Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

[WARNING: Adult content below. Read at your own discretion.]

When we got to the box seat at the Opera it all came down on me at once. I could try to push things further, but what I had with Jeanne was basically over. What was I doing sitting there then, squirming in my red velvet chair as an anxious child? She was looking so beautiful in that Greek-like, nude draped dress, and staying at home wasn’t a possibility anymore in my mad state. Home… Fuck.

For some reason, she didn’t want a relationship with me. OK, I had to admit my life was pretty surreal, but we could have made it work. It was because of who she was that Jeanne was so perfect to me. She was independent, self-assured, hard-working. She had a life of her own and a strong mind. I was sure she could tolerate the distance better than any of the boys’ girlfriends. Weren’t those feelings she had for me enough? Wasn’t I enough for her? Perhaps my perspective was too radical and casual wasn’t as bad as it sounded… Why everything had to be so complicated? Why couldn’t we just be together? My life was so mad. Liam was right there, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had more to do in her decision than she was bound to admit.

I could have left to a hotel if things had turned too uncomfortable, but that wasn’t even the case. I was sad, and mad, but I didn’t want to be any place else. I wanted to be close to her. I was going to miss her so much. Maybe I was even hoping she’d change her mind. But Jeanne was Jeanne, and her mind could be a mystery, though I knew she wasn’t surrendering on this. I had navigated her as much as I could until then, showing up at her doorstep the first time she dismissed me, insisting on seeing her after my tour. But she wasn’t one of those girls you can push around. She had probably given in too much for her standards already. At that point I just wanted to look at her because soon it would be over. That was the reason I was still there.

The Opera building was packed, but the place was large enough not to be able to spy on the other boxes from my seat. Everything was sumptuous, in majestic red and gold, even the walls, covered in velvet as in the chairs and curtains, probably too much for Jeanne’s taste, but it was the most beloved Parisian Opera, so she must have been compliant in that particular case. Even in that unreal situation I had to admit to myself Jeanne was fairly right about ‘La bohème.’ It was simply amazing. In a quiet tone she kept explaining some parts of the plot to me. She had told me before, but it was quite obvious that it was her favourite piece.

I didn’t know for how long we had been there, but at some point Jeanne stopped murmuring to me and straightened her back on the chair, pulling her hands together over her lap, as I glimpsed at her in curiosity. I noticed she swallowed quite hard. A new aria was beginning, the tenor at the lead. Jeanne writhed almost imperceptibly, lifting her chin up. She frowned lightly, and her lower lip seemed to tremble. Jeanne breathed in discreetly, but I could tell she was in some sort of distress.

In te ravviso il sogno ch’io vorrei sempre sognar.

It was a crescendo. The soprano joined in the part, and I couldn’t help but to turn my attention to the stage. As they reached the high note all my hairs stood on end, and an unexplainable anguish overtook my heart. My lower lip trembled too, and I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes. What was going on? I glanced at Jeanne and she was as drying a tear from her eye, absolutely engrossed in. Was she crying? With my heart rate out of control I looked at the programme. I didn’t know what specific aria it was. How was I to know what it meant? I glanced back at Jeanne rushed by so many emotions. She timidly smirked at me. I bent my head down, defeated. I was deranged.

What had just happened? My mind kept returning over and over to the incident for what was left before the intermission. She was crying. The aria moved her for some reason. Was it because of me? Was it because it made her think of something or someone? Her father, maybe? Antoine? No, it couldn’t be. She was there with me, and even as things were between us, she couldn’t have been thinking of somebody else. Why didn’t I learn Italian? It would be so simple. I could never deduce what line that one was, which made her react that way… I could have asked. What was the sense of doing that? To confirm to Jeanne my absolute obsession with her? It was the last thing we needed.

I was all focused trying to count the acts on the programme to sort out the enigma, so I didn’t notice that, at some point near the intermission, Jeanne stood up from the her chair and softly walked up to the railing of the balcony. She was breathtaking, looking taller in those sandals, the gathered skirt of her long dress enhancing her figure. What was she doing? She rested her hands on the railing for a second and stepped back a little, glancing back at me from above her shoulder. Puzzled I watched her move her left hand from behind her back, reaching for a pleat of her dress. She looked back up at me and started to slowly pull from it. Why would she do that to me? My whole body was caught in a commotion.

Jeanne pulled, and pulled, and pulled discreetly from above her shoulder until she finally revealed the bareness of her lower body to me. With her other hand she was holding the front of her dress in place. Her buttocks, the dimples… I was mesmerised in my contemplation, but in a second I zoomed out and framed Jeanne in the hole of the balcony. Behind her, all the Opera house in absolute obliviousness of what was going on in our box, and the fact that Jeanne was half nude flashing me all her beauty mercilessly.

My mind snapped and I stood up, rushing over her and capturing her wrist. I pulled from her to the side, passing the curtain, and pinned her roughly against the velvety wall. Her arm was twisted on her back, and I couldn’t let it go. She had her cheek tightly pressed to the wall, eyes wide shut. My face was on the back of her head, both hands restraining her so she couldn’t move. But she wasn’t even trying.

