Truth

had settled in, very unusual for Palo Alto this time of year. She knew that from meteorology, not experience. After all, she’d only lived on the west coast over a month. So much had changed in such a short time.
    Normally, on a beautiful day like this, she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise, and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there. Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with any perpetrator -- except his employer.
    That was apparent with Phil’s departure from the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could wait; she needed a little nap.
     
    Claire tried to wake, but was that possible from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back. Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let her sleep?
    It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”
    The directive was not demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of persuasion, a kiss -- his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams, can’t it? There’s even a line in a song: in dreams our feet never touch the ground . Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.
    She’d watched him walk away and locked the door. Didn’t she?
    Convincing herself this was only fantasy, Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium. Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.
    Somehow she was on her bed. When she woke at two in the morning, she didn’t straighten the bed clothes. The exposed, soft sheets were cool against her skin. Gently, the clip was freed from her hair, allowing her auburn trusses to fall in waves onto her soft pillow. Piece by piece her clothing disappeared. She obeyed the simple commands, “Lift your arms over your head.” Her oversized t-shirt was eased over her head, then the camisole. Claire moaned as the cool air caused her nipples to harden. Her physical reaction did not go unnoticed. His now gentle fingers lightly caressed the hard nubs. Closing her eyes, with her arms above her head, she arched her back, surrendering her vulnerable breasts. She ached for more.
    Next, her yoga pants were eased past her ankles, exposing her black lacy panties. The barely visible material was but a scant hurdle on the road to their destination. Nevertheless, a streak of panic ran through her, like ice on overheated skin. Goose bumps formed on her arms and legs. The sudden alarm intensified everything, from the sound of their breathing to the touch of his hands. The small lace barrier was another direct violation of his rules. She watched his expression as his fingers traced the delicate trim. In the center, inches below her bellybutton was a small, black, satin bow. His strong hands encircled her hips as his thumbs teased the tiny adornment. She was a present – a gift, wrapped only for him. He didn’t speak, but his chest rose and fell, as his breathing deepened. She sighed with relief, when the tips of his lips turned upward into his