"Dreamscape
International" – Chapter One
by Connie Bailey &
Rhianne Aile
The sleeper turned from his side onto his back, one arm
bent over his head on a pillow that glowed like an afterimage in the moonlight.
By argent alchemy, the pale rays turned the slumbering man's golden hair to
silver, and emphasized the angular beauty of his high-planed face. The sheet
slid down his broad chest to pool around slim hips, mounding slightly over his
groin.
He slept on unaware as a wisp of fog appeared above the
bed, fading in, coalescing into a human figure hovering over the dreamer as
though weightless. Dressed in the formal attire of the Victorian Era, with an
ethereally beautiful face framed by rippling sable hair, floating on an unfelt
breeze, the visitor had every appearance of a classic ghost. The phantom
stretched out a hand, touching the sleeper's forehead in a gesture of loving
comfort, and the man's eyes opened.
There was no fear in the face of the man who sat up and
opened his arms to the lovely apparition. The ghost's apparel evaporated like
mist in the sun of the man's desire and naked, the vision descended to bring
their lips together in a brush of cool flesh against warm. The dreamer reached
up and pulled the specter into his arms, heating the marmoreal flesh, bringing a
rosy tint to the ivory skin. Just as the linen slipped all the way down the
man's hips, and the exquisite ghost settled astride him, the tableau brightened
until the inky shadows were bleached away and the scene became a cube of
glowing, pulsing silver. Within the mother of pearl radiance, a corporate logo
appeared: a simple spiral in velvet black like the iridescent spots on a
butterfly's wing, and the name Dreamscape International in whatever language the
viewer had chosen.
Lucien Clarke stood in the hangar-sized lobby and gazed
raptly at the holographic display as a buttery voice with a vaguely British
accent imparted a discreet description of the services offered by the
multinational firm: fantasies fulfilled, dreams by design, the client's desires
identified, mapped, and woven into a scenario Spun by a professional Dreamwalker
under entirely safe and confidential conditions. Prices available upon inquiry.
Lucien's mother was fond of saying that if they didn't
tell you the price up front, it was bound to be more than you could afford.
Dreamscape's fees were very high indeed, but Luc wasn't here to buy a dream; he
was hoping to be hired to Spin them.
~-~-~
The chime sounded for the 69th floor and the
elevator doors opened on a panoramic view of the bay through a two-story wall of
glass. The man who got out of the elevator pulled his gaze from the
breathtaking view, his eyes widening even further at the opulence of the lobby.
He knew that Dreamwalking was profitable, but the sheer amount of money
represented by the furnishings was staggering. In front of an atrium that held
a miniature forest was a sweep of burnished mahogany large enough to seat twelve
that served as a reception desk. The rich jewel tones of the brocade and velvet
upholstery, the soft gleam of gold-leaf accents and the original artwork
adorning the walls kept the visitor from noticing the receptionist until the man
spoke. “May I help you, sir?”
The visitor focused on the slim, impeccably attired
figure behind the desk. With growing dismay, he glanced down at his best
trousers and his only button down shirt, comparing them with the other man’s
obviously hand-tailored suit and wondered how he hoped to impress these people
if this was how the secretary dressed. Reminding himself that he had a unique
talent, he drew himself up to his full height and crossed the floor, heels
clicking on the Italian marble. “I have an appointment. Lucien Clarke?”
“Right on time, Mr. Clarke.” With an elegant gesture,
the receptionist indicated a pair of mahogany doors at the end of the hall to
his left. “You can go right in.”
