Tim's Dream Journal
Written by Mary

June 23rd, 1999-

Last night I was practicing my deep breathing exercises. In and out through the nose, deep diaphragmatic breathing and I guess I just drifted off.

I felt like a positive emptiness was encircling me, enfolding me, and it felt so good, so secure. I felt like I was flying in it, like I was being bathed in it. I remember wiggling my fingers and toes and sensed it eddying around me, creating currents with my movement, like maybe I was in a womb. Now there's a dream symbol I don't want to analyze.

I felt like I had achieved something, that my brain had at last started to let go, until it didn't feel so good anymore. The blankness was starting to choke me, invading every pore of my body, my eyes, my ears, and my skin, and I'm struggling and I can't get out. It's not a comfort anymore. It makes me panic and tear at the darkness surrounding me, like it's a tangible thing.

I rip free of what's enveloped me and I find that I'm on the steps leading up to Homicide, and then I look down and realize I'm naked and that Frank, of all people, is there looking at me. He's smiling at me, but it isn't a happy smile. It's a 'Tim, you screwed up royally' smile. His eyes are laughing at me, and they aren't focused on my face either. He makes me feel very aware of the fact that I'm naked and it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I can feel the heat of his impeccably attired body, the heat brushing me like feathers, like fingernails.

He takes a sip of his coffee, but not before he starts blowing across the slit on top of the coffee lid, not before he starts lightly lapping at the opening. I can feel my jaw hang loose as he takes a sip. When he's done, there's a tiny bit of clear brown liquid on his bottom lip that he slowly licks it off. Then he pulls his entire lip inside his mouth and laves it, leaving it glistening, full and rich.

I start to grin widely, my face breaking in two and I know that the top row of my teeth are bared to him.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me right now", I say to him conspiratorially.

"Oh yeah, I know, Bayliss. Well, are we going to stand here all day or we going to go to work?"

"I can't go to work like this! They'll see me naked! I can't!"

"First of all Tim, you're not naked, you've got your shoes and socks on, and you're wearing your glasses. Glasses count as clothes."

I look down. Yep, sure enough, a pair of plain brown shoes and black socks, the height and color not exactly right, grace my feet. I push at the bridge of my glasses and feel their solidity. I feel reassured.

"Well, ok, why didn't you say so, partner." I put an emphasis on the last word, I want to make it a slap for what he's done to me, is doing to me.

Then we're in the office, by my desk, and Frank is in front of me, kissing me, rubbing up against me. Can't anyone see us? I see detectives answering calls, arguing over who gets what section of the Baltimore Sun, writing notes on pieces of paper, leaving the office, having a normal day.

I sit on top of my desk and pull him towards me, hooking my legs around his waist and crossing my legs at the ankles. I put one hand on either side of his face, breathe against him for one instant, and kiss him tenderly, lightly. His wool suit scratches me in the most intimate of places.

Suddenly I guess I realize what I'm doing because I pull away. I feel awkward, aroused, feeling very naked and vulnerable and I want him so bad-

"Not here, Frank. I can't do this here."

"Well, how about here?" We're inside the Box, and the air is still and close. Now he's behind me, and we're in front of the two-way mirror. I feel smaller in front of him. I see the way his hands move across my body, the way his fingers leave scratches on my skin.

His hands start roaming faster and more thoroughly from my neck and down to my nipples. He caresses each one with the pads of his fingers and it makes me arch my chest out and throw my head back against his shoulder and push my ass back against him. His smile is full of teeth and completely victorious. He always gets what he wants.

"I want you, Tim. You're mine. You've always been mine. Every time you walked into work I wanted to fuck you, wanted to bend you over your desk and scatter your shit everywhere. All those years we partnered together I wanted you in the Cavalier, to suck me off while I drove, I wanted those pretty lips working my cock..."

He says these things to me and I'm starting to get more uneasy; this isn't territory that I want to explore with Frank. But then I know I do, that I can't help myself. I start to grind my hips back into his like the women I saw at the Block's stripshows. I turn my head to kiss him, a very wet, very fierce kiss. I start to feel weak, leaden.

"No more, Frank, not here, I have to have you..."

At once we're in the doorway to his bedroom, and Frank is kissing down my neck, and Mary's beside us, and I'm trying to talk to her, to explain away her husband's behavior but she doesn't see what we're doing in front of her at all. Is everyone oblivious to this? She gives me a warm, comforting smile and walks downstairs. I feel like crap, but my body's in charge here, not my brain, and I turn back to Frank, who's on his knees in front of me, sucking on my hipbones, his tongue leaving wet trails along my skin. My white skin and his dark head, I see how beautiful we look together. Pity that no one else sees it.

I notice that my shoes and socks and glasses are all gone, that I'm absolutely naked in bed with Frank. My inhibitions are completely gone, I feel like a slut, I feel that I could just abandon myself in the pleasure and drown and never come up. I rip his clothes off of him, pulling at pants and shirt and undershirt and boxers when they won't give immediately, and then I go down on him and ohhh fuck, it feels incredible, even in this awkward position I'm in- crouched down, knees wide apart, ass up in the air and I'm sucking at him greedily, hungrily, like I can never get enough.

He slips underneath me and grabs at me, guiding my cock into his mouth, his hands wrapped around my ass, sticking his fingers inside me and I feel so full like I'm going to burst-

And then I wake up. Son of a bitch. It's amazing I didn't come right there, so then I had something to take care of before I started the day.

I reached for some KY and rubbed it into my palm and started to get myself off, all the while thinking of Frank, that the wet noises the slickness makes are the sounds of his mouth slurping against me, and when I come I see Frank's face over me, hear his voice hoarsely whispering in my ear to please come for me, baby, please do it for me. It's one of the best orgasms I've had in ages.

I think this dream means two things. One, that I need to get laid bad, no surprise there. Two, that I should call Frank. I need to talk to him. But not today.