Pink Lemonade

“Map Of The Problematique"

Fear and panic in the air
I want to be free
From desolation and despair
And I feel like everything I see
Is being swept away
Well I refuse to let you go

I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you

Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over

Life will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
I want to touch the other side
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can't we see
That when we bleed we bleed the same

I can't get it right
Get it right
Since I met you

Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over
Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over


She had never been one to discount the power of dreams. She knew all to well about the power of the dreamtime, the dream world.

Since she was four years old, she had predicted earthquakes, seen things happen that always came to pass. Not to mention the personal things, events, changes, people; of which came in dreams first, and shook her life in reality later.

As she grew older, this talent waxed and waned, depending on need. As life grew stable and even stagnant, dreams flicked into the realms of normalcy; they were fictional, if she remembered them at all.

But in her fortieth year stress and change hit her life. The dreams changed, their tone offering answers, comfort and warning once more. She lost her husband, and since she had lost her family already, she was utterly alone in many ways. In the midst of these painful changes, her dreams got… hard to trust. How could anyone over the age of twelve trust such dreams?

The first of these dreams she remembered well after the others. She was “redreaming,” a term she had created for when her dream used a book, movie or the like as a blueprint for itself. In this case, she was redreaming about a book she was reading. She was charmingly replacing the female protagonist, with gentle protest. She knew dimly that she was far too old to be this character, this girl, and she was gently trying to convince the male lead of this fact. He was polite, but firm; she was who he wanted, so stop fighting fate.

“Cut!” The shout shocked her and made her jump. She turned to see a hitherto hidden film crew staring at her and her far too young male lead. That young man (not a boy despite the age difference) took her arm and dragged her off, ignoring her confusion. In the manner of “normal” dreams, the scene shifted and the two of them were alone, in a nondescript place.

“Why are you pushing me?” he asked, his face as confused as she felt. She was not sure what he meant.

“Pushing you? How?” He shook his head and tried to say something, only the scene started to change again. She had a sudden feeling that they were not supposed to be talking this way, alone… lucid. So when his face took on a startled and somewhat desperate look, she felt an odd urge to soothe him somehow. He grabbed her arm so hard that she felt it physically.

“No, wait!” he had hissed, but she jerked awake, gasping a little and rubbing the cold hand print on her arm as the dream faded. She sighed, rolled over and dropped back to sleep, the dream all but forgotten.

A few days later, she dreamed of him again.

This time it was also a reenactment of sorts, only everyone was firmly in character. It was the same book/movie thing as before, at least at first. The dream shifted a little, so the actions and scenarios were unique in the framework of the books invented world.

The details were fuzzy later, but she did remember some things very clear. One, her ‘costar’ was staring at her a lot. It made her blush, actually. Two he had a great laugh. Nothing like she had seen in the real movie when she had rented it. Then again he had played an understated sort of man in that role.
She woke to her alarm going off, saddened and groggy.

She had a long weekend off work when the next dream came along. (More details)

This time she was depressed, and her dream reflected this with a dark dreary evening setting. The street she was walking along was cold and felt more familiar than it looked; like a combination of two real world towns she often dreamed about. She wandered into a restaurant; in this dreamworld it was a favorite place of hers, but somehow the staff barely knew her. Again, that was just fine.

She was nursing a serious pout, not sure what she was waiting for. But she was waiting, watching the others here.

A small group of bikers, some older women gossiping at their table about everyone and everything. Various other characters easy to ignore. She heard the rain start to fall outside, and a newcomer came in out of it, and then sat at the table by hers.

It was him again… Only the clean shaven, perfectly dressed character from before was replaced with a flannel clad, tousled and badly in need of a shave man who was all the more charming for his “new” look.

He sat in a half slouch, seeming as if he were hiding his face by being too low in his seat to be seen easily from a distance. A waitress came to get his order but all he wanted was a Guinness. The waitress turned to her at the same time he did, she blushed under the scrutiny and looked down.
“You want a refill of your drink?” the waitress asked; she nodded and realized yet again in some dim way that she was dreaming. The dream was too detailed and real, but it was a dream nonetheless. She gave a deep sigh and tried not to look at him.

Tried and failed. He was looking at her, brow crinkled in puzzlement. As if he was trying to remember her…

Remember her? From where? He was a figment of dream, not the real… him. Right?

“Here honey. One pink lemonade.” The waitress was smiling oddly, as if at a private joke.

“Thanks.” She murmured and pulled the straw around to sip the drink, pondering the joke in the waitresses mind.

“And here’s your Guinness…” the waitresses voice was an enticing purr, directly opposed to the verbal smirk used when talking to her. She tried not to look up but she still tasted a flirtatious nature coloring the air until his voice (Oh damn, he was British, that was just too perfect…) coldly thanked the woman. The flirtatious feeling left the room, a snooty confusion taking its place as the waitress offered a generic thanks in return then left.

Ha! A tiny, spark of meanness popped up in her, which she quickly squashed with a sigh. After a while, she huffed and leaned back.

Damn, this dream was slow.

Suddenly the bikers nearby started conversing with the young (too young) man and all parties laughed at something rather droll no doubt. She sipped her drink then started to stand to leave. A wave of dizziness took her, making her wonder… she was more and more aware of the fact she was dreaming. Why was she not waking? Why was she feeling physical things she never had before while dreaming?

“Hey wait!” one of the bikers boomed at her. She stared at them, realizing they were the adorable sort of guys who still could and would do horrendous things to help someone; like hurling a man hurting a girl through a plate glass window.

“Uhm yeah?” she smiled; they reminded her of an old friend, long lost to prison, covering to this day for other friends who should have taken his place. Still, the foggy feel of a ‘normal dream’ enveloped them, unlike herself and the young man at the other table. She smiled a little wider, feeling indulgent, almost parental towards them.

