I'll See You In My Dreams (Hell Yeah!) Read online

Presley undressed; it would feel good to get on some comfortable clothes. She could stand in one spot in her bathroom and literally reach anything. Her apartment was small, but her bathroom was tiny. Scrimping every nickel, she had decorated it with garage sale finds and thrift store merchandise. Still, it felt like home and she was grateful for what she had.

  Face it – she was in a good mood. Today had been a good day. All of a sudden the future seemed like a brighter place. Practicing law had seemed so out of reach, but now she could sense that Zane would let her spread her wings – maybe not as a full-fledged lawyer, but he would listen to her suggestions. It would be a unique experience to be able to put her knowledge of the law to work.

  Stripping her plain white cotton underwear off, she placed them in the dirty clothes hamper. Tonight, a bath sounded heavenly. She turned on the water and dumped a couple of tablespoons of salts under the tap. Suds and bubbles began to grow in the water. Presley walked to the sink and brushed her teeth while the tub filled. Smiling around her toothbrush, she thought about Zane. Now she had something to look forward to – or someone. Nothing could come of it, but there was no harm in enjoying herself where she could. Thoughts of how he looked spread out on the couch for his nap filled her mind. Now, that was fantasy material.

  Pinning her hair on top of her head before she got in the tub, she looked at the top of her head in the mirror. It was very rare that she looked directly at her reflection; it was something she just didn’t do. Presley knew how she looked and reminding herself daily of the reality was something she chose to avoid. In college she had taken a psychology course that had dealt with people like her. She knew it wasn’t uncommon for women, especially, to have a mental image of themselves that had little to do with how the rest of the world perceived them.

  In Presley’s heart, she was pretty. In Presley’s heart, her mouth was normal and her upper lip was as smooth and perfect as the bottom one. When Presley thought of herself, she was a perfect match for Zane. It was all in her mind, but if she didn’t look in the mirror – she could prolong the charade just a little longer. And when she lay down at night, in the dark, she dreamt of a man who would look at her and see Presley as she saw herself, not as the mirror reflected.

  So she turned from the telling glass, and stepped into the tub. The warm silky water felt good against her skin. Sinking down, she rested her head against the porcelain. “Would you like to come in for coffee, Zane?” she spoke out loud in an inviting, seductive (maybe) voice. Did people actually drink coffee this late at night? Or did coffee stand for something else entirely? Probably, or it would in her book. Squeezing a little bath gel on her fingers, she coated her arms and massaged the aching muscles. She didn’t know why she was so sore, unless it was because she had been so tense all day.

  “Kiss you? Yes, please I’d love a kiss.” She puckered her lips and kissed the air. Countless times she had fantasized about kissing a special man. It must be heavenly. Presley had never been kissed; she didn’t expect she ever would be. A few times men had approached her because they liked the way she looked from the back or the side, but when they got a good look at her face, they always made some excuse and told her they had thought she was someone else or they said something inane like asking her for the time.

  None of that stopped her from wishing and dreaming, however. With automatic thoroughness, she washed herself. Maybe warm milk would help her relax - -or an orgasm. Presley didn’t often gift herself with self-induced pleasure. Somehow it just made her loneliness more pronounced. But she had never had Zane to fantasize about before. He was so Greek-god handsome. She closed her eyes and pictured him – when he threw back his head and laughed he was cum-worthy. His smile was contagious and his physique was straight out of a magazine.

  Running her hands over her body, she imagined what Zane would look like naked. “Is it warm in here? Can I help you off with your shirt?” Giggling, Presley had to admit that sounded dumb. Surely if she ever got a chance with a guy like Zane she could think of something better to say than that.

  Cupping her breasts, she squeezed the round globes, rubbing her thumbs over the nipples. Her breasts weren’t very big, just a B cup, but they were very sensitive. What would it feel like if he touched them – or kissed them? Just the thought of Zane’s mouth on her breasts made her shiver with pleasure. He would lick the nipple, running his tongue around it. And she would hold his head to her breast and rub his wide shoulders while he sucked. “Oh, that feels so good,” she moaned.

