We Walk in the Dream

[trackguy]

*closed for a certain lady and I to write in, thanks

Thomas Willard was a complicated man. The 28 year old was a teacher at a school for individuals that are hearing impaired. Thomas was excellent at his job as he himself uses sign language to communicate. There has never been anything wrong with his hearing, but as a small child he had an accident that severed his vocal cords leaving him mute.

He was about six feet tall with shoulder length wavy hair that most women would kill for, and other then a large scar across his neck he was a handsome man. He kept himself in good shape and was always well groomed. Despite being successful with his career Thomas had basically given up on finding a women. He did his best to cover his scar in college and he would even get a seductive smile from women across the bar or at the library but once they could not communicate with him the women would fade away.

Thomas spent most of his time away from work playing various instruments. He was an avid music fan and it seemed to be his escape. Unfortunately he had become a bit of a shut in as all he seemed to do was spend time alone in his home just on the edge of the city.

 

[bennmorland85]

Moira worked nights and early mornings as a cocktail waitress at a bar downtown. She hated the work but the tips were great, and she'd always had the natural talents necessary for milking men for a little extra cash.

Two weeks before her long-term boyfriend had moved out, complaining that she was too distant. Since then, she had been spending her days redecorating their -- her -- room, painting over the charcoal sketches he had drawn on the walls.

Last time I fuck an artist, Moira thought to herself. As this resolution made its way through her mind, the smell of the paint began to be too much, and she went over to the west-facing window and opened it. Looking over the tops of the houses across the street, she saw the sun beginning to set. Her brow furrowed, and she glanced at her watch. She had to get ready for work.

Heading to the bathroom, she turned the spicket in the sink to wash the acrylic paint off her hands. A rattle and a clump were all that issued from the chrome faucet.

"Son of a bitch!" She'd not paid the utility bill, assuming it would have been the last thing Pat did before he packed up and skedaddled. Apparently, he hadn't.

Panicking, knowing she could never show up to work smelling of work and with her hands a deep blue, she returned to the apocalyptical room and gazed out the window.

The recluse next door, the one who always wore a scarf no matter the season, was getting out of his car and walking up to his door.

Looking at the other houses along the street, she saw they were either inhabited by families sitting down to dinner, newlyweds who would not appreciate a strange woman asking to use their shower, or empty altogether.

There's nothing for it, she decided. I have to ask to borrow his bathroom.

 

[trackguy]

The air in Thomas’s car was filled with the sounds of classical piano as he drove the short commute from the school in which he worked. He pulled into his neighborhood, a simple street with old Victorian style homes that were mostly inhibited by families. As he pulled into his driveway Thomas got out of his car and approached his door.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his neighbor running across the lawn towards him. Before now the two had never done more then share a smile or small wave from across the driveway. They had been neighbors for a little over a year, she and her boyfriend had moved in last summer. He really didn’t see either of them too much so they had never even met. She slipped into his yard and approached Thomas. She really was a vision, her dark hair was pinned up and she had a lose v-neck top on that had slipped off her right shoulder exposing her purple bra strap. Her tight jeans hugged her toned curves, the only thing out of the ordinary was she was covered in splatters of paint.

The beautiful girl in a rush to explain didn’t even notice that Thomas was not talking back to her. She showed him her hands and asked to borrow his shower. In response Thomas flashed his million dollar smile and opened the door to his home. He walked upstairs and she followed. The bathroom was right at the top of the stairs so she quickly entered but before she could turn around to close the door Thomas was in the doorway holding out to her fresh towels.