Jack - Wake-up Call

She was beautiful. Everything that he wanted in a woman. This simple fact was how his brain attempted to alert him to the fact that this wasn't real. The last warning whisper of that other part of his brain that was yet to surrender into REM sleep completely. It said it him: don’t blame me if you wake with blue balls buddy, I tried to warn you.

Hell if he cared, it was only a dream. It was a good dream. He could jack off later.

As he pulled out her chair, he watched as she lowered herself into it. That clingy material was hugging all the right curves. It was sensual, sleek and coiffed. The dream spread like a sickness in the veins of his subconscious. Ink and water on the waves of his brain, creating this dream setting of some dark and dusky blues club. The dream contoured meager beginnings into something so real the dream even had a complex scent.

Their conversation was casual. An exchange with drinks, music and flirtatious gestures composed of the past and future longings.

Approaching him now, she moved as if to settle in his lap. Wrapping her arms around him, her fingers moved to stoke his shoulder blades and neck; contoured by his crisp shirt. Leaning forward, he concentrated on her mouth. That full, damp mouth that he knew somehow was going to taste sweet, with a lingering of the expensive bourbon she was drinking. Those luscious lips parted and she leaned close, sharing her warm breath with Jack.

...and from somewhere between those sweet lips, the sound of whistling came, along with the sound of drums. It was the theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and it was coming from her mouth.

By the time he realized that something was wrong with this scenario, his body jerked into auto pilot. He reached for his phone blindly, almost falling out of bed.

He longed for the days of flip phones. He didn't have to open his eyes, to answer a flip phone. A simple maneuver of the metacarpal and even if you pulled it to your face upside down it wasn't hard to remedy the situation. His new smartphone was not as sweet to him on mornings like this.

Cracking an eye open, he fumbled with the unlock sequence. Once. Twice. He was now offered a few more meager seconds to get his sluggish brain to decide if he wanted to talk to his boss or not.

In the back of his mind he could hear the Jeopardy theme song. Grunting, he slid the green phone to the right and answered.