Observe, record, facilitate. And that's all, Clay reminded himself when Alisha came to bed in one of those tiny little outfits that always drove him crazy. He wondered sometimes if she had any idea of the effect she had on him when she dressed the way she did, but he always pushed the thought away. Alisha was just comfortable with him, that was all. She thought of him as a cousin or close friend, so she didn't expect him to look at her in a sexual way. Which was why she felt free to wear things like the little white silk babydoll nightie she had on tonight.
"Hope you don't mind," she said nonchalantly as she approached the bed. "I thought I might get hot, and getting overheated always gives me bad dreams."
"Uh, no problem." He hoped she didn't mind him staring because he honestly couldn't take his eyes off her. The virginal white silk clung to her curves and emphasized the warm tones of her coffee-and-cream skin in a way that made him ache to run his hands over her body. The nightie had spaghetti straps and a top that was made of thin, almost see-through white lace. Clay could plainly see her ripe blackberry nipples and the round curves of her areolas pressing against the insubstantial fabric. The front tied in a bow between her full breasts and then split down the middle, showing the rounded plane of her abdomen. Farther down, a pair of white lace panties that matched the top was visible, and Clay swore he could see the shadow of her pussy lips through the material if he looked hard enough—which he was trying not to.
He was glad that he was already tucked in bed with the pale pink comforter over his legs. He was bare-chested and wearing only a pair of comfortable old pajama bottoms that had worn thin with many washings. If he hadn't been under the covers, he was sure his rampant hard-on would have been visible, pressing through the worn fabric.
"Well, good night." Apparently oblivious to the way she was affecting him, Alisha slipped between the cool, fresh-smelling sheets and sighed contentedly. "Would you dim the lights?"
"Sure. Oh—wait a minute." Clay sat up in bed. He'd been so absorbed in drinking in the sight of his sexy younger cousin that he'd almost forgotten he had a job to do. "Here." He grabbed the SeeAll recording device he'd gotten especially for this and clipped it carefully to the headboard of the bed where it could record anything that went on in the room.
"What are you doing?" Alisha looked mystified.
"My job. Recording everything, just like Deelah told us to."
For some reason, Alisha looked uncomfortable. "Uh, I think she meant you were supposed to write down what happened. Not actually film it."
Clay shrugged. "Well, a picture is worth a thousand words, right? And this way if she has any questions, she can consult the recording and draw her own conclusions."
Alisha looked ready to protest, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was a yawn. "I'm sorry," she murmured, resting her head on her pillow. "I guess it's okay. God, I'm so tired. Feels like…somebody tied weights…to my eyelids."
"Go to sleep then." Clay stroked a strand of silky black hair out of her eyes. Seeing her lying there looking so fragile and vulnerable aroused a powerful feeling of protectiveness inside him. "I'll keep an eye on you," he promised softly.
"Thanks, Clay. 'Night." Her lids fluttered once more and drifted closed, hiding the warm hazel of her eyes.
"Good night," Clay murmured. He dimmed the lights, settled back on his pillows, and waited to see what, if anything, would happen. He wasn't the least bit sleepy himself because he didn't know what to expect. Would she suddenly get up and demand that they take a road trip? Or maybe she'd want to clean the house—which she did sometimes when the spring cleaning mood hit her—and he'd have to help her use the vacuum so she didn't run into things. Clay just hoped she didn't decide she wanted a midnight snack. According to the rules, he had to assist her dreams, but if Alisha found out that he'd been helping her break her diet by eating junk food in the middle of the night, there would be hell to pay, sweetdreams pill or no sweetdreams pill.
Nothing happened for so long that Clay started to feel sleepy himself. He knew it took some time to reach REM sleep and that he had to be patient as Alisha drifted down through the different sleep stages. But he was afraid that if he waited while he was tucked in under the covers, he'd drop off himself. Being careful not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and, walking silently around her room, tried to wake himself up.
Alisha's room was feminine without being frilly and womanly without being weak—which pretty much described Alisha herself to a tee. It was one of the things Clay liked about her—his younger cousin was a strong woman, someone to be reckoned with, and when she wanted something, she went for it. Musingly, he picked up a picture of the two of them when they'd gone tubing down the Ichetucknee River during her last spring break from nursing school.
It was an old-fashioned still picture—not the kind that moved and spoke that the new 3-D time enhancement cameras took. Alisha always said the 3-D pics didn't capture the moment the way the old-fashioned cameras did, so Clay had hung on to his old digital camera just for her.
In the shot, he had his arm around her shoulders, and Alisha had a huge smile on her face even though her body was covered in goose bumps from the ice-cold water. God, they'd had such a great time. And now, in just a few weeks' time, she was going to move out.