  Easing down in the tub, Presley spread her legs and let her fingers slide down her stomach and over her mound. Little dollops of sudsy bubbles decorated her skin. With a tentative touch, she rubbed her clit. How incredible it would be for Zane to make her feel this way. But as much as she longed for him to make love to her, what she dreamed of most was being allowed to touch him. Even fully clothed, she could tell his body would be incredible. Twice, she had bought a magazine with naked guys in it. Her curiosity just got the better of her. In fact she still had them hidden in her closet. But as far as she could tell, none of the men even came close to being as handsome as Zane.

  With fast movements of her fingers, Presley petted her pussy. Arching her hips, she groaned out loud. “Zane!” If he were here, she’d climb in his lap and run her palms over his shoulders and chest. His back would be strong and he’d pick her up and let her wrap her legs around his waist.

  Yea, she had fantasies. What would his manhood look like? His cock. The thought made her smile. “Cock,” she said the word out loud. It sounded wonderfully naughty. What would he look like? She had some idea of its size by what she had seen today, but what would the head look like? How would he taste? “Hmmmm,” she pushed her finger into her sheathe as she imagined Zane – thick and hard and long – pushing up deep inside of her. “Yes! Zane!” she panted as her hips jerked and she splashed water over the side of the tub.

  As she came down from the orgasmic high, Presley smiled, knowing that it would be hard to look at Zane tomorrow without blushing. Then she remembered he was blind – God, she had forgotten! He was so self-assured and so sexy that he seemed perfect to her. And he was perfect – if God would give her a chance with a man like Zane, she would make him feel like the most loved man in the history of the world.

  Despite her doubts, Presley prayed for a miracle.

  Who knows? It could happen.

  *****

  Thank God! The vet was almost sure the culprit was contaminated feed instead of brucellosis. A shipment of bad range cubes was most likely to blame, and only the Holsteins had eaten any. Losing a few calves was bad, but at least he wouldn’t lose his whole operation or pass on the unfortunate circumstances to anybody else’s cattle. Casey was still waiting on the test results, but there had been other reports of the same symptoms from other ranchers who had purchased the same defective product.

  Zane could breathe easier now. But still – he hated the helpless feeling of trying to analyze the situation based on someone else’s description. Kneeling down he unfastened Rex’s halter. “Let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll get you a snack. This has been a rough day.” Carefully, he felt on the coffee table for the tray. He liked to leave the house fairly straight for Rachel. Picking it up, he moved through his familiar home with slow, even steps. He could hear Rex’s toenails clicking on the tile floor behind him.

  With practiced moves, he counted the steps into his kitchen. Funny – he couldn’t be sure of what it really looked like. He had it redecorated along with everything else when Margaret had walked out of his life. Oh, he knew there was Mexican tile on the floor and the cabinets were made of oak – but the vision of the room he had in his mind might not be close to the reality. What difference did it make?

  Lowering the tray to the counter, he felt around and cleared an area for it, scooting over what felt like a loaf of bread and a roll of paper towels. Next, he opened a drawer and located the can opener and moved over to the pantry and found what he hoped was a can of do
g food. As long as Rachel put the items in their designated places, he was okay. “I hope this is your food and not a can of baked beans,” he teased the hungry animal. Finding Rex’s bowl with his foot, he picked it up and dumped the contents of the can in it. “Stinks about right.” Setting it down, he patted the big Lab. “You eat; I’m going to take a shower. You can join me in the bedroom when you’re through.”

  Living in a world of perpetual night, he constantly relied on his other senses to make up the difference. Right now, he could feel the downward draft of the air-conditioner; he could smell fresh grapefruit on the counter. Their odor vied with the aroma of Rex’s pungent meal. Standing still, he listened for sounds beyond the kitchen. A low, faint moo of a cow and a bark of a coyote was all he could discern. Zane knew he was fortunate in many things, but sometimes he was so lonely, it was almost unbearable. What he wouldn’t give for someone to just be with him – to share, to back him up. Fuck! He needed someone to hold tight.

  With sure movements, he left the kitchen and let his hand slide down the hall wall. How much different it would be if a woman waited for him in his bed. He could imagine her lying there, anxious. “I’m coming, Honey. Warm up my side of the bed and I’ll warm you up as soon as I get there,” he spoke to no one. What he wanted and what he felt he should have were two different things. The truth was: he was hesitant to ask a woman to share his life. But the image of Miss Presley was haunting his thoughts. Chuckling, he remembered she has said her hair was the color of dirt. Now what other woman would give an answer like that? She was sweet and unassuming and he bet she was as pretty as a picture.

