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An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 01

By: infiniteocean



Chapter 1 - The dream scanner

Geoffrey Warner paddled his log-canoe toward the desert island. It was mid-day and the shade provided by its half-dozen palm trees was strongly inviting. Stepping out into shallow water to pull his canoe up the white-sand beach, Geoffrey found that his arrival had been noticed. A woman stepped out of the shade of the palms, waved and walked toward him. Despite the glare from the sand, Geoffrey could see that she was beautiful, with a veritable mane of blonde hair, a golden tan, a tiny waist, gorgeous naked breasts with upturned pink nipples and long shapely legs. A small strip of cloth was tied modestly around her hips.

"I am so glad you're here, Geoff," she said in alluring honeyed tones, "I've been so lonely."

Geoffrey was not at all surprised that this houri should know his name, though he had never seen her before. He finished hauling his canoe ashore and, taking her welcoming hand, accompanied her back to the shade of the palms. There she gave him a drink, holding a coconut shell cup to his lips. When he had drunk, he sat with his back comfortably against a palm tree. She knelt astride his legs, lowered her face to his and kissed him passionately.

Geoffrey threaded his fingers through her hair, loving its silky texture. With his other hand, he stroked her soft skin from her waist to her ribcage and cupped a lovely breast. She smelt of coconut oil and wild grass. They kissed more deeply, their tongues intertwining. Geoffrey broke the kiss to pull her higher up him and take her scrumptious breast in his mouth when he saw that her nipple had gone completely white, followed by the breast itself and then all her skin. Suddenly the entire woman, the palm tress and the sea behind were bright white and Geoffrey was awake.

He groaned.

"How come you know how to wake me just at the best moment, Mona?" Geoffrey asked of his fellow student, Mona Macready. She walked from the light switch to the computer console while Geoffrey sat on the side of the narrow bed, blinking under the room lights.

"Who was it this time?" Mona asked him, having noticed the erection barely concealed by his jogging bottoms.

"You, of course," Geoffrey replied.

"Bullshit!" she scoffed, though not unpleasantly, adding: "I guess that's a keeper, though" as she typed commands into the computer to save the recording of Geoffrey's brain patterns and opened a new file for Geoffrey to work on.

"Start writing it up," she ordered, vacating the desk seat. "Don't go back to sleep."

Geoffrey took off the cloth headpiece that contained the brain-wave sensors and got off the bed. He sat down at the desk to record his dream onto the computer.

"Actually, she looked like Farrah Fawcett," he admitted as he started typing.

Mona smiled. During their laboratory sessions, she had learned the only thing she liked about Geoffrey Warner: that his taste in fantasy women belonged to a man twice his age; someone, in fact, like her philosophy professor, whom Mona was discretely seeing at their university.

"Someday, Mona, you'll appreciate exactly how much I have endured for the sake of this research," Geoffrey said, trying to sit comfortably in his aroused condition. "I suppose you wouldn't take pity on a needy fellow-researcher, would you?"

"You suppose rightly, Geoff."

She was genuinely not interested, though Geoffrey was quite a hit with many girls at the university, who admired his tall athletic body and his breezy manner. Mona was a serious woman, who would have actively resisted falling for Geoffrey even if her affections had not been secured elsewhere.

Mona was tall and slim with long black hair and pale green eyes, a long nose and pale skin. She did not smile often but it was like sunshine after rain when she did. She was also quite lonely because her serious manner and intense intellect were off-putting to most people, especially men, however much they admired her striking looks.

Mona and Geoffrey were the star pupils of Professor Gordon Whitehill, a neuroscientist, whose current research project they were conducting that night in the laboratory. They were recording the brain patterns caused by dreams. Mona was in charge of the experiment for a fortnight while the Professor attended a conference followed by a much-needed holiday. It was nearly the end of term and there were no more lectures for third-year students, who were revising for exams.

There were five subjects for the research: four men and one woman. They took turns to sleep one weekday each on a bed in the laboratory, wearing a cloth headpiece with sensors that detected waves in the different modules of the brain. A bright light woke up the dreamer at a moment chosen by the experiment's controller (Professor Whitehill or Mona), usually between one or two hours from the start of dreaming sleep. Waking up the subjects made it easier for them to remember their dreams.

By matching the images reported by dreamers to the recordings of their brain wave patterns, the Professor hoped to be able to predict the general content of a dream and, maybe one day, influence that content by stimulating some brain-centres while suppressing others.

The experiment and its potential therapeutic benefits seemed so worthwhile to Mona that she agreed to work overnight in the laboratory for two months; and, as participating in the experiment would count toward their degrees, all the students, even the lackadaisical Geoffrey, were keen to make it a success.

Of the two star pupils, Mona was conscientious, hard working and reliable: Geoffrey was unreliable but brilliant, getting excellent grades from minimal work. Needless to say, Mona and Geoffrey were rivals and, in the normal course of affairs, would surely have become lovers. Instead, Mona had loathed Geoffrey for as long as she had known him. This had not previously bothered Geoffrey, who had never lacked for a girlfriend; but since they had been working together, he had come to admire Mona and, curiously, the more Mona disdained him, the more he found himself charmed by her.

It was Mona's bad luck that Geoffrey turned out to be the best at recalling his dreams and that his brain provided the clearest patterns, making it easy for her to know when to wake him up out of the dream. Mona felt she could already read parts of Geoffrey's dreams, though this was only their fourth session.

Geoffrey finished typing up the report of his dream and leant back in the chair, yawning wildly and rubbing his eyes.

"I need to go back to sleep, Mona. Are you sticking around to torture me more or can I sleep peacefully now?"

"We are getting such good data, Geoff, it would be irresponsible not to make the most of every opportunity" she replied.

"'Responsibility' is your middle name, Mona," Geoffrey said, content that, after another tiring night of broken sleep, he would be rewarded with seeing Mona there when he woke up again. "I hope you are revising hard for the exams."

He meant this sincerely, but Mona heard it merely as a boastful taunt, meaning: "Of course, I am so brilliant I don't need to revise." It helped her not feel guilty for disliking him so much.

"Of course," she replied, sharply.

Geoffrey was going to offer to revise with her but was shut out so firmly by her response that he didn't dare venture his proposal.

"Okay," he said, "set me up again." He walked to the bed, put on his headpiece and settled again on his back. Mona turned on the scanners, checked they were functioning properly, started a new recording and turned the lights off.

Mona returned to the Professor's office to sit in his comfortable chair and study the previous results.

She read Geoffrey's description of the dream and separated out the various scans, trying to match the brain-patterns to the dream narrative. The order was completely jumbled and some patterns did not match to any details of the report and vice versa; but there were also strong matches, so that Mona thought she could actually see Geoffrey paddling his canoe, dragging it up the beach and, of course, having sex.

Mona took the sexual content of the dreams in her stride. Though she would not blame anyone for the content of his subconscious, it was to her complete surprise that Geoffrey possessed the least perverted mind. The subjects had to report their dreams honestly, of course, and only the subject himself, Professor Whitehill and Mona would ever see the content. It turned out that the scariest sexual episodes were those of the female subject, Claire, who always seemed to end up in tight bondage being whipped, spanked or fucked.

Kindly old Professor Whitehill, on first reading one of Claire's lurid reports, asked Mona to be the controller for all Claire's future sessions, thinking it would be less embarrassing all round. This turned out to be a wise decision when the Professor himself became an actor in one of Claire's unconscious fantasies. He must have been shocked to recognize himself ruthlessly wielding a bullwhip against Claire's tasty small bottom.

Having finished the analysis of Geoffrey's report, Mona glanced at the computer to check what the sensors were detecting and saw that Geoffrey had fallen asleep quickly and begun dreaming. His motor functions were lively: the speech centres and senses of taste and smell were also stimulated. Sexual arousal was prominent.

Geoffrey seemed to be having a good time, Mona thought, unlike her. She had seen her lover, Professor Andrew Cable, only twice in the last four weeks since the experiment began, due to her working at night and revising at most other times. Andrew was separated from his wife, who had left him a year ago, taking their two young children back to her parent's house in a town about fifty miles away. He therefore spent his weekends visiting his wife, children and parents. Mona trusted Andrew when he said the separation had been due to their incompatibility and was no one's fault. He was due to get a divorce; she would not have believed anyone who said his wife had left because of Andrew's constant infidelities.

Thinking about Andrew reminded Mona that she was feeling the strain of neglect. She longed for his touch, his gentle kisses and caresses and his harder, more urgent touches, when they wildly grabbed at one another, sucking, biting and thrusting. She was getting hot and wet from the thought. Mona abandoned her revision and began playing with herself, rubbing her clitoris slowly.

She felt the warmth rise in her and rubbed more firmly. She pushed one finger into her pussy, then a second, fucking herself while she massaged a breast, squeezing its nipple into a ripe hardness. Her pussy was quite sodden. Her tension rose. Mona breathed in gasps. Then she had a really wicked thought.

If Geoffrey did not annoy Mona with his arrogant air, his ability to pass exams without trying and his easy assumption that women would just fall at his feet, she would never have thought to be so mean to him; but think it she did, and (as was her wont) she acted immediately on the thought.

Mona fingered herself to a wrenching orgasm, throwing her head back and panting as her thighs shook. After calming herself down, Mona slipped off her shoes and snuck on tiptoe into the laboratory to stand by the sleeping Geoffrey. Knowing how powerful the sense of smell is in evoking memories, she held her wet fingers, scented with her vaginal juices, near to his nose for a few seconds. She then tiptoed to the washroom where she cleaned up and returned silently to the Professor's office to check on the experiment.

Geoffrey's signals showed that her interference had boosted his arousal. Mona matched the latest pattern with the final pattern from the earlier dream and guessed that Geoffrey was back on the desert island with the beautiful woman. She looked into the laboratory and saw Geoffrey had turned over and was humping the mattress. Mona had a moment of regret for what she had done. Much as she disliked Geoffrey, it would be a cruel trick to let him embarrass himself too much, so she activated the light to wake him up.

Geoffrey awoke from the best erotic dream of his life, believing he was actually having sex with the island woman. Noticing his undignified position, he got up quickly, stripped off his headpiece and sprinted as best as he could to the washroom, covering his erection with his hands. Mona, meanwhile, discretely kept her back to him, pretending to work on the computer.

In the washroom, Geoffrey masturbated furiously, remembering his encounter with the gorgeous island woman.

He had walked along the beach to the palm trees and seen the woman lying naked on her stomach, asleep in the sun. He knelt down beside her and gently brushed her blonde hair to one side and kissed her neck. She woke and began to turn over to greet him murmuring, "I'm glad you're back, Geoff, I want to feel the touch of your hands on my skin."

"Stay still, Sweet," Geoffrey said, "Allow me."

She settled back down, resting her head on her crossed arms, while Geoffrey leaned lightly over her, kissed her neck again and gently stroked down her spine to her buttocks and back up while she sighed her contentment. As he stroked, he kissed from one shoulder to the other. When he touched his hand to her thighs, she spread her legs and drew her knees forward to push up her bottom, arching her back to emphasise her curves and make the posture that Geoffrey thought was the most erotic possible for a woman. 

Geoffrey felt his arousal building, the stiffness in his penis beginning to take command over his mind. Heroically resisting his own needs, Geoffrey lightly rubbed his fingertips over the island woman's clitoris. She moaned encouragement and slowly raised and lowered her pelvis in time with her sighing breaths. He rubbed her pussy more firmly with the whole of his hand. After a minute, she was gasping as she breathed in and moaning as she breathed out. Geoffrey used more pressure, opening and closing his fingers to nip her clitoris in his fingertips. She began to buck vigorously.

As her chest heaved, the lines of the island woman's rib cage showed against her taut bronze skin. This was so powerfully erotic to Geoffrey, he struggled to concentrate on fingering her. Her eyes were tight shut and her mouth wide open as she moaned her pleasure, inspiring Geoffrey to rub her pussy more quickly.