Clay didn't want her to go and had even hinted that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked, but she said she couldn't stay forever, and besides, she knew he needed his private life back. Unfortunately, he didn't want it back, didn't want to think of living in his big, empty South Tampa house without her. Without the sound of her voice and the soft touch of her small hand on his arm when she was trying to get his attention or her sweet feminine scent when he hugged her—
"Morning, cuz. Great day for the beach, isn't it?"
Alisha's voice startled him so much Clay almost dropped the heavy wooden picture frame. Setting it down carefully, he turned to see Alisha sitting up in bed and smiling at him. She looked normal except for the fact that her eyes were wide and a little unfocused, almost as if she was seeing something he couldn't.
"Uh, good morning," he ventured carefully. Deelah had made it clear that he could talk and interact with Alisha while she was under the influence of the sweetdreams drug as long as he didn't make sudden loud noises or shake her to try to wake her up.
"You said it would be rainy but just look—the sun's out and it's perfect beach weather. Aren't you glad we came?" Alisha stretched and lifted her face as though drinking in the rays of a sun only she could see. "Mmm, it's gorgeous out here today."
"It, uh, sure is," Clay said cautiously. Was she going to insist that he drive her to the beach now? But it seemed like she thought she was already there. "We should come more often," he added, watching her carefully to see if he was getting the dream right.
Alisha gave him a radiant smile. "Absolutely. I think I'll just go try the water." After sliding out of bed, she minced forward a few steps, moving like someone walking on hot sand. Then she pointed her toe and dipped it in the imaginary surf. "Mmm, perfect. You want to come in?" She waved an arm in the general direction of her closet, where she was apparently seeing an ocean in her dream.
Clay watched her in alarm. Uh-oh, was she going to try to run into the ocean and bang head first into the door instead? How could he stop her? "Why don't we go in later?" he asked, as an idea struck him. "I need to work on my tan. You know you're always saying I'm pasty white." He wasn't, of course. The Sioux blood in his genetic makeup ensured that. But it was a joke between them because Alisha's skin was a few shades darker than his own.
She pouted for a minute and then shrugged. "All right, I'll lay out with you, but only for a while. You
might want to get darker, but I don't."
"It's a deal." Crossing quickly back to the bed, Clay then climbed on it and patted a spot beside him. "Come on, sit on the beach towel with me so you don't get sand in your suit."
"All right," she agreed and he breathed a sigh of relief when she was safely back on the bed beside him. Alisha's next words, however, seemed to suck all the relief right out of his body. "It's really hot out here—I'm going to take off my wrap." She was already fingering the drawstring tie of her nightie, obviously imagining it to be the terrycloth wrap she always draped around herself when they went to the beach or the pool. God, she was about to go topless right in front of him, and as much as he wanted to see those round, firm breasts again, Clay knew he couldn't let her.
"No—don't," he protested quickly. "You…you shouldn't do that. What if…I mean, I think maybe you forgot your top."
She laughed. "I didn't forget, silly. I left it off on purpose."
Clay didn't know what to say to that. "Well, see, that's why you should leave your nightie—uh, wrap—on. If you're not wearing your top, someone, uh, might see something."
Alisha gave him a look like he was crazy. "Don't be silly—it's getting hot out here with the sun beating down. And besides, this is a nude beach. I can take off as much as I want."
Clay did a double take. Nude beach? What the hell is she talking about?
There were no nude beaches close to where they lived—with the large population of senior citizens around Florida, beaches were just a bit more conservative than Brazilian ones—or wherever the hell it was Alisha thought she was.
Still, maybe it was just an embellishment of her dream. Regular REM dreams didn't always make sense or follow reality—what made him think that sweetdreams enhanced dreams would? After all, he'd had a recurring dream when he was a kid that when he walked outside it was raining purple peanut M&Ms and his dog, Sparky, could talk. So maybe Alisha's thinking she was at a nude beach wasn't so weird after all.
While he was trying to think of another reason to stop her, she was untying the neck of her nightie. Clay caught his breath when she slipped it off her shoulders, her round, full cocoa breasts thrust out in front of her and her nipples hard. God, she was gorgeous!
"Do you like my suit?" she asked and giggled.
"Your suit?" Clay stared at her stupidly, wishing he could drag his eyes off her breasts.
"Yes, silly—my birthday suit." Alisha gave him a naughty grin and cupped the curve of her right breast, as though showing off an invisible bikini top. "You want to feel it?"
Clay's mouth went dry. "I, uh, better not. And I think you should cover up before you burn."
She frowned. "You know I never burn. In fact, I think I'll take off my bottoms too. It's really
hot out here."