“Wait for him, he wants to finish his beer!” One guy with a beard to rival Billy Gibbons chuckled and waved to the young man with the Guinness. The actor sighed and started slugging the beer.

“Well why must I wait…” she trailed off as his eyes lifted and met hers with a strange mix of pleading and anger in them. She felt frozen, not understanding at all.

“Please wait?” he hissed softly. She slowly sank back into her seat, puzzled and not hiding it. He smiled at her then, and it stunned her completely. It was as if someone had shined a light into her face while she sat in a dark room, dazzling her. Her mind stuttered but her body responded; she smiled back and felt rather warm of a sudden.

“Thank you. Sucking Guinness so fast is a crime you know, and it punishes you for that crime.” He said quietly. His accent was a little dry and he dragged certain sounds and syllables on his breath. It was hard to place, though to her ear it was definitely British in origin. A cool retort failed her so she settled on laughing more. Besides it was funny; she knew what he meant about sucking any dark beer too fast.

As was the Dreamings wont, the room disappeared, mainly. She watched as he moved to sit across from her at her table, and it somehow felt natural as breathing to have him there. She could not remember clearly after, but she knew they talked a while about various things. She did remember that he said he wanted to play guitar, maybe sing on the small stage, (The scene had shifted again to look like a local pub, in the town she now called home) and asked her if he should do it, or would someone know him, make a fuss?

“I have no idea. You’re sort of scruffy, and in need of a good bit of grooming to look like yourself. If your teen fans saw you… not that they can even get in here!” He smiled that wide and let’s face it, goofy smile at that, as if she had revealed something she had not meant to…

Her eyes snapped open and then she groaned. No fair! Hell, they had not even exchanged names! She grumbled as her cat complained at her restlessness disturbing his sleep. Even so, the atmosphere of the dream enveloped her, and while she knew better, she wallowed in it all day. She felt like she could close her eyes and slip back into that dream without any pause, without changes occurring, as if she had never even woken up.

Of course she did not indulge herself in that. Besides, if he really was himself, and not a figment of her dreamworld, then he surely was awake like she was by now, right?

She did not breathe a word about these dreams, not even to her best friends. However she did start poking about the internet… and was immediately regretful about what she found.

He was 24, and would be 25 shortly, but… damn, at 40 years old she could plausibly be his mother. He was almost universally considered to be damn close to engaged to a heartbreakingly lovely model aspiring to be an actress, and he was in line to be voted one of the sexiest men alive. Again.

Stop dreaming about him, she ordered herself firmly as she shut down the sites she had been reading about him. And for two nights, her subconscious obeyed her edict. But the third night, she slid straight into fuzzy yet ever more clear and lucid dream.

She stared at the huge, elegant building before her with honest dread.

Someone brushed by her; she was blocking the door. She tried to back away, but lucid dream or not, it was not happening. A quick glance around confirmed her suspicions. She was in Prague; where he was filming a nice little independent film that he was supposedly very excited about making. He had turned down two major pictures for this one no-name, small budget project.

She rubbed her temples and went inside warily. She might as well play this out.

She sat at the long bar and huddled, trying not to be visible. If he came in, if he were already here… well she had no idea what she would do. Talk to him? Gush like one of his little fans? Demand he tell her that he was really him, not that she would believe anything he said?

“What will it be?” A thickly accented voice asked. The bartender’s voice held wary concern as well as curiosity.

“Pink lemonade?” she replied very quietly.

“So sorry. We have none. Something else?” The voice was kindly at least, not condescending or snide, unlike how the waitress in the other dream had behaved.

“Um, Ginger ale? Something without cola or caffeine?” She looked up through her hair at the bartender, feeling rude for not meeting his eyes yet. He nodded and smiled as if he were relieved. She smiled as well and then went back to huddling.

Why was she in a bar… again? And why was the bar in Prague?

Someone laughed behind her. Several voices joined in, but his laugh was unmistakable in the whole happy cacophony.

“Oh no… wake up, wake up now. Come on…” she knew better than to pinch herself; it never really worked in her lucid dreams, unlike the folklore that asserted that a pinch proved wakefulness in dream-like situation. She simply tried to force herself awake, to become aware enough that she could shake off the dream. When this did not work (actually it rarely did, but she had to try) she rose and headed for the door. Of course, the very moment she tried to leave, a herd of people tried to come in, likely film crew members from the film shoot, supplied by whatever dream gods were trying to torment her.

“Excuse me please, please, I need…” she gasped futilely as she tried to get through the press of people. She felt his eyes on her, just like described in a book or something, and like an idiot, she had to look over her shoulder at him. He had blue eyes. What a thing to notice right now.

He jumped to his feet after a few seconds of this eye contact. Maybe… he as going to greet one of the newcomers?

Of course not. He came directly to her then hovered, hands slightly outstretched as if he wanted to take her arm and prevent her from making an escape.
“Please, let me get you something… Uhm, I’m Rick, and you are…?” He smiled a shy, charming smile.

“Uh no, you aren’t “Rick” you’re "Nick". Why lie?” she blurted. His eyes widened before he laughed, a deep and oddly happy laugh for a man caught in a lie.

“I apologize. Really. But I got the feeling you were trying to get away from me because I am famous. Please don’t.” He finally closed in, his hand warm as it encircled her elbow. She felt incredibly comfortable with it, as if his touch were a long lost sensation she had never realized she had been missing. She did not feel trapped, bound by his firm grip, which was certainly preventing her from leaving.

“Ok “Rick,” fine. Let’s sit. Though why you would bother with someone like me…” she shook her head in bafflement. He gently steered her to a back corner by an exit sign no less, and made sure she was seated before he sat. Such a gentleman.