The island woman hunched her back when the first jolt of an orgasm hit her. She hunched again, as if from an electric shock. She was riding her climax now as a third and a fourth jolt shook her. She pushed up onto her elbows, her head thrown back. Twice more she shuddered with involuntary spasms, gasping in a fit of ecstasy as her spine arched, straightened and arched again, her stomach muscles contracting rhythmically, her breaths loud and urgent.

Geoffrey could stand it no longer. He had never met so erotic a woman and had to take her immediately. He moved around behind her, grabbed her hips firmly and thrust his hot aching penis into her damp vagina. He was on his third hard thrust when Mona woke him up and he was surprised to find himself lying flat in the bed.

It did not take Geoffrey long to bring himself off in the washroom, spurting out hot white spunk. He cleaned himself up and meekly returned to the laboratory but Mona had already gone. She left a note by the computer, telling him to make sure the door closed on the lock when he left.

Geoffrey wrote as much of the dream as he could remember and then went back to bed for a few hours' much-needed sleep. He really did dream of Mona this time.

***

'An Experiment in Dreaming' continues in chapter 02.

An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 02



Chapter 2 - Mona misuses the dream-scanner

Geoffrey's session of the experiment was on Friday night and he did not see Mona after this until by accident on the following Thursday evening. Sitting at a table in the Student Union bar with some friends from the athletics team, Geoffrey passed on a piece of scurrilous gossip he had heard from an old girlfriend: Professor Cable ('Randy Andy' as everyone except Mona knew him) had apparently bagged his fifteenth blonde student of the year; a record for him.

Unfortunately, Mona was sitting at the next table, having come in for a drink with Claire prior to that night's experimental session. Mona rose fuming and accused Geoffrey of spreading malicious lies. Geoffrey was shocked: he knew nothing of Mona's affair with Andrew Cable and could not understand her reaction.

"Why are you defending him, Mona? Everyone knows what Randy Andy is like? Ask Claire" he challenged, somewhat indelicately.

Now it was Mona who was shocked. Her first thought was that the obnoxious Geoffrey had learned her secret and was using it to taunt her, spreading vicious rumours about Andrew to humiliate her.

"I am not defending him," she lied: "I just despise gossip."

But her face was bright red when she rushed out of the pub, closely followed by Claire, who looked angrily at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey sat and thought about what Mona's outburst meant, trying not to believe that the obvious explanation was the true one, that she was one of Randy Andy's conquests; or, worse, that Mona and Professor Cable were lovers and she was ignorant of his real character.

Mona had started off at a run to confront Andrew with the rumours when she heard Claire calling her to slow down. Mona was a lot calmer now and allowed Claire to catch up. Somewhat breathlessly, Claire asked Mona where she was going and what about tonight's experiment. This was a fair question. Mona took her responsibilities seriously and would not waste Claire's time nor let the experiment fail; but she wanted to know if the gossip was true. Or did she? Suppose the gossip was untrue or a trick by the odious Geoffrey, how would Andrew react to her believing it? Come to that, how would he react if the gossip were true?

"I don't know where I'm going," Mona finally answered, "except away from that bastard, Geoffrey, and the foul rumours he made up."

"He didn't make them up," Claire assured her: "He only spread them."

"So you believe the rumours, do you?" Mona demanded.

"Can we go somewhere to discuss it, Mona?"

"That means you do believe them, Claire."

"Please can we go somewhere private, Mona?" Claire implored.

Mona instantly decided.

"We'll go to the lab. I need to be setting up soon anyway. Come on!" She strode in fuming silence all the way to the lab, with Claire at the double, trying to keep up.

Mona unlocked the door and they stowed their bags. When they were sitting, Mona asked Claire what she knew.

What Claire knew was that Randy Andy had propositioned her in her first year, again in her second year and had certainly taken a friend of hers away for the weekend.

"I know that's not true", Mona began to insist before she stopped herself from admitting she knew Andrew went home to his wife and children at the weekends; but she had inadvertently betrayed her secret. Mona looked down as tears began to collect in her eyes. Claire went to hold her friend but Mona resisted sobbing and sat upright in her chair, raising her head, in firm control of herself. Claire spoke softly:

"Mona, I had no idea about you and Professor Cable, I really didn't. Nor, to be fair, did Geoffrey. ... I am so sorry, Mona. ... Mona, please talk about it if you want."

Mona did not want to talk about it. Nor did she want to confront Andrew now. She knew Claire would not lie to her but she did not want to believe her.

"I'd like to speak to your friend who is seeing Professor Cable, Claire."

"Is that a good idea, Mona?"

"I want to say one thing to her. There'll be no ranting or raving."

"It's not my secret to reveal, Mona."

"... I understand, Claire. Do you know if they are going away this weekend?"

"Yes, I think they are, Mona."

"In which case, there is nothing to be done for now. I'll speak to him when he gets back. Shall we get on with the experiment?"

Mona's preternatural calm was scaring Claire. She wished the girl would just collapse in sobs, but Mona's resilience was impregnable. Claire meekly complied and helped get the laboratory ready for the night's experiment, dressing the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases.

Meanwhile, Geoffrey had contacted some old girlfriends (he had many to choose from, all of whom were on good terms with him) to ask discretely if there were anyone Professor Cable was seeing more often than the usual flock of bimbos. None knew of any particular girl, or they would not tell Geoffrey unless he explained his reason for asking. That would compromise Mona, so he did not explain; none the less, Geoffrey was sure his guess was correct and he walked over to the laboratory to try to talk to Mona. He was quite pleased, however, that Claire unlocked and opened the laboratory door to him.

"Your presence will not help matters, Geoff," Claire wisely informed him.

"I know, but I want you to give a message to Mona. I know I upset her, though I do not know exactly why, and I just want to apologise. Can you let her know, please?"

"I will, Geoff. I believe you acted innocently, however stupidly."

"I certainly am innocent," he insisted. "But," he asked in a whisper "are you telling me what I think you're telling me about Mona and Professor Cable?"

"I am not telling you anything," Claire whispered back, "and you must promise to keep it to yourself," she added, spilling the beans.

"I promise, Claire. I don't want Mona to be hurt."

"You care for her?"

"I do, Claire."

"Well I wouldn't tell her that just now: she loathes you."

Claire shut the door and Geoffrey went away, somewhat dejected and very thoughtful.

That night's experiment went ahead as usual, though it started a little later than normal. Nor did Claire find it easy to sleep. They recorded only one dream. As was so often for Claire, the dream was a violent sexual fantasy. Of all people, her imaginary assailant tonight was Geoffrey.

***

Mona was working by night and sleeping until the afternoon so she put into action a plan she had devised on Thursday night only when she got up at 2:30 on Friday. She rang Geoffrey's mobile phone and, quickly putting off his concern for her, told him to turn up as usual for that night's experiment.

Meanwhile, she wanted to know the name of the subject of the gossip about Professor Cable, the 'fifteenth blonde'. She visited a couple of places where students went to gossip: the pub, the café and the Union bar. She learned what she wanted in the bar.

Her name was Carol Weaver. Mona slightly knew the girl: they had friends in common; so it was not that difficult to get her number. She phoned Carol while on her way to the laboratory.

"Hello?" Carol answered.

"Hi, Carol. It's Mona Macready here. We've seen each other around the campus."

"Oh, Hi, Mona. I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"Please will you give Andrew Cable a message for me."

"What do you mean, Mona? I am not in any of Professor Cable's classes."

"That's all right: this is a personal matter, not a schools matter."

"I don't know what you are insinuating, Mona, but I find it offensive."

Carol's evasions confirmed in Mona's mind that the rumours were true: sometimes it pays to be a psychology student.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Carol, sorry."

"What do you want with me, Mona?" Carol asked.

Mona hesitated. She had the confirmation she sought: she should just end the call now, but there are some people who cannot stand on the edge of a precipice without feeling the urge to jump in. Mona jumped.

"Can you tell Andrew that I will be around on Monday morning to collect my stuff from his house?"

"What stuff? Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"An overnight bag, a night dress and some slippers; ... because I want to speak to the son-of-a-bitch as little as possible. Thank you, Carol."

Mona ended the call. She was no more emotional at the end than she had been at the beginning. She ignored the ring tone when Carol phoned back immediately and nonchalantly dropped her mobile phone into her bag as she strode. Mona had no time for hysterical blondes.

At the laboratory, Mona put the next stage of her plan into action. She took out some equipment that was designed for a second experiment some time in the future, in which Professor Whitehill hoped to make the subjects repeat their dreams by playing the recorded brain patterns back to them. This required the use of 'inducers', components much like the sensors in the headpiece that read the subject's brain waves, but designed to create dream images in the brain.

Mona took Geoffrey's headpiece from its hook and swapped its sensors for the inducers, clipping them into place under the cloth lining. The headpiece connected to a computer via a cable. Mona unplugged the cable from its communications port and plugged it into another port. That done, she sat at the terminal to sort through the recorded dreams, choosing the program she wanted to run.

All this kept her busy until late evening, when she realised she was hungry and went for some food, getting back to the laboratory at 10:30pm, shortly before Geoffrey arrived.

From the moment of Geoffrey's arrival, Mona was professional, dressing the bed and preparing the brain-recording equipment. Geoffrey clearly wanted to talk to Mona but she pretended to be too busy and ignored him entirely. After reading for a while, Geoffrey decided he was tired, so he changed in the washroom and got into the bed wearing the cloth headpiece. Because of the changes she had made, Mona could no longer monitor Geoffrey's brain waves but she went through the motions of telling him the sensors were working fine and that she would begin recording now, wishing him a good night.

Though it was past midnight, Geoffrey was awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Mona looked into the laboratory and saw Geoffrey's eyes were open, reflecting the moonlight that lanced across the head of the bed from a high window. She put on the room lights and walked boldly over to Geoffrey.

"You want to say something to me" Mona accused.

Geoffrey was at a disadvantage, lying down in a bed and dressed only in jogging bottoms; but he sat on the side of the bed and removed his headpiece.

"I want to apologise for upsetting you."

"You know very well I am more than merely 'upset' and you also know why, so mock and despise me as much as you want."

"Mona, I don't want to mock or despise you at all. I do not know for certain what you think I know, but if there was something between you and Professor Cable, then I am deeply sorry for mentioning the rumour that hurt you so much. You have my complete sympathy."

It was a nice speech and did not deserve Mona's angry retort:

"Screw your sympathy, Geoff. You couldn't be happier."

Geoffrey controlled his temper. He got off the bed and stood in front of her.

"You are wrong, Mona. I am very unhappy for you. I had no idea at all about your affair with Professor Cable."

"It was not 'an affair'. I am not one of your sluts who go with just anyone. We were in love. ... At least, I was," she added quietly to herself.

Geoffrey did not make the mistake of taking her hand, though he wanted to.

"Believe me, I am truly sorry to have caused you misery."

She ignored him.

"I'd rather you crowed over me," she cried bitterly. "I'd rather you mocked me, despised me, told everyone how gullible and stupid I was; how easily seduced; how fondly I went after the one man who took me seriously; how I have no more sense than a bloody schoolgirl!"

She was blisteringly angry.

"I have been degraded and shamed but you are 'sympathetic'. Well I've told you what you can do with your sympathy."

"I don't know what to say, Mona."

Mona was on the edge of the precipice again, looking down into the chasm. Again she didn't hesitate.

"Don't say anything, Geoff. Here's what you can do: you can fuck me."

"What?"

"Fuck me. Use me. Degrade me. Right here and now. Treat me like the whore you think I am."

"I don't think you are a whore, Mona," Geoffrey protested.

Again she ignored him and steamrollered on:

"I want you to fuck me now, Geoff. No love, no romance, no promises, no sweet words, no gentle caresses. I want raw, rough, animal sex from you. Right now! It's what you want as well, isn't it?"

"Yes ... but not like this. Not now," he said, quietly. "Since we've been doing the experiment together, Mona, I have admired you more than I can say ..."

Mona scoffed and turned to stamp away back to the office, but Geoffrey took hold of her arm.

