Page 26 of Dreaming of Dawson

“Jesus,” I whisper.

I haven’t come like that since I don’t know when, and I open my eyes, awash with something that feels like guilt. I can’t be sure why, though. Is it because that’s the first time I’ve ever dreamed of having sex with someone that wasn’t Stevie? Is it because that’s the first time I’ve ever said anyone else’s name at that particular moment? Or is it because the person I dreamed of, and the name I said, was Macy?

Dreaming about Stevie didn’t stop when she left. Maybe that was because the reality had gone, and I knew it would never come back again. Not because she wouldn’t have wanted to, but because I wouldn’t have let her. Even if she’d begged me, I wouldn’t have taken her back, and I still wouldn’t. But I dreamed of her. Not very often and not at all for about the last six months or so, although it used to be frequent enough that it still feels odd to dream about someone else. Those dreams never used to make me come, though. They were always tinged with too much sadness.

So I can’t believe that’s what’s fueling my guilt.

As for saying someone else’s name. That’s obviously not something I’ve done before. Although since Stevie left, I haven’t said anyone’s name at all… not even hers. I used to say it all the time, when we were together, but she belongs with someone else now, and when I jerk off, which isn’t a very common occurrence, I don’t make much noise at all.

Not like just now, when I erupted into a mass of need and longing.

It’s not as though I’m worried about betraying Stevie, or the memory of what we had together. That was over long ago. It was over the moment she left. So is it that I feel guilty for dreaming about Macy in particular… for saying her name, rather than anyone else’s?

Or is it the simply fact that the orgasm I’ve just had was the best of my entire life… and I feel bad that Stevie had nothing to do with it? Not even as a memory.

I sit up, trying to make sense of it, but my head spins, and I can’t think straight. It’s getting light, and although I could stay here for a while longer, I can’t see the point.

Coffee and toast is about all I can manage, and even that’s a struggle. My shower woke me up a little, but my head is fuzzy and my body is still recovering from that incredible orgasm. Even now, I’ve got a tingle in my spine, and my cock is hard… although I’m ignoring it.

That’s because I’m trying to think about what I was supposed to remember.

It was about Tanner… and his wedding night.

“Oh, yes,” I mutter out loud, pushing away my half eaten toast and topping up my coffee. I was gonna work something out. The problem is, I’m not sure what. They seem fairly set on their plan, but it sounds like the worst idea for a wedding night I’ve ever heard of. As if having Nash around wasn’t bad enough,they’re gonna have Sylvia and her sister there, too. I have to be able to think of something…

I clear away my plate, throwing the toast in the trash, and then I remember something else. It’s nothing to do with Tanner, or his wedding night. It’s about Macy leaving at the end of her shift, and me turning down her offer of help with clearing up. I needed a drink. Desperately. That was why I declined. It’s also why I poured myself a vodka… and then another, and another, and eventually came up here to bed… and completely forgot about clearing up downstairs.

“Shit,” I murmur, shaking my head, which seems to make my stomach churn, and I grab my coffee cup from the table and carry it down into the bar, switching on the lights and letting out a groan. The place is a tip.

If only I’d accepted Macy’s offer, I wouldn’t have to face all this now, would I? But then I wouldn’t have been able to push on through to oblivion. I wouldn’t have found it so easy to fall asleep, and to dream of her.

That thought makes my cock harden… again. But I make my way over to the bar, adding a slug of bourbon to my lukewarm coffee and swallowing it down.

Somehow, everything seems a little more focused now, and I look around, deciding to clear the tables before I do anything else.

It was Stevie’s decision that we should only serve food at lunchtimes.

“If we set ourselves up in direct competition with the hotel, we won’t be very popular,” she reasoned.

“Does that mean we can’t serve food at all?” I said, shaking my head. “Because if that’s the case, we’re gonna seriously limit our income.”

She walked over to me then, holding a paintbrush in her hand, and she smiled. “That’s not what I’m saying,” she said. “I’m just suggesting we restrict it to lunchtime, and that we stick to things like burgers, sandwiches, salads, and soups. We need to keep it simple, otherwise we’re gonna have to employ too many people.”

Employing people had worried me the most… or rather, the cost of it, and I heard every word she said. I’m relieved I listened now, because there’s a French restaurant that’s opened up on Main Street, and although we serve very different food, there are only so many mouths to feed… especially during the winter months. This way, we all get a bite out of the cake, and everyone’s happy.

That said, I’m not sure my employees are ever that happy. They used to be when Stevie was here. I don’t think it’s her absence that’s making them miserable, though. It’s me. Tanner’s right about that.

Still, Maggie should be happier today, knowing she won’t have to cover any more evening shifts, and I check my watch, surprised to find she and Vanessa will be here any minute. I haven’t filled my glass yet, and I set about doing it, only replacing the vodka bottle when they come in through the front door. Karl and Ned use the kitchen door at the back, and Karl has a key of his own, which he uses to lock up back there after the lunchtime shift. After that, he goes on to his second job, which is at a diner in Willmont Vale. Ned doesn’t have a second job anymore. He used to, at a bar in Concord, but he’s officially retired now, and just comes in here for something to do. They’re probably already here, working quietly in the background, but they rarely come out to the front of the bar… because they’re happier shut away back there, it seems.

“I’ve got some good news,” I say to Maggie as she and Vanessa start toward the back of the bar, without even saying a word.

“Oh?” They both stop and Maggie focuses her attention on me.

“I’ve employed Macy.” That’s the first time I’ve said her name since I cried it out loud this morning, while coming all over my chest. It sounds a little weird, but I ignore that and focus on the two women in front of me. Having already removed their coats, they’re both wearing black pants and white blouses, and while Maggie is stick-thin with slightly dry-looking blonde hair, Vanessa has a more rounded figure, and is a very unnatural redhead.

“I take it last night went okay?” Maggie says, trying not to look too relieved.

“It went really well. Macy’s starting at four today.” Her name doesn’t sound so weird this time, and I’m not sure whether to feel relieved by that… or disappointed.

---