Lucien’s eyes followed the manicured fingers, and he
left the hard marble of the atrium behind, feet sinking into the deep burgundy
carpet of the hall. Turning the brass knob, he entered a room that immediately
put him at ease, just as it was designed to do. The walls were painted a
soothing plum and a pair of large, overstuffed sofas faced each other over a low
table. A young man was already seated there, his red-gold hair haloed by the
floor lamp behind him. The friendly smile he offered dispelled the doubt
instilled by the intimidating décor of the lobby. Lucien was relieved to find
someone he could relate to and relaxed for the first time since he’d entered the
corporate offices of Dreamscape International. Giving the other man a bright
smile in return, Lucien crossed the room and extended a hand. “Lucien Clarke,”
he introduced himself. “Everyone calls me Luc.”
“Grey Daley.” The redhead took Luc’s hand in a firm
grip and released it.
Assuming Grey was another applicant, Luc plopped down in
a chair and let his legs sprawl. “Wow. I had no idea what this place was
like. That secretary guy out front was wearing a suit that probably costs more
than I make in a year.”
“Well, that could change if you get a job here,” Grey
said.
“I hope so,” Luc said, feeling a need to impress a
possible rival. “I tested well.”
“Well, test scores aren’t everything, you know. They
say that Dreamwalking is art married to science; the talent is inherent, but
intuition to use it can’t be taught.” Pulling a leg up underneath him, Grey
turned to face Luc in a in a pose as casual as the other man’s. “What’s your
specialty, anyway?” he asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer.
“Homoerotic,” Luc answered immediately. “But I can do
women,” he added, though the look on his face said it wouldn’t be first choice.
Grey laughed. “I don't think anyone around here will
ask you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. This company was founded
expressly to fulfill fantasies; coercion isn't in the mission statement that I
read. Have you been Dreamwalking long?” The astonishingly attractive young
candidate had to be a recently discovered Spinner. An experienced Dreamwalker
could reasonably be expected to know that Dreamwalking under duress, or without
the consent of both parties, was nearly impossible and highly illegal.
“I started Walking when I was fourteen,” Luc answered.
“Though I didn’t know what I was doing at first.”
“So it’s probably not hereditary then.”
“No one in my family ever showed the slightest
inclination until me. Of course, they all got tested when my ability was
diagnosed, but there's not a Spinner in the bunch. I was given the option of a
mentor, but Mom didn’t want me to have one.”
Grey frowned slightly at the ingenuous disclosure. He’d
seen Luc’s scores; they were excellent, off the chart in fact, but it appeared
that the boy was completely untrained. Grey sighed; no use wondering why Mrs.
Clarke hadn’t wanted a mentor, but it meant Grey had his work cut out for him.
Fortunately, it was extremely pleasant work for the most part, and he got right
back to it, giving the applicant his attention again.
Luc’s mother told people that her charming son had never
met a stranger, and he proved it as he continued to ramble candidly, unaware of
his companion’s brief distraction. “A friend of mine told me about Dreamscape
after his father was given a dream for his fiftieth birthday. Not an erotic
one; it was mountain climbing in the Himalayas. He said it was really
expensive, but worth every penny. I can still see the smile on his face. I’ve
wanted to work here ever since, to go into people’s dreams and make them happy
like that. I couldn’t believe it when I made it past the initial screening, but
here I am.”
Grey smiled at the earnest eagerness in Lucien’s dark
eyes and left off the charade. “Dreamscape is a great place to work,” he said.
“We’re on the cutting edge in terms of Spinning. Of course, Dreamwalking as a
profession is relatively new and the slightly more controversial field of erotic
fantasy has only been legally sanctioned in the last few years.”
“We?” Luc asked, straightening to a more formal
posture. “You mean you work here? I thought you were a candidate like me.”
“I’m the director of Boys’ House and this is your first
interview.” Grey had been chosen for his position precisely because of the
trust he inspired, and he put Lucien at ease again, reaching over to touch the
younger man’s thigh. “You’ll have to forgive me for not identifying myself
right away, but I like to form an impression of new boys before they realize
they’re talking to someone with authority. You can relax. You’re doing just
fine.” Luc relaxed, but Grey could still see tension in the set of the
applicant’s shoulders.
“Boys’ House?” Luc spoke to cover his anxiety.