"Mona, I really am not to blame for the sins of Professor Cable."

Mona turned back to free herself from him but stayed facing him, apparently under complete self-control. She stood for a minute, her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the blaze had gone out.

"You are right," she admitted, calmly. "And fucking you would probably make things worse."

Mona was quite serious in wanting sex with Geoffrey. She felt cheap and dirty because of how Andrew had used her but in response she wanted to become even cheaper and dirtier. If Andrew had used her like a whore, then she would be a worse whore for Geoffrey. She did not deserve to feel so wretched. It wasn't her fault. But she would give herself to a man she despised even more than Andrew and then it would be her fault: she would deserve to feel wretched ... and then, just maybe, the pain would go away.

"Perhaps we should call it a night and go home," Geoffrey suggested, kindly. "I don't think I will sleep well or have pleasant dreams."

This statement seemed to alert Mona's scientific mind:

"All the more reason to stay and do the experiment, then" she said, adding: "I am all right, Geoff. I am sorry I made a fool of myself. Forget everything I said. I am under a bit of strain at the moment, as you know. ... We should stay and do the experiment. Work will be better for me than moping at home."

If Geoffrey had been worried by her drastic change of mood, he was even more disquieted by the unemotional way in which she had just spoken, as if she were reciting from a script. The woman in front of him seemed softer: she lacked Mona's cast-iron certainty, her sharp edges. Although he could never imagine Mona moping, he agreed that work might be the best remedy for her; and Geoffrey did not trust her to go home but feared she would go to confront Professor Cable, with untold unpleasant consequences. He therefore reluctantly agreed to go back to sleep while Mona set up the experiment again.

Despite his genuine concerns for Mona, Geoffrey did manage to fall asleep. When Mona was sure he was dreaming, she started the program to induce the recorded dream she had chosen into Geoffrey's brain. The dream Mona had chosen was Claire's most recent, in which Geoffrey had raped her.

When Geoffrey groaned and clenched his fists, Mona thought the program was working. She only hoped that he would be playing the part of Geoffrey rather than Claire, the humorous consequences of which she could appreciate even in her current, slightly irrational, state of mind.

Geoffrey dreamt that he and his girlfriend were in a nightclub. (He did not know his girlfriend was Claire, of course.) She had been acting the bitch to him all evening. Stroppy and rude, she had ignored him while flirting with any man who came near her. She didn't want to dance when he asked her but went off dancing with some stranger when he went to the bar. Finally he'd had enough of her behaviour. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the nightclub and (as happens in dreams) straight into their apartment.

He flung her down on the bed. She mocked him, daring him to do his worst.

Meanwhile, Mona had stripped off her clothes and walked silently into the laboratory. She got into the bed beside Geoffrey, gently pulling his shoulder so that he turned over onto his front as Mona slipped underneath him. She spread her legs so that Geoffrey lay between them, his penis hot and hard against her belly.

In the dream, Geoffrey ripped off all his girlfriend's clothes and threw himself onto her, trapping her arms over her head, thrusting his stiff penis into her without warm-up.

Geoffrey was thrusting for real on Mona but she had to guide his penis into her vagina for him. Once slotted in, however, even the zombie Geoffrey made an efficient, if not sensitive, lover.

Dream-Geoffrey put a hand around his girlfriend's neck and started choking her. The real Geoffrey robotically obeyed this programming and started slowly throttling Mona. She realised for the first time how dangerous her search for sexual degradation might be.

Mona's hands were free but it took all her strength to remove robot Geoffrey's fingers from her throat. She gasped with relief when she successfully guided his hand onto the pillow, which he gripped as readily as if it were Claire's throat in the dream.

Geoffrey now thrust harder into Mona, who wrapped her legs around his waist.

Unfortunately, the dreaming Geoffrey's lack of awareness meant he could not control his arousal in time with Mona's: his program had one command, to fuck the bitch as hard as he could. Geoffrey was following this program to the letter, thrusting ever harder and faster. It was uncomfortable for Mona.

Then Geoffrey obeyed the command of the program to take his girlfriend's breast in his mouth and bite. Mona shrieked and put a hand over her mouth to stifle her noise and avoid waking Geoffrey. She struggled to remain quiet when Geoffrey bit her hard again; but Mona's body knew better than Mona's mind how to respond. Her back arched and her pussy washed with her juices.

Geoffrey moved both his hands to her breasts and gripped them viciously, pushing himself up on his arms to pump her at full speed. Mona let her legs fall down and closed her eyes, succumbing to an arousal she had not wanted, as her zombie rapist brought her to the edge of orgasm.

But Geoffrey got there first, his penis throbbing as he shot out a load of warm cum, his frantic grip on her breasts making her gasp with pain. A few more thrusts brought his orgasm to an end, the program having run its course, after which robot Geoffrey collapsed onto Mona, his penis softening in her vagina, some of their combined fluids dribbling down her buttocks onto the bed.

Mona struggled out from under Geoffrey and crept to the washroom to clean herself. She arranged her hair, checked that his handprint on her neck was not noticeable and returned to the office to dress, having fulfilled her desire for animal sex and violation.

Geoffrey woke when Mona turned on the light and discovered he had ejaculated in his trousers and on the bed. Groaning, he stripped off the headpiece and rushed to the washroom not looking at Mona, who had returned to the Professor's office. Geoffrey cleaned himself up as well as he could and put his day clothes back on. He had forgotten the content of the dream but, emerging from the washroom, it suddenly came back to him and he froze, feeling ill to the pit of his stomach.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed to himself, "I committed rape! How could I do such a thing, even in a dream? Why didn't I wake up? I even came! This is sick!"

Geoffrey sat down, trying to come to terms with the meaning of the dream: was he a rapist at heart, in his unconscious? He knew he loved and respected women, never showing them any violence; but what if deep down he was the character in his dream. He looked up when Mona came back into the laboratory. She saw the shame and guilt in his face and had a moment of regret, which she suppressed because the arrogant bastard deserved what she had done.




An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 02



Mona told Geoffrey that the dream had not recorded properly, so he need not write it down. He would not have written it down, anyway, but was preparing to make something up about the island woman again. Though it was only 3am, there was no question of his going back to bed. He spoke no further but cleared away the bedclothes for washing and hung his headpiece on its peg. Then they both went home.

***

'An Experiment in Dreaming' continues in chapter 03.



An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 03



Chapter 3 - Geoffrey investigates

It was Saturday morning and Geoffrey was thinking over his shaming experience again. He hadn't had a wet dream since his mid-teens and he had never dreamt about raping anyone. The messy result of Friday's dream had been so demeaning to him that he wondered if Mona's recording had really failed or whether she had practised an unaccustomed delicacy by not asking for the report.

The dream also happened to reveal Geoffrey to be exactly the sort of man Mona had wanted him to be that night, sexually vicious and animalistic. These thoughts forced him to become deeply suspicious of Mona.

His strongest suspicion concerned the dream recording. It would be easy to check if the recording really had failed: a friend in the computer department could give him access to the laboratory's file server.

There was athletics practise from 10 until 12, which Geoffrey attended. He was showered, home and had eaten lunch by 12:45, which was a good time to phone a nerd.

"Yo, Dude!" Zorba the Geek answered brightly, "How's it going?"

"Fine, thanks, Zorba. Tell me: have you done anything illegal lately?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, Geoff. What's your pleasure?"

"I need to see if any files have been deleted from Professor Whitehill's lab server on Friday night between about one and three in the morning. Also, I need access to some documents on the server."

"Are you coming 'round or do you want me to mail you the stuff?"

"I'm not sure which files I need. I'll come around. Are you in c-lab now?"

"Yeah, we're setting up for some online fan-boy video conference tomorrow; something to do with rubbishing comics. Doesn't interest me, but they're paying my time until I go to the band contest tonight; which is cool 'cos I finished half-an-hour ago and we've only got to test the connexions."

"Can I bring you anything: pizza, Red Bull, blow-up woman?"

"Actually, you could bring me a real woman. You're just the guy because I've seen you with her."

"Who is it?"

"That tall, beaky Irish girl. All the guys here are creaming their pants over her."

"Do you mean Mona Macready?"

"Yep."

"I am afraid she's unavailable. Why do you guys like her?"

"Are you kidding? She's serious crumpet: she's bright, driven, self-confident and she scares the shit out of us. You don't think we go for vacant bimbos like you do?"

Geoffrey laughed, wondering if Mona knew she was such a hit with boys whose ambition was to live in their own basements.

"I'll arrange a double date for you, me and a couple of nice women who won't scare you, but please don't call them 'chicks' or 'babes'. Now, shall I bring beer?"

"Random! See you in fifteen."

At the computer laboratory, Geoffrey waded through the usual sea of discarded cardboard packaging, unread instruction manuals, old desktop cases and bins overflowing with junk-food containers to find Zorba sitting in front of a huge monitor, playing a shoot-'em-up against an antipodean enemy, Ozweasel.

"Looks boring, Zorba," Geoffrey said, plonking the beer in front of the monitor, obscuring the scene in which Zorba had brilliantly manoeuvred his racing tank behind Ozweasel's armoured sports car, preparing to blast him with a cannon.

"Bollocks!" Zorba said: "I was kicking Ozweasel's arse, Geoff."

"He's probably twelve years old and should be in bed. It's one in the morning over there."

"Yeah, well, move that shit and let me sign off, there's a good procurer."

"I'll open one for you, shall I?"

"Random!"

Then they set to work. It was easy to see that Mona had not deleted any brain pattern recordings on Friday night, which might mean that the program did not run properly, as she said; but Geoffrey still suspected Mona and thought it was best to check the program that drove the brain-wave sensors.

"Can you show me the list of applications running on the lab computer using the comms ports on Friday night from around midnight onward?"

"Yeah." Tappity, tappity, tap went Zorba's fingers on his keyboard. "Here they are."

There were a round dozen programs.

"Keep those there please, Zorba, and now show me Thursday night's apps as well."

Tappity, tappity, tap. Eleven of the same programs showed up and one new one.

"The one that's different on Friday night: any idea what it does?" asked Geoffrey.

"Not a clue. Can't find out either, except by running it, unless you can read code?"

"Nope; but look: it uses a different comms port from the program it replaced. What's connected to that port?"

"Could be anything. You'd have to go look at the hardware to know."

"One more thing, Zorba, can you give me rights to the documents on the server?"

Tappity, tappity, tap.

"There you are: password, 'changeme'. It'll last a day, use any of the terminals."

"Random!"

Geoffrey started to look at all the dream experiments to see if any suffered from recording failures: Mona would be sure to make a note if that happened. He saw she had done so on Friday night in his case, for example.

There were no other recording failures. On a hunch, Geoffrey copied the reports of all the dreams onto a memory stick.

"You've been a lot of help, Zorba, thanks. I'll phone you about that date, OK?"

"Random. Laters!" Zorba was back on line, blowing holes in Ozweasel's car with a 50mm Gattling gun.

When Geoffrey got home, he began reading the dream reports from the oldest to the newest in the daily order that the subjects wrote them, starting with Steve on Mondays, then Mark on Tuesdays, Colin on Wednesdays and Claire on Thursdays. An hour or so later, he had learned only that he was not unique in dreaming of rough sex: both Steve and Mark did so, too, and far more often than him.

Geoffrey was also amused to discover how regularly Claire dreamed of bondage and punishment but when he read Claire's last dream he was astounded. On Friday, he had somehow had Claire's dream, almost scene for scene. Either the brain scanner had given him telepathy, he thought, or Mona was up to something. Repudiating any idea of telepathy, there were two questions Geoffrey had to ask: How had Mona infiltrated Claire's dream into his brain? And why had she done so?

He had no means to guess at how Mona had induced him to dream Claire's dream, though it surely had something to do with that changed computer application and the different communications port. He would have to get into the laboratory to learn more; but only Mona and the Professor had keys.

Geoffrey turned instead to his other question: Why did Mona get him to dream Claire's dream?

