"What's yours?" Doyle asked, stretching out on the horrid bed. It sagged, it creaked, but it held his weight. Victory. He tucked his hands behind his neck and looked at Bodie. His partner was adjusting the camera again, peering through the view-finder with squint-eyed care.
"Wha...?" Bodie lifted his head.
"Leave the bloody thing alone, Bodie. There won't even be pictures to take until they get here, and we know when that is."
Bodie deliberately changed the height of the tripod, but it was just a bit of defiance--Bodie hated to be told to do things, sometimes. Liked to be in control. He'd long ago given up on trying to run the partnership, fortunately.
"We were talking about fantasies. I asked you to tell me your favourite one," Doyle said.
"Nosy little sod."
"I'm writing a book," Doyle lied.
"You just like listening to me talk dirty," Bodie said, and it was close enough to the truth to make Doyle grin.
"What else is there to do in this dump?" Doyle asked. "We didn't even bring a pack of cards."
"I'm tired of the way you cheat."
"It's the same way you cheat," Doyle reminded him. "That's why we're telling each other stories--and that last one was real fantasy! You as Tarzan, and Marilyn Monroe as Jane, making it on the back of an elephant!"
"Real fantasy, that was. Have you ever seen what's crawling on the back of an elephant?"
"Passion killer," Doyle accused.
"Sorry. And, it's your turn anyway." Bodie left the window to sit down on the room's one hard chair. Doyle already had possession of the creaking old bed--and he was welcome to it. Bodie had tested it earlier and found it wanting.
"But yours are better," Doyle told him.
"Other people's always are, because they're new. You've worn your own out, trotting them out every night!"
Doyle managed to look offended, even flat on his back. "Not every night!"
Bodie said kindly, "Yes, I suppose you do pull a bird every month or so!"
"As often as you do, so watch the innuendo."
"Tell me your fantasy," Bodie demanded, because he sensed Doyle was circling back to the subject and in this case, the best defence was a good offence.
He wanted to be coaxed, did he? Bodie smiled. "Can't be as good as mine, but since we've an hour to wait," he said, "get on with it!"
Doyle was talked into it. "In my favourite fantasy," he began, "I have the biggest bed in the world." He wiggled to get into a more comfortable position. Bodie watched as Doyle's eyes slitted as he pulled the details out of his memory. "I saw the bed in a catalogue, once. Nine feet by nine feet, it is. Huge. I've got silk sheets on it, and...."
"What colour?" Bodie interrupted.
"What colour? Oh, the sheets? It changes."
"Make them green--emerald green," Bodie suggested.
Doyle was willing. "Green silk sheets," he agreed. "With mounds of pillows of all sizes--and colours." He didn't want Bodie to ask about the colour again and so made a mental note to put it in. Interesting that Bodie would care about colours, since Doyle knew for a fact that his partner was just a tiny bit colour blind.
"Go on," Bodie said, as Doyle paused.
"To the left of the bed is a wonderful bath. Huge tub, three showers, green ferns, warming bars for the towels, massage table, oils, and a skylight which makes it appear as if there was no roof at all."
"Mmm?" Bodie encouraged.
"To the right is a kitchen. Everything you could possibly want to eat, and it's all there, already cooked and poured. There's a wonderful low table, with padded chairs--you could recline to eat, if you liked."
"Where's the sex?" Bodie asked, impatiently. "Most people don't dream of a bath and a kitchen!"
"Props, my lad. It won't make sense if you don't understand how it looks. On the bed," he went on, wanting to get to the good stuff himself, "are three beautiful women. One has red hair, and she's small. You know, those pert breasts that stick out like this, and big blue eyes. The next one is bigger. She has black hair a yard long, and even bluer eyes. She's bigger everywhere! The third woman is a blonde. She has the bluest eyes of all, and she's over six feet tall! Legs that go on forever, and the biggest breasts. Skin like milk and red nipples that stick out, begging for a mouth."
Bodie found his tongue running over his lips. "Go on," he urged, leaning forward a bit.
"The first young lady cuddles up to me, and we kiss and touch, but the second gets jealous and pushes her away, and after that, the third one does the same to her. They all want me, you see," Doyle explained.
"There's no accounting for taste."
"And I have 'em," Doyle went on, as if he had not heard his partner. "Only as they keep pushing each other aside and wiggling up closer--shovin' the others away while they do it--that I'm always making love to one of them, or parts of two or three, but it's never the same for long."