“What does that mean, ‘bother with someone like me’?” he spoke quietly. He frowned with disapproving curiosity, eyes intent on her face.

“I mean I am not exactly a model, nor am I exactly all that young. I am not ugly, but hey… I am not a stunner either.” She really did not hate herself, but she was pragmatic. She understood her limits and the facts about herself. She could stand to lose a bit of weight, and she was passably pretty still, but knew she was hardly gorgeous by any means.

He stared at her intently as she assessed herself, then shook his head and laughed. “I wonder, maybe you’re intimidated by the media darling who is supposed to be my girlfriend? Giselle and I are friends, and she is a girl, but it’s really an arrangement engineered by the production company behind that series I am doing. I’ve never been interested in finding a woman… and they were scared that I’d come off as a pom or something. After all, I am soooooooo pretty,” his eyes rolled in annoyance, “And I am British to boot. Horrors. Like what I do privately, who I want to sleep with is anyone’s business.” He waved and a server appeared with their drinks, poured but not claimed before.

“You’re handy for thirsty folk” She smiled uneasily. Yes she was intimidated by any woman he could have, he was damned handsome. He was talented and undoubtedly wealthy thanks to that dang series he was filming once a year.

“Thanks.” He smiled and took a deep swallow of the beer. She noticed that his hand was trembling slightly. What on earth…

“Don’t… don’t tell me you’re nervous about talking to me?” she gasped. This made her perspective change instantly. She leaned forward as he flushed adorably and looked over her shoulder, avoiding her gaze. She took his hand firmly in hers then paused in surprise. A shock of electricity rippled through her… or maybe it went through them both... After all he was staring at their hands as if stunned himself. His hand flipped in her grip, suddenly reversing their positions so that he was holding her hand in his warmly somehow. She felt that unaccountable calm wash over her again, and looked up at him. She spoke very quietly.

“Please tell me, why be nervous talking to me?” she stroked his fingers with her thumb, feeling an impish smile crossing her face.

“Because I am a famous pretty boy, and so few people are willing to look past that. If you couldn’t see me… I really think I would be crushed. I have this feeling…” he frowned and as usual, it was not familiar on his face, because he was not the characters he played, but himself.

She was dangerously intrigued

“Ok, I admit I would like… love it if you really wanted to know me… but I am still so confused by this regard. Really Nicky. Why me? Can you even see me clearly? This is a dream you know, I am not really here in Prague.” He chuckled at her speech.

“I am asleep too. I see you. I do. The real you. I want to meet you. What’s your name, your real name, and where on Earth are you? I am guessing the west coast of the US…” he smirked a little and she had to laugh; he had guessed well.

“Yeah, California.” She gave him her location, which surprised him a little. He knew of the local college town, it seemed.

“So what do I look for? Who do I look up?” he asked, leaning closer to her.

“Well I don’t know… You did lie to me about your name.” she said causally. He deflated a little. “Fine. My name is… Djuna. That’s D-j-u-n-a. My mother named me to please Grandma. She was a fan of Djuna Barnes, an author in the early 1900’s. Grandpa would not let her name his daughters for her since she was such an independent woman, a bad example of womanhood.” He smiled brilliantly at her story.

“That’s neat, my name is simply a biblical name chosen to make the family and neighbors happy. I don’t think I look like a Nick…” he ran a hand through his hair and chuckled bitterly

“Why no pink lemonade?” She huffed and explained about the lack of lemonade, pink or otherwise in this particular establishment. Unfortunately, his question seemed to have caused a change; the dream shifted back into a filmy nonsense dream feeling. She realized she was wandering the streets of Santa Barbara looking for Pink Lemonade, with Nick a short way behind her. She felt a little hurt by his placement, but did not slouch to show her hurt as she wished to.

“Embarrassed to be seen with me?” she muttered. He strode forward and slid an arm around her middle. She froze stock still, and his chest fitted itself to her back perfectly. She felt her eyes widen with a long lost mixture of emotions at the unexpected sensation his flesh caused to flare within her. He was probably oblivious to her reaction…

“No, I just now know you’re the one who’s embarrassed to be seen with me. I am just playing by your rules.” She whirled to face him…

And found herself awake, gasping and cold in her bed.

“Dammit!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, and then pulled the covers over her head, ready to cry in frustration.

This was getting out of hand. Utterly, completely out of hand.

Sleep eluded her the rest of the night. Instead she booted her computer and illegally downloaded all of his movies, hating herself intensely for it. While the downloads came through she made some tea and paced around a while, pondering what was going on. What did it mean? Was Nick really dreaming about her too? Did he see some much younger, much prettier person? Had he felt the same shock of excitement, the same rush of blood through his flesh?

Probably not. Because she was an idiot who was simply dreaming silly, leading dreams. So what if the man in her dreams was a real person. Why wouldn’t he be? She had seen him on film, a perfect place to draw from and create a male to self entertain with. She had had "dream crushes" before, usually with musicians...

But if she were honest, never with someone whom she had never even looked twice at, thought much about. And what about the precognitive feel of these dreams, the sensation they meant something more than face value? What could this possibly mean, other than she was a self deluded idiot seeking some sort of excitement or entertainment for her otherwise dull and pointless-seeming life? She sat and stared at the progress bars of her downloads then twitched when the first was done. Reluctant yet intensely curious, she started the movie, assessing it calmly.

He was unlikely to win an Academy Award for this sort of work, but it was a moving and brave role, played with a similar understated emotion as the big role that he was most known for. She watched it twice, first assessing his performance then his appearance. She was only human after all.

She decided he was no Adonis... No, he was a living breathing Michelangelo's David; actually it an uncanny resemblance except for his hair, which was straighter and tended to do its own thing. She imagined it would be wavy and thick if he grew it out... And Nicks face was kinder, not plotting violence like David's was.