“Spinners employed by Dreamscape live on the company
campus in houses based on individual specialties, sort of like family groups.
Don’t worry though; it’s not like a dormitory. There are seven single
apartments in each house. The Boys’ House is what we call the building you’ll
be in if you’re hired. There are four other houses, each with its own
specialty: heterosexual, dominant/submissive, exotic fetish and supernatural,”
Grey explained.
Luc blinked.
“The apartments are really very nice,” Grey added. “But
I don’t suppose that’s uppermost in your mind at the moment. Ready to go on?”
“Definitely.”
Grey couldn’t suppress a smile at this candidate’s
enthusiasm. Luc was a natural with an innate sensuality implicit in his
smallest gesture, and the director was beginning to feel something he hadn’t
felt in a while: enthusiasm. “All right, then; shall we get started?”
“What? Right now? Here?”
“You’ve taken pop quizzes before, right?”
“Well sure, but,” Luc paused, changing his mind
mid-thought. “Let’s get started.”
“Good answer. Why don’t you get comfortable? Kick off
your shoes, or whatever you think will help you relax enough to fall asleep.”
“Um, I’m fine. Should I lie down here on the couch?”
Grey moved back until he was sitting in the corner of
the soft sofa. “Put your head in my lap, and I’ll guide you into the first
stage. After that, it will be up to you to enter the sleep of a prepared
subject in another room, intuit his desires and Spin a fantasy for him. Any
questions?”
“About a million,” Luc said as he toed off his shoes.
“But I’m ready, and there’s no point in wasting time.”
“That’s a great attitude,” Grey said as Luc stretched
out. The director cupped the young man’s skull in his hands, ignoring the
sensuous slide of silken curls over his fingers, remaining detached and alert.
“Just breathe and let yourself float. I won’t let anything disturb you.”
Luc looked up and Grey felt a desire to earn this boy’s
trust and friendship. Shaking his head at the power the young man wielded
unaware, the director cleared his thoughts and let his breathing fall into the
same rhythm as the Spinner’s. In moments, like the instinctive Dreamwalker he
was, Luc drifted into sleep. Putting forth the gentlest tendril of his own
talent, Grey nudged the candidate from his quiescent state. During training,
Luc would learn to do this on his own, but for now, it was safer to guide him.
Encircling Luc's wrist with his thumb and forefinger, Grey monitored the young
man's pulse and felt the flutter that indicated Dreamwalking had commenced.
Luc opened his eyes. The office he was in looked like a
room in one of those genteel men’s clubs in old movies, tobacco brown leather
upholstery, rows of books with gold stamped spines, a crystal decanter of amber
liquor, everything glowing in the rays of sunlight that lanced through the bay
window. On the other side of the room, a man slept in a burgundy leather wing
chair with his feet up on a desk of polished teak.
Luc’s impetuous heart stumbled in its steady beat as he
gazed on the subject. How had Dreamscape known what his dream man looked like?
Was this part of the test or their way of trying to make it as easy as possible
for him? Or was it just coincidence that the sleeper was as ruggedly handsome
as a Viking raider crowned with a thatch of antique gold and that he exuded an
aura of absolute maleness even while unconscious? Wondering suddenly if he were
being timed, Luc crossed the room and moved behind the desk. "Are you ready for
me?” he asked softly.
The man’s eyes opened, as green as coastal waters, and
Luc felt the tender ache of sexual attraction behind his pubic bone. “Who are
you?” the blond man asked.
“Your fantasy,” Luc said, gazing deeply into the
subject’s eyes, easily divining his desires. Picking up the man’s feet, the
Dreamwalker placed them gently on the floor. The subject didn’t protest by word
or deed as Luc knelt between his thighs and reached for his belt buckle. “I’m
going to make this so good for you,” Luc murmured. “Your dreams come true.”