"No, don't—" was all Clay got out before she was wiggling out of the tiny white lace panties. Now completely nude, she lay back on the bed, closed her eyes, and sighed in contentment. She was the very picture of a beach bunny enjoying the warming rays of the sun—naked.
This is wrong! What the hell is going on and how can I stop it? Clay asked himself. But no solution came immediately to mind. Or maybe he was too distracted to think of one. Since Alisha was deep in her dream and had her eyes closed, Clay allowed himself a moment to drink her in. Her lovely, smooth, creamy brown skin, the gentle rise of her breasts capped with berry-dark nipples, the tiny patch of black curls at the apex of her pussy mound and the slit of her sex…every part of her was beautiful and desirable. But it was wrong to desire her, he reminded himself. Completely and utterly wrong.
"Clay?" she murmured, just as he was hoping she'd dropped into another phase of sleep and was done acting out for the night.
"Um, yeah, cuz. What's up?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't insist on driving down to the all night Flavor Freeze for a cone in the nude.
"Would you put some lotion on me?" Alisha sighed and put up one hand to shade her eyes, as though trying to see him despite the bright sunlight beating down on them. "It's in my beach bag—the side pocket. You know."
Actually, the funny thing was that Clay did
know what she was talking about this time. Alisha kept a beach bag packed at all times in case she had a spare hour to get away and the suntan lotion was always in the side pocket, just as she was describing. In fact, the bag itself was in a chair beside her closet door right where he could see it. Without thinking about it, he went and got the dark brown bottle, the contents of which smelled faintly of cocoa butter, and brought it back to the bed.
Then he froze.
He knew he was supposed to be facilitating Alisha's dream, but there were limits—weren't there? Or would she actually be in danger if he didn't play along with whatever scenario her subconscious mind dreamed up? Did he dare take a chance that she wouldn't be hurt if he didn't play along?
"Hey." Alisha was squinting at him again from behind her hand, as though the sun was too bright to stare directly at him. "What's the hold up? It's not like you haven't lotioned me up before."
Clay tightened his grip on the brown bottle in indecision. Actually, that was true too. He often rubbed suntan lotion on Alisha's shoulders and the small of her back—basically wherever she couldn't reach—whenever they went to the beach. But no matter how skimpy and revealing her bikini might be when he did it, the fact remained that she was still dressed, not completely nude as she was now. What should he do?
"Clay?" Alisha was looking at him again, and this time there was fear in her unfocused eyes. "Are you all right? Is everything at the beach all right? We are at the beach, right?"
"Of course we are," Clay soothed her automatically. "We're lying on our towels on the sand, and the sun is really hot, and I'm about to rub suntan lotion all over your…uh, your shoulders."
"Oh good." Alisha flipped over onto her stomach and wiggled, as though trying to get comfortable. "Damn sand—always so lumpy," she muttered, and Clay had to bite back a laugh. She was lying on a plush pillow top mattress and bitching about the lumpy sand on a beach she was imagining. If the situation hadn't suddenly gotten so complicated, it would have been damn funny. Well, he was just going to have to rub her shoulders with the lotion and leave it at that.
Taking a deep breath, he squirted a dollop of the creamy white coconut smelling lotion into his palm. "Okay, here goes," he muttered under his breath and began to stroke her narrow shoulders.
"Mmm, feels good." Alisha undulated sensually under his touch, clearly enjoying herself. "I love the way your hands feel on my body, Clay. Don't know why I've never told you that before." She sounded dreamy and her eyes were still unfocused. Clay wondered how much of what she was saying was true and how much was just the dream talking. But didn't your true feelings and thoughts come out when you dreamed and your subconscious took over?
"I'm glad you enjoy it," he said neutrally, adding more lotion and sliding his hands down her back. The scent of the lotion and the feel of her smooth skin under his hands were hypnotic. In fact, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine they really were at the beach, just the two of them enjoying the hot sun, the sound of the waves, the cry of the gulls…
"Don't forget my bottom," Alisha said, shattering the soothing picture that had been building in his mind.
"I'm sorry—what?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. He might rub lotion on Alisha's shoulders and back, but he had never gone lower. It was taboo territory, and as much as he might want to cup the round, firm globes of her ass and stroke and massage and caress them, he never had.
But Alisha was looking back at him with mild annoyance on her face. "My bottom—don't forget to lotion my bottom like you always do." She frowned. "You do—don't you?"
Clay hastened to reassure her. "Uh, sure. Sure, I do." But inside his stomach was tied in knots. First the nude beach idea, and now she seemed to think it was normal for him to fondle her ass. Where would all this end? And what would he tell her the next day when they watched the SeeAll recording together and talked about the effects of the drug? But despite his misgivings, there didn't seem to be anything else he could do but squirt another dollop of white lotion into the palm of his hand and begin to massage it into her ass.