Another movie had downloaded when she looked, but she chose to try and sleep a little more before she dragged her exhausted self to work. She was asleep very quickly, but the three plus hours awake were keenly felt. She hoped it translated into a sleep deep enough to avoid dreaming...

The alarm was screaming at her; it felt as if she had only just closed her eyes. It had been four nights, and her sleep was near non-existent. No more dreams, but she was not appeased. She rolled over and then groaned. She could not stand it. She called into work and drifted back to sleep. When she woke again she had a strange fleeting image in her head. An image of Nick, here in her town. Here, sleeping because of jet lag after flying in from Europe. Quite a delusion, or wishful dream... bah.

She hoisted herself from bed and cleaned her messy house, fed herself and her cat, got some groceries. Finally she sat in the silence of her living room and felt loneliness crushing her. Usually she could keep busy, chat online with old friends or something. It was too early to find her friends online, and it was too soon to try and sleep, which was likely to end in futility anyway. She was not even desperate, sick enough to check the hotels in town for goofy British actors.

Instead she showered and got dressed casually, and headed for her favorite pub. She sat on one of the couches, staring at the big screen showing old Buster Keaton films, trying not to think as she nursed her beer.

She hated the dreams. She hated herself. She was one sick woman, deluding herself like that. She could not find a better, more concrete reason to live, now that all she had once lived for was gone? She could not even cry anymore. She waved at Sean the bartender and he brought her a huge mug of beer to replace the empty pint. He smiled gently at her.

"Don't be so down. Life always gets better, you'll see." he patted her shoulder and moved off.

Okay, maybe she could still cry, but not now, not here. Here and now, she drank some of her beer and then hung her head.

She did not hear the footsteps coming; she did not really notice anyone walking by her here normally. So many people walked by, brushing her shoulders, even patting her as they greeted or begged forgiveness for being so close as to jostle her. She did however notice that someone, a male someone, was standing too close to her. Before she could turn to look at the man, he moved off. She glanced at him, but all she saw was thick brunette hair.
He leaned towards Sean, but since his back was turned, she saw nothing more than the hair, and an old military jacket, blue jeans... a normal guy who must have been staring at Buster Keaton before going to get some beer.

She turned back to Buster herself, wondering if Sean would take pity and let her put on the cheesy Chinese martial arts films she had donated to the pub instead. She sighed and tilted her huge mug back, letting the smooth dark beer wash down her throat. The soft veil of intoxication was creeping through her brain; she was probably going to need a cab to get home. She nodded briefly to herself; sounded like a plan. Get plastered on Oatmeal Stout, then go home and not dream, not at all.

"Uhm, excuse me... Its a strange question but, do you like Pink Lemonade?" a male voice drifted into her ear out of nowhere. She frowned then froze, all expression sliding from her face along with all the blood in her cheeks. Her first scrambled thought was, is this a joke? Except she had told no one, not a soul about her dreams.

Which could mean only one thing. A huge, sick, cruel coincidence. She turned her head slowly, eyes moving warily to catch the owner of the voice in her vision.

Blue eyes peered at her from under enviably long lashes. A nearly sideways, goofy smile was fighting for dominance with a tight worry on his smooth face. And his hair; of course it was dyed, the better to be mangled by the stylists when he went to film the next installment of that series he was best known for. She blinked and then realized she had no clue how to answer him. Too many words jumbled in her throat, and before she knew it, she was squeaking incoherently. Her voice failing her, she simply nodded and stared at him wide eyed. He moved to sit next to her, a mug of some dark beer set beside hers. She turned away from him suddenly, her face flushing so hard and fast that it burned.

"Why are you... How... How did you find... This is just... oh hell!" she gave up and hid her face in her hands.

She had never really been good with being shocked. If only she had seen him first... No, she would have been as stunned and tongue tied and silly. This situation was way outside her comfort zone; and she had handled a lot of weird in her life before this.

She felt his hands encircle her wrists and gently tug. She did not fight him, looking up at him with undimmed astonishment. "Nick? Nicholas Laurie?" He nodded solemnly. "But..."

"Before you go on, you are Djuna, and that's not a question. And yeah, I am as stunned as you are. You told me where to find you, remember? This is the third pub I checked out. I knew you couldn't be at that one in the park, it was sleazy and the sports pub was not you and..." he bit his lips then looked down himself. "Just say you're not..." he frowned, or at least she thought he was frowning.

"I am not mad if you're thinking that... shocked, and shocked, and even more shocked, surprised and how the hell did this happen? I was dreaming! Weren't you dreaming?" she ground her jaw shut and then smiled, holding back any number of pointless comments. She was just going to have to take a moment to process this... weird turn of events.

"You're not mad, but you're confused... sure, I mean... This is kind of insane, right? Who actually gets on a plane from Europe, flies to California just to see if he's been having some sort of... lucid, even precognitive dreams?" his voice trailed off as he spoke; he had made an incredibly brave choice, and she was just sitting there, acting like his was all about her. She felt like a bitch even though she had not said anything mean.

"A brave, slightly crazy and..." she paused, realizing the real truth all of a sudden. "...and lonely man. Oh damn, Nicky I'm sorry if I made you feel silly for taking such a huge chance. I was just so sure that those dreams were just dreams, with some meaning behind them that I was having trouble decoding. How could I believe you were you?" She smiled weakly, and was relieved that he smiled back, his face tilting up so their eyes could meet again.

"Djuna, why do you say I must be lonely?" he asked curiously, picking up his beer again. She followed suit and rolled her eyes at him.

