Unexpected Mate

The name Caleb was a strangled cry in her throat as Alex awoke. She panted, shuddered, every nerve in her body pulsing with desire. She lay in bed for a moment, wondering if she should take care of that fevered sensation before she left the privacy of her bedroom, but her alarm went off and put an end to that thought. Besides, she would have felt strange about it. It was fine when the man in her dreams had been nameless, mostly faceless, but now… Who the hell was Caleb? She got up and shrugged on her short robe for the walk to the bathroom in case her roommate was awake and in the common area. She wasn’t usually a morning shower person, but when she woke up with a thin sheen of sweat slicking her skin and the memory of a man’s hands on her body, she thought she’d make an exception. In the shower, she tried her best to put the dream behind her. It was hardly her first s*x dream. She considered herself to have a healthy s*x drive, and such dreams had been pretty regular occurrences since puberty had struck and boys had gone from being the annoying “other” to something more desirable. If still annoying. But these dreams, the dreams that had started five weeks ago, were different. And she refused to spend all morning thinking about them. Out of the shower, Alex considered drying her hair, but instead roughly ran a towel over it then put it up in a messy bun. Who was she trying to impress? Her boss at the veterinary clinic? The dogs and cats hardly cared, and the owners hardly noticed the receptionist unless appointments were running late. She slapped on a bit of eyeshadow and a tinted moisturizer and called it good enough. Back in her room, she dressed in her business casual dark gray slacks and oatmeal-colored sweater. Depending on how the day went, she may or may not come home completely covered in visible hair, but at least it was reasonably comfortable. When she left her room again, Staci was up. “Coffee?” she asked, as she did most mornings. “I’ll grab something on the way to work.” It was her guilty pleasure. An overpriced, over-sugared coffee in the morning in the place of a proper breakfast. She’d tried making her own at home, but even the coldbrews she made that way weren’t really the same. “Okay,” Staci said. She took a sip of her own coffee. “Hey, do you want to go out tonight? It’s been awhile.” Alex hesitated. “I’ll think about it,” she promised. “Okay. See you tonight.” Alex walked down the three flights to get to street level, then began the short walk to the veterinary clinic—conveniently located next to a coffee shop—that she’d worked at for two years. It was hardly her dream job, but she didn’t know what was, and the five-block commute and somewhat decent pay was enough for now as she figured out what to do with the rest of her life. It’s not like twenty-four was that old. And Staci got her. Staci was a waitress, sometimes a bartender, and content with the work. If someone wanted to judge her, they were welcome to, as far as Staci was concerned. And if they really had a problem with her, well, they could just pay the bills then. Alex channeled her inner Staci as she walked into the clinic, ready for a kick-ass day (a mood that was really unnecessary for her job), and was surprised to find Dr. Harmon was already there. “You’re in early,” Alex said. Friday was typically a “catch-up” day for her. She came in at the regular time, but the clinic opened an hour later, giving her time to get caught up on any filing or scheduling that might have gotten away from her earlier in the week, as well as extra time for inventory and placing orders. And Dr. Harmon typically didn’t come in more than ten minutes before opening on Fridays. “I got a call on my cell that Mrs. Andersen thinks her cat is going into labor.” Alex didn’t bother asking how Mrs. Andersen had gotten the vet’s personal number. The woman could somehow find out just about anything, the more personal, the faster she would find it. And she loved her fluffy Persian cat more than most people loved their kids. “Is she bringing her in?” Alex asked. “Should I get something ready?” Dr. Harmon shook his head. “No. I told her I’d stop by this morning. I just wanted to grab my bag.” It was a classic black doctor’s bag, which always made Alex smile. At forty-two, Dr. Harmon had the face of a scholar, the body of a distance runner, and the temperament to deal with the most difficult of animals or their owners. Mademoiselle Fluffy Andersen would be in good hands. “Should I reschedule your morning?” she asked. “No. I called Dr. Reid, and he’ll come in for an hour or two for me. The morning patients won’t care if it’s him or me for the check-up and vaccines.” “Okay. Best of luck on the kittens.” “Thanks, Alex.” Dr. Harmon left, and Alex took her place behind her desk, opening up her work emails. As she waited for the emails to load, her mind drifted back to her dream. Dreams. It had started innocently enough, if any s*x dream could be called innocent. She’d been at a nightclub, maybe even one of the ones here in the city that she actually frequented, though it had been generic with dim lighting on the edges, some strobe lights in the background, and a tall, dark, and handsome man grinding against her with his strong hands on her hips. That dream, like most of her dreams, was vague with a few flashes of detail. Dancing with the impression that he was good, a stunningly hot kiss that faded away the way dreams do, a heavy sense of arousal and completion that she wasn’t sure was limited solely to her dream. Very good, very hot, and very normal. What hadn’t been normal was the dream recurring. Not always the same scene and events, no, those rarely repeated. But always the same man. He was tall, maybe even taller than she’d thought in her dream, but his hair was more of a medium brown, not black, from her memory of the time he had wrapped his arms around her in the park, pulled her behind a tree, and… That dream had been weird. Alex had never been into voyeurism or the thrill that came with the chance of getting caught. So she’d never had a dream like that, where they were so out in the open, so exposed to anyone who might wander not-very-far off the paved walking path. Weird, but just as hot as the first one in the nightclub. They all were, and as the nights went on and the dreams progressed, she’d been remembering more and more of them. They were growing more vivid each time, feeling more real each time. The man above her, his dark brown hair falling across his forehead, his brown eyes serious even as he moved inside her. At this point he’d been over her, under her, and inside her dozens of times. At least in her dreams. Her face flushed and she turned her mind back to her work. Now wasn’t the time for s*x dreams.