilla yogurt. He’d taken to calling 80s-hair Bonnie Farrah, and Julie could faintly see why — even beyond her hair, she bore a faint resemblance to a really young version of Farrah Fawcett.

“You’re going to feed your friends,” he told Julie and CB. “Use only your fingers. Be sensual.”

CB looked awkward. Julie didn’t. She pulled open the yogurt tub and stuck two fingers in up to the second joint, then held them out to 80s-hair Bonnie. She licked them clean, very slowly and sensually. Julie was keenly aware of the symbolism, and approved — she kept her two fingers together, straight and hard like a cock as 80s-hair Bonnie serviced them. Julie’s hoo-hah approved of the symbolism, too, enough so that she was glad the dark purple fabric of her bikini bottoms wouldn’t show stains.

CB giggled, dipped her own fingers and offered them to PHB, who licked them clean almost as sensually as 80s-hair Bonnie had — albeit with a touch more vulnerable nervousness. Julie’s devious mind churned rapidly (along with other parts) as she moved over to Nora. She dipped three fingers this time instead of two, and got as much yogurt on them as she could. She held them out to Nora, slightly spread apart. Her best friends tried to lick them clean, but Julie had been clever. It was impossible to do so neatly. Pearl-bright yogurt dripped over Nora’s lips, over her chin, down her neck, into her ample cleavage and onto her bikini top. Nora giggled nervously; Julie giggled back in what she hoped was an awkward, apologetic way. One didn’t need a PhD in Sexual Fantasy Logic to guess what the next command would be!

“Lambert, Liu. Both of you together, lick that off. Be sensual about it, and slow enough for me to get good shots. Tease her. Arouse her.”

Thus, for the next minute, Julie and her beautiful Asian teammate licked the suggestive white fluid off Nora Alders. CB got to her lips first, and it inevitably turned into making out. Julie navigated lower, licking the yogurt off her neck and upper chest. Her adroit tongue scooped up a droplet running down between Nora’s breasts, and she got closer up with her best friend’s assets than she’d ever been before. Nora was tenting like crazy. Julie licked a splotch off her bikini top, and got motorboated in the process. There was sadly no yogurt actually on her nipples, but, well, she might not know that...

Julie wrapped her mouth around Nora’s left nipple and sucked hard, the thin bikini barely providing any barrier. She massaged it, flicked it with her tongued, teased and tormented it. Regardless of what she did, it stayed ridiculously stiff. Nora moaned like a porn star, and Julie thrilled at the very idea of that quiet, familiar voice being twisted to utter such pornographic sounds. Julie glanced down. Yeah, Nora’s skimpy bottoms looked as wet as her own felt.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Sleazo said. “Let’s move on to the next set while you ladies’, ah... ‘spirits’ are still high.”

The five girls got stood in a line. It wasn’t just Nora; the whole team was tenting. Nobody commented on Julie’s lipstick around Nora’s nipple. Sleazo handed each girl a bottle of baby oil. “Oil each other down. Squeeze. Rub. Explore. Molest.”

The team obeyed. Nora seemed especially eager to rub Julie down even as her own hands spread slick gloss over CB’s toned frame. Pink Highlights Bonnie and 80s-hair Bonnie giggled nervously as they squeezed, massaged and explored each other. At one point Nora’s hand slid right down between Julie’s legs and gave her vulva a firm squeeze. Julie froze, shivering in ecstasy as she struggled not to come early.

“I’m sorry,” Nora said plaintively. “We have to do it! He said so.”

“It’s okay,” Julie replied in her best sympathetic voice. “It’s for the team, for charity. I understand. Let’s ... let’s try to have some fun in the name of school spirit, okay?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, voice breathy. “Fun. We can do that.”

“Great,” Julie said as her hands slid over Nora’s plump ass, leaving slick trails in their wake. She gave the tight ass cheeks a firm squeeze. Nora sighed softly. Julie grinned at her. “Yeah, I think we can have fun with this.”

PHB and ‘Farrah’ were giggling uncontrollably — having an oily, jiggly slap-fight. They rubbed their noses together, Eskimo-kissing.

“Enough!” Sleazo said sharply. “Stand in line.”

The girls obeyed. Julie glanced at her squadmates. Acres of exposed, nubile girlflesh glistened with an unnatural sheen. Bikinis covered all the indecent areas, barely, and yet the image made Julie want to squirm. She saw her squadmates naked in the locker room three times a week after cheer practice. As much as the boys might covet the sight, it was nothing exciting or out of the ordinary to her. But girls in string bikinis covered with baby oil? That was pure PornHub shit — only this particular video starred her and her four close friends, all of whom were ‘good girl’ sex symbols to a whole school. How could the image possibly not be thrilling to her?

