Chapter 2

Jake heard the footsteps. “Yo, sis,” he called.

“Hi, bro,” she yawned. “What’cha makin’?”

“Tops.” She culled a chair from the table and poured herself into it. Already set on the table were utensils, syrup and glasses of milk.

The station returned from commercial. The DJ said something neither of them heard too clearly over the sound of the sausage frying, but subsequently, on came a classic rock ballad Sara recognized within ten seconds. Her knowledge, interest and collection of pop music were staggering, all of which she was very proud. She thought she could discern the melody on the keyboards. But when that inimitable, unmistakable harmonica jumped in and shot up, so did her head with a gasp.

“OhmyGod!” she said. “There it is! Starship! That’s my song!”

Jake looked up from the almost-done sausage. “Oh yeah…didn’t Mickey write that?”

“No, no, he didn’t actually write it himself, but he named it after his wife Sara, and my parents named me after the song,” she said. She went into vocal mode and started belting it out along with the radio.

“Well, you‘re up,” chuckled Jake, fixing the plates.

“God, would I freakin’ love to hear Velette sing this,” Sara exulted. It was one of her all-time favorite songs, for obvious reasons—if not the absolute number one on her list. She had the Knee Deep In The Hoopla album, but she intentionally didn’t play the song very often so its novelty wouldn’t wear off.

“Yeah,” agreed Jake, serving them. “The lady does have a pretty dynamite voice.”

“She has a dynamite everything.” Sara forked one of the links, making a groping gesture with her other hand. “Hell, you saw that rack on her, didn’t ya? I mean, they gotta be at least Cs, right? They make me wish my hands were bigger, know what I mean?”

Sara loved how frankly, honestly and easily she could talk to Jake about how hot other girls were. Jake chuckled along, but under the table he crossed his legs, girl-style, even though she couldn’t see the…excitement she was giving him, with her girl-girl titty talk. Hey, stop that, he told himself. The whole reason she’s telling you this is ’cause it doesn’t have to be weird between you, and ’cause you can relate. She’s your friend, for heck’s sake. You’re not supposed to be turned on by your friend. Thankfully, Sara stopped talking about Velette’s tits, and returned to singing along with the song. And Jake’s “excitement” softened away.

Breakfast was concluded. They tidied up, and Jake got his shoes and jacket. They folded the blanket, which Jake also took with him for next time. “All right, Sare,” he hugged her. “Love ya, babe, see ya later.”

“Love you too, dude,” she said.

Halfway back out to his car, he stopped for a second.

October 13th, 10:18 p.m.

Another twelve hours later, and another day well-spent. Sara had some shopping to do, another errand or three, and a little housework to take care of. Jake had something a bit more ambitious in mind.

After leaving Sara’s, he went home and got online. He navigated to the web site and checked out the links. He clicked and perused, clicked some more, perused some more, scribbled a few things down on a sticky pad, logged off, and picked up the phone.

When it came to things like this, Jake Davis had more of an advantage than most. He worked for a PR firm, and knew a thing or two about networking. So he’d something of a conduit to others who could make things happen. And as luck would have it, a friend of a friend of a promoter happened to owe him a favor. A few well-placed phone calls (and a visit for a word with said promoter) later—recent notice though it was, still, with Jake’s pull and the favor his friend owed him—they’d managed, as if by magic, to summon and successfully book her, to Juniper’s major event venue, The Silverlight…on Tuesday night…November 19th.

It was quite a fortunate thing her schedule happened to be open between the 18th and 20th.

November 18th, 11:24 p.m.

Sara moooooaned in her bed.

Her legs squeezed her hands between them, as she gave it to herself (or jilled herself, as she affectionately called it) like she wouldn’t see tomorrow. The next day was her birthday. She had to go to work—a drag, but a small price to pay. She hardly loathed her office job, boring though it could be. Besides, they’d probably throw her a little party.

There was a smaller TV in her bedroom, with a built-in DVD player. Inside was a Velette DVD, with songs performed live, music videos, backstage features, interviews and other goodies. In an especially frisky mood the day before she filled another year, Sara’d injected the DVD, and frozen it on a particularly appealing still shot of her Goddess, looking right into the camera with a smirk that knocked her out figuratively—but at the rate she was rubbing herself raw to it, would soon knock her out literally. Thank goodness the DVD could stay on a still shot indefinitely, because that was just about as long as Sara could go until she was down for the night.

Usually in the span of a decent masturbating session, she could achieve either two or three pretty good orgasms, or one big knockout killergasm. It all depended on her mood, how much she was willing to tease herself, and concentration. She liked to cover herself with the comforter to her neck, so she could pretend someone else’s—a specific someone else’s—hand was down there setting her pussy on fire. Making believe it wasn’t her own hand was palpably kinkier and more fun. One day when inspiration struck, she imagined Velette slipped into her room, took her wrists, pinned them together over her head with one hand, and forcefully rubbed and stroked her, inside and out, with the other, holding her down so she couldn’t do anything about it whether she wanted to or not. It proved such a spicy fantasy, she now used it virtually every time she wanted, needed and craved that big climactic release.

As she built towards the apex, she felt like a change of scenery, so to speak. So she found another spot on the disc with a few seconds of action that turned her on, and set the player on “A-B” mode, so it jumped back to those few seconds