"Because believe it or not, you are not the first celebrity I've ever met, and most of them are very lonely. Being treated like normal humans made most of them pathetically grateful. And because..." she paused and switched ideas suddenly. "Well if you are dating a model simply to please management and the fans, you can’t be all that happy with it. I'd feel like a puppet if I were either you or that girl." she wanted to ask him if he was pleased with what his waking eyes could see of her, but she was scared to death of the answer to that query.

"Not puppets really. More like little kids told to dress up and dance for relatives and guests we don't really know. It's better than the speculation that would come about me and any female costar I work with. I dealt with that during the first movie of the series, and it sucked for me and Alyx. The photo shoots we had to endure because of the damned tabloids pairing us up... was embarrassing. Alyx' boyfriend was furious, I am sure that the real reason they broke up was because of some of the... really intimate poses we were put into. Acting in a movie is fine, it’s in front of dozens of people and its part of a role, but photo shoots... damn." he shook his head and grimaced at the memory. "When we complained, the publicists came up with the idea to put me with someone not incredibly famous but very pretty. Oddly it was Alyxandria who suggested Giselle as a "girlfriend" for me. They both are really good people, and Giselle can't complain, being associated with me has helped her career a lot." He smiled. "I don't mind usually. It’s a bother, but better than... other things would be." He swallowed more beer then tilted his head as he looked at her. She winced inwardly: she was not dressed up, made up, or styled at all. She was wearing a top that was probably too tight (even if it did offer a flattering cleavage) and jeans. She compared her face with Giselle and almost flinched.

"So, are you... alone here? No date... or anything?" He asked casually. She shook her head and looked down at her mug.

"No. No "anything" at all. I was married for a long time, but... we divorced last year. I moved here, and well, I'm not a very socially adept soul. I'm too strange, too..."

"Intimidating? You're smart, pretty and that's dangerous to some people. You can be one or the other, but both? Ooooh scary!" he snorted. He would know too, he was the sort of good looking that could be handsome or pretty, depending on lighting and expression. She smiled wanly at his mention of her being pretty.

"Intimidating? Pretty, smart? You flatter me. I like it, do it some more." she joked. He shook his head then wagged a finger at her.

"Not flattery. You're very pretty, and you aren't even wearing make-up. You should see some of the actresses I've worked with when they are not wearing any make up... its like they were traded for someone’s ugly step-sister before the paint is applied." They laughed, which eased things enough to start conversing more comfortably.

Seemed he was done filming his little independent film, and had almost a month until he had to start the next installment of the big movie series. She was just amazed he had remembered where she said she was. And the luck of finding her when she was at the pub; she had not come out much since the dreams started, she realized.

Luck, or Fate? She shoved that question aside for now.

"So, you hear 'cut" and immediately jump a plane bound for California?" she said suddenly. She could not look at him as she waited for an answer. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass as she waited... and waited. She finally had to look up, meeting his blue eyes that once more looked wary, even a hint afraid. "Not that I am not grateful, happy even that you did, I am just... I mean this doesn't happen, not in real life, right?" She filled in the silence then bit her lips to still them. He leaned even closer, making her realize they had leaned in close while talking, shrinking their personal space and shutting out everyone else. Even now she barely heard the music, the people, anything but his voice, even his breathing.

"You're right, this sort of thing does not happen in the real world. But those dreams felt too real, too meaningful to just ignore. I had to find out, had to try, and I figured you couldn't come to me, I did not think to tell you how to find me even if you could. And even when I got here, I was telling myself this is nuts. This town isn't that small, you could be a shut in, I'd never find you... but I had another dream today, while I slept off the jet-lag. I dreamed you were sad, so sad... you needed a miracle. You were alone, crushed by emptiness and helpless to get away. I tried to talk to you, but you never seemed to see me. Finally you mumbled about the pub, going to the pub tonight and I decided to look for you... and here we are. Sheer luck." He smiled at her hopefully. She looked back down at her mug and smiled, more relaxed.

"More like fate. Could you accept it if this was some fated meeting?" she frowned. "Though the reason for it is really not very easy to imagine."

"Maybe because we'd never meet without some sort of... assistance?" he pondered. She lifted a brow at that. She realized he thought of this in very positive and potential terms. He felt this was a beginning, not a one off meeting. She felt herself freeze as the possibilities, the possible futures tomorrow might bring crashed into each other in her head. Her face must have been alarmed because Nick scooted closer and leaned his face within inches of hers.

"Djuna? What is it?" he asked quietly. She blinked and shook off the strange moment then smiled shyly.

"You aren't just seeing if I am real, are you. You're... thinking ahead. I was trying to think ahead... but it’s a big thing to ponder." She wanted to pull her gaze away from his, but damn if he was not so damned easy to stare at. She really enjoyed it. And the way he was looking at her made her feel like she was beautiful, rare and fragile... like he wanted to protect her from danger or pain. It was heady and empowering for her after such a long time being un-regarded, barely warranting a glance from males of any age. Much less a gorgeous man of his age...

"Yes, I am thinking that there is a reason, has to be a reason for Dreams to come true. I can't just shrug and say 'well that was interesting, life goes on now.' I want to know why. Don't you?" He seemed a bit surprised that she was surprised at his future forward thoughts. She lifted her hand and was about to touch his cheek, but hesitated. He slid his hand around her wrist and pulled her hand to his face. They stared at each other for a while, until the sounds of the pub around them intruded.

"I am going to finish this beer, and you're going to tell me what hotel you're staying at, so I can get a cab and meet you there." His face lit up a bit at that, and then positively glowed when he found out his hotel, the best in town, was literally down the street from her home. They finished their beers, comparing notes on them; Djuna was enjoying an Oatmeal Stout, and Nick had chosen a Porter. Once finished she waved good-bye to Sean; his expression was not lost on her. She didn't know if he recognized Nick or not, but she had never left the place with anyone before. It was a bit of an about face for her, she knew. She smiled warmly at the wary barkeep to let him know it was ok, then led Nick to her car.