His first guess was that Mona wanted to humiliate him by causing him to have a wet dream, perhaps as a punishment for revealing the truth about Randy Andy.

If so, it might be useful to speak to Claire, who had been with Mona on Thursday night. Maybe she could say if Mona had talked about revenge on him. Geoffrey had no idea how to ask Claire this; then he remembered the band competition that night. Maybe he and Zorba could take Claire and another friend to the show. That would be a start and he might be able to improvise if he could get Claire on her own.

Geoffrey telephoned Claire to ask if she was free that night to go to the band contest.

"I am already going with Sarah," she replied.

Geoffrey knew Sarah, one of Claire's housemates, as a sweet, plain, quiet girl: intelligent but shy. The old, shallow Geoffrey never paid her much attention but since he had learned to appreciate qualities other than surface good looks, he could see that Sarah and a cleaned-up Zorba might well suit each other.

"Here's an idea: I am going to the band contest with Zorba. Would you and Sarah like to make a party of four?"

"Who's Zorba?" Claire asked.

"Zorba the Geek."

Silence.

"Er, ... Joe Mosely, techie guy from the c-lab, wears Hawaiian shirts and an IQ reducer."

"A what?"

"I mean he wears a baseball cap backward."

"You want to bring this paragon for me or for Sarah?" Claire was not amused.

"Just a party of four, Claire. I promise you he'll clean up nice. He's good-hearted and very intelligent: it's just that he spends more time interacting with computers than with women. We'll be with you at 7pm, okay?"

"Okay, I suppose, but I'll check with Sarah first."

"Phone me if she objects," Geoffrey said, ending the call. He immediately rang Zorba.

"Zorba, you and I are going to the band contest tonight with Claire Burton and Sarah Dyer, OK?"

"Quick work, Panderus. Where are we meeting?"

"I'll fetch you at 6:45 and take you to Claire's. Meanwhile, I want you to do three things. First, you need to clean yourself up, including brushing your hair. Second, you need a decent shirt and trousers, freshly laundered and preferably ironed. Any styles will do, so long as they are plain and smell of soap. You should also smell of soap. And wear some clean shoes. Women always notice shoes."

"You what? Why can't I go as I am?"

"Zorba, trust me, if you want a woman to like you, the best start is to smell of soap. I can't guarantee you'll get laid (that's not the plan, anyway) but if you go as you are, I guarantee you'll get ... er ... unlaid."

"Well, all right, but where am I going to get clean clothes?"

"You do know there is a launderette on campus, don't you? Do you need me to help you work the machine? You've got about four hours. My third rule is that you are not to talk to either woman about computers, video games or the weird music you listen to. OK? See you at 6:45. And, oh, yeah: can you get me a ticket?"

"No probs. Laters, Dude."

Geoffrey and the freshly scrubbed and brushed Zorba, reeking of soap, uncomfortable in his pale blue shirt with a button-down collar, grey slacks and leather brogues, arrived five minutes early at the house Claire and Sarah shared with two other girls. Claire let them in and they waited in the lounge for Sarah. Claire was nicely dolled up in a red frock and black heels, but she brushed off Geoffrey's compliment, saying she took every chance she got to dress up.

Then Sarah came down. She had on ankle-length boots, torn jeans held together with large pink safety pins, a tee-shirt in support of one of that night's bands, a denim jacket and green highlights in her spiked-up mousy-coloured hair. Her transformation astonished Geoffrey and he fumbled the introduction, so Sarah introduced herself to Zorba, the only person she did not know there.

"You're supporting 'Descended Larynx' tonight, are you?" Zorba asked Sarah, looking at the logo on her tee-shirt.

"Yes. You like them?"

"They suck pony!"

"They do not! So who are you supporting?" Sarah asked.

"Road Kill."

"Yuck! Pretend Jurassic rock-heathens. Anyone better?"

"Autopsy."

"Yeah, they're random." Sarah granted him that. "Who else?"

"Slug Juice."

"Now, they really suck pony. Their lead guitarist, Spanner, ..."

"Wrench."

"... whatever ... he poses like a rock god, shakes his guitar around and does that windmill rubbish with his hand. You know he can't play."

"At least they don't just play the same four chords, like 'Larynx'," Zorba insisted.

"Don't they? What about 'Chunking On Your Doorstep'?" asked Sarah, really enjoying teasing the uptight square in his casual clothes and neatly brushed hair who thought he knew about music.

"I don't know that one," Zorba said.

"Maybe I got the name wrong. It's their big number but it sounds flat and insipid in the coda. You know why? It's because it needs the progression B-flat, F, D7 but Spanner can't play it quick enough, so he leaves out the F."

Geoffrey had long since given up waving frantic "schtum" signs to Zorba.

"Have you any idea what they are talking about, Claire?" he asked, sotto voce.

"They are Fargs from the planet Gorm," she answered, seriously. "They speak a language called 'Indie Garage Funk'."

"Claire!" Sarah protested, "You know there is no such thing as 'Indie Garage Funk'."

"Yeah, that would really suck pony. ... 'Larynx' could play it," Zorba said, starting his argument with Sarah again, which continued all the way to the Student Union, where the band contest was to be held.

Sarah and Zorba argued about music while in the queue to the venue, then through the first few bands, none of whom they liked, and together in the crush at the bar. But it was an argument they both enjoyed and they were getting on so well that Geoffrey thought he could safely steal Claire away for a private conversation. He invited her to the chill-out room.

Claire was not much interested in the music. She had come to accompany Sarah and to support Mark, one of the other subjects of the dream experiment, who was playing drums in his band, Leviathan, due on at about 10pm. She had plenty of time to talk to Geoffrey, for whom she had once quietly had the hots.

They had the chill-out room to themselves when they got there.

"Have you spoken to Mona today?" Geoffrey asked.

"No. We spoke briefly on Friday afternoon. How was your session last night?"

"Odd. She seemed to be having drastic mood swings."

"I found her too calm and unemotional," Claire said, explaining how Mona betrayed her secret then rigidly controlled herself. "I am worried she is bottling it all up and she will explode sometime. She got on with the job almost mechanically."

"She did sort of explode Friday night," Geoffrey said, "but then it all washed over and she was her normal icy self. She admitted about Randy Andy but my sympathy made things worse. I feel dreadful about sticking my foot in it. You will tell her, won't you?"

"Of course. ... How much do you like Mona, Geoff?"

"Hmm. ... Oh, you know, she's striking looking and fearsome intelligent, and I've come to enjoy her company since we started on this project; but she's not my type, you know."

Claire knew. Claire wasn't Geoffrey's type either, she thought, because she was a slim brunette rather than a curvy blonde.

Their conversation had stopped. In the silence, Geoffrey considered how to discover Mona's motivation. He wanted to tell Claire of his suspicions concerning his dream on Friday night, but he could think of no way to broach the subject. He could not admit outright he had read her dreams but would have to work up to it. He resolved to try because Claire would be an invaluable ally if Mona were up to something self-destructive, which was his major worry.

As for Claire, she now assumed Geoffrey's desire to talk about Mona was just a pretext and that he got her alone for the obvious reason she always associated with Geoffrey. In fact, she was fascinated to learn what his seduction technique would be. She might even allow herself to succumb if it was any good.

After some thought, Geoffrey decided he would recruit Claire and he would do so by gently letting her in on his secret, telling her about his dream and gauging her reactions before telling her more, such as some of what Mona said to him and what suspicious things she had been doing.

They had sat in silence for a few minutes longer while Geoffrey rehearsed his speech to himself and Claire enjoyed feeling butterflies in her stomach, waiting for him to begin his approach.

Here it comes, she thought, when Geoffrey turned toward her and gave her his full attention. She sat up expectantly. Geoffrey began, saying:

"I had a dream about you last night, Claire."

Claire was hugely disappointed: worse, she was offended. Of all the lame, boorish, schoolboy opening lines! How can Geoffrey have been so successful, or were all his girlfriends completely stupid?

"Spare me" she said angrily, getting up and walking toward the door.

Geoffrey realised he had blundered somehow and stood up after her, trying to explain but the door opened just at that moment and Mona walked in, to be confronted by Claire's red face and Geoffrey's guilty look. She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I was looking for you both. I am going backstage to wish Mark good luck with the competition. Are you coming?"

"I'd like to come, Mona, thanks," said Claire, putting such an emphasis on 'I' that Geoffrey understood his company was not required. He stayed where he was. Taking this in, Mona said "Goodbye, Geoff" and led the way. Claire's strutted after, her anger noticeable in the swishing of her skirt and the stamp of her heels.

Geoffrey stood in dejected incomprehension. He thought he was fated to be misunderstood that night; and he was no nearer solving the puzzle of Mona. He resolved to leave. On his way out, he caught a glimpse of Sarah and Zorba, jigging along to one of the third-rate student bands, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Even his inadvertent success in matching these kindred souls could not console him. Geoffrey spoke to no one but went home.

'Descended Larynx' won the band competition and Zorba handsomely conceded to Sarah that they deserved it. 'Road Kill' and 'Slug Juice' came nowhere. After the competition, there was a disco. Sarah and Zorba danced together all evening and at midnight, when the lights went low and the slow music began, they shared their first kiss. A few dances later, Sarah moved Zorba's hand from her waist and put it on her breast. She moved his other hand onto her bottom and ground her pelvis slowly into Zorba's erection. This was not a long-sustainable manoeuvre for a twenty-year-old he-virgin but Zorba did not want her to stop.

Pretty soon, however, Zorba did briefly push Sarah away from him: after all, they were his best trousers and freshly laundered. Sarah understood and kissed Zorba deeply. Then it just seemed as natural as anything that she would take him back to her room, with only a short wait while he bought some protectives.

The two virgins made sweet, sensual love that was for Sarah only slightly painful at first. Sarah had read manuals and lots of romances and was very pleased to discover that words could not convey the satisfaction of an orgasm from a man absolutely smitten with her.

Zorba, a male child of the internet generation, was all too familiar with pornography and he was even more pleased to discover that, although Sarah didn't wail like a banshee, nor want to swallow his semen, nor ride him facing the camera, squeezing her own breasts, biting her lips, yet she was an erotic powerhouse. Her gasps and moans of pleasure, her pelvic thrusts meeting his stroke for stroke, her muscle spasms at the height of ecstasy, her arms and thighs gripping him, not wanting him ever to leave her, made the online facsimile of passion seem even less than two-dimensional.

At midnight, Mona had walked back with Claire. After a cup of coffee at Claire's, she made her way home via the laboratory, where she took the brain-wave inducers out of Geoffrey's headpiece and put them in Steve's.

***

'An Experiment in Dreaming' continues in chapter 04. 



An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 04



Chapter 4 - Mona gets what she thinks she wants

***

There was an athletics meeting on Sunday. Geoffrey was not competing but went to the team warm-up to help and stayed to lend his support; but he was so downcast that he was neither help nor support. Afterward, instead of going to the pub with the team, he had a lonely dinner at home and went to bed early, feeling useless. His every waking thought turned to Mona.

After sleeping on it, Claire did not take her disappointment with Geoffrey on Saturday night very seriously. She was too happy for young Sarah, who had kept Zorba enraptured in her room all Sunday. They emerged only to use the bathroom or to replenish their supplies of cornflakes and condoms.

Mona spent Sunday sleeping until the evening, when she was alternately angry and miserable. Fucking Geoffrey had not alleviated her feelings of self-reproach: she felt no better for having tried to feel worse. Mona felt she had leapt from the precipice but not yet hit the ground.

Even the scientific success of the brain-wave inducers barely interested her. However, she did have a plan for Monday.

***

Early Monday morning, to Geoffrey's complete surprise, Mona woke him with a telephone call.

"Hi, Mona," Geoffrey answered, trying to focus on the bedside clock. "What's up?"

"I want you to meet me at the entrance to the laboratory building at eight o'clock."

There was silence.

"It's polite to make a response of some kind."

"Are you sure it's me you want, Mona?"

"If you treat me like an idiot, Geoff, I will go without you. ... 8am: Lab building."

