The bus rolls up to the stop, I pull my bus pass out of my purse and climb on through the open door. Flashing the pass at the driver, I sit down in the second row of seats, as always.
I open my bag and lean over to get the book out. I’ve spent the entire afternoon at a library for old and otherwise rare books. As a friend of the owner, I’m allowed to borrow a couple of the less valuable books, including the one I’m holding now.
It’s an old book, probably from the turn of the century, amidst the faded patterns and words on the cover, you can just make out the title - “My Night of Interest”.
I open the book, flip to the first page of the story and start reading. As I go to turn the page, sliding my finger under the page I just read, something on the back of the book pricks my middle finger. Flipping to the back cover, I notice that there is a tiny spike sticking out of the back cover of the book. Opening the book to the last page, I see that a rose thorn has been pushed through the last couple of pages and the back cover. I try to pull it out, but it’s just too tightly embedded to even move.
Back to the book!
The first page of the story is about this woman, “Marianne” who meets this tall dark stranger in a small bar. Such a cliché. They have a couple of glasses of wine together, and when he suggests that they retire upstairs to his room, she decides that this is not such a bad idea, and they were just climbing the stairs when I was pricked.
“He led me into his room and closed the door behind us. The room was a simple layout with a wardrobe off to the left, a huge four poster bed in the centre, and small tables on each side. One of the side tables had a large bunch of roses on it, the other had a lit candelabra. He walked up behind me, and started whispering in my ear:”Look at the candelabra, my dear, look at the pretty flames, watch how they flicker and dance for you. Doesn’t it relax you, watching the flames? Doesn’t it make you so relaxed?” They were pretty flames, and watching them seemed to make my entire body relax, watching them dance…”
Someone had drawn a small candle flame in the margin of the book. Quickly glancing at it, it seemed like it might be a recent addition. I’d have to report it to my friend when I returned the book. Strangely though, it seemed to flicker and dance whilst I read.
“My whole body relaxed and I leaned against him for support, his words still caressed my ear,”It’s ok to relax, it’s ok to relax against me like this, just lean against me and watch the flame; lean against me and watch the flame. Watch it dance, feel it relax you, relax you so deeply, so completely.” My body seemed to be made of lead, I couldn’t move the slightest muscle, my arms were limp at my sides, and his arms around my waist held me up to watch the beautiful, all-consuming flame.” ”
The bus pulled to a stop, jerking slightly as the driver went over a small pothole and causing my arms to move the book sightly, just slightly losing my spot on the page. Finding it again, I read more…
“He changed his grip slightly, allowing my body to support itself a little more.”Feel yourself getting so relaxed, so completely, deeply relaxed. You’re getting deeply relaxed, so deeply and completely relaxed. However despite how relaxed you are, you can still stand on your own, and can still walk over to the bed. Lie down on the bed, and look up at the ceiling there.” My legs carried me over to the bed, laying me down in the centre of the top sheet. My eyes immediately drifted upwards to the ceiling.”
“He lay down beside me, with his lips to my ear, whispering”Look at the picture up there, notice how your eyes focus on it, leaving the rest of the ceiling blurry and distant. It’s just the natural workings of your eyes, notice how everything else blurs, whilst the rose stays focused. Focus on the rose, can you smell it’s scent wafting down towards you? Can you feel it filling your nose and mind with it’s gentle perfume? Doesn’t that smell relax you even more? Make you relax even deeper?” I could smell the rose, it was such a beautiful scent, wafting down towards me, making my entire body limp and relaxed, blurring everything else in the room.”
Again, someone had drawn a small rose in the margin here, It smelled so beautiful.
“His words flowed through me now, my mind didn’t catch them, but somehow my body obeyed them without question. I rolled onto my side, and my dress and corset somehow released on their own. I rolled back onto my back, naked, but uncaring, everything was so unimportant. My head lolled, as my body relaxed completely, rolling onto it’s side and allowing me to look at the roses on the table. I felt his weight on top of me, pushing me into the bed, holding me down. His lips found mine, and he held my head facing upwards whilst his tongue probed my mouth. My eyes looked around his head at the picture of the rose on the roof. He whispered in my ear again.”
My legs spread at his words, opening myself to receive him. The seam of my pants pushed against my pussy, stroking me and making me need him all the more.
“I felt him push inside me, so deeply inside me. He felt so good and big inside me, and I could feel him thrusting inside me, pushing in and out of me, in and out. He whispered into my ear again his words flowed through us, around us, over us, into us, making us feel things, making us do things. His cock was so hard and big inside us, it felt so goood. Our arms, almost of their own accord, reached around his body and pulled him against us. We needed him against us, inside us.”
We needed him inside us, we were so wet with desire for him, we needed him to touch our breasts, kiss our lips, touch us all over.
“He whispered into our ear, telling us what would happen, how it would be for us. We felt him pushing harder against us, deeper inside us, we needed him so much, we were so close now. We reached around him, pulling him inside us, against us, near us.”
He whispered the words into our ear, they flowed over our body, going down to our pussy, making it explode. He exploded inside us, filling us, making us his.
“We lay there, open, receptive, spent, needing, wanting, his. He rolled off us, lying beside us on the bed. He panted with exertion, laying on his back with sweat rolling off his beautiful body. He finally looked over at us.”Sleep, my dear” ”
My eyes rolled back in my head, and darkness filled my mind.
Someone was talking to me, asking me things. My eyes opened, and the friendly face of the bus driver looked at me with concern in his eyes. He asked me how I was.
“I’m fine, I think, I never usually fall asleep whilst reading. Where are we?”
“This is the last stop, then I go to the depot. Where did you want to get off?”
“Damn. I was supposed to be getting off at Stephen Street. I’ll have to take a bus back now won’t I?”
“Yeah, there’s one leaving in 5 minutes or so.”
I went to uncross my legs, but they were open, wide open, my pants and knickers pressed comfortingly into my hips. Confused, I closed my legs and stood up.
I put the book back into my bag, thanked the driver and walked out of the bus.
Something was bothering me now, why were my knickers so wet? Why did my thighs ache, and why did I feel so good and dirty?
As I walked over to the stop back to the city, I thought over what had happened whilst I was on the bus. Reading the book, then falling asleep, the story had felt so real, like I could almost feel what the woman in the book had felt. I’d never felt anything like this before whilst reading.
Flipping through the book, almost every page had some form of scrawled picture in the margin, a table with a bunch of roses, a candle flame, a single rose, a bed, faces, snatches of the room. I flicked through to the last page, there was only one word on it, “Sleep”. Odd. I closed the book and put it back into my bag, digging around for the other book I’d borrowed. As I shuffled through my bag, I saw the back cover of the book I just read. Written on the back in cheap brio was “Book 14”. For the briefest second before it flipped back down, I thought I saw it glow orange and disappear.
My bus back home pulled up. I pulled out my bus pass, and climbed aboard. Flashing the pass at the driver, I sit down in the second row of seats, as always.
I opened the other book I’d borrowed, flipping it open to the first page, and I start reading. Soon I’m lost in a story of pirates and dashing young men, heroes finding pirate gold and getting the girl.
The bus jerked a little as it went over a pothole, and I quickly checked the cross-street so I didn’t miss my stop.