The Chosen

her. Another figure came up from behind and urged her away. Donna never remembered entering a room. Was she at The Inn? Had they taken her into one of the upper suites? More candlelight flickered as the two figures lowered her onto what seemed a bed of fragrant pillows. Gentle heat stirred in the air, like the heat in her belly, her head, and her sex…

She could barely see. The candles backlit the figures to crisp silhouettes. One figure was a woman—Donna could tell by the contour of hips and breasts—and the other was a man. But as her eyes tried to focus up she noticed one more thing. These two figures, these dream-escorts, were—

They’re…bald.

She could tell by the silhouette-shapes of their heads that both of them—the women included—were bald.

And a third bald figure seemed to be standing aside.

Who are all these bald people? Donna thought.

A moment later, though, she didn’t care.

It didn’t matter.

Her senses slipped into a chaotic swirl. Hands prodded at her, removing her fishnet bra and stockings, snapping off the scarlet panties. The three bald dream-chaperones stepped back, yet other figures continued to probe her. Another woman slithered forward, breasts rubbing, and in her sloppy kisses, Donna dully noted that the woman had no teeth. Then yet another woman, a brunette, lowered her face to Donna’s sex…

Before her stupor finally claimed her, Donna managed to lean up. She’d never seen these two women who tended to her. They seemed sluggish, woozy. One mouth alternately sucked her nipples, while the other quite pointedly sucked her sex. Beyond this, however, and past the three bald silhouettes, she thought she could see even more figures, many more.

Watching.

And there were sounds. Glasses clinking. Silverware ticking against plates. Soft, unintelligible chatter. Was she dreaming of some outre dinner party? And what of these two sluggish women in bed with her? Am I a latent lesbian? came Donna’s muted thought. Why am I dreaming about women?

She’d never been with a woman before, so perhaps the dream was telling her something about herself. Soon, in the dream, she was coming. The brunette’s mouth expertly plied her sex, a finger slipping in at prime moments, which caused her loins to jettison blade-sharp pulses of bliss. Her pleasure seemed to gush…

And her stupor deepened. Soon, the figures more distant became impatient with mere watching. They approached the bed, perhaps a half-dozen of them. Donna, through her strange haze, couldn’t really see them, and she didn’t need to. She didn’t care. The candlelight dimmed; each orgasm that claimed her only left her in want of more. Soon the bed was acrawl with figures, and things were being done to her that she had never even thought of.

And as the night lolled on, Donna began doing things in return, which beggared description, reveling in her infidelity and newfound decadence.

But none of that bothered her.

Because it was only a dream.

It’s only a dream, she assured herself, as she admitted yet another stout, musky penis into her mouth.

— | — | —

^{CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN}

Vera wandered through the main dining room, checking the place setting and flower arrangements. Lately it seemed she had nothing to do before opening but that: wander. The early afternoon light looked