Her friends weren’t just naked, she realized. They were being crassly sexualized, and the results of this thrilled her both on the immediate level and a more subversive level, when she considered what the Coordinator would say about it. Huh. Turns out sexualizing women is actually really sexy. Who’da thunk it? She wondered how bleak, cold and sterile the world would feel, if no one was allowed to sexualize anything openly.

“Take off your tops,” Sleazo said.

The girls all obeyed without question — though PHB and Nora both kept stealing nervous glances at the camera rig with its flashing red record light. Ironically, losing the bikini tops made things less porny by making everyone’s stiff nipples less immediately obvious and eyecatching.

“Okay, Julie and Farrah, sit in these two chairs. CB, sit in Julie’s lap. Pinkie, sit in Farrah’s. We can’t get nipples in the calender, so I want you two sets to crush your chests against each other’s to hide them. At the same time, I want you to stare directly into each other’s eyes ... and just keep staring.”

Chinese Bonnie sat in Julie’s lap, straddling her. She burst out into giggles as she slid down Julie’s oiled legs, slippery limbs struggling to find purchase absent the usual friction of human flesh. Finally she grabbed the back of the chair to anchor herself. Julie, in turn, grabbed her perfectly curved ass cheeks to pull her into the requested position. Her partner did not protest this.

Both girls were fairly tall, so Julie had to look up to meet CB’s gaze. An absolutely wicked idea entered her mind. She remembered how, when Raj inflated her chest, it had made her nipples abnormally sensitive. That had been fun, but this was the real CB — she wanted to share the experience and kick this dream into a gloriously sapphic high-gear. She seized on that sense-memory and by silent act of will imposed said state on all the cheerleaders — herself very much included.

She got it fixed just in the nick of time. CB’s chest crushed against her own, and both girls stiffened and moaned as if a very erotic electric shock had just coursed through their lithe bodies. Not wanting to be a bad girl and disobey Sleazo, CB kept her gaze fixed on Julie’s eyes the whole time. Dear god, the staring made the nipple-scraping ecstasy an order of magnitude hotter. Chinese Bonnie’s pupils seemed a radiant, almost crystalline shade of brown. They were hypnotic — Julie could lose herself in those eyes. CB’s eyes, her face, radiated a look of raw animal lust. Snap! Snap! Snap!

Sleazo’s voice stayed level and commanding. “Okay, you know what? I’m shooting you from the side, so it won’t show anything. Get rid of the bottoms, too. Cover your partner’s intimates with your hand, if you would, to make it look sexual. And keep rubbing your chests together.”

Okay, hollow dream imago confirmed 100%. If Sleazo was a real guy, he’d be flustered, gibbering and salivating right now guaranteed.

Julie couldn’t help but grin as she pulled Chinese Bonnie’s bottoms off, wishing she could see her bare ass and pussy. Then she pushed herself up on the chair so CB could get hers off in turn. This didn’t quite work, though — without both hands anchored to the back of the chair and Julie’s grip on her ass, Chinese Bonnie slid back and nearly fell off. Much slippery gripping and grinding later, CB had managed to get Julie’s panties off — and Julie was using a controlled breathing exercise to forestall a truly wild premature orgasm.

Pink Highlights Bonnie and 80s-hair Bonnie lacked her discipline. PHB popped off trying to get 80s-hair Bonnie stripped, and she ended up taking 8HB with her. They were rolling around on the floor, screaming in ecstasy and grinding their bodies against each other — a big, hot, slippery mess. Julie watched PHB’s cute little bubble butt clench and tremble as the orgasm wracked her body, making the glistening ass cheeks jiggle wildly. When their moment passed and they sat, clutching each other in their arms, they almost seemed to fade into the background. The focus of the dream was on Nora, Julie and CB now. Julie wondered if CB had willed that.

“Julie,” CB whispered, staring into her eyes. “Julie, baby, I’m, uh ... I’m gonna...”

But Julie separated their chests, pushing her back by her shoulders. Yes. Yes, you are — but in due time. I don’t want this dream to dissolve because you’re sated just yet — it’s too good!

Julie turned to Sleazo and flashed her persuasion-smile, trying to sound professional in spite of her arousal. “You know, I have an idea that would be really sexy here. Why don’t I suck on CB’s nipples, and she can act out having an orgasm while I do? It’s not like anyone could tell if it was real or fake, after all.”