A fictional story based on an idea I got from a friend of mine whose name in this story I put down as “Mar Varka”. It being in first person that I have chosen to write this story. As it is my wish to express the manner in which I perceive she experienced her dream involving the two of us.

There is something almost mystical about squares or “plazas” as they are called in my native Spanish tongue that brings out so many emotions in people, ranging from the joy of music to the night life to be found in them; as well as so many other aspects that do not exclude the sexuality in those seeking to hide their lust in the shadows of the night. This perhaps taking place in hours when the excitement of a nocturnal festivity may draw the attention of others away from their passionate carnality or when the hour of day may be one to provide solitude for those who seek it. This being my case, as it was the other day in my vision of fantasy which transformed in to dream that I found myself in a plaza which in all honesty I knew I had never been in yet it all seemed so familiar. It being a sensation in me that I had already been there or perhaps I only felt such due to how in a way all plazas, regardless of what city or town they may be located in share many things in common.

These similarities taking the colors of activities such as concerts to inspire not only imaginations but dances to expose bodies in the ecstasy of motion yet also in the way plazas are designed that make them in a sense, all look the same yet there was something familiar about this particular plaza. It seeming like one which I had seen in a photograph on the internet in which I saw a most distinguished man sitting on a bench in time of summer. The image being one of this man looking in the distance. As if lost in thoughts and completely unaware that his image was being recorded for many more to see yet it was as if this man was so involved in his contemplations that the last thing he cared about was how he had been photographed.

As for myself, it was on a night engulfed by summer’s heat that I took my place in the bed, I occupy with my husband that my imagination and fantasy took flight in my dreams. It being with the distant hope that my husband might engage my rose with the vitality his root used to display upon not only this precious flower of mine but the rest of my body that I wore a black silk night gown with nothing that might prevent it from directly stroking my body. This creating in me, a sensation of need for the caresses upon my body which had been so abundant at one point in our relationship yet had become but a memory; as time passed along with my husband’s expired years which numbered a score and a half higher than my own.

It was on that night after a kiss had been mine upon my husband’s mouth with no more return from his part than the same that I laid myself to sleep yet slumber did not arrive in its solid state giving not only the heat of the evening but the anxiety in my rose. It being one of craving to be rewarded with the elation of he whose desires made his root increase to the volume that might occupy all of my femininity, to the point of providing me with the sensation that my body had taken flight along with my soul. It being this anxiety in me which made me rise undetected by my husband’s sleep to my private bathroom many times through out the night yet not with desires to relieve my body of its wastes but myself of longing for the touch which I could not supply myself in the modest form of my own caresses. The heat of the night was intense and as I felt my fingers glide upon my breasts and garden in which my rose lay in, I observed myself with the sensation that I was still a woman who despite having past the double score by four years had the beauty to draw more than merely the gaze of many a gentleman. I being a beauty in the eyes of many a beholder with dark hair to equal the black of the night in its ability to capture the mystery of the stars while displaying them in their shine along with eyes of the same tone, so typical of my native South American country of Argentina.

As for the rest of me, as I looked down upon my body reflected in the mirror to permit me to evaluate my sensuality now unprotected by threads of either cotton or lace; I saw valleys which composed my gender to include all that which created desire in those of the opposite sex. It being my feminine mounds which I held in their size which though not overly large were shapely as those of one who is female true and true along with other attributes of mine to declare me as a woman of splendor. It being these and other emotions which guided my hands to all those corners of my being that required the agitation which my strokes could provoke yet in all it was slumber which came to me as I lay on the tiles to be found on the floor of my bathroom.

It being at that moment that I saw myself though I am not fully conscious if it was real or dream that witnessed me wonder about my house till I was drawn to leave it; as if I were being summoned by a force or perhaps my very own instinct to the plaza. All as if I were dreaming or perhaps sleep walking yet in all I ventured out of my house in but my light wears of the night to the place whose seductive ways seemed to be calling me as if through hypnosis. I, for part did not hesitate to follow this voice yet I was not really aware if that which beckoned me did not come from my yearnings or perhaps it was from one who desired me to the point that I could deny him even if such had been my intentions.

It was still not clear to me if mine were real or merely fantasies being lived or vivid visions of my sleep yet at this point it did not matter as I made my way to the plaza on a night on which all appeared to be taken from the paintings of Vincent Van Gogh. It feeling as if I were walking in one of the images created by the Dutch Master himself. This being my sense of reality, as the church in the plaza bore such a striking resemblance to the one at Auvers while the café which was still open brought to mind the one portrayed at night in another one of the maestro’s canvases. All of which giving the impression of danger along with the thrills which my body was experiencing as I walked about in search of that which had made me leave my house at this hour of the night in attires of intimacy usually reserved for the one who was attached to me in holly matrimony.