He mentioned that her house might be more private and safer, less likely to draw attention, but she refused to let him in just yet. She could not name her reasons as to why she did not want him to see it, maybe because he would have some advantage on her, an insight to her personality. His hotel would be neutral ground as it were, indicative of nothing, with no distractions but themselves.

He was amused as she parked in her driveway, and then led him down her darkened street, taking his hand easily and comfortably. She smiled and nodded back towards her house.

"Now you know where it is. If you're very good, I will even trade phone numbers with you." He laughed just a little too loud, and then shook his head.

"That is my line. My phone is highly sought after, you know. Imagine the fortune you could make offering it on the internet." She laughed that off, and they fell silent while they walked, the night crisp and clear. He looked around, commenting on how amazed he was at the lack of sidewalks, at all the trees and how dark the streets were. It took only a few minutes to reach the hotel; it was a huge old complex, with five different buildings on the grounds. The best suites, the ones for important and high paying guests were far from the main street of town, sheltered by trees and the other buildings.

She was nervous as he unlocked the door, letting her in ahead of him and flipping on the lights for her. Just as expected, the room was impersonal and while nice, was nothing like what she imagined he had enjoyed elsewhere in the world. The rooms probably seemed primitive to him, and she laughed quietly as she imagined his resignation about the environs before he collapsed into sleep when he arrived.

"I have Guinness if you want some." he said, and she turned to see that he was once more nervous. She shook her head and moved to the small kitchen area, getting water instead. Her eyes followed him as he paced back and forth.

"You want to say something, so go ahead." she blurted. He looked at her then smiled wryly.

"I have questions to ask, but I don't want to upset you. So asking them is hard." She smiled and waved her hand to encourage him to continue. He took a breath and plunged on.

"I don't really care, but I am curious, you're older than me..."

"I am forty, Nick. And I know I look very good for that age." His eyebrows lifted at her pronouncement.

"I had no idea... But I bet it’s an issue in your mind. Try not to let it be a problem. I don't care about age, I care about substance, and you can imagine how little substance people think I have."

She frowned at that; no one who would pick up and travel across the world to verify a few dreams had been about a real woman was shallow. She nodded and waved again.

"Do you have children?" She smiled ironically.

"No. I never wanted any, and it turned out I cannot get pregnant, so it worked out well for me." He smiled, which was odd. Most people who heard that she could not have children were saddened for her, then confused by her lack of regret about the condition. Nicks smile made her confused, but also she felt relieved by it. "You aren't upset by this?"

"No. Should I be?" he stepped closer. She shook her head then fell silent.

He moved to stand in front of her and pushed his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and looking like he was about to drop a huge bombshell on her.

“So… I wanted to ask you one more thing.” His voice was quiet, but not soft. She could hear the nervousness in each word. She took a deep breath and smiled encouragingly.

“Okay, ask.” She said, taking his hand in hers comfortingly. His hand was warm, and as she expected by now, twisted to envelope hers gently.

“I was hoping… that you would let me kiss you. Because I know you were so scared of being with me and…”

She felt her eyes grow huge and her breath hitch into her chest. Her head dropped a little, her cheeks flaming with all sorts of emotions. What to say to him? What to do? The dilemma was short lived; his free hand curled under her chin and lifted her face again. His eyes were dark and his face was flushed just like hers.

“Just… like… this…” he murmured, bending closer with every syllable.

“Yes,” She murmured her permission in return, her eyes closing in surrender. She felt him sigh in relief just before his lips touched the corner of her mouth, soft as a whisper. She gasped softly, and then felt his lips leave and touch her more firmly, more solidly. She froze then felt her body take over. She pressed closer to him, her free hand wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer as their mouths opened and tongues twined slowly. The hand he held in his fingers was flexing, wanting to touch him, though she should not. She should push him away, but oh, she couldn’t. He was making her sleeping flesh wake and rise and desire his. She did not feel them moving, but the cold wall hit her back suddenly, making her gasp in surprise. He pulled back, gasping as well, eyes wider and bright.

“Oh…” she blurted, still entangled with him. He smiled suddenly, a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so eager…” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“No… no apologies. Never say sorry about…” she chuckled then leaned her head against his chest, laughing, but it had a desperate edge. He was so wrong, no, she was so wrong, so wrong for him and his life, his career. He would be a laughing stock, dragging her with him anywhere he would have or want to go…

“Don’t do that. Stop thinking like that.” He said suddenly, his hands gripping hers. She looked up at him confused. How could he know… He dropped her left hand and lifted her right, forcing her fingers open. She had ground her nails into the heel of her hand so hard she was bleeding, even though she had not felt any pain. She stared at the welling red crescents then looked up at him.

“I… You have no future with me. You know it. You can’t be seen with me, you can’t…” he scowled fiercely and clapped his hand over her mouth.

“Let’s talk more rationally about it, and not jump to conclusions.” He leaned against her, gently trapping her between his body and the wall, which was warming due to her body heat. “You seem to have looked me up online. But that’s not all there is to know about me, you have to realize that. I’m not that public persona…” She looked away, embarrassed that he felt he had to say this to her.

“No, of course not. You’re not some glossy 8x10, no image on celluloid. I know that. But you know better than I do how vicious the paparazzi are. How cruel they can be. I am not strong enough for their cruelty, okay? I cannot handle snide comments about your older, funny looking girlfriend. I can’t take the comments about you that will fly like crazy. It’s not fair to either of us…” he covered her mouth again. She obediently quieted, curious about his rebuttal.

