Page 35 of Dreaming of Dawson

I just wanted to say thank you for the turkey sandwich. It was delicious and very kind of you to make it for me.

M x’

“That’s Macy,” I said, giving it back to him. “I would have thought you could work that out from the turkey sandwich reference.”

“I make quite a few turkey sandwiches during my working day. What I don’t get is why she’s thanking me,” he said, looking down at the note, clearly confused.

“Because she’s like that.”

He nodded, then smiled. “Hmm… that’s cute,” he said, and I had to agree. Pretty much everything about Macy is cute, from her attitude to her smile… which is ever-present. And as for the way she looks…

I can’t stop thinking about her, or dreaming about her, it would seem.

It’s taken every ounce of willpower not to jerk off, despite waking up with a hard-on every single morning since that first dream… since that explosive orgasm.

I haven’t come since… not even on her first night here, when I stroked my cock while my pizza cooked. I wanted to. Just like I’ve wanted to every day, but I haven’t, because she confuses me.

Or maybe it’s that I confuse myself.

I can’t be sure.

I know that thinking about her does crazy things to me, and that my head is never clear enough to understand them. That’s why I didn’t touch that glass of vodka I poured not long before she arrived today. Usually, I’d have taken advantage of her going out back to drink at least half of it, and maybe top it up again. But I didn’t. Why? Because seeing her standing by the door, looking so beautiful, and sexy, and tempting was doing weird things to me. I wanted to be able to think straight for once… to work it out. But even without that extra half glass of vodka in my system, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t work her out. I still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and she tilts her head, looking up at me through her eyelashes.

“What for?”

“Because…”

“Because you didn’t want me to know you were drinking?” she says, and while that’s true, it’s not what I was going to say.

“No. Because I shouldn’t be drinking in the first place. Not like this.”

That’s the first time I’ve admitted that. The first time I’ve acknowledged it as a problem.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to reassure me, I think.

“No, it’s not.”

She steps closer and I gaze down into her sparkling brown eyes. I don’t know if that sparkle has anything to do with the lights, or if there’s something more to it, although I know I might be able to work it out better if I were sober.

“Even if that’s the case, there’s no reason for you to apologize to me.”

“Yes, there is. You… You shouldn’t have to walk home on your own late at night,” I say, trying to stick to the point.

“You think that’s the priority here?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t agree, but we already covered my journey to and from work,” she says with a smile. Her eyes sparkle even brighter now, suggesting the lights have nothing to do with it at all.

“What does Bernie have to say about it?”

She blushes, and then bites on her lip, and my cock hardens, which in my current condition is nothing short of a miracle.

“She doesn’t know,” Macy whispers.

“Why not?”

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