Connections

I was walking through some sort of mega mall: multi-level, spacious, bright. This was at least my second time around the complex. I knew that there was a shorter route to take because I'd taken it, but I'd previously gone this way around too, the longer way, circling sort of to the outer edge of the complex and one floor down, heading to this very slick set of escalators to get me up to the floor I wanted to go.

The girl behind me put her hand on my ass. It felt very good.

I knew it was a girl, one of two girls actually that I'd seen before. I wasn't sure which one of the two girls she was. One had been a really nice looking girl, the other not-as-nice looking. Whoever she was was keeping her hand on my ass underneath the long, dark coat I was wearing. In the dream I felt absolutely no guilt over hoping that the one with her hand on my ass was the really good looking girl. But I didn't turn around to find out. If it wasn't the good looking girl with her hand on my ass, I could be okay with that, because, boy, it felt nice.

Finally at the top of the steps, I turned to see. It WAS the good-looking girl who had her hand on my ass. I walked to find more steps to climb.

This wasn't a mall. It was an airport and we discovered we were both there to catch the same plane. I savoured the implications of this.

At the gate were her parents and Ian. As Ian played on the top of an eight foot high dark cube and the parents were out of site closer to the gate, we began to kiss surreptitiously. And then a lot.

I still didn't know her name.

By either spoken or unspoken agreement, the two of us decided that we really, really needed to have sex. And there wasn't much time. The plane was due to arrive. There was the issue of the parents and of Ian, all of these things compounding the urgency each of us was feeling.

I had a key to my upstairs hotel room. A key on a large, beige and red-trimmed rectangular fob. Right there in my pocket.

I gathered up my shirt and brown tweed jacket from the floor (things must have been progressing nicely) and began to move off to the elevator, fishing for the room key in my pocket.

From here, I believe I had a brief encounter with her parents (shirtless?) before the dream skipped WAY forward and I finally discovered her name from an e-mail she'd sent. Her nickname was Day. Her first name was somethingday ... I can't remember the first part, except that it wasn't a day of the week.