  Long silky hair, green eyes – his mind couldn’t help but strive for an image to go with that husky little voice with the tiny hint of a lisp. Most seeing people didn’t realize that blind people who had their sight at one time can still see – in a way. They hear a sound first, like the rush of the water as he turned on the shower faucet. The haunting vision will come from the side and then quickly rush into the mind’s eye. Scientific studies have suggested that the brain rewires itself to create visions from sound rather than light. So, he couldn’t help but begin imagining how Presley Love looked. As he featured a curvy body, long legs, a face looking up at him with lust glazed eyes, Zane got hard.

  Stripping off his clothes, he ran a hand down his abdomen and over his cock to cup his balls. “Miss Presley, I bet you’re fine.” Just the thought of tangling his hand in those long strands of hair, wrapping it around his fist and anchoring her still for a kiss had his flaccid cock stiffening with lust. How long had it been? Too long.

  With practiced strokes he massaged his cock, using a little soap as lubricant, he worked it till it was hard and throbbing. “God, I’m so fuckin’ hard,” he moaned as he rubbed the tender skin up and over the head of his prick in a smooth circular motion. His cock knew what was coming – it was heat, erotic expectation at its best. Zane enjoyed his body, and he had no qualms about giving himself pleasure.

  Wrapping his hand around his cock, he slowly jerked it – long smooth strokes, sometimes over the head and sometimes stopping at the base. What would Presley’s breasts look like? He had no way of knowing, unless he asked. She could be flat-chested for all he knew – but probably not. With a sexy name like Presley coupled with a bedroom voice like she had, Zane suspected she had a rack to match. As he conjured up images of round, firm, soft tits he felt the pleasure begin rising from the base of his dick. God, how he’d like to suck on her tits, there was nothing like taking a woman’s nipple in his mouth and nursing. As he fantasized, he could feel his shaft thicken and the head swell. Damn, it felt good. He could have cum right then – but he wanted the feeling to last – so he backed off, tracing the veins and wondering what color Presley’s nipples were. How would they be shaped?

  Women’s breasts fascinated him. Now that he couldn’t see – touch would be paramount. What he would like to do was pull the woman back against him and run his hands up from her waist to cup her tits. He would weigh them in his palms – run his hands over and around them – lifting them, cupping them, learning their shape. Just the thought of fondling Presley’s tits, taking her nipples in his fingers and pulling them, tweaking them – milking them – “GOD!” had him back to full strokes. With his other hand he rubbed on his balls, letting his hips pump, feeling his ass tighten. Lord, he needed a woman. He loved to sink his cock into warm, wet pussy – feeling her tight little sheathe stretch to accommodate him.

  Zane needed that sensation – that gliding of his glans into a hot, grasping haven. Making a small ring with his thumb and forefinger, he pushed it over the head of his cock, massaging the tip end. “Hmmmm,” he gasped, that felt good. He wondered if she liked sex, some women didn’t. But when a man found a woman that loved to be loved – God, he had found a treasure.

  Presley would lay down for him – offer herself – open her legs and let him see the place that would take him to paradise. His daydream made him smile – yeah, he still thought of himself as ‘seeing’. He’d rub the head of his cock up and down her slit, make her moan and beg to be taken. Using both hands, he doubled his pleasure. He let the water sluice over his back and shoulders. Still, he toyed with the head, giving himself the illusion of fucking in and out of a snug little pussy and upped the ante by pumping himself, furiously, letting his hips roll with the rhythm. His climax hit him hard – the pleasure and the cum jetting out in long, creamy sprays. Zane groaned, still fisting his cock as it pumped endlessly.

  “Presley,” he whispered.

  *****

  Nights spent in total blackness were endless. Even though he kept his curtains open, he never saw a ray of light. If he slept in, he would feel the change in the temperature as the sun rose, but most of the time he had to rely on an alarm clock. This morning, however, he just couldn’t stay in the bed. He had a clock that announced the time at the touch of a button – “five-twelve a.m.” Ignoring his morning wood, he promised his Johnson a repeat of last night’s performance later, jerked on a pair of jeans and a shirt and went out to greet the day.

