Holly wasn't quite sure why Constable Gill sounded so gruff, but didn't really care. Delgado was gone. Not wanting the ill-tempered cop to guess how shattered she was by this news, Holly quickly shifted the conversation towards the case.
"Well," Constable Gill said, clearly reluctant to share information with her. "We did have a suspect, but he alibi'd out. His mom confirmed his story that he was home with her on the three evenings in question. Too bad really. He looked good for it. A couple priors. B amp; E's and trespassing. That kind of thing."
"Trespassing?"
"Yeah. Apparently our boy liked to go for walks at night and peep in a few windows. Typical pervert behavior. Not necessarily dangerous, but you'd be surprised how many violent offenders start out that way."
Holly swallowed and tried to sound calm. "So, he's still wandering around. His mom got him off. Just like that?"
"Well, actually. He's in the hospital right now. Someone put him there. Really messed him up. He won't be sniffing around any windows for awhile, I can tell you that."
Holly thanked him for the information and requested that he call her if there was any further progress on the case, but was fairly sure he would lose her number immediately after hanging up. Constable Gill obviously thought she was overreacting to her home invasion and didn't see why he should feel obligated to keep her informed. He had bigger issues to deal with, like a new partner and a city where actual crimes were being committed every single second. Her almost rape didn't impress him in the least. He'd just been going through the motions of concern that night to avoid appearing insensitive in front of his former partner, who actually had seemed sincerely sympathetic.
Her next call was to the Delgado's friend: The one who installed security systems. An alarm wasn't as effective or as tempting as a hot cop bodyguard, but it seemed like her only option if she wanted any peace at all. Unfortunately for her, alarm systems weren't much of a deterrent for bad dreams. Or incredibly hot dreams where her intruder seemed to sound and smell just like Constable Delgado.
Stepping off the dreaded scale, she thought about stripping off the gaping camisole set and just going to bed naked to wait for her dream man. That would certainly save time and awkwardness. But she just couldn't do it. Sleeping in the buff was not her style. Even on the rare nights she'd shared her bed with another person she couldn't wait to get her clothes back on after the sex was over. She wasn't comfortable with her body and didn't see that changing anytime soon. Except in the dreams. There she was proud of her body. She flaunted her breasts and that hot, wet spot between her legs, knowing that she was driving her dream man crazy.
In reality, she was self-conscious about just about everything. All the things that empowered her dream self made her feel embarrassed, like the smell of her sex, the sounds it made when a man was thrusting inside of her, the unattractive way her breasts slid to the side as she lay on her back. There was nothing beautiful or poetic in this pursuit. It was animalistic and demeaning. But here she was. Waiting for a stranger to come and violate her on the unlikely theory that doing so would release her from a recurring dream.
God, this is so ridiculous, she thought to herself as she padded into the bedroom on bare feet. Why can't I just get over this? But she'd tried everything her therapist had recommended, and yet she was still suffering. She really didn't know what she would do if this experiment didn't work. She strongly suspected that she was wasting her time, not to mention ten thousand dollars on an idea she'd concocted while high on caffeine and sleep-deprivation. But she would go through with it, if only to see if a professional was capable of coaxing some response from her dormant libido.
Sliding between the crisp white sheets, she breathed deeply and waited for panic to claim her. She felt vulnerable and nervous in her own bed for several long minutes, but finally her eyes drooped shut and she fell into a light, dreamless sleep.
She woke suddenly, less than a half hour later, to the familiar feeling that someone was there, in her apartment with her. She had awoken so many times to this exact scene, this feeling of terror, that it was impossible to tell if she was dreaming or not. Panic set in as she waited for the fear to really take hold of her. Then she heard something completely out of place which convinced her that she was safe in her apartment, waiting for her fantasy to unfold instead of her nightmare.
Someone was cursing, loudly and creatively. Evidently her less than stealthy Scene Facilitator had tripped over the coffee table in her family room.
Holly stifled a giggle as he gave the offending coffee table a good kick in retaliation and then swore at the offending piece of furniture again as he re-injured his toe.
Whatever trepidation she had been feeling diminished into low-grade excitement. She'd been imagining her dream man as some kind of deadly serious, erotic phantom who would come to her in the dark, attempt to pleasure her, and then disappear. A guy who tripped over things and swore at inanimate objects didn't fit her fantasy at all. She should have been disappointed, but she wasn't. His clumsy entrance made him seem significantly less threatening and mysterious. More human. She liked that. A lot.
As her bedroom door creaked open, instead of feeling fear wash over her, she felt a small tingle of anticipation. She also had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. Nervous laughter, but still, she felt mirth bubbling up within her chest. It was a good feeling, but it certainly wouldn't contribute to setting the mood, so she buried her face in her pillow to stifle any amused sounds that might escape her.
Still feigning sleep and hoping that the grin on her face wasn't visible in the dim light from the patio door, she turned onto her back and raised her hands above her head to make them easier to shackle to the wrought-iron headboard. She waited for him to pounce, but he didn't make a move toward her. He was standing over the bed. She could feel his presence there, hear his quiet breathing. She really wanted to crack an eye open and get some impression of his face and body, but she needed to maintain the integrity of the dream. And that meant he must stay completely anonymous except for the sound of his voice and the feel of his skin.
When she felt like she couldn't stand the anticipation a moment longer the bed finally dipped as he settled on the edge next to her hip. From the way her firm mattress shifted her body towards him it was obvious that he was big, really big. She could feel the firm heat of his long muscular thigh all along her side. It was incredibly odd, yet exciting to be willingly in such close proximity to a stranger. She carefully avoided sitting next to anyone on the Skytrain and yet here she was, waiting impatiently for this unknown man's touch.
She really hadn't counted on enjoying this so much. In fact, she'd been hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible. Now she wasn't quite so sure she wanted to rush this experience. Having her dream man here, in the flesh, was much more entertaining than she'd anticipated.
She waited for some of her residual fear to surface and sabotage her pleasure, but it remained dormant. She was surprisingly relaxed and calm. She'd expected to be feeling some anxiety over his every move, but instead she felt an unfamiliar yet delicious tension gathering between her legs.
She knew what arousal was, had even experienced it during heated make-out sessions with her high school boyfriend and more recently, while reading some really torrid historical romance novels, but for the most part, this was very new for her. She was surprised and delighted to find that she was drawn to her mysterious visitor and desperately wanted him to touch her.