13 - Reoccurring Nighttime Fantasies

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When 47 drops me off back home, I slump into the wool cushions of my couch and let out an audible sigh. My heart warms a little on the inside when I can hear Crystal's little tip-tapping against the tile as she trots down the hallway, in the direction of where I'm sitting at in the living room. Her nose brushes against my hand briefly before she jumps onto the cushion next to me, her head nudging into my shoulder.

"Hey girl, how are you?" I ask and pet her behind her floppy ears. She pushes at my forearm with her nose, which is something she always does when she wants to ask me what's wrong. "It's nothing, Crystal, I promise." When she snorts at me, I frown, because I already know that she doesn't buy my story. What a smart dog she is.

With a sigh of defeat, I just wrap my arms around her fuzzy neck, and bury my face deep into her soft fur. She nuzzles my neck, her cold nose tickling the skin. My fingers take their time in stroking the fur around her neck slowly, using the softness of it to comfort myself. Ever since I got Crystal when she was just a puppy, I've been able to make myself feel better with her. In many ways, she helps me through my darkest times.

After a moment, I gently push Crystal away, deciding that it's time to shower again before we go to bed. It's been one hell of a week, but Heather is safe, and no one is ever going to hurt her again; not while I am still living and breathing.

I get myself up off of the couch and, as I walk down the hallway to the bedroom, Crystal follows closely behind me - like she usually does. She waits patiently for me by the door while I rummage through the closet to find a nightgown and some underwear to sleep in for the night. After finding what I need, I walk back over to Crystal, who practically prances to the bathroom. I let out a chuckle and follow behind her. She nudges the ajar door fully open with her snout, then stands on her hind legs in the darkness and also uses her snout to flick on the light. It still amazes me how incredibly intelligent this Great Dane is.

I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me before I make quick work at undressing myself. Crystal waits for me to take off her collar before she hops into the tub, her tail wagging gently back and forth across the tub's floor. After setting my clean clothes down on the counter, I strut over to the tub and turn on the water to a comfortable temperature that both Crystal and I can enjoy. This time, though, I'm not in the mood to take a bubble bath. A nice, hot shower will do it for me.

I put my hand under the faucet to make sure that it's just right before I pull the little knob that moves the water from the faucet to the showerhead. Crystal sticks her head underneath the hot, running water, and I allow her to soak herself up first before I climb into the tub with her. I let out a soft moan as the hot liquid cascades down my body, washing away all the hardships of the last week and a half. I close my eyes briefly to enjoy the moment, but they snap back open when a picture of Michael and his piercing, emerald eyes above me flashes through my brain. My body shudders and, despite the hotness of the water, I can feel goosebumps form along every inch of my skin. I pick up a washcloth and scrub my skin until it's red - especially the innermost and outermost parts of my thighs.

Crystal whines at me, and I realize what I've done to my legs and stomach: red scratches from scrubbing the cloth too hard adorn my skin. She nudges the abs on my bare stomach with her snout before she puts one of her front paws on my hand with the cloth in it, making it obvious that she wants me to stop scrubbing so hard. An exasperated breath escapes from my lips and I have to choke back tears. Why can't I stop crying today?

"It's okay, Crystal. . ." I mutter and pat the soft, wet fur on top of her head. My smile is soft and weak, and to be honest, I'm not even sure if I'm actually smiling.

Crystal and I get on with our shower shortly after I regain my composure. I take my time in using my hands to thoroughly scrub her fur with her dog shampoo, making sure I wash out all of the guck and grime she tends to pick up. Then, I wash and condition my own hair before giving myself another gentle scrub with some shower gel. While I'm doing that, Crystal sits herself underneath the water streaming from the showerhead so she can rinse herself off. I can feel her watching me carefully - intently - as she does so, and it makes me warm on the inside at how much this pooch of mine cares about me.

I detach the showerhead from where it usually sits overhead and use it to thoroughly rinse the soap out of Crystal's fur. After she's suds-free, I focus on rinsing the soap - along with the gunk, grime, and nastiness - from my own body. She waits patiently for me to turn off the water and open the curtain before she jumps out onto the water resistant rug I have placed just outside of the tub. I wring out my hair and then step out next to her, grabbing one of the beach towels off the rack to wrap around myself while I grab another one to dry off Crystal. She - like usual - shakes off the water that I missed and makes sure to sit still afterwards so I can slip her collar back on her. I smile at her and give her a quick kiss on the nose before standing back up to dry off and redress myself.

Even after getting dressed and drying off my hair, I can't help but stare intently at myself in the mirror. I notice the dark circles around my eyes and sigh; isn't crying while you're four days sleep-deprived just the best thing in the world?

I make sure to pick up the mess I made and shut off the light, then Crystal and I exit the bathroom and head back into the bedroom. She jumps onto the bed and watches me while I strut over to the window. My fingers brush gently over the latch, pushing it to the side so that it unlocks and I can shove the window upwards. When the window opens, my face and still sort of damp hair are greeted by the cool, nighttime breeze. A soft sigh escapes my lips and I enjoy the breeze for a moment before walking back over to where Crystal is on the bed. Her tail wags slightly back and forth when I sit myself down next to her.