She rang off.

At 8am, Mona arrived. Geoffrey had already been there ten minutes.

"Follow me," she commanded.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You'll find out when we get there."

They walked out of the lab building, across the street and off the campus, heading to the town. Most of the houses along the road were student accommodation and suitably grubby but when they got into the town and turned down a side-street, the houses looked like people cared for them. Mona marched up the steps to the front door of one and rang the bell imperiously. Geoffrey had not asked any more questions and Mona had not spoken for the twenty minutes of their journey.

The door was opened by Professor Cable.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Macready. Please come in."

"This is Geoffrey Warner," she said, marching past Andrew.

"Hello, Mr. Warner, I recognise you from the athletics team. You did extremely well in hurdles this year. Please come in."

Geoffrey and Professor Cable shook hands.

"Thank you. The team did very well, Professor: I was only average."

"I am sure you are being modest, Mr. Warner," Professor Cable suavely assured him, leading them into his sitting room. "I am just preparing breakfast. Can I offer you anything? I have coffee, tea ..." Mona shook her head, "... toast?" he asked, looking at Geoffrey.

"No thanks," said Mona, firmly, "we're not stopping. Did you get my message, Andrew?"

Professor Cable glanced at Geoffrey when Mona used this familiar form of address and from Geoffrey's lack of surprise gathered that he was in on the secret.

"I did, Mona, but I did not understand it," he replied. "Can we discuss the matter privately?"

"No, I want Geoff to hear what we say."

"Why?"

"It's quite simple, Andrew. I was fucking you: now I am fucking Geoff."

Professor Cable was more offended at her abrupt tone than by her vulgarity.

"Please, Mona, do me the courtesy of talking to me privately."

"I'm going to fetch my stuff, Geoff," she said, ignoring Professor Cable. "I'll be a couple of minutes" and without asking permission, trotted upstairs, leaving the men alone.

"Did you put her up to this, Mr. Warner?" Professor Cable asked.

"You realise how silly that question sounds, Professor? It is Mona we are talking about."

"I see what you mean. ... Look, I don't know what Mona told you about us ..."

"Nothing at all, so far, Professor, except what she just said."

"Really? ... Well, the truth is that I love her and want her to stay with me, so would you be kind enough to leave us alone for a few minutes so I can straighten out this mess?"

"I would, Professor, if I didn't love her myself."

Geoffrey did not know why he had said this. Perhaps it was simply to deflate the pompous man in front of him. Maybe any stag will confront another stag and not back down simply because he is another stag. Yet Geoffrey's admission was also a profound self-revelation.

"Is that so? How well do you know Mona, Geoffrey? May I call you Geoffrey?"

"I prefer 'Mr Warner', Professor. I don't know Mona very well, though we have been acquainted three years. I look forward to knowing her better."

Mona entered to catch the end of what Geoffrey said and gave him a suspicious look.

"Well, that's all my stuff," she said, holding her overnight bag and another small leather bag. "I've taken this bag to put my CDs in, Andrew. Come on, Geoff, let's go."

"Just like that, Mona? You have nothing to say to me?" Andrew asked.

"No. Just like that, Andrew. Goodbye."

"I love you, Mona," he said, "Please stay and talk."

"You love me, Andrew, yet you slept with Carol Weaver and took her away this weekend when you were supposed to be visiting your wife and children. And you slept with fourteen other bimbos. What do we have to talk about? Come on, Geoff," she repeated, emphatically, "we're going."

Geoffrey obeyed, thanking the Professor for his hospitality but Andrew stayed in the hallway, staring at the closed door. He mumbled to himself "But I didn't!"

Outside, and striding back to the university campus, Geoffrey said:

"OK, Mona, I understand. You've used me to get even with Professor Cable and I admit I enjoyed the look on his face; so are you satisfied now?"

"No, not yet, but I will be. As for you, what did I hear you say to Andrew about me?"

"I hope you heard me say I loved you."

"That pissed him off, did it?"

"I didn't say it to piss him off, Mona. I meant it, though I didn't actually realise it until then."

Even the forthright and determined Mona stopped dead at that statement. Geoffrey bumped into her and held her to prevent her falling. For a moment she shut her eyes and relaxed in his arms; then she shook him off and faced him aggressively:

"You bastard!" was all she said. Then she turned and raced back to the University.

***

At 10pm, Monday night, Mona was in the laboratory, making the bed and preparing the equipment for Steve's session that night. She heard the door open and assumed it was Steve a little early, so she carried on. It was Geoffrey. He walked up to her and quietly spoke her name. She turned, not hiding her surprise at his effrontery.

"I know what you're doing, Mona," Geoffrey said.

"Is that right, Geoff?"

"I've read the dream reports. All of them. Including Claire's last one."

Mona was silent.

"You did something with the dream scanner to make me dream Claire's dream on Friday."

She still said nothing.

"Mona, I know why."

"Really?"

"I do not know your whole motivation, but I know that hating me is part of it. I thought it was just my personality you despised, Mona, but it is far deeper than that. Mona, what did I ever do to make you hate me like this?"

Mona stood still for a moment to decide; then she sat down at one of the laboratory benches, indicating that Geoffrey should do so too. He sat opposite her.

"Do you remember how we met?" she asked.

"No. I think I've always known you since we first got here. We were in the same neuro-science classes since the beginning."

"Yes, but we did not speak to each other until we met at a party during the first term."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember. There were lots of parties back then."

"I know. I went to many of them, trying to make friends and meet people. I especially wanted to meet my kind of man and I finally did meet him at that party. He was tall, athletic and reasonable-looking, though not classically handsome; but his most alluring feature was that he was interested in ideas. You know how rare it is to find people interested in ideas and not just in feelings or opinions? When I spoke to this man, he didn't open with the usual chat-up lines, asking me what my star-sign was, what I was studying or the bands I liked. He asked me what I thought about. He wanted to know my mind. We discussed books and poetry and films and philosophy. I was smitten."

Geoffrey knew she was talking about him. He had been like that at first, until he started taking the easy route in relationships; but he still could not remember the party or the conversation.

"What happened?"

"He was only drinking beer but he got very drunk and started slurring his speech. His friends brought him another pint, which he gulped down. Soon he was completely plastered. He started talking gibberish. He said he'd never met a girl like me, and similar nonsense, then put his arms around me and tried to kiss me. The interesting, cultured, intelligent man I'd known for a couple of hours had turned into a groping ninny, so I pushed him away and walked off. Later I saw him, even more drunk, going upstairs with Cindy Maxwell and Karen Curtis."

"Oh my God! 'The nympho twins'!" Geoffrey exclaimed.

"I don't suppose you were much use to them, you were so drunk."

Geoffrey honestly did not remember anything about that party, nor about the following day or two, though he learned afterward that friends had spiked his beers with vodka because it happened to be his birthday.

Geoffrey now thought that, if there is a benevolent god who allows drunks to fall over without breaking their limbs, then there must also be a malevolent god of drunks who wipes the memory of a man who spent the night with the 'nympho twins'. The same demon also caused him to alienate Mona from their very first meeting.

Geoffrey sunk his head and kept silent.

"Since then, I have watched your career with disgust." Mona continued her harangue. "I have lost count of the number of vapid females whom you've chased, easily won and boasted about. When I think of you, I think: What a waste! There goes someone who could have been a real man, but he was interested only in meaningless conquests. It's not as if modern women put up any resistance; as if you have to work hard to get students to shag you. Meanwhile, you spurn meaningful relationships with any woman who has a soul. I suppose you think such women are demanding or difficult or expect fidelity."

She stopped to breathe in and Geoffrey had a moment to speak.

"Mona, you are exactly right about me except for one thing: I have never boasted about any woman who has been kind enough to make love to me. The women I have 'chased', as you call it, have just as often chased me. When we meet, we make love guiltlessly, for joy, and we always part as friends. I suppose I do prefer uncomplicated women ..." adding quietly, as if to himself, "at least, until now."

"Well, it's manly of you to admit some of your guilt."

"I'll admit more than that. I was once exactly the facile man you describe, flitting from one short relationship to another, especially in the first year of university. I was like a starving man presented with a banquet and I leapt in, grabbing food from every plate. It was wrong and stupid but since then I have learned to savour my food. And I have never been unfaithful during a relationship."

"Do you think that makes me think any better of you?"

"No, you shouldn't think better of me, Mona, but you have misjudged my girlfriends. You are wrong to accuse me of chasing after easy conquests: all my girlfriends have been healthy, honest, loving women, not sex-mad sluts, nor 'conquests', nor notches at the end of my bed-post."

Mona was silent for a minute, thinking hard; then she quietly admitted:

"Maybe I have misjudged your girlfriends, Geoff. I am hardly better myself, sleeping with a married Professor as if it was the great romance of the ages." Now she was bitter again. "To Lancelot and Guinevere and Tristan and Isolde, add the names Andrew Cable and Mona Macready. It doesn't quite ring true, does it? Hell, I don't even like romances!"

She paused and they were silent for a few minutes. Then Geoffrey returned to the main reason he was there.

"I completely understand why you hate me Mona and you are right; but what do you have against Steve?"

"What makes you think I am planning anything for Steve?"

Geoffrey got up and walked to the computer, where he pointed to the communications ports, saying:

"Didn't the headpiece plug into a different comms port before?"

It was a brilliant bluff on a nearly empty hand, but something in Mona wanted her to confess. Maybe the fact that Geoffrey knew part of her secret made her want to admit the whole to him. At the same time, any desire she had to induce zombie Steve to fuck her had now evaporated. Her misery was complete and there was no escape, not even in meaningless rough sex.

"Is it fair to do to Steve what you did to me, Mona?" Geoffrey asked, still bluffing, thinking she wanted only to embarrass Steve with a wet dream for some reason.

Mona did not answer but indicated that Geoffrey should stay put while she went to the Professor's office. She came back with the leather bag in which she had taken away her CDs from Andrew. She solemnly handed it to Geoffrey. He looked inside and saw a packet of condoms, a tube of lubricant, two strips of linen material and four lengths of soft rope.

"What are these for, Mona?"

"Work it out for yourself, Sherlock" she answered, pushing him toward the laboratory door. "Steve will be here soon. Goodnight, Geoff."

Geoffrey obediently left. He did not want to be there to try to explain things to Steve. Some of Geoffrey's apprehension was eased because he took the bag away with him and by what he thought was the resumption of Mona's old sarcastic manner. But what the use of the ropes and stuff was, he could not say.

Then Geoffrey remembered the content of one of Steve's dreams, in which a blindfolded woman was tied to a table by her wrists and ankles, her legs splayed almost in the splits, her arms at right angles from her body, her head lolling over the edge of the table. The table was on a pivot, so that the woman could be held vertically or horizontally, head up or head down. Steve had the woman upside down and fucked her throat while he licked her out. Afterward he had gagged her and fucked her first vertically and then horizontally.

While Geoffrey was slowly walking down the corridor, recalling what he could of Steve's dream, Steve himself turned up. He greeted Geoffrey and they spoke a few words, then Steve carried on to his session, leaving Geoffrey with his own bemused thoughts, which suddenly became both very clear and very dark. He realised what the contents of the bag were for:

"Good God!" he said to himself, "Had Mona been planning to enact Steve's dream herself? And did I actually have sex myself with Mona on Friday?"

It was too late to rush back into the laboratory. There was nothing to do but go home and confront Mona again in private on Tuesday.

Meanwhile, Mona had switched Steve's headpiece for a normal one, plugged the cable back into the original comms port and loaded the software for a usual recording session.

***

The next day was Tuesday. Geoffrey called on Mona in the afternoon, when her housemates were out and Mona was up from her day's sleep. He brought the leather bag. Mona answered the door in her bathrobe, with her hair in a towel. She let Geoffrey in but did not speak to him. She made them both cups of coffee, which she carried to her room, indicating Geoffrey to follow. Geoffrey had never been in her room before, which had a small table, two wooden chairs, bookcases and a bed. They sat on the chairs and sipped their drinks.