“You are driving me mad, Jeanne,” I muttered to her ear, poking her hair with my nose.

“You wanted the Callipygian…”

With a resolution rising from my despair I moved my left hand to untie the thick curtain, and without giving up a single bit on the pressure I was applying on Jeanne I pushed it as far as I could. God, I had never been so aroused in my entire life. I was going to take her right there and then, oblivious of anything else. I set her dress aside to feel the delicate skin of her ass, that skin I was mad for. How was I supposed to live without the feel of her skin? My mind grunted and I twisted her arm even harder. Jeanne placed her free hand near her face. She was panting jaggedly, completely aware of what was going on in my head. I unzipped my trousers to release my erection, brushing Jeanne’s bum with my knuckles. She hissed and twitched at my contact, making me harden even more.

I used my knee to push her legs apart, and placed my glans at her entrance. I don’t even remember if the music was playing anymore or the intermission had already started. With my heart overflew by anger and other thousand emotions I wasn’t able to discern, I thrust myself inside her yearningly. She was so ready for me. I knew it was because she was as thrilled as me about the whole situation. Maybe she didn’t want to have a relationship with me but the passion we shared was too much for each of us. We were just letting it overtake control.

Jeanne stretching around me… It could be the last time. How could I bear the thought? I shook my head, distraught. What she was giving me… All that she had been giving me since I first saw her dancing in London… To have her like that. To sense her like that… it was enough for me. I didn’t need anything more to touch heaven, though my heart was tightened inside my chest. I needed to release it. I needed to take that oppression away. I placed my hand on Jeanne’s thigh not letting it go on her arm, and rested my forehead on the back of her head. I hadn’t even rocked myself yet when I felt her walls contracting around me in a way I had never felt. I stayed still and frowned, pushing my head back as I felt it again, even harder than before.

“Jeanne…” I groaned. She shushed me, and rose up her bum to me. I gripped my fingers on her tender flesh, gritting my teeth, feeling the urge to thrust growing unbearable. I flicked my hips to the sides and Jeanne took her hand from the wall and led it to my waist to keep me still. My cock was beginning to pulse, as I let her warmth, moistness, bareness overwhelm me, the wish of death increasing by the second, lost in the contact and the pain of my heart by knowing it would soon be deprived of everything. She was going to make me come without even move… “If we synchronise this there won’t be an earthly way for you to get rid of me…” I murmured confusedly to her ear, drooling all over her hair.

“We won’t,” she managed to mutter between gasping. She was defying me. God, I needed to make her come. But how? I couldn’t move. I sensed I was quickly getting over the edge, and rubbed my cheek on her head. As I passed near her ear, Jeanne convulsed. I started to nibble her earlobe, sticking my tongue in, and moved my hand from her thigh to apply pressure on her pubis. Jeanne wrestled but I imposed my physical advantage. I felt she surrendered to me. Pleasure was growing higher for her too.

And it soon became unstoppable. I had never felt my orgasm building up in such detail. It was absolutely mind-blowing, and it was all because of Jeanne. She was my muse. She made me go beyond myself, try my own limits, from the beginning and with everything. It was so clear now. And as my climax came nearer I started to lose my mind. I didn’t even know if Jeanne was close as I was anymore. At some point I just couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave in to the most extreme pleasure I felt in all my life, groaning quietly to her hair, and shaking compulsively against her slender body.

When I regained my senses I noticed I had released her arm. I was practically crushing her, so I straightened up a bit, propping my hand on the wall. I wanted to kiss her but I couldn’t even breathe properly yet. As I quietened down I noticed she was panting furiously, resting her forehead on the wall. Still inside her I made her turn her head to meet my gaze. Jeanne reluctantly locked eyes with me. Her cheeks were extremely blushed and she seemed flustered. I knew it. I had made her come too… At the thought my mind went completely blank.

“Jeanne… I’m in love with you, Jeanne,” I mumbled. I couldn’t prevent myself from speaking. Jeanne frowned.

“No, you’re not.”

–.–.–

Notes

Hot drama. Nothing more, nothing less. Next chapter is goodbye...

I've been thinking about this story for so long. I know the end and I'm getting near. I hope to be able to pull everything together, as this story has many, many levels and loose ends. What is going to happen has been planned thoroughly, and will have its consequences. We'll get to know the consequences. Probably you could find something similar, but you know this story always walks a step ahead. If you do, know that things have been in my mind for months now, every single part of it. You'll know exactly what I'm talking about later. Just remember that. It came to me in a dream in July. I'll be finishing this story as soon as I can. Most of you knows how hard I work. I'd write quicker if I could, but sometimes a single chapter takes half a week for me to write it down. But we are getting there.

Thank you, everyone, for sharing your time with this story. Your honest support makes me work harder.