"They want me. And my magic dick. This is a fantasy, you know," he reminded Bodie. "In my fantasy, every time I come, my cock gets just a bit larger. And I come a lot," he added. A bit of a flush had touched his cheeks, and his eyes were bright. Bodie leaned forward just a little bit more, drawn to the sexual heat radiating off Doyle.
"So, I know it is going to get bigger each time I come, and so I want to get into the little redhead first. It's hard--there's the blonde sucking on my chest and the dark one on my cock while I kiss the redhead, Frenching her, really making my tongue show her what's in store!"
Bodie shifted his weight, but did not speak.
"I'm hard, and I struggle a bit, but finally get my cock free of the blonde and get it into the redhead. She screams in delight and we go at it like weasels until we come. Then, I fall onto my back and pop! My cock is bigger! The blonde has a cloth, and she jealously wipes away every trace of the redhead. Of course, I'm getting hard again."
"It is a fantasy!" Bodie agreed. Doyle gave a punch to the air in his direction, but didn't bother to move much.
"We twist about, all of us, and the blonde wraps herself around me, and while the others all complain and try to fight her off, I'm in her, but the other two gang up on her and pull her away. They tie her up and leave her to watch."
"Here's when the kinky stuff begins," Bodie predicted.
"Depends on your definition," Doyle began, but then abruptly he grinned at the ceiling and admitted, "Yeah!"
"So the redhead wants all of me she can get before I get too big for her, and the one with the black hair agrees to let Red have another turn. I'm on my back, and she sits on me--has to wiggle a bit to get it in--and then rides us both to heaven!"
"And when she's done?"
"Pop!" Doyle grinned madly. "Bigger!"
"Well, the ladies consult. It seems they are afraid I'll get too big for some things, and it's the Snow White one's turn...."
"The one with the black hair and white skin and red lips."
"You've named these ladies?"
"The names change, all the time. To get back to it...."
"Snow White wants it up the arse."
"This is turning into a bit of a fairy tale!"
Doyle waved him silent. "So Red sucks me up, and I watch while she rubs lube up her friend--very erotic, that, watching the two women together. Then she puts some on me, and I start to screw my way into Snow White. Not easy, either. But I do it, and I start to give it to her. You should hear the sounds she makes! Begs me, she does, for more and more."
"And you give it to her."
Bodie said carefully, "I didn't know you favoured sodomy."
"I...only tried it once," Doyle admitted.
Doyle shrugged, and then said, "Yeah. I liked it." He added, "The lady I did it to--it was her thing. She taught me, but we never had a re-match. Guess I didn't do it as well as I thought I did."
"Or maybe you were just too big," Bodie suggested. Heaven knows why Doyle had fantasies about getting a bigger cock. Bodie had seen him naked, and it looked a fair size to him. Maybe even bigger than his own, as much as he didn't like to think of Doyle besting him in anything.
Doyle laughed, and went back to his story. "I pull out of her, and--pop! Everyone admires the new size while the redhead washes us off. Then she wants me one more time before I get too big--but it's too late. It won't fit in! She goes to the corner and sulks. So Snow White, grinning triumphantly at her friend, gets to have me again, front side this time. I do a fine job, absolutely exhausting her, so that just as I finish, she's out like a light. And then--pop!"
"Thing must be the size of a brick by then!"
"Nice and big. Really big. So I go over to the blonde and untie her, and she's hot for it. Kisses and licks me all over, sucks me in--not too easy, her mouth strains around me, but she sucks me off! Right in her mouth--pop! Can hardly pull out. It doesn't matter to her, though. She goes back to loving me--catching my prick between her two wonderful breasts, rubbing against me. Then, when we're ready, she opens her legs. I have to work to get into her, it's wonderfully tight, but once I start to fuck it gets easier and easier. We go a long, long time, with her sighing and telling me how sweet it is, and me telling her I've never had anything like it. Eventually, though, the end comes--and I do! I fill her up with the last of my spunk--not a drop left--and pull out. I wait...."
"Pop?" Bodie suggested.
"Yeah. Pop! There I am, with the biggest cock in the world. We stop and admire it. But there isn't a twitch left in it, limp as a rag. We wonder what it would be like hard, but neither of us can get up the energy to try to get it up. We fall asleep, and when I wake up, they're gone, my cock is back to normal and--there are three more ladies coming in the door!"
"Then it all starts over again?" Bodie asked.
"With additions, changes, and adaptations. Sometimes we spend the whole time in the kitchen or the bathroom. Sometimes we have toys."
"Sometimes you must rub your cock raw, jerking off while you imagine all of this!"
"Maybe!" Doyle laughed. He checked his watch. "It's your turn now. Tell me your best fantasy."