Mona indicated to Geoffrey that he should speak.

"Mona, last night I thought I knew what you were doing, but clearly I was wrong."

"Clearly."

He put the bag on the table and removed its contents, placing them in front of her.

"I thought you revenged yourself by embarrassing me, causing me to have a wet dream; but it was not that, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," she admitted.

"Did we have sex on Friday night, Mona?"

"Yes."

"I raped you!"

"No. I raped you."

Geoffrey leant back in his chair, trying to take it all in.

"Why, Mona? What's it all about?"

"I told you that on Friday."

"You said you wanted a degraded and meaningless kind of sex from me. Is that it?"

"Mostly."

"I don't understand."

"And I don't intend explaining. Is that all you came to see me about? In which case, I need to dress and get going. Thanks for the visit, Geoff."

"Mona, this is not rational behaviour. What were you planning on doing to Steve last night with all these things? I am worried about you harming yourself."

"I am touched by your concern, Geoffrey, but I don't need or want it."

"I meant what I said yesterday morning. My concern is genuine."

"How sweet! Geoff. You're in love with me," she mocked. "The problem is, Geoffrey, that I have been loved and betrayed by a better man than you, so I can tell you, there is no future for us. ... And now that I know what you're like in bed, I am even more convinced that life with you would have been one long disappointment."

Geoffrey could see she was deflecting his main question by goading him. He knew he ought not to defend himself from such a stupid accusation; but he did anyway:

"I was unconscious!" he protested.

"Even unconscious, Andrew would have been a better lover than you ..."

"Be serious, Mona."

"... I suppose it's because he's bigger."

"Mona!"

"Don't worry about it, Geoff: Andrew's just a more of a man than you are."

Geoffrey stood up, slamming his chair backward.

"You are angry, Geoff, because a man twice your age is better in bed than you. What kind of wimp does that make you?" she taunted.

Geoffrey stormed around the table, grabbed Mona roughly by the shoulders and forced his mouth on hers. She responded eagerly to his passionate kiss for a minute, folding her arms around his neck; then she bit him.

"Ow, you bitch!"

She smiled and raised a defiant chin.

Geoffrey pulled the towel off her head, grabbed her by the hair and held her head back. Seeing excitement shine on her metallic green eyes and flush her cheeks, he kissed her again, holding her tightly by the waist. Again, she melted into the kiss, her arms around his shoulders. She held this kiss for about two minutes before she bit his lip.

Geoffrey was prepared for this. He pulled the bathrobe from her, spun her around and held her arms securely behind her back. He grabbed one of the ropes from the table and used it to tie her arms together, crossed at the wrists.

Mona did not say a word. She did not even grunt from his manhandling.

He pushed her forward onto the bed. Using another rope, Geoffrey tied Mona's legs together, crossed at her ankles, spreading her knees. Then he took the linen strips and gagged and blindfolded her, tying the material more tightly than was necessary. He turned Mona over to have a good look at her, noticing the teeth marks on one of her small round breasts. He squeezed the tit roughly.

"Did I do that?" Geoffrey asked.

Mona nodded.

"Good," he said and put his mouth to her other breast, licking and sucking for a minute; then he bit down hard. A muffled scream was the first sound Mona had made since her plan to goad Geoffrey into fucking her had borne fruit. He bit hard again, drawing another scream from her.

"Now they match," he concluded.

Mona felt the pain in her breast but she felt the sexual excitement in her whole body, especially down her spine. Geoffrey could see her sexual response in her glistening pussy and hear it in her breathing. He pulled away from her.




An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 04



"No!" Mona screamed inside her head: "Don't stop. Don't ask permission. Don't give me a choice. Take possession. If you ask, I'll say 'No'. Just fuck me. Fuck me hard."

Geoffrey had not stopped to ask permission. He just wanted to admire her body: her long neck, her firm round breasts, her thin waist which showed the outlines of her stomach muscles, the black badge of her pubic hair, her dark red labia and her long sleek legs.

After quickly undressing, he bent down to taste her pussy, licking her swollen nether lips repeatedly and sucking on her clitoris.

Mona did not want this ... this lovemaking. She wanted his cock in her, whether she was ready or not. Geoffrey knew what she wanted and exercised his mastery by not giving it to her. His act of possession was to have sex with Mona in his own way, not in hers.

Geoffrey built her frustration by gentle licks of her pussy and strokes from her thighs to her breasts. Then he turned her on her front and kissed the backs of her knees, one leg at a time, moving down to her calves and then up to her buttocks.

Mona started struggling, pulling her arms about to try to release them and attempting to kick Geoffrey with her heels. Geoffrey simply leant his weight on her. It was the response he was waiting for, however.

Pushing her knees forward under her, he pushed her head down, so she was kneeling with her bottom in the air. This was the firmer treatment she wanted: the sense of being used against her will. Absurdly, she thought of the joke: A sadist is someone who is kind to a masochist. Yet Geoffrey was not consciously a sadist, nor was he being kind to her: he was satisfying his own pressing need in the most enjoyable way he knew how.

He gripped her waist tightly and stuffed his rock hard penis into her pussy in one quick thrust and started pumping away. He held her arms as he got into his rhythm. The squelching from her pussy and the slap of his thighs on her bottom were the only sounds until Geoffrey began to grunt as his tension built. He held off his orgasm, however, to exercise his mastery again by making her cum first, which she did when he started squeezing her nipples, her spasm making her gasp. Geoffrey kept driving into her. She had another orgasm; then a third orgasm shook her body.

Geoffrey grabbed Mona's hair to pull her head up and bit the back of her neck as she convulsed once more; then he made his final thrust, his urgently throbbing penis spurting his semen into her.

Geoffrey collapsed onto Mona while he panted, not caring for her comfort. When he had recovered, he leant on her to push himself up; then he quickly dressed and made his way to the door.

While he was fucking her, Geoffrey had surreptitiously undone the knots on Mona's wrists. She would be able easily to remove the ropes. Geoffrey stopped at the door and said:

"Thank you for the coffee, Mona. If you leave Mark alone tonight, I'll come and revise with you tomorrow."

The door closed behind him, then Mona heard the front door shut and lock.

She was alone, bound, gagged and blindfolded, and not sure what to think. She got what she said she had wanted on Friday but Geoffrey had been surprisingly easy to goad into fucking her just now, as if he was only waiting for an invitation. Did he really understand, she wondered? Was he only pretending to be thoughtless of her needs, a sort of play-acting? It was almost exactly what she wanted, to be treated by the playboy, Geoffrey, as one of his whores; but it would not work if she felt anything at all for him.

***

'An Experiment in Dreaming' concludes in chapter 05.



An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 05



Chapter 5 - Better than revenge

Early on Wednesday morning, Mona emailed Geoffrey her report from Mark's session as a sign that it went normally; then she went home to sleep.

Geoffrey turned up at Mona's house at 2pm. She had risen earlier than normal to have 'breakfast', shower and dress in a tee-shirt and short skirt before he arrived. Mona let Geoffrey in and invited him to sit in her room. They got out their books and began to revise.

The only subject Mona and Geoffrey shared was neuro-science with Professor Whitehill. Mona also studied philosophy and psychology, while Geoffrey also took biochemistry and computing. Mona helped Geoffrey out with the lectures he had missed or slept through and Geoffrey helped Mona with statistical analysis. They also made a start on writing up the current experiment.

Mona was so absorbed in the revising (and honestly impressed with Geoffrey's quick ability to catch up) that she almost forgot what Geoffrey was really here for. She was reminded when Geoffrey abruptly asked:

"Mona, do you still have that tube of lubricant?"

"Yes."

"May I have it please?"

She fetched it from a cupboard and put it on the table in front of him, beside a curious plastic object that he had obviously also just put on the table.

"What is that?"

"An anal-plug. ... I am going to put it in you, then I am going to fuck your arse."

"And I'm going to let you, am I?"

"If you don't, then I'll spank you and do it anyway, so you might as well comply without protest; unless, that is, you would like to be spanked as well?"

Mona did enjoy light spanking but what she wanted from Geoffrey was to be used like one of his cheap women. She did not want to enjoy it. Mona pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. Then she bent over the bed and lifted her skirt up her back. Geoffrey was silently impressed by her courage.

He generously lubricated both the plug and her anus, slipping a finger inside her. She made no noise, which also impressed him: he wondered if she was an anal virgin and guessed she was. The plug had a narrow point and widened to about an inch and a half. He went very slowly, pushing in a small amount at a time and then pulling out to re-lubricate and let Mona get used to the stretch. He did not tell her it would be easier if she relaxed: he let her work that out for herself, which she did after a few minutes.

In five minutes of gentle fucking with the plug, it was fully inserted. Geoffrey found a cushion and put it on Mona's hard wooden chair, telling her to sit down. Then they went back to revising. It amazed Mona that she could concentrate on revising while sitting on the flat part of the plug, which pushed it more firmly into her, making an unusual but not unpleasant sensation of tightness in her bowel. The feeling became uncomfortable only when she clenched her stomach muscles, in contrast to the unexpected sexual ache Geoffrey raised in her by stretching her sphincter.

After half an hour, Geoffrey told Mona to remove the plug. She immediately bent over to give him access but he said:

"No. Do it yourself. In the bathroom."

She obeyed and went to the bathroom. It took a few minutes. Her sphincter had tightened over the plug and she had to pull hard, but she weirdly enjoyed the sensation. Then she used the toilet, gave herself a wash and also washed the plug.

Back in her room, she saw there was a bigger plug, about two inches in diameter, on the table next to the tube of lubrication. She handed the old plug to Geoffrey and bent over the bed again.

The same procedure of lubrication and slow gradual insertion induced the same sensual stretching, initial discomfort and sexual itch; then Mona settled down and returned to her seat to continue revising.

In another half hour, Geoffrey sent Mona to the bathroom again to remove the larger plug. This was harder work for her but she managed and came back, absurdly feeling pleased with herself. She handed the cleaned plug to Geoffrey but did not sit down because he was quite clearly ready, standing in front of her with his condom-covered and thickly lubricated cock fully erect. He held her by the waist and pulled her into him for a kiss, smearing lubricant from his penis over her tee-shirt. Then he rudely shoved her backward onto the bed.

She fell with a thump and he was immediately over her, lifting up her legs and leaning in to trap her on the bed, holding her ankles to his shoulders. Her anus was exposed for his pleasure but he took his time, teasing her while she struggled prettily. Then he sunk the head of his cock into her tight hole. She let her breath out noisily. He pushed in further. It was more painful to her than either anal-plug had been but she was clenching her muscles and trying to resist. He pushed in further. She was now moaning loudly at the invasion. He began withdrawing and pushing back in, further each time, loving the sensation of her hard grip on his cock.

With Geoffrey thrusting faster and further into her, Mona was forced to relax and let him use her as he pleased. She had not yet spoken, nor stopped looking defiantly into his eyes, despite the pain and her mounting arousal.

Geoffrey put his hand under Mona's tee-shirt to fondle one of her breasts while he brought the other hand to her clitoris to rub it, releasing Mona's legs. She started to kick, so Geoffrey grabbed hold of her legs again and secured them to his chest with one hand, pinching her clitoris hard with his other hand. Geoffrey also repaid Mona by thrusting harder. Now she shut her eyes and began to succumb to the twin erotic pressures on her anus and her clitoris.

Geoffrey then released her clitoris and sank his thumb into her pussy, jerking it in and out. Mona took only a minute more of this treatment before she erupted with an intense orgasm, which Geoffrey felt on his cock as her stomach muscles bunched and her vagina spasmed. He thrust on and on, bringing her to more shaking orgasms. When he let go of her legs, she simply held her knees up by her sides and did not try to kick again.

Still Geoffrey delayed his own release but bent down to push her shirt up and take a breast in his mouth. He wanted to get more sound from her and he achieved it by sucking hard on the tit he had bitten on Friday. She gasped. He repeated, harder. She gasped louder and moaned. Twice more and Geoffrey got the volume he wanted from Mona as she cried out in mixed pain and pleasure.

