Suzanne

Suzanne

Written by: Paul Gray

Published by Paul Gray at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Paul Gray

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PRELUDE

Suzanne woke slowly from a deep sleep. She was confused at first, not knowing where she was. Without opening her eyes, she drifted on the brink of sleep and wakefulness entertaining dreamy fantasies that became intermingled with coherent thoughts. She recalled going to bed the previous evening in her brand new bed in the new home that she and her husband Richard had recently purchased. It was only her third night in the new bed and it was most likely the presence of the unicorns that confused her or.. no, that was just a dream. Well, it was a new home and it was understandable to wake with some disorientation considering the new surroundings. She found the confusion annoying but decided that she could live with it for now. Time would provide the remedy as it always did, she dreamily reassured herself, and besides, she loved unicorns. She smiled and tried snuggling deeper into her pillow.

Her husband of three years, was out of town on yet another business trip so she had slept alone. The mere fact that Richard was out of town did not necessarily guarantee that she would sleep alone. In fact she often took advantage of just this type of situation and encouraged him to go on those extended trips that were so often required by his employer, even though she knew he hated being away from her. Richard's job was intense and it kept him very busy. Suzanne was ok with that. Richard was out of town for one reason or another at least half of the time and that played right into Suzanne's longing to roam and gave her the opportunity to perform what she referred to as social networking in a way to which she had grown accustomed prior to her marriage to Richard.

As she drifted in and out of slumber, Suzanne remembered the glass of wine she had drunk just before going to bed and now, she assumed as a direct result of the wine, her head throbbed like a hammer with every heart beat. She became aware enough to make mental note not to drink that particular brand of wine again. She thought briefly on how the bottle had been left on the threshold with an anonymous note. Upon arriving home, she discovered the wine wrapped in foil with a bow and a card that simply said, WELCOME.

She assumed the wine was a gesture from one of many new neighbors. It was definitely a man's hand writing and she was confident that sooner or later the one responsible for the wine would be paying her a visit, either out of benign neighborliness or pure hormonal impulse. It had been her experience in similar situations that it would be the latter. Men liked Suzanne and she liked men. Provided of course they were either extremely attractive, extremely wealthy or wielded a generous portion of power within the confines of her socio-economic business environment. A combination of two or more of these qualifiers suited her even more. She had yet to experience meeting anyone that fulfilled all three.

Moving into a new neighborhood represented advantages the least of which were new people, new friends. It was the new men and the new possibilities that excited her. The people in this ritzy neighborhood had proven friendly enough. An added advantage was that they knew very little about her and therefore there would be fewer prying eyes and ears to meddle in her affairs, no pun intended.

As she slipped once again into the shadowy haunts of slumber, she again dreamed. She enjoyed this time of day, waking slowly just to fall back into the restful arms of sleep over and over. This was the time that dreams visited her and she enjoyed playing with those dreams. Often, as she drifted off for another excursion in the realm of dreams, she found that she had the ability to continue a previous dream and even direct it in a direction that pleased her. Controlling dreams had been a fascination for Suzanne since she was a child. After graduating college she had attended as many conferences on the subject as possible and she was a contributing member of The Dream Research Association at the University of California. After spending much time and study on the subject; she was somewhat of a self proclaimed expert and shared her experiences when possible. She was even in the process of authoring a book on the subject titled, Neurocognigive Dream Manipulation by Suzanne Rholf. Between her own and Richard's contacts she was sure that she would get published.

For now Suzanne dreamed of Victor and she was directing the fantasy as much as possible. First it was just the two of them with Richard no where in sight. Then suddenly, the dream expanded and Victor was there with her in the new house and in the new bed. Each time the dream followed her manipulative direction, much to her dismay, she would wake. After several attempts at continuing a sensual direction for the dream, she found herself on a ski slope in Colorado. Victor was there of course but, as ridiculous as dreams can be, rather than skiing, they were sliding down the mountainside on their backsides, laughing and grab-assing with one another as they slipped farther and farther down the snowy slope. A chill ran through her body as she became aware that they were sliding down the snow-covered hillside without a stitch of clothes between them.