The night was hot and sultry with fragrances all about to further declare that the time of year which was upon me was the one to arrive with ardent temperatures and as I walked about a deserted plaza, my mind told me there was one whom I would find waiting for me. As it was his calling which had brought me to where I was yet I was unacquainted with who he was or what he looked like though somehow I was certain I would know who he was once he came across my vision. The plaza was quit and with not a sole in sight yet I felt his presence like the heat which I could not see with my eyes yet could not escape its impression on my skin. It was as I strolled about that I spotted him in the form of a shadow sitting on a bench in the middle of all the emptiness that was the plaza.

This prompting me to walk over to where he was and though he did not look in my direction, I was all too aware that he had taken notice of my presence and the fact that I was approaching him with more than the curiosity of wanting to know who he was or what it was that like myself had brought him out to the plaza at such an hour of the night. I walked and as I did, I could feel his gaze upon me though his face was turned in another direction yet despite this factor, my sensations detected his gape upon all that concerned my body.

I got to where he was and as I did, I saw for myself that this man was the one whom I had seen in the photo of that very plaza. All providing the impression that I had stepped in to the photo yet at a time of day when the sun had already made its descend from the sky above while excluding any about who might observe what ever our desires had brought on us. It was at this moment when faced with him that I did not know what to say as he looked at me with such passion that bordered on almost rage that it scared me as well as excited me to the point that I felt like running away yet was held in place by the weight of desire. As if our lust for the other was holding me in such a compromising position that I could not run away despite my initial instinct to do so.

How intense our gazes came to be that my trepidation banished whilst my eyes searched in to his as well as his body which was covered in wears as light as mine. It was at this point that I felt he would reach out for me yet he but insinuated in his eyes that he would which made me take the initiative, almost as if neither my words nor his had any need of coming out; for our messages were being transmitted by a more basic method which was desire expressed by our fragrances. Mine coming from my rose which like one in the rain was drenched with my own moisture while his came from all over his body which I could see in the form of drops upon his chest.

My eyes having gone about all of him and seeing him as if a silhouette in the dark yet it was without doubt that I knew this to be the man from the photo and as I looked at him, there was something about him that invited my rose, so deprived in the last months; to simply indulge in he who was but to fulfill my hunger. The situation was mine to do as I willed, this was clear as I could but walk away from this moment of lust with but my own regrets to accompany me or I could literally ride it out as one might do with a storm. It was after a few seconds which seemed longer that my gawk fell upon all of his body with the knowledge that what was about to occur was unavoidable for either of us, as if we had been sentenced to it by the night of mystery which had fallen over this plaza.

The time was at hand as desire impressed action upon me. It being this which propelled me as his eyes looked upon me with all the anxiety I had ever known, to do as I did. I, lifting my night gown slightly, much in the fashion I might have had I been wearing a dress in order to get on top of a horse. This as I took a seat on his lap with my back toward him while trusting my behind on to his root which my rose absorbed like one might a breath of fresh air on hot day. It being his root which found its way in to my paradise, as if my rose and garden had been created for solely the purpose of taking advantage of the occasion which was being presented on to me. As I sat upon him, he had became my steed, for me to ride as I chose and as I did so with more pace, I could feel his root entering deeper; to take me to the heavens above which I gazed upon. It being the walls of my paradise which caved in heavily on his root while the lips on my rose tightly squeezed it with all their might as they grasped all sensations from it.

The plaza was empty yet in all I could not help but sense that intruding eyes might be upon our activities yet this did not disturb either of us as his hands made their presence felt (with my permission) all over my body while I continued my gallop through skies above. I, feeling as if all had been created for my exclusive desire or perhaps by my deepest fantasies which up till that night had never taken form as I had truly wished them to. What sensations was this that I could sense every vein in this root so stiff to enter in to my very being, as my femininity simply could not get enough of it; almost as if it were trying to devour it while my behind pressed all of my weight in to it yet in all he was as if waiting for my moment to arrive.

For he was there on my behalf or so had I painted him in the work of art I had created in my dream; for he served me as I had been the one to take the initiative while he had waited and as I approached the instant of my triumph; I held on to him with nails that dug as I my tremor came as my body shook as if with fever. This also being the moment in which his moment arrived as if planed by my even further subconscious to coincide with my own. As our ending was of the most climatic nature in not only timing as we for the first time yet not last time that evening forced our lips in to each other’s, guided by tongues performing the most tender of kisses.