“My first “girlfriend” was five years older than me and I was 16 at the time…” A flicker of pain washed over his face but he moved on, his hand dropping to cup her cheek. “I became a model when I was 12, to help pay for school. I started acting for the same reason. By some strange… alignment of fate, I was good enough to keep getting acting jobs. And some I tried for, because I was struck by the story, by the meanings under the lines I had to say, and the expressions I had to pull out of nowhere.

“But the role, the one that got me all the damned silly, but sweet, fans… I felt something different about. I worked for it; I tried harder, made a nuisance of myself to get it. I identified with it. How was I to know that I’d end up so in the public eye? I really did not expect it.” He took a deep breath and leaned down; kissing her again, gently, but she still felt that fire raging in her veins. She moaned in her throat and used all her will to stay unmoving, then gasped a breath when his lips left hers and he bent to kiss the still bleeding cuts on her hand.

“I really do not care about them, but I can understand your worry. I respect it but you have to do for you… and hopefully for me, eventually. Until then… can’t we just… be us?” He looked at her hopefully. She did not know what to say; but she knew what she wanted to say, what she wanted to do. she tossed caution away and went with her instincts.

“Us huh?” she lifted her free hand and trailed her fingers down his temple, along his sharply sculpted cheekbone, then lazily moved to press her finger against his mouth until his lips parted. She took a sharp little breath as he touched her fingertip with his tongue, eyes vivid behind lowered lashes. “I don’t know… it might take a while to find out who “Us” is… lots of… exploring and…” She trailed her fingers down his chin now, smoothing down his neck and pausing at his collarbones.

“And?” he hissed, his body trembling in time with his heartbeat. It was incredibly moving, and he probably had no idea that his small reactions, not the obvious flush, widened eyes or rapid breathing, but the slamming of his pulse, the way his body shifted closer to hers, leaned in to make any contact it could with her, that these small subtle thing were what was making her mind up so firmly.

"What?" she breathed, eyes moving up to meet his with coy "forgetfulness". She leaned up towards him and was met with yet another kiss, this one searing, pulling the breath from her lungs and the strength from her bones. His lips mashed to hers, his teeth sawing at her tongue painlessly. She wound her arms around his back and neck, arching into him as he clutched her hip and shoulder.

Some things really did come back as easy as riding a bicycle...

"We were pondering how to become "Us", remember?" he growled, then nipped her jaw. His hand slid up her back, fingers wrapping into her hair before pulling her head back.

"No. We'll just have to..." she started, and then hissed as he moved his lips to her neck, her body arching into his almost wildly. Nick was not fazed by her actions, more like encouraged to make her writhe if possible. Her fingers wound into his hair, not sure if she was trying to pull him away hold him closer, or just... trying to stay upright.

"Have to... what?" he insisted, his lips raising goose-flesh as they brushed her skin. She cleared her throat then opened her eyes, trying to focus.
"You're... so... distracting... damn..."

"Just tell me I don't have to start restraining myself... not yet?" He said with amazing dignity.

"If you dare to stop, I'll.... I'll think of something dire to do." She gasped. Despite her words, she pushed him off her slightly, but before he could say anything, she moved towards the hall, pulling him with her. Nick took cues well; he half pushed-half pulled her into the next room. The bedroom was as plush as the rest of the suite, and nicely dark. The bed was large and fluffy, which was nice when they fell into it. She laughed, hoping to relax him as he had stiffened when they hit the coverlet with a whooshing of fabric.

"You don't think this is too fast do you?" he asked even as he leaned in and nibbled her collarbone. As if she could speak coherently under such attention.

"I'm a... grown up and you are too... and... Oh why am I talking right now?" she murmured. He laughed against her skin, a hand sweeping down her side. She was the bold one though, working on the buttons of his shirt. He paused as his shirt fell open, then moved up to her neck again. Like moments before she gasped and jerked away, but not far enough to escape his persistent lips and tongue. She fell flat on her back, arching up and gasping again when she realized her shirt had been shoved up and their bare skin was able to touch, searing hot. Her hands clutched his neck and shoulder as his arm slid under her waist to pull her closer to him. Any possible hindrance between them, age, careers, anything at all fell away. They were simply a man and a woman exploring a new world only they could see or feel. She tugged his hair to pull him up, mouth to mouth and moaned softly when he obliged, parted lips meeting hers, tongues twining slowly and cautiously; not with fear but to prolong the newness of the moment. The heat took over quickly though.

He kissed her like he wanted to engulf her, and she kissed back as hotly, as hopefully. His lips were slippery and his skin was hot against her as his shirt was shoved off, hers pushed up out of the way until she gave up and pulled her lips from his so she could yank her shirt and bra off. Instead of immediately reaching for her with his hands as she half expected, Nick pressed his bare chest to hers, moaning into her open lips with purely masculine delight. She shuddered in reply, head arching back and hands moving down his back, back up under the shirt still clinging to his arms. She helped him struggle free of the button down then tossed it aside. Nick seemed to find the loss of his shirt to be removal of all restraint, and Djuna hardly cared.

He pulled away from her, hands at the buttons of her jeans, which cued her to attack his jeans in return. There was a moment of reluctant pause as shoes and boots and socks had to be coaxed out of the way of clinging denim, but it took a very short time until all their hot eager skin was able to touch and be touched. Oddly, once again the pace slowed as Djuna’s fingers trailed up his spine, his hand moving down her arm to take her hand and press it to his face. He sank his teeth harmlessly into the base of her thumb, making her fingers curl against his cheek. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, and then slid her hand down his skin until he could rub her fingertips against his lips.