She emerged from the strange dream and realized that she was actually experiencing a chill in the real world similar to the one that occurred in her dream and her butt felt as if she were truly sitting on ice. Dreams were often like that. Stimuli from reality often manifests itself in a dream. She had awoke to find both hands above her head, as she often slept, fingers woven together and hands resting atop her thick, naturally blond hair. Richard had suggested on more than one occasion that sleep must have bored her since her slumbering posture alluded to this fact. She wasn't sure why it was that she slept in such an odd position other than the fact that it was comfortable for her.

She un-threaded her fingers and traced down the fleeting warmth of her body in search of a comforter in order to quench the chill that she had dreamed up and to her surprise she discovered that she was naked. She didn't remember taking her clothes off. Perhaps the wine had affected her more than she thought. Of course it isn't unusual to sleep in the nude but it was unusual for Suzanne. She almost always slept in panties and bra or a T-shirt with panties and rarely did she sleep naked, especially when she slept alone. Like most girly-girls, she was prone to a chill and preferred a warm body to snuggle up to. A nice set of flannel pajamas were equally as acceptable to cuddle warmly inside. As reality began to solidify around her, she became more and more disturbed with the realizations that presented themselves. Ultimately she realized that she was not in bed at all but was lying on the floor and what was even more disturbing was that the floor upon which she lay, was not her own.

CHAPTER ONE

Suzanne opened her eyes slowly to meet the darkness that engulfed her as she attempted to examine her surroundings. If she had been in her own room, half a dozen LED's would share their illumination and she would be able to identify objects and shapes through the darkness. The clock on the bedside table, the red power LED on the cable box, the router and cable modem perched on the desk across the room with their multiple green and yellow lights, some of which blinked while others burned steadily and of course the power light on the UPS which she normally covered with a piece of tape since it burned so brightly. All of those tiny contributors shared a surprising amount of light once the eyes became accustomed to the darkness but the absence of light was obvious.

Where am I?, she thought out loud as she struggled mentally and pushed panic away. She thought hard and remembered the night before and the evening's beginning was crystal clear. After noticing the wine, she had unlocked the door, gathered the mail from the floor just beneath the mail slot, greeted her cat, Napoleon and fed the fish; all typical chores which she performed each day upon arriving home. Her memory seemed perfectly intact. Following the memory farther she remembered taking a frozen dinner from the freezer, heating it in the microwave and pouring herself a glass from the bottle of wine. That's where everything became fuzzy. Why couldn't she remember eating the lasagna? She had taken a sip from the glass and placed it on the table. Everything was vague after that. She had heard a sound; a noise that came from.. upstairs? As Suzanne strained to remember the events of the night before, her stomach growled almost on queue indicating that she had definitely not eaten the night before and suddenly she felt queasy.

She sat up on the cold floor and tried to clear her head. Surveying the darkness, directly across the room; about twenty feet away there appeared to be a window. The window did not appear to offer a view to the outside but an opaque look into what appeared to be an adjacent room. There were no curtains nor blinds, just a large square, perhaps tinted glass. The image from the other side of the window was dim and hardly discernable. The glass appeared to be tinted to the point that had there been any light in the room in which she now occupied, the light on the far side of the tinted glass would not have been visible to her at all. Now however, she could make out the outline of what looked like a table or desktop cluttered with items, a small lamp, a computer and other things. An open door beyond the clutter led to another room which appeared to be even more brightly lit and it was that light that allowed her to see the silhouette of a man standing very close to the other side of the glass. He was looking through what appeared to be binoculars but they was attached to his head and the person appeared to be looking straight at her.

Suzanne stood in the darkness trying to shield her naked body with only her hands and the narrow width of her forearms. Her left hand covered her pubic region as well as any fig leaf and her right forearm and hand concealed a relatively small portion of her breasts. Suzanne had never been ashamed of her body and saw no need to be at this point but until she determined who her admirer was she was not comfortable with the voyeuristic arrangement. Her body had almost always proven ample leverage to get most anything she wanted, especially from