What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m obviously not asleep. This time, as I open my eyes, I grit my teeth and bear the agony of the light melting my eyes. Everything swims as nausea bubbles up my throat, threatening to eject the lasagna, which now sits heavy in my gut.

Perhaps it’s food poisoning? It was stupid of me to eat the lasagna after so long… but it tasted just fine. My pulse throbs in my temples as I ease my head back and forth.

After a few moments, my vision begins to clear. However, I wish I was able to go back to ignorant bliss. No longer does my television shine over at me, playing Christmas movies on repeat. It’s not the wintery glare from the living room window which threatens to rob me of my sight.

No.

I’m not home.

Not anymore.

I have no fucking clue where I am, and nothing I’m seeing gives me any information. Turning my head this way and that, I take in all the blinking lights and switches. Wherever I am is coated in steel. Every freaking inch is polished until it seems to glow.

Am I in the hospital? Did something happen to me? A mixture of terror and sorrow flood my system, making my vision blur. Everything was fine. It was fine. What could have possibly happened?

This time, I’m fully awake as I try to move. I jerk on my arm, terror coating the inside of my mouth, turning every swallow of spit into acid. My arm still doesn’t move, but at least it doesn’t feel like I’m paralyzed. More like I’m being restrained.

Thoughts race through my mind at the speed of light, far too fast to grasp any and pin them down. All it does is make my heart race and my breathing come in shallow gasps. Unbidden, my Mom’s face swims into view.

She should be a beacon, a vision of hope. Instead, it guts me to the core. Does this mean I’ll be seeing her soon? As much as I miss her, as much as I want to feel her arms wrapping around me, I still want to live.

I have so much left to live for. I had plans. Granted, they weren’t astounding, but I was going to get my life back together. I was going to get back to what I loved. Hell, I know several lawyers who would be happy to have me assist them. It was all going to be a new beginning. But now this.

Tipping my chin, I stare down at my naked body, most of the view blocked by my breasts. Across the top of my chest, a strap holds me immobile, and based on the sensations when I twitch, they go all the way down.

Help! I scream out, but the sound never leaves my lips.

It’s trapped in my mind, unable to be free.

“Help.” This time, a slight sound comes out, almost like a croak.

It’s barely audible, but I feel the air slip past my lips.

“Help!” My voice echoes in the room, bouncing off of the metal, echoing as it comes back. Like my own voice taunts me.

Again, that deep rumble from earlier buzzes about, but I can’t see where it’s coming from. I can’t understand it either, but that could be my hysterics getting in the way. Wetting my bottom lip with my tongue, I try again.

“Please, help me.”

Instead of responding, the person moves, a quick jolt of motion in my periphery. Turning towards it, everything in me stops. This has to be a dream. There is no way anything I’m seeing is real.

The person next to me looms up, easily over six feet tall. Muscles threaten to burst from a form-fitting… uniform? The shiny, metallic fabric stretches taut, leaving little to the imagination.

But that’s not the part that gives me pause. It’s the color of his skin. His hands, neck, and face are a unique shade of blue—one I don’t have the proper name for. His eyes are fathomless, dark blue, nearly black, matching the close-cropped hair on his head.

What the hell is happening? I blink, hoping it’s just a trick of the light, but it never changes. I can’t seem to process anything. A loud noise reverberates through my skull, making my head pound.

Nothing seems to make it stop. It’s not until his beefy hand presses against my lips does it go away. It was from me. Even though he’s robbed me of my voice, I can still hear myself screaming in my mind.

His lips move, allowing that deep sound to pour out, but I still can’t comprehend anything he’s saying. Perhaps I’m crazy after all? I toss my head back and forth, desperate to buck off his hand, but it holds firm.

Again, that niggle of terror twists my insides, priming my muscles to flee. If only he’d let me go. But then, where would I run? I have no fucking clue where I even am.

As he speaks once more, I realize I don’t have to understand him to know what he’s saying. The fierce frown flitting across his face tells me everything. Unfortunately, instead of ramping up my fear, all it does is make my core clench with unmistakable arousal. What the actual fuck?

He leans forward, his fingers impossibly long. They brush against my forehead in an almost tender manner, making my stomach flip. When was the last time anyone touched me with such gentleness?

I never really had time for men, apart from the occasional one-night stand to scratch an itch, but when Mom got sick, that narrowed my time down even more. Tears gather in my eyes as I lean into the stranger, desperate for the feel of his hands on my body.

My brain doesn’t even contemplate the fact that I’m restrained by this monster… It just feels so good to be touched. Until now, I didn’t realize how starved I was for affection.

As she got sick, Mom became fragile. As she got worse, she became even more frail and weak. I had to keep our interactions minimal. And after… well… it didn’t seem in good taste to get my rocks off while planning the funeral and going through her things.

But this nightmare proves I’m not meant to be alone. Because, let’s face it, with the absolute absurdity I’m witnessing right now, there’s no way this is real. Just the alcohol with a healthy dose of need and wanting.

How else could I picture a blue man with eyes so piercing they seem to see right through me? With a sigh, I rest my head back and stop fighting. If this is the only touch I receive right now, I might as well enjoy it. God knows my brain thinks I need this.

However, the moment I wake up, I’m booking an appointment with a therapist. Several people told me talking to someone would help, but I never wanted to be that far from Mom. Not when she could have gone at any moment.

I would have blamed myself if I wasn’t there for her passing. Especially if I was out there doing something for me and being so selfish as to not tend to her every chance I got. Now that she’s gone, there’s no one left to keep me tethered down. I have the freedom to talk to someone and unburden myself.

But do I really want to? I’ve never been the type to just unleash my feelings. It’s always better for me to puzzle through things until I get an answer. This dream is already telling me a lot about myself that I don’t need to pay a therapist to reveal.

It’s obvious I need to get back out there and date. At the very least, I need to satisfy these unmet urges. Why else would I want to ravage the strange man staring down at me as his fingers brush through my hair?

Only one thing remains that I cannot answer. Why the fuck is he blue? It doesn’t matter how hard I think, I cannot come up with a reason. Nothing I’ve watched had blue men in it.

True, I had wanted to see a Blue Man Group concert, but they looked nothing like the behemoth looming over me. And they didn’t make my pussy spasm with just a fierce slash of their brows. Did they even have eyebrows?

As he leans down, his hot breath washes across my skin, sending goosebumps up and down my arms. Thoughts of therapists and meaning can wait. For now, I need to just give in and take the pleasure my subconscious so desperately requires. Perhaps I’ll even invest in a vibrator after this… you know, something to take the edge off while I search for a man to assist me.