The green-eyed man didn’t speak, but let his head fall
back against the chair as slim fingers deftly unfastened his trousers and bared
his arousal. He was already hard as iron and leaking a bit as the young man’s
sculpted lips touched the head of his shaft in a kiss that was almost reverent.
A groan escaped the sleeper’s mouth as a firm fist shuttled up and down his taut
hardness. Luc smiled as he took the sensitive tip in his mouth and ran his
tongue around the weeping slit. This was a fairly common fantasy for the type
of powerful man that would have an office like this: being serviced at work by a
beautiful, willing underling without having to move a muscle. Well, maybe one
muscle, Luc amended, as he engulfed the thick shaft down to the root.
The subject’s breathing became labored as Luc lavished
attention on his cock, balls, and all points south. The Spinner tried to make it
last as long as he could; this was as enjoyable for him as it was for the
drowsing executive, but even in dreams, there is a point past which pleasure can
no longer be sustained. Luc felt the hot, hard head pulse against the back of
his throat and pushed a finger deeper into the man, pressing insistently against
his sweet spot. The long shaft jerked and the blond came with a choked-off cry,
filling Luc’s mouth with salty-bitter seed.
Luc swallowed it down, invoking another groan of sheer
ecstasy. Gently massaging the man’s inner thighs, the Dreamwalker let the spent
rod slide slowly from his mouth. He was getting to his feet, when the subject
unexpectedly swept him up in his arms, and he found himself crushed against the
broad chest in a fierce embrace. Lips framed by a rough beard sought his,
burning his skin, and sparking an answering fire in his loins. Gladly, he gave
up his mouth to be plundered by a tongue that savored of scotch and pipe
tobacco. A soft whimper rose in his throat as big hands massaged his buttocks.
“Luc?”
Luc looked up into Grey’s bright blue gaze. He was
disoriented, but only for a second. Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat up
and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “How’d I do?” he asked, trying to
ignore the yearning erection that pressed into his thigh.
“I’m not sure you did anything,” Grey answered. “I
linked with the test subject, but you never showed up. Where did you go?”
Luc’s guileless face revealed his shock. “I felt a pull
that I assumed was you guiding me. It led me to an office. There was a man
asleep in a chair, and I gave him the blow job he wanted.”
“That’s wrong, completely wrong. I don’t know where you
went, but it wasn’t where you were supposed to go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either, but it’s not a good sign. I’ll have to
ask if we can-” Grey’s words broke off as a door opened behind him and his name
was called. “Yes, sir?” he responded, getting up from the couch. Before he
could take a step, a man came into the room looking as confused as was humanly
possible. And then he saw Luc.
“What the bloody hell?” the man exclaimed, staring at
Luc as though the boy held a gun on him.
“This is the new candidate, Mr. Sparks,” Grey said.
“Are you all right?”
Luc froze like a deer in the headlights. This was
Alexander Sparks, Head of Human Resources, the man that could make his career,
or end it right here. And he was the mystery man of Luc’s recent attempt at
Dreamwalking. Grey was right; this wasn’t a good sign at all.
“No, I’m bloody well not all right!” Mr. Sparks said
sharply. “Were you conducting a trial Dreamwalk out here?”
“It’s on the schedule, sir,” Grey said, less
confidently.
“This isn’t right,” Alexander Sparks mumbled. “Not
right at all.”
“I assure you; it was all approved and conducted
according to-”
“I’m not impugning your ethics, Grey, though if I find
that this was one of your infamous pranks I'll… I don’t know yet what I’ll do,
but you won’t like it, that I can promise you.”
Grey’s fair brows drew together in a frown. “If you
tell me what went wrong, Alec, maybe I can figure out what happened.”
Two spots of red appeared on Alec’s high cheekbones.
“I…” He glanced at Luc and his demeanor underwent a sudden change. “I’m
Alexander Sparks,” he said briskly. “And you’re the candidate the examiners are
so excited about. Lucien Clarke. I’d appreciate it if you’d go wait in my
office while I talk to Grey for a moment. Just make yourself comfortable, Mr.