Mona succumbed to yet another orgasm; then Geoffrey tensed, as the irresistible pleasure from her body forced him to unload in long slow surges.

He recovered his breath, lying on her, while she came down from her sexual high. Ten minutes later, they were dressed and sitting at her table, revising again.

Geoffrey fucked Mona once more before he left for the night a few hours later. He took her standing by the door, holding one of her legs by the knee over his hip while kissing her deeply. She complied with this treatment as though she were unable to resist and was surprised at herself for having another orgasm before he finished.

***

On Thursday morning, Mona emailed Geoffrey her report from Colin's session before going home and was disappointed at two o'clock when Geoffrey did not turn up. Nor did he turn up at her house any time that day. Mona was not sure what to think. She tried to revise but her heart was not in it, so she went to the gym, having neglected most forms of exercise that week.

She called on Claire on her way to the laboratory for the night's experiment. Geoffrey was waiting outside the laboratory door when they arrived.

"What are you doing here?" Mona demanded, angry with him for not turning up earlier.

"I am here to revise with you, Mona, as we arranged."

Claire's eyes boggled as she looked from Mona to Geoffrey for a clue to the secret meaning behind these unexpected words but neither face showed her anything.

"You are right, Geoff. I forgot," Mona said coldly, as she unlocked the door and let them in, adding: "Keep out of the way while we set up."

He nodded and walked to the Professor's office to get comfortable with his books.

When Claire was in bed and the recording started, Mona shut the office door and said quietly to Geoffrey: "We can't fuck here, Geoff."

"I came to revise."

"Is that so?"

"I might let you suck me off later, if I feel like it."

"Very generous of you."

For no reason she could give, Mona did not kick Geoffrey out but revised with him, keeping one eye on the dream-scanner.

After Mona had woken Claire up the second time, filed the report of the dream and got her settled back into bed again, Mona returned to the office to find Geoffrey asleep over his books. There were huge possibilities for mischief but Mona again surprised herself by resisting the temptation. Instead, she planted a soft kiss on his forehead and turned to her own work.

***

On Friday morning, while they were closing the laboratory, before Mona went home to sleep and Geoffrey went to athletics practise, Claire thought she saw them holding hands briefly.

Geoffrey and Mona did not have sex on Friday afternoon either and Mona was beginning to wonder if there were something wrong with him. She sent him a text to invite him to meet her in the pub at 9pm prior to Friday night's experiment. He replied that he would see her there.

At quarter past nine on Friday evening, when Mona and Geoffrey were nursing their drinks and whispering together, Claire came into the pub with her friend Carol Weaver. Claire saw Mona and Geoffrey and waved to them. This alerted Carol, who strode over to Mona, standing before her, red with anger.

"What exactly was that nasty little phone call about last week, Mona?" Carol demanded.

Mona looked up vacantly. She did not recognize Carol nor did she remember the mean phone call she had made.

"What are you talking about?"

"The message you wanted me to give to Professor Cable. About your stuff in his house."

"Oh, God! Carol. I forgot I'd done that. I am really sorry, but it was for the best: he was cheating on us both, you know."

"He may have been cheating on you, Mona, but as I was not sleeping with him, he can't have been cheating on me, can he?"

"Oh, God!" Mona repeated, looking shocked.

"Who else have you told that I was sleeping with him?"

Mona was too stunned to answer but sat staring at Carol. Claire was also slow catching up with all this. Geoffrey rose and said:

"Mona told no one, Carol, though everyone seemed to know that you and Professor Cable went away for the weekend. I was one who believed and spread the rumour. I am truly sorry, Carol."

Carol looked around and saw there was an audience. She stepped closer to Mona and Geoffrey. Claire followed, embarrassed.

"For all your information," Carol said, "I had a pleasant time this weekend at the races in Newmarket with Andrew. He was the perfect gentleman, as he was last weekend in Stratford. I wanted to sleep with him but he refused. I assumed it was because he was in love with someone else. If that was you, Mona, then you're even meaner to him than you were to me. Because of you, Andrew has resigned."

"He's done what?" Geoffrey asked.

"He's leaving the university. He resigned today. And Mona is the bitch who drove him away."

Mona rose distraught, though she had the presence of mind to take her bag. Saying "I'm sorry, Carol, I really am," she ran out of the pub and started along the road that led off campus toward the town. Apologising in turn to Carol and Claire, Geoffrey grabbed his own bag and gave chase. He soon caught her and asked where she was going.

"Leave me alone, Geoffrey. You and the gossipers were wrong about Andrew. He wasn't cheating on me."

"They why did he take Carol away for two weekends while he was seeing you? Why didn't he take you?"

That stopped her. Andrew may not have cheated on her with Carol but he lied about visiting his wife and children on at least two weekends. Was Mona perhaps his weekday totty and the various bimbos his weekend totty? Or were the other fourteen liaisons also Platonic?

"Are you going to Andrew?" Geoffrey asked.

"I was. I am not now. I just want to get away from you and everyone."

She started walking fast. He followed. Soon they were in the leafy suburban streets that insulated the university from the town centre. She stopped, her arms crossed, daring him to approach her.

"Mona, I love you," he said.

"You've got no reason to, Geoff: I'm nothing to you."

"After what we've done?"

"It was meaningless, animal sex, in case you've forgotten."

"It wasn't for me."

Saying "I can't help that," Mona turned and walked away fast, in an apparently random direction, but it was generally toward the part of the town where Professor Cable lived. Geoffrey kept up with no problem but he spoke no more.

After another ten minutes, Mona stopped again to tell Geoffrey to go away when she heard their names being called. Professor Whitehill and his wife were hailing them from across the street. Mona stood in a daze and did not answer.

Geoffrey took Mona's unresisting arm and escorted her across the road to greet the Professor and Dr. Lillian Whitehill.

"We've just returned from our holiday," Professor Whitehill explained. "We came home a day early for the birthday of our grandson, Jason, tomorrow." To this, Dr. Whitehill confided in addition:

"We are happy to come home early so that Gordon can find out how the experiment is coming on: he has talked of nothing else for the last two weeks. It's a wonderful chance that you two were passing."

"Now, Lillian, you are exaggerating. I do not think only about the experiment; though I would like to know if it is going all right. Would you two like to come in?"

"Yes, come in for a cup of coffee," Dr. Whitehill invited. "We've just got the last suitcase to collect, so I was going to put the kettle on."

Geoffrey left it to Mona, who looked blank. She had no plan or purpose but was just waiting to feel something, anything at all.

"Mona, dear, you look exhausted," Dr. Whitehill kindly insisted, "please come in and sit down for five minutes."

"I am tired," Mona admitted truthfully, charmed by Dr. Whitehill's friendliness. She really had no idea where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. This at least was an action of some kind. "Thank you: I would love a cup of coffee, Dr. Whitehill."

"Lillian, please. ... What are you two doing around here anyway?

Geoffrey invented hurriedly, as he took the suitcase from Professor Whitehill to carry it into the house:

"We met prior to tonight's experiment and because I was not sleepy, I decided on a walk, so Mona joined me. I didn't realise she was so tired."

Sitting in the front room, sipping their coffees, Professor Whitehill respected Mona's apparent exhaustion and refrained from quizzing her about the experiment but was pleased by Geoffrey's inquiry regarding the conference.

"The presentations were the usual bore," the Professor answered, "but the talk in the bar was most convivial, although scientists generally talk about their own work and never listen to anyone else. It was useful for us, however, because I learned that no one has got as far as we have in reading dreams; so I am really looking forward to getting back to work on the project."

"And how was your holiday, Sir?" Geoffrey inquired.

"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Warner. We visited friends in the countryside and the middle weekend we spent at the races, trying out Lillian's new betting system. As you know, Lillian follows racing form and enjoys losing money on three-legged nags. ... What have we missed here while we have been away?"

Geoffrey told Professor Whitehill the news that Professor Cable had resigned.

"Now, isn't that odd, Lillian?" exclaimed the Professor. "We saw Andrew Cable and his niece at Newmarket. He said nothing about leaving the university. It seems very sudden: I wonder what prompted it?"

Dr. Whitehill noticed that Mona, who had been very quiet and barely touched her coffee, was now hanging her head. Lillian bent over to Mona and quietly said:

"Are you quite all right, my dear?"

Mona made her decision. She looked up and smiled.

"Thank you, Lillian. I am fine now I've rested. Geoffrey and I should get back to work at the lab."

"Maybe Gordon can help you set up. It's not too late for him: he's been used to late nights at the conference and he needs to get back into the routine; isn't that so, Gordon?"

"Hmm, what, Dear? Late nights? I should say so, in the bar after the presentations. I'd be delighted to help tonight, if I am needed. In fact, I'd like to visit the laboratory anyway and catch up on some emails from friends at the conference. If you don't need me here, Dear, I'll go back with the young people. I think Miss Macready would welcome a lift."

At the laboratory, while the re-energised Mona was busy in the office at the computer and Geoffrey was making the bed, Professor Whitehill spoke confidentially to him, saying:

"Between you and me, Mr. Warner, I suspect the young lady we met with Andrew Cable at Newmarket was not his niece at all. I recognized her from the college. I did not like to say so in front of Mona, but you and I are men of the world, aren't we?"

Geoffrey tried not to laugh at the Professor's innocence.

"It's not my place to speculate or spread gossip," the professor continued, "but I wonder if Andrew Cable was not asked to resign."

"I have no information about it, Sir. It was only a second-hand report I heard, but I do know the general rumours about Professor Cable. Why can you not say this to Mona?"

"My dear boy. She is one of his students. It would be most improper to give her a reason not to respect him."

Mona had come back into the laboratory while the Professor was speaking and listened silently. Geoffrey saw her and, sparing her nothing, said:

"But what if the woman that Professor Cable is seeing is one of his students?"

"Is that possible? I think it would be seriously wrong of him. I cannot approve such modern goings on. In my day, Professors did not court their own students. I myself did not get engaged to Lillian until after she had graduated."

"Dr. Whitehill was your student, Sir?"

"Oh, yes: my best student. It was at first teaching post, right after I finished my Ph.D. Lillian and I fell for each other instantly but we had to wait two years because it was forbidden for staff to see pupils romantically, especially their own students. A teacher is 'in loco parentis', you know. Lillian and I met only in company or in public places, never in private, though neither of our parents would have minded, we learned afterward. They trusted us."

"Even in those days, however, 'affairs' between teachers and their own pupils were not unknown. I hope it is not the case in regard to Professor Cable but I sadly suspect that it is. I know I am out-of-touch and somewhat insular, but even I do not believe Professor Cable has so many nieces that he can take a different one on an educational trip every few weeks. And if I knew this, then I hardly expect those more conversant with the social life of our academy were incognizant. Don't you agree?"

"I do, Sir." Geoffrey said firmly, looking at Mona, who was openly weeping.

"I am old-fashioned enough," the professor continued, "to long for the time when we had proper pastoral care of students and could issue them warnings against some forms of behaviour. I don't want to sound like Mrs Allen in 'Northanger Abbey', but from what I hear of girls today (including my own grandchildren, I assure you), it is dangerous to give them any advice because they will naturally want to do the exact opposite. I don't therefore know how I could have warned any young lady in my charge to beware of Professor Cable."




An Experiment in Dreaming Ch. 05



Mona turned away and went back into the office to hide her tears and pretend to work. She quickly dried her eyes and, manifesting the remarkable courage that Geoffrey had come to admire, returned to the laboratory and announced to Professor Whitehill that Geoffrey and she had something important to demonstrate to him.

The professor was keenly interested. With that open confidence which is the greatest compliment he could bestow, the Professor expected miracles from his star pupils and was delighted to find them working together at last.

Explaining to the Professor that she had successfully induced a dream in Geoffrey's brain, Mona took the brain-wave inducers and swapped them for the sensors in Geoffrey's headpiece. She then plugged the cable into the second comms port.