  Rex didn’t need any encouragement, he loved these pre-dawn jaunts. Cheyenne knew what was up too, as Zane entered the barn, he was met with several greetings, but his appaloosa had a distinctive, rumbly neigh. It was a welcoming sound. “You ready to go?” With practiced moves, he put on a saddle and bridle, grabbed his whip and led the animal out into the misty morning.

  Not many blind men rode horses by themselves, but not many blind men had a horse like Cheyenne. Cheyenne was a seeing-eye horse. Oh, Zane had bought him and rode him before the accident. And he had given a lot of things up, but not his horse. Kane had found a place in South Carolina that trained horses for the blind. True enough, they usually worked with miniature horses, but Kane and Zane had met with them and shown them how special Cheyenne was and just like they had anticipated, the appaloosa had taken to the life-style like a duck to water.

  Horses can see phenomenally well in almost total darkness and Cheyenne’s memory was incredible. He already loved Zane and being trained to be on the look-out for danger and avoid obstacles was not a giant leap. At the ranch, Zane had no qualms about taking off with Cheyenne and Rex – he knew he was safe in their hands. Four eyes out of six weren’t bad odds. “Let’s head down toward the creek,” Zane led Cheyenne past the gates, shut them behind him and climbed on. With a gentle pull to the reins they were off. He tipped his hat back, and took a deep breath, enjoying being in the saddle again.

  “Woof!” Rex raced ahead, knowing that he was free to be adventurous while the service horse was on the job. A cool north breeze hit Zane in the face and he could smell wood smoke from a nearby chimney. His body moved naturally with the horse, the dip and sways as much a part of him as the rhythm of lovemaking. From the left he could hear the lowing and shuffling of the royalty that awaited the registered auction that would commence at the end of the week. “Narrow miss,” he grinned, relieved that none of his animals were infectious with the
dreaded disease.

  Leaving the pavilion area, he could tell the ground dipped down. He was headed downhill through a thick growth of white clover. The smell was sweet, but the memory it invoked was bitter. The last time he had made love to Margaret was in this field of clover. A choking sensation of wasted dreams clogged his throat. Five years had passed, five years – by this time he had planned on having children. A harsh laugh erupted from his throat and the horse raised his head as if asking for directions. “Easy, Boy, everything’s okay.” Everything was okay. He had a good life. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his.

  The lapping and trickling of water told him they were nearing Piney Creek. Cheyenne’s hooves clopped over the small rocks that littered the ground on the bank incline. He was just about to get down and stretch his legs and let the horse drink when he heard Rex growl. It wasn’t a playful growl. Cheyenne stopped dead still. Even when Zane nudged his knee to move him forward, the Appaloosa stalled. And then he knew why – an eerie, unearthly scream shattered the night. Every hair on Zane’s neck stood up. For a split second, he thought he had run into a banshee – but then he heard the snarling, guttural growl of a large pissed-off feline.

  Cougar.

  Hell! He heard Rex lunge. He heard a splash. The horse reared, but he managed to hang on. “Rex! Rex!” Cheyenne backed up. The big horse was shivering, frantically trying to do what he was trained to do when every reflex he had was telling him to flee. “Rex!” Without hesitation he unwound the whip from where it was attached to the saddle. “Heel, Rex! Come!”

  Zane pulled back on the reins, but Cheyenne was adamant. He didn’t turn. The service animal could see what the man could not. With powerful moves of his hind legs, the animal lunged backwards. “Rex!” Zane could hear the bodies of the canine colliding with the cougar.

  Sounds bombarded his mind – the hard panting of the horse, the frenzied barking and growling of his dog and the hissing, spitting angry snarls of the cougar. “Rex – here!” Cheyenne whirled and almost unseated Zane. Zane pulled him back. “Rex!” A wounded yelp from the dog made cold chills run up and down his spine. Damn! He had done this. He had put them all in danger. How utterly stupid – what was he doing? Two animals who would die for him were the only thing between him and a killer cat. And one of his animals might die. “Rex!” he cried one more time. And then he heard him – an answering bark.