Clarke, and I’ll be right in.”
Luc nodded, for one of the few times in his life doing
as he was told without argument. Alec waited until the door closed behind the
candidate, before turning to Grey. “How did you lose control of the Dreamwalk?”
he asked.
“Alec, I… As far as I know there was no Dreamwalk. Are
you saying there was?”
Alec opened his mouth and closed it again. “I may have
misspoken,” he said. “I meant that you should take more care to stay with the
Spinner, especially a novice like Clarke. What were you thinking letting him
off the leash without a guide? You’ve been given a position of great
responsibility and I’d like to see you take it a bit more seriously. Are we
clear?”
“Of course,” Grey said, feeling he didn’t really deserve
this dressing down. However, he’d never seen his superior this shaken and
didn’t make an issue of it.
“I’m going to have a word with young Mr. Clarke, and
then you can show him around the campus,” Alec said before he turned away.
Luc wasn’t surprised to see that the office he entered
was the one from his recent Dreamwalk, and automatically looked around to see
what details the sleeper had changed or left out. The far wall was indeed lined
with books, but the wing chair was deep green instead of burgundy. Raising his
eyes, Luc spotted a framed photograph behind the desk that hadn’t appeared in
the dream. Intrigued, he walked over to examine the picture.
Two handsome blond men, one of them Alexander Sparks,
stood on the deck of a large sailboat. They were smiling broadly and had their
arms around each other, the pleasure they felt in one another’s company almost
palpable. The physical ease implicit in the pose led Luc to wonder if they
might be lovers, although his recent peek into Mr. Sparks’s subconscious told
him the man preferred a younger partner. He felt an irrational sense of
jealousy and reached out to touch the face of the other man in the photograph.
The one with the vivid blue eyes that stared right through the viewer. The door
opened as Luc’s finger touched the glass, and he started back guiltily.
“Hi, Lucien. We’ve not really been introduced; I’m
Alexander Sparks. Welcome to the U.S. corporate headquarters of Dreamscape
International.”
“Thanks for this opportunity, Mr. Sparks,” Luc stammered
as he had a quick flash of being on his knees between this man’s thighs. True,
it was only a dream, but....
“You’re welcome,” Alec said, without a trace of
embarrassment. “And we’re not so formal around here. You can call me Alec.”
“I’m incredibly excited about this opportunity. I’ve
wanted to work here ever since I heard about the company.”
“Thank you,” Alec said. “And you can relax. I’m not
going to hold an innocent mistake against you.” He gestured, inviting Luc to
sit, and the young man sank into the supple leather, breathing in the earthy
scent. Alec sat opposite, their knees nearly touching, and fixed the applicant
with his sharp, appraising stare. “Do you know what just happened?”
“I guess I was in the wrong dream.”
“Too right you were. I’ve spoken to Grey about
supervising candidates more closely. If I were a client that paid for a
Dreamwalk and the Spinner never showed up, I’d be properly pissed off.”
“I’m sorry,” Luc said.
“No need to apologize,” Alec said smoothly. “It was a
mistake, and it’s hardly your fault that I’m not homosexual.”
“I really thought I was doing what you wanted me to,”
Luc said ruefully. “I can’t believe I was that far off in reading your
desires.”
Alec cleared his throat. “Let’s put this incident
behind us, shall we? I’m going to have Grey show you around, and after you’ve
had a chance to rest and clear your mind, we’ll try another session. How does
that sound to you?”
“More than fair, sir,” Luc stood, sensing the interview
was over.
“Don’t worry too much about this,” Alec said kindly as
he walked the boy to the door. “Grey will explain the rules to you and show you
where you’ll be living if we’re happy with one another after the new test run.”
Luc walked out of the office to find a somewhat subdued
Grey waiting to give him the grand tour.
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