The Professor was astonished at this news and very keen to see her results but Mona said she would prefer to demonstrate the phenomenon. Professor Whitehill had to acquiesce, though he could barely contain his impatience as Mona set up the experiment and loaded the dream program.

When Mona was ready, Geoffrey did not bother to undress but simply took off his shoes and got onto the bed. He was tired from not having had much sleep in the last few days, due to alternately fucking Mona and staying awake thinking about her; so, in the warm, dark conditions of the laboratory, Geoffrey fell asleep in five minutes.

Mona had loaded one of Geoffrey's old dreams: it was a short one, where he was flying around a city of sky-scrapers.

While Geoffrey slept and dreamt, Mona gave a detailed update to Professor Whitehill on the progress of the experiment; then he attended to his emails.

After an hour or so, Mona woke Geoffrey. He wrote down his dream, in which he had been at home with his brother and their dogs. There was no match at all with the induced dream.

"Don't be disheartened, Miss Macready," Professor Whitehill said gently: "We know the effect is statistical, it need not work every time."

Geoffrey came to Mona's support:

"My previous dream was nearly one hundred percent accurate, Professor, far beyond chance."

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Can I see the report, please?"

"We did not make one," Mona admitted.

"I am surprised indeed; why not?"

"Because it was one of Claire's dreams that I induced in Geoffrey's brain."

"Good heavens! How is that possible? Mr. Warner, you dreamt one of Miss Burton's dreams? This is fantastic!"

"Yes, Sir."

"But I don't understand why you did not report the experiment. ... Can I at least see the dream?"

Mona looked at Geoffrey: he nodded his agreement. Mona opened the file on Claire's dreams and pointed the Professor to the one in question. He put on his other reading glasses to peer at the monitor. Shortly after, he looked up at Mona and Geoffrey but made no comment and returned to the screen. When he had finished and folded his glasses into his top pocket, the professor said to Geoffrey:

"You replicated this dream?" Geoffrey nodded. "Playing the role of yourself?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Miss Macready, will you allow me to speak privately to Mr. Warner?"

"Mona was here the whole time, Professor. She knows what happened."

"Ah, yes. Then let me phrase this delicately, Mr. Warner: Did you have any ... um ... side-effect from experiencing this dream?"

"Only the one you would expect, Sir."

"I see." Turning to Mona, he asked: "Miss Macready, why this particular dream?"

Geoffrey answered for her: impromptu lying seemed to be a newly-acquired talent of his:

"It was a practical joke on me, Sir, in response to my teasing her. Mona got her own back, brilliantly."

"Well, that does not make the slightest bit of sense to me but it looks like you two are getting along fine now and you have made a wonderful discovery in the meantime, so I won't say another word about it."

"We're getting along much better than 'fine', Professor," Mona assured him, walking to Geoffrey and putting her hand in his. She demurely returned Geoffrey's triumphant smile.

"Well, that is excellent. It's lovely to see one of Lillian's predictions come true, albeit two years later. Quite an achievement, considering her track record with horseflesh."

"We will need to repeat the experiment, of course," the Professor continued, "even so, it is simple to understand why Miss Burton's dream worked on Mr. Warner while Mr. Warner's own dream did not work on him."

"It is?" said Mona and Geoffrey in synchronous amazement.

"Oh, yes," insisted Professor Whitehill: "It is because Miss Burton's dream was about Mr. Warner."

"But Geoffrey's dream was about Geoffrey, as well."

"Not quite: it featured Mr. Warner but it did not describe him. There was no need: Mr. Warner knows himself from the inside, as it were. And here is the key. He had to make no effort to recognise himself, the act of recognition required no new information, and therefore no communication between different functions of the brain."

"In Mr. Warner's own dream, familiar memories were being imposed on brain functions that were already working through existing memories. There was nothing new for any part of the brain to take an interest in. In Miss Burton's dream, by contrast, everything was fresh and different. As you know, Mr. Warner, the brain ignores sameness and familiarity but seeks new and interesting things to think about. In the absence of a mental challenge, the brain seeks diversion in trivial novelties, so the problem of recognizing a new person is irresistible. The features of Miss Burton's dream will therefore naturally rise to the top of Mr. Warner's 'This is interesting' file."

"So all we need do now," the Professor concluded, "is to explain how Miss Burton's brain-functions got translated in Mr. Warner's brain to represent the same images and thoughts as they did in hers."

Mona laughed out loud: "Ah!" she exclaimed, "That kind of 'simple'."

Geoffrey joined in her laughter, but the Professor blinked, uncomprehendingly.

"What have I missed?" he asked.

"Professor, you said the reason why Claire's dream worked on Geoffrey while Geoffrey's own dream did not work on him is 'simple'. Then you described the binding problem." (This is the hardest problem in neuro-science.)

"Ah, yes. Well spotted, Miss Macready. Even so, we are halfway there, are we not? We know that Mr. Warner can recognize himself in someone else's dream. That is a truly wonderful discovery, even if we have no idea at all how it could possibly work."

"I also recognized the nightclub and Claire's apartment," Geoffrey reminded the Professor.

Both Mona and Professor Whitehill started to speak at once.

"You first, Miss Macready."

"Thank you, Professor. Geoffrey, you need not have recognised the same nightclub as Claire dreamt about: the dream contained her memory of loud music and people dancing. Your memory simply supplied equivalent examples."

"That's right," the Professor agreed, "and because you and Miss Burton are of an age and similar society, it would be difficult to distinguish her nightclub from yours. Were it possible for me to be induced with Miss Burton's dream, however, then I would dream of the 'hop' at the Church hall. Doubtless modern apartments are also interchangeable."

Geoffrey could not resist asking:

"Would you have enacted all the events of the dream, Sir?"

"Of course: despite my age, I would have imagined myself fulfilling Miss Burton's sexual fantasy in every particular. We all have these fantasies. There is a sound biological theory that they are evolutionarily adaptive."

There seemed to be nothing more to say for now and the Professor was tired, so he congratulated the pair on their remarkable discovery and thanked them for showing it to him. He insisted they come to tea on Sunday: he needed to discuss their scientific futures with them; and Lillian would be overjoyed to share in their happiness. Put like that, the young lovers had to accept gratefully.

***

When the Professor had gone, Mona said to Geoffrey:

"We need to talk," and, showing uncharacteristic concern, added, "if you're not too tired."

"I'm okay after my nap. And I am pleased to learn that we are 'better than fine'; or was that for the Professor's benefit because you are hatching a new plot in that devious mind of yours?"

"No, I meant it. I realized that if even Professor Whitehill knew about Andrew's infidelities, then I must be precisely that stupid, fond, naïve schoolgirl I once accused myself of being."

"Please don't blame yourself, Mona: we know what happens when you do that."

She smiled.

"I'm okay, now that you have cured me. ... I'm sorry I raped you, Geoff."

"I'm not. ... I'm sorry I bit your tits, Mona."

"I'm not. ... But why didn't you come to fuck me on Thursday? I wanted you to."

"You were becoming too compliant. You were starting to like me; and if you liked me, then I would be no use to you for degrading sex."

"You do understand!" She was pleased. "So why did you turn up at the night session with Claire."

"I couldn't stay away from you that long and I thought it would be safe here."

"So were you serious about wanting me to suck you off?"

"Which answer will get me in less trouble?"

"The honest one."

"I thought I was serious but I didn't realize how tired I was. You do not know how little sleep a man gets when he is in love with you, Mona. It's a real burden."

"It must be. You're obviously not up to the job. Best give in now and get yourself another bimbo."

By this time, she had folded her arms around his neck and he was holding her tightly about the waist.

"No, I'm sticking with it," he assured her. "Don't you think the Professor was hinting loudly to me when he talked about an underused brain seeking trivial novelties? It's just as true in sex, isn't it? It's about time I had a worthwhile challenge in my life."

She smiled and kissed him. Geoffrey ran his fingers through her long hair, loving its texture. She took Geoffrey's bottom lip in between her teeth and lightly pressed it, as a reminder of Tuesday.

"None of that," he said, breaking the kiss and lifting her onto the bed, laying her flat while he leant over her from one side.

"Mona, that man you were smitten with at the party in our first term: I will be him again, I promise. Will you just imagine that I was drunk for the last two-and-a-half years but now you have sobered me up?"

"I was harsh on you, Geoff: no doubt someone was spiking your drinks. Will you forgive me for Andrew?"

"There is nothing to forgive. It was completely my fault."

"How so?"

Geoffrey climbed onto the bed and lay on his side next to Mona, stroking her hair.

"It is no wonder you fell in love with a charming, sophisticated, educated, worldly man. It's no less than you deserve. The only problem is that I should have been that man; and it is entirely my fault that I was not. I am sorry for it."

"I still have other things to apologise for, especially to Carol and Claire. Good job you stopped me before I got to Steve."

"That is something I do not understand. You wanted sex with me to degrade yourself after Andrew. That makes a twisted kind of sense; but why play the same trick on Steve and the others?"

"Being your whore was my main plan: it was to punish me, to make me feel worse. I know you understand that. My back up plan, which I employed when you refused, was to have sex with all you boys. That was because I felt empty and I thought meaningless rough sex would fill me up."

They looked at each other and laughed when they realised what she had said.

"It would not have worked, though," she continued. "As we saw tonight, Steve would not have reacted to his own dreams as you did to Claire's."

"I suppose not but I am glad you fell for my bluff on Monday night," Geoffrey said.

"I knew it was a bluff but, just then, I wanted to give in. I don't know why."

"I'd like to think it was because you were falling for me," he said and smiled at her automatic 'as if' look in response.

Geoffrey rolled on Mona and kissed her deeply while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I love you, Mona. I love everything about you, even the devious way you got what you wanted from me. I love your intelligence; I love your sarcasm and your short way with stupidity. I love your courage, your certainty, your passion and the fact that you do everything you believe in as hard as you possibly can. I love all the steel in your character. If you don't get sick of me in a few weeks (or kill me), then I am going to stick around you for life."

"And welcome. I love you, Geoff. As you said, you are exactly what I deserve. ... Now fuck me like you mean it; or shall I get the headpiece and program you to do it properly?"

He pulled her off the bed and roughly dragged her clothes off, while she laughed and made it as difficult as possible for him as she could.

When Mona was naked, Geoffrey stripped, clasped her to him and kissed her. They managed to climb onto the bed without breaking the kiss.

As Mona lay on top of Geoffrey, she started to kiss down his body, licking his nipples and pecking at his ribs. When she got to his hardened cock, she took it in her mouth and gave its head a good licking before closing her mouth and sucking.

This was like heaven to Geoffrey, who shut his eyes and groaned.

Soon he asked her to stop, not wanting to arrive too quickly, and invited her to spin around; which she did with difficulty on the narrow bed, kicking him in the head more often than she really needed to, but soon she was straddling his chest and he was tonguing her pussy. She reattached herself to his cock and sucked meaningfully.

With the help of two fingers rubbing her g-spot and by dint of massive concentration, Geoffrey managed to give Mona a shaking orgasm before his own ecstatic release momentarily stripped him of his strength.

For the second round, Mona rode him while he lifted his mouth to her breast and suckled like a baby.

The third round had Mona on all fours with Geoffrey pumping her from behind, one hand rubbing her clitoris the other squeezing a nipple. Her many orgasms shook her body, flexing and relaxing her spine while her stomach muscles bunched and her chest heaved.

In the fourth and final round, Mona had to go on top again. Geoffrey had performed like a champion but while it was daytime for Mona, it was night-time for Geoffrey and he was exhausted; yet he managed to stay awake long enough to enjoy her ecstatic cries and feel her spasmodic ripples on his cock, forcing his release. Geoffrey immediately sank into dreamless oblivion while Mona rested in complete fulfilment on his chest.

It had been quite an adventure for Mona over the last few years. From precipitate love of Geoffrey to instant disgust with him, then a long-abiding hatred and finally love again. What on earth the future held for them, Mona was content not to think about for now, but she knew that, with Geoffrey in tow, it would be fun.