Bodie hesitated just a second, then said, "I already did."
"Tarzan and all? Nah, that can't be it. I know you! Come on! It's your turn! Play fair. Your wildest, hottest fantasy."
"It's nothing like yours. You won't be impressed at all," Bodie told him.
"Let me be the judge of that! Come on, Bodie--cough it up!"
"Elegant turn of phrase," Bodie said dryly, but he did offer his own fantasy. "The bed's not huge. It's small. About the size of the one you're on." Just exactly that size, in fact.
"Cosy, for two," Bodie explained.
"And I'm there, and so is my own true love. It's almost dark, and we're cuddled up together. Kissing a bit. Whispering. Lover's things. You know?" Lover's things. I love you. I want to make love to you. I want you forever.
Doyle nodded and waited expectantly.
"We've just had sex, or are just going to. Doesn't matter. It's just the two of us, making promises in the dark."
Doyle waited. Bodie didn't say anything else. "And?" Doyle encouraged, when it was clear that Bodie wasn't going to volunteer more.
"That's it? Just the two of you, snuggling together?" Doyle didn't try to hide his disappointment. "There has to be more!"
"Why?" Bodie wanted to know.
"You're leaving out the good stuff!"
"About how we fuck our brains out? Don't need me to add in those little details, do you?"
"Aren't you the one who said other people's fantasies are always better? Because they contain something new? Go on, tell me what's new about this one!"
Bodie looked at him, half wanting to, half afraid it would be the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life. But it was just a fantasy. Doyle would never know how much truth there was in it. Doyle had already heard four or five of his fantasies tonight. He'd not put any extra weight to this one. Doyle had mentioned sodomy in his last one, so maybe it wouldn't be a real shock to him.
"Go on, Bodie? I won't laugh! What makes this a hot fantasy?"
Bodie risked it. "This one I'm with?" he began tentatively.
"Real raver, is she?"
"Sometimes," Bodie admitted. "And...sometimes, he is."
There was a silence.
"He?" Doyle asked, in a weak voice.
"Ah. Is this a really kinky fantasy, then? Who does what to whom?" Doyle's voice sounded normal. Almost.
"I don't know. We share equally, I guess."
"So you haven't had this fantasy long? Don't have the details worked out?"
About as long as I've known you, Bodie thought. And he didn't dare think too much about the details. After all, he didn't have experience to base them on. "No," he replied belatedly, to Doyle's question.
"So, who is it?"
"Anyone I know?" Doyle wanted to know.
"It's just somebody, in the dark." Liar. He knew who it was with him in that narrow fantasy bed. Knew whose curls were under his fingers, whose red lips touched his. Knew the emerald eyes which gazed into his own.
"That is kinky," Doyle admitted, with admiration in his voice. He didn't seem offended or disgusted that his partner might harbour a fantasy about a man.
"Thank you," Bodie said, with false modesty. He checked his watch and moved back over to the window, surveying the street below. "Almost time," he added, leaving the subject of fantasies behind to deal with the reality of the job.
Doyle sat up. From this angle, he could look at Bodie without his partner being able to see him. Doyle took a look at him, long and hard. Standing up, he stretched, still with his thoughts on Bodie's strange little fantasy. Wisps of thought swirled in his brain. His own fantasy lovers. The one he took up the back. Smooth dark hair, and eyes just a certain blue. Just a coincidence, right?
Maybe. But she came to his big bed a lot, Snow White, and she was always the one who offered--that. The one who made the most noise. And if you were going up the back, what was the difference if it was he or she?
He swallowed. Hard. Bodie's fantasy wasn't like his. It was quiet. Two people, saying lover's words. "I'm there, and so is my own true love," Bodie had said.
Bodie dreamed of...love?
Maybe, he thought, Bodie's fantasy is the wilder one, the more impossible one. A big bed and all the sex one could want, or--a small bed and your one true love?
And what would it be like to be in bed with Bodie? To love him. Physically, that way. And take it from him, because in all ways that love would be equal. Even in fantasy, he couldn't imagine Bodie being someone's passive bottom, and nothing else. Fair trade.
And lie abed, afterwards, whispering. To be, always and afterwards, Bodie's own true love?
A whisper in his mind told him there were some fantasies which could be real.
But not now. Now they had to take pictures of a drug sale for Cowley to use as a lever against one of the participants. Now they had to work. There would be time for fantasy later. And maybe for a new reality, too.
-- THE END --
Originally published in Old Friends, Chained to the Typewriter Press, c.1994