"Let's try and get some sleep, girl." I say and tug at the blankets beneath her paws. She takes the hint and moves over just enough to the side that I can lift the covers enough to cover us both. As I keep the blanket held above my head, she shimmies herself into the opening and curls up into a ball right near my hip. Her head rests on her front paws and she looks at me with a longing in her eyes. "Goodnight, Crystal."

A loud noise off in the distance causes me to snap my eyes open. I go to sit up, but I find that I can't move my hands or my legs. The breeze that passes over my body suggests that I'm completely naked, and the very thought of being both naked and, essentially, defenseless makes my heart thump against my ribcage. However, despite this seemingly terrifying situation, I inhale and exhale very deep breaths to keep myself calm and collected. If I'm in such a dire situation, now is not the time for me to start panicking.

There is nothing but a deep, pitch blackness around me, which makes things harder to see, even now that my eyes have adjusted to the surroundings. When I think I hear a voice off in the distance, I strain my ears in the hopes that I can make out what he is saying. However, it's very hard to hear, and the voice sounds like it's a good distance away.

I close my eyes and take a moment to analyze the situation, asking myself how I even ended up in a predicament like this in the first place.

When I hear the door open, however, my heart seems like it has stopped working completely. A dim light dances behind the figure of a silhouetted man, which actually doesn't even help me to see who it is that just entered the room. As he steps in, he closes the door behind him, and I can hear his footsteps click against the stone floor as he stalks toward me slowly.

I can feel panic as it starts building up in the pit of my stomach, but I draw in more deep breaths to keep that panic at bay. My hands ball themselves into fists when I can make out his silhouette over me. I squint, trying to make out the man's face in the darkness, but it's nearly impossible. The only feature that I can really make out about him is that he looks like he doesn't have any hair on top of his head. . .

That's when it occurs to me that the man looming over me is more than likely 47; he's the only bald man that I know in my life. Realizing that it's only 47 makes my heart rate slow down a little, but the anxiousness and nervousness I felt beforehand is replaced by anticipation. Why he has me strapped to the bed like this, I'll never know, but honestly, I have to admit that him doing it - not that piece of crap Michael - excites me a little.

My heartbeat picks up speed when I can feel the weight shift in the bed as he sits on the edge, the tips of his fingers gently brushing over the apex of my thighs. My breath hitches in the back of my throat and I immediately try to pull my leg away to no avail with the straps keeping me attached to the mattress. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the feeling - far from it - but my thighs are super sensitive to even the gentlest of touches. Deep crimson flushes across my cheeks when I can feel him smirking down at me. His fingertips take their time in slowly, very slowly, allowing themselves to venture further up north, the feeling giving me more goosebumps. I shudder, a soft whimper escaping from my lips as the tips of his index and middle finger brush gently over my clit; it was an overwhelming feeling.

He continues to rub my pulsing clit with vigor, enjoying the sounds that resonate from the back of my throat. My back arches itself and I push my hips toward his fingers as best as the restraints will let me. Whimpers escape my lips as his fingers dance along the delicate flesh, and I can tell that he's just taking the time to enjoy the fact that I am completely at his mercy. I can feel his smirk widen when I practically beg for him to take me with something - anything.

"Now, now." He says and removes his fingers completely. I whine at the sudden feeling of loss. "Don't be so impatient, Ana-sta-sia~" The way he whispers those words into my ear gives me chills, and I honestly cannot help being turned on by the sound of his voice alone. He's got that gentle yet commanding tone to his voice that would just make any woman crumble beneath him.

While lost in thought, I can feel his hot, airy breath brush over my labia. Another whimper escapes from the back of my throat and my body squirms against the straps when he does it again, making that feeling more overwhelming than the last. I hadn't expected any of this from someone like 47; he doesn't seem like the type to be so kinky. His tongue flicks itself over my clit, which elicits a soft moan from me. He does this with his tongue a few more times, then just shoves said tongue deep within my core. I gasp out his name, feeling absolutely weak and powerless as he assaults me mercilessly with his tongue. His hands grip my thighs tightly, showing me that he wants me to stay still. I can't stay still when a very attractive man has his tongue shoved deep into my core.

I shoot awake with a start, shoving myself up into an abrupt sitting position before looking around the room. I sigh and fall back onto the bed, my eyes casted upwards at the ceiling overhead. I can hear Crystal's gentle snoring, meaning that she's still sleeping, even though I made a lot of movement on the mattress just now.

"That was some dream. . ." I speak aloud to myself, wiping the sweat from my brow. The heat that I feel across my cheeks signals to me that I'm blushing in the real life, which is something that I hope will go away before, um, 47 comes to pick me up again.

I roll myself over and check my phone for the time, sighing with relief when I see that it is only three o'clock in the morning. 47 won't be here until nine again, meaning I have at least six hours to rid my cheeks of this godforsaken blush. I'll never know why I keep having these dreams about 47, but there is something in me - deep down - that yearns for a companion; something that yearns and longs for the touch of another soul. The way I'm feeling about 47 is something I haven't felt for anybody in a very long time. It's a nice feeling, but it's something that I regret deep down.

The question is, though, would he be interested in a woman like me?

That, and what if Diana finds out that I've fallen for this agent? I'm not supposed to be in love, but 47 adds something to me that has been missing for most of my life. And. . . I'm not about to let that go.

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