Djuna watched his actions with breathless appreciation. Her skin tingled with every breath; she wanted to move, speak, pull him closer, but all she did was watch as he enjoyed her hand like it was some delectable fruit. She hummed and moved her legs from under his then slid her left leg up along his right, delighting in his soft skin stretched over firm muscle. She also delighted in how he froze, gasping with shocked pleasure. His eyes riveted to hers as his teeth pinched her fingertips. Djuna’s smirked a little and hooked her leg over his then slung her other leg so their ankles twined together. She was amazed to see a blush darken his cheeks; she could feel how her actions affected him, and was pleased with her results.

“Sorry… did I distract you?” she whispered. He pulled her hand up over her head then leaned down and held his face above hers. She looked up at him with a challenge in her eyes… until she felt his body moving, shifting over her and settling closer. His lips barely brushed hers as he moved closer yet, pressing an ever hardening erection against her. Her breath caught, her fingers twined with his as she strained to gain some pressure, friction, any further closeness to him, but he smiled against her mouth and slowly, teasingly licked her lower lip. She shuddered and let her eyelids flutter closed as his tongue slid deeper, finding and teasing hers. She couldn’t help herself; she lifted her head to press their mouths closer, squeezing her legs tighter around him at the same time.

He laughed at this, kissing her deeper and pushing her head back down onto the bed easily. She moaned hopefully and slid her free hand down his side then wormed it between their bodies. She was almost shocked when he adjusted position to give her access to him, and her fingers were free to grasp him. He growled very softly before sucking her tongue into his mouth, hips flexing a little so his shaft moved in her hand. She gasped for air as she aimed him into her and he immediately took her lead. He slid quickly into her then reached back, pulling her leg up higher over his hip as he moved back and then rushed back in. She moaned louder at that, heat washing up through her at the welcomed invasion, gently forcing her wide and stretched to accept him within.

She gripped his hip with her free hand, eyes closed in abandon while she surrendered to the growing pleasure quaking through her from the increasing friction. She arched her back to meet his motions into her, fingers gripping and releasing his reflexively as the pleasured tension grew in her muscles. His lips released hers, his head pressing into her hair spread over her shoulders, his breath puffing gently in her ear as he moved over and inside her. His hand slid her hip and thigh before pulling her leg back almost folding her in half. She whimpered and then bit her lip as the pleasure increased, her head arching back as jolts of sensation vibrated through her belly and legs. Her hips curved to take more of him into her even as her body tightened on him. He made a soft, encouraging sound in her ear, and she climaxed with a desperate yet joyful little cry.

She did not notice anything for a moment, nothing outside her own pulsating world of orgasmic bliss. Nick nuzzled her cheek, slowing his pace and letting her leg drop to his hip. Her hand clung to his with a grip that threatened to break his fingers as she strained against him. His continued motions extended her climax, until she sank back a bit limply, damp and flushed. He paused but she made a soft sound of negation, pulling him back to her with one hand on the small of his back.

"Don't... not yet?" she murmured, eyes still closed. He kissed her jaw, moving once more but very slowly.

"I can wait a bit..."

She smiled and finally pulled her hand free from his, sliding it around his neck. "I don't want to talk right this minute..." she said enticingly. He hummed an agreement and started moving again, lips finding her neck and shoulder. Djuna's head arched away from that, offering him more access to her skin, even as she flexed her body into his with more force. Her nails dug into his skin making him huff then bite her neck more sharply. Her breathing increased, growing louder as she half moaned with each exhalation. Nick obviously liked the sounds, driving into her harder and faster. She clung to his back, legs trembling as she tightened them around him. She sensed he could not wait, and she did not want him to wait for his release. Her hands slid down his now damp back to grip his hips and pull her against her harder, encouraging him to use more force, more speed, to do what he wanted.

Nick in turn slid his hands under her back and lifted her hips so he could pull her up to meet his movements. She gasped and trembled, head arching back as he drove into her hard, as if trying to sink all the way into her. She murmured "harder," in encouragement and felt him shake violently, his breath gusting uneven across her chest as his head arched down. She felt his heat spill into her just before her second release took her mind into dark, mindless hazy delight again.

She awoke to find she was resting half on top of Nick's body, tucked to his right side and feeling a hint breathless still, and rather damp and sticky. She sighed happily; well that was over with. Kisses and Sex were huge hurdles in relationships, as far as she remembered. Both acts were damn good with him, in her opinion.

"Hey, you're awake." He said quietly. His voice as wary but also smug. She hummed an affirmative. "You're not hurt? Things got a little..." She shook her head and smiled. "And you're not pondering fleeing into the dawn? Because that would really suck." He said. She shook her head again. "Are you going to say anything?" he said, laughter coloring his voice now.

"No." she chuckled then sighed and slid up, resting on an elbow over him. He was tousled, face soft, relaxed. She felt like he looked, warm, and temporarily at least, content. "Okay, I'll say something. That was really nice. Really, really nice. I am hoping you agree and might consider us doing it again. I think I should warn you, an older woman's libido is hard to handle. Are you up to the challenge?" He grinned at that and nodded. Her fingers traced his collarbones, then down his chest to trace around his flat nipples. She felt his hand cup her breast, the first time he had touched her that way. She had to laugh at the realization.

"Wow... We have had sex but you never even touched my breasts... and we have not even really seen each other. Somehow that seems perfect, at least to me." he laughed too and sat up so they were face to face.

"I am actually not in a hurry. I think we just... were overwhelmed. It felt right, I agree. I have an idea. We can either lay here or explore things... or we can take a shower, get an eyeful of each other then lay here and explore... or we can sleep. I am for anything but the last one." he said lightly. She flicked an eye to the bathroom door then back to him. She smiled lazily.

"Why clean up... when we're going to need to clean up again soon?" She smiled serenely at his mixture of shock and hopefulness...

"Map of the Problematique"
Written and performed by Muse
on "Black Holes and Revelations"
Published by Warner Chappel Ltd.
copyright 2006
lyrics used without permission.