I like this dream. It's one of those rare ones when you know that you’re dreaming, so you can pretty much do what you want. Given that Sandra is in it with me, it's clear what I want

She's sitting on my bed, smiling invitingly, dressed in a black lingerie that I have never seen her wear in real life. I wrap my hands around her and help her on top of me so that her butt is rubbing against my bulging erection. My hands roam over her body, squeezing and groping, helping her out of her barely existing lingerie. Her smile gets wider as her fingers wrap around my cock, forcing a moan from me. I hope I don’t wake up before we do it. It's been a while. Having sex in a dream is better than no sex at all.

And yet the fabric of the dream gets thinner, perhaps chased away by my moan, and even though my hands still feel her hot skin, I also become aware of the ticking of the alarm clock next to my bed and a car honking somewhere in the distance. I'm trying to hold on to the illusion, but the real world takes over, until the only sensation left from the dream is her hand stroking my dick.

Wait a minute?

My eyes fling open. The room is dark except for what little street light filters through the leafage of the tree behind the window. Still, it's enough to see that my sensations didn't belong to a dream.

There's someone in my bed.

I jerk up into a sitting position, pushing the person away, and reach for the button on my bedside lamp. Its weak light is blinding for the first few seconds, but even while squinting, I can tell who it is.

"Raven, what the fuck?"

"Do not swear," he whispers, grinning. "No swearing in the house, remember? The rules. Always the rules."

"What are you --" I glance down. My boxers are still on. Has he been touching me? Or was that a part of the dream after all?

As in reply to my thoughts, he crawls over and gets a hold of my still considerable erection through the fabric of my boxers.

"Let's have fun," he whispers, leaning closer, his hand moving up and down as I stare at him in shock. "I just wanna have some fun. Just play along."

"Stop it!" I swat his hand away, and when he tries to return it, I push him so hard that he rolls off the bed and hits the carpet with a thud. I crawl to the edge of the bed and see him lying on his back, laughing breathlessly. He seems a bit too manic even for his usual self.

"What's wrong with you?" I get off the bed and lean over him. There's no smell of alcohol. His pupils, though, are strange, so wide that the blue of his eyes is almost indistinguishable, even though the room is no longer dark.

"Raven, what did you take?"

"Nothing. Come here."

I swat at his hands again as he tries to wrap them around my neck.

"What did you take?"

"Just something to help me relax." He grins at me. "Also, makes me horny as fuck. Come on, don’t be such a jerk. Help a friend out." His hands slide around my torso, pulling me closer.

With a groan, I grab his wrists and hold them pinned to the floor above his head. Although that limits his ability to touch me, it also leads to me pretty much lying on top of him which seems to only encourage the craze he's in.

"Oh…yeah," he breathes out, wriggling underneath me. "Yeah…press a little harder… Awww… I want you, Jamie. You don’t have to fuck me. I can suck you off. I want to. Please?"

I stare at him, confused and ridiculously aroused. He's insane. At the same time, there's a small voice inside of my head, probably channeling the opinion of my dick, saying, 'Come on…just let him. You want it. He's so stoned he won't even remember any of it tomorrow.'

"Jamie," he moans. "I need this so badly…come on, be nice. Give it to me."

Be nice. The words bring to memory Catherine sitting next to the kitchen table, her fingers on my hand, her eyes on mine, trusting me to do the right thing. Always trusting me. She asked me to be nice. Taking advantage of his drug-induced craze would be anything but.

"Come on." I move off him and get to my feet. "Get up. I'll give you what you need."