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Who dreamed who?
Annabelle roused herself, grudgingly. She stared dumbly at the alarm clock for a long moment, until a glimmer of sense passed over her. She then heaved her legs over the side of the bed with some effort.
She sat there briefly, then pulled herself down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. She was clad only in a worn-looking pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and these hung somewhat low. Semi-coherently, she went through the motions of brewing a pot of coffee. She broke a banana off of a large bunch and opened the door to the balcony, oblivious to the dismal weather and her partial state of dress. The damp chill was somewhat invigorating, and her mind began to wake up along with her body.
What was that Phil had told her yesterday?
Something about a snake?
A highly intelligent snake?
Minister Fillmore's older brother the snake?
What the hell?
No, wait, it wasn't a snake, it was a lint...lindorf...lindorm! That was it. A lindorm, that was kind of like a dragon with only two legs or wings or whatever. It had something to do with alchemy or something like that.
And one of these was the minister of the environment's older brother.
Why? It was too odd. Then again, there had been rumours that the minister's father wasn't Judge Fillmore at all, but an onion or something along those lines.
Any normal, sane, reasonable person would probably have dropped the subject from consideration at this point. However, the above phrase did a rather poor job of describing Annabelle.
The notable part, she recalled, was that there was a large sum of money being provided by the Minister to any cute young thing who was willing---and willing was key--to sleep with this thing. This worm or whatever was anxious to be with a woman, just so long as she wasn't disgusted by him.
Quite the contrary, Annabelle was almost immediately intrigued by the thought. It wasn't just the money, though it would certainly be nice. Not that she was a prostitute or anything. She glanced around her living room. It contained an ugly threadbare floral print sofa, a $25 value from the local Goodwill. Her coffee table was constructed from a section of plywood laid across two cardboard boxes. The sole source of illumination was a shadeless standing lamp, purchased for $5 at a garage sale. Even her pajama bottoms had holes in the knees.
It was just then that Annabelle realized that she was standing topless on her balcony while business-type people flitted about below. Stepping inside, she hoped that they had at least enjoyed the free peep show.
For decades, I have lain in wait for my bride. Even now, I can begin to envision her. She is not perhaps the demure blushing virgin I had hoped for, but one begins to lower one's expectations after a time. She is fair, and she will not reject me, as have others before her. This I can sense and this shall suffice.
In fact, I can almost smell the perfume of her skin, and my wanting grows ever stronger. Though I occupy a serpent's form, this does not mean I am deficient in those desires that usually pertain to men. Indeed, in spirit, I am almost as a mortal man, though my unique form allows for some additional capacities in the mental realm. I suspect that when one loses social acceptability, other skills tend to develop in compensation.
I was indeed born of a woman, as was my mortal brother. Wanting children, but finding my foster father loathsome, she was in a dire circumstance. That is, until a spirit took pity on her and infused her womb with twin fruit, namely, my brother and I. Due to an unfortunate semantic error, my brother took the form of a human while I took the form that I now possess. This doom, however, is not permanent. The love of a woman may ftee me from my prison of scales, though she must be a remarkable woman to love me.
This one may indeed be the one.
"Phil---"
"Hi."
"It's Annabelle."
"Yeah, what's up?"
"What was that you said yesterday? That thing about the snake?"
"Oh yeah, the lindorm? I don't know exactly, there's some wierd shit going on somewhere with that. But I do know that Fillmore's good for a hundred grand to whoever pulls it off."
"So what's the catch?"
"Ha! When I heard about this, I though of you right away--no offense. This thing's like, a snake, and you can't so much as bat an eye when it goes to wrap its coils or whatever around you. That was important. Apparently the thing is pretty picky that way."
"Have you met it? I mean, what's it like?"
"Okay, listen, Fillmore doesn't want word of this getting around. He was out investigating stats on grizzly bear population at Algonquin park, and apparently this thing slithers up to him and says, 'Hey dude, I'm your big brother. You're not gonna get any action until I get some first, it's my filial right, etc.'. So anyway, turns out this thing is right, Fillmore's having no luck with any women now, so he wants to get his brother laid ASAP. But it's kind of a private matter..." Phil had been Fillmore's roomate at university, and was still his closest friend. He had also been a humanities major, so getting a glimpse at Fillmore's unusual family background didn't frighten him too much. Rather, it sounded kind of like something from his European Folklore class.
"I mean, is it intelligent? Does it have a mind, a soul?"
"Well, it talks. Other than that I don't know too much about it. Fillmore's already tried some other chicks, but his bro' wasn't happy with them. They cringed or were faking it or something."
"What do I do? I'm anxious to meet this thing. Where do I go?"
"I knew you'd love this, you freak. Next week, he's got some room set up at the Royal York. Knowing you, I'm sure you'll manage fine."
"I'm actually kind of excited..."
She really was excited. For Annabelle, nothing could have been more enticing than having intimate contact with a dragon. So many men and women were so painfully dull and unimaginative. This being would probably be almost godlike. How many women could lay claim to having screwed an immortal creature? None that she had met, anyway. She almost considerd quitting the pill for this. Having the child of an immortal was almost as cool as screwing him in the first place.
It was Friday, 7:45 pm. In fifteen minutes, Annabelle would have her first sexual encounter with an immortal serpent. Like something out of a fucking fairy tale, she though.
For some reason, she was wearing many layers of clothing, despite the pleasant June climate. On Wednesday, some bag lady had pulled her aside, and before she could say, "sorry, lady, I'm broke too," the woman starts rambling on about how to survive her serpentine lover. Only because there was no reason why the woman should have known about Annabelle's date, she decided to follow her advice.
"Listen," she had said. "I am well acquainted with this creature, in fact, I am partly responsible for its existance." and indeed she was, for it was this same bag lady that had advised Fillmore's desperate mother in matters of conception. "In order for the lindorm to achieve liberation, you must do as I tell you...", and she rambled on.
Annabelle was escorted directly to the room by a large gentleman in a dark suit. When she entered the room, it was dim, illuminated only by the candles on the table. Their light was refracted by a bottle of champagne and crystal glasses. "Cool," she thought. "The snake has more class than most guys I've been with." She was a little nervous, though, and the layers of clothing didn't help. However, she was quickly put at ease by a voice that said, "Pour yourself a glass of wine, my dear, and one for me if you would be so kind." The voice was inhumanly rich, velvety and gravelly, if a voice could be both at once. This one was, and the effect made Annabelle shiver. Already she felt the innermost layer of panties getting sticky.
Reverently, she looked towards the bed. There it lay, the lindorm. Needless to say, it was like nothing she had ever seen. A dark spectrum of scales gently glittered on a long, muscular, sleek body. Its large, golden eyes sparkled with the light of an intelligence that she knew she would never encounter anywhere else. When they looked at her, her soul was naked before them, and she felt as though she had nothing to hide. She revelled in her spiritual nudity before this great creature, let it see everything she had and then some. She was hard pressed to maintain her composure long enough to pour two glasses of champagne, so badly did she want to be embraced by this being.
"Take off your clothes." This self-assured golden rumble almost made her forget what she had been instructed. Suprising herself with the restraint she managed to display, she weakly rebuked, "You have to shed a layer of skin for every dress I take off," though she would have much rather just taken it all off right then and there.
"Fine." At this little word, her back arched slightly, and waves of desire crashed through her. Muscles in her lower half clenched relentlessly, but she would comply.
Trembling somewhat, she lifted the first dress off. As she dropped the thing on the floor, the lindorm had slithered out of his first skin, and now wore a velvety beige coloured sheath.
The two continued in this way for what seemed an eternity for Annabelle, who really felt that she would explode before she was naked.
Finally, she was down to her leather bikini. Her breasts jumped, finally liberated. Her panties were little more than a sticky puddle. She felt every inch of her fishnet stockings as she peeled them off her shapely legs, and added them to the large pile of clothing. The lindorm had shed its firey red scales, and was now in a translucent pearly skin, through which a pink tinge could be seen. She had her first orgasm just as he advanced towards her. He wrapped himself around her eager body, his soft and wonderfully smooth skin warm against her burning flesh. Resigning herself to a promise of unbearable ecstacy, they fell onto the bed.
Annabelle soon felt not a beautiful coil, but an arm around her. A human shape defined itself on top of her, where her glorious serpent had been.
She was aghast.
She was repulsed!
"Who the HELL are you?" she shrieked.
"No need to be alarmed, my dear. I'm the lindorm. Through your acceptance, you freed me from that hideous form. I am in your debt."
"I LIKED YOUR HIDEOUS FORM JUST FINE!"
She pulled away fiercely and threw on the first dress she grabbed from the pile. She made a hastly bundle of the rest and stormed towards the door, ignoring the prostestations of the mortal, if remarkably handsome man who was beginning to look as though he were in acute agony. She left, not looking back.
The problem with dreams is that the dreamer must eventually awaken. Sure it sucks, but so do lots of things.
Back to the old scratchin' room
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