Alisha moaned and moved under his touch, lifting her round brown bottom up to meet his fingers and gasping in apparent pleasure. And despite his guilty conscience, Clay couldn't help enjoying it as well. How long had he wanted to touch his younger cousin this way, to stroke and knead her soft, supple flesh, to caress her smooth coffee-and-cream skin? She was gorgeous, lying naked on the bed, arching her back to lift her perfect ass up to his hands. And the soft, throaty sounds she was making were almost too much. Before he knew it, his fingers were moving lower, spreading the slippery lotion down to her inner thighs. Alisha obligingly parted her legs for him, and soon his fingertips were brushing the outer lips of her bare pussy as he touched her.
"Mmm, feels so good!" she moaned, spreading a little farther. Looking down, Clay realized that her pussy lips had parted so he could see her hot inner cunt. It was a deeper color than the rest of her skin, a smooth, creamy dark chocolate that seemed both intimate and inviting. His mouth watered, and he longed to lean down and press his face between her rounded curves so he could tongue her sweet wet pussy and taste the juices he could see making her inner folds shiny and slick.
But that would be wrong, Clay reminded himself sternly. Incredibly and inexcusably wrong. Even though there was no real blood tie between them, Alisha was related to him in so many ways. They'd grown up together, as close as two cousins could be. There was no way he should be fantasizing about spreading her plump pussy lips open so he could trace her ripe clit with his tongue and lap her cunt until she moaned and begged him to fuck her…
Suddenly Alisha flipped over. "I can't wait anymore," she moaned, arching her back so that her full, firm breasts stood out. "Do my front, Clay."
"I, uh…okay," he floundered. What else could he say? Alisha was deep in the dream now, and if he stopped acting the way she obviously expected him to act, he risked hurting her. Numbly, he squirted more lotion on his hands and started to stroke her shoulders and upper arms.
He was trying to avoid her full breasts, but she squirmed impatiently and frowned. "What are you doing?" she demanded, obviously displeased.
"Uh…I'm doing your front?" Clay was aware that his answer came out as a question, but he was so preoccupied with trying not to touch areas he knew he should stay away from—while his cock was hard as a rock and urging him to touch them anyway—that he couldn't think straight.
"Well, you're not doing a very good job of it," Alisha lectured. "You're completely ignoring my breasts—you know how sensitive I am there."
As a matter of fact, he did know. The memory of his younger cousin moaning with pleasure while he spread the burn gel over her smooth skin was still vivid in his mind. Spreading lotion on her breasts won't be any worse than that, he told himself when his conscience stung him at the idea of massaging her so intimately. And she was awake then and didn't seem to mind. In fact, she'd seemed to enjoy it a lot, and the thought of seeing that warm glow of pleasure on her beautiful face as he touched her was enough to break down any resistance Clay might have had.
"All right," he told her. "I'll do your breasts too."
Alisha smiled. "And pay special attention to the nipples. I usually don't burn, but there's no need to take chances."
"Absolutely, no chances," Clay agreed with her while pouring another big dollop of the buttery lotion into the palm of his hand. God, he was never going to be able to smell sunblock again without getting hard, but he didn't even care. He just wanted to touch her the way she wanted to be touched. The way she needed
to be touched.
Clay had had plenty of lovers, but he had to admit that cupping and massaging Alisha's firm, high breasts was the most erotic experience of his entire life. He knew it was wrong to feel that way about his younger cousin, but he couldn't seem to help it. The feel of her warm, smooth skin and the sight of his tan hands moving over her slender coffee-and-cream body was almost too much for him. But at least he wasn't the only one enjoying the taboo pleasure—Alisha was obviously enjoying herself as well. She was practically purring as she arched to meet his touch while moaning and gasping in obvious delight as he pinched and tugged at her hard nipples. Just watching her surrender herself completely to him was making Clay's cock so hard he was afraid it might break off in his pants.
He was enjoying the illicit pleasure so much that he was extremely disappointed when Alisha put her hands on his wrists to stop his massaging motion and smiled up at him. "I think that's enough, Clay," she murmured, giving him a warm, soft smile. "You did a wonderful job. There's no way I could get a burn on my top now."
Trying to hide his disappointment, Clay smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah, I tried to be, uh, thorough. Well, maybe it's time to pack up for the day. It looks like rain." He looked up at the bedroom ceiling as though scanning the sky for clouds.
Alisha pouted. "I don't want to go yet. And it doesn't look a bit like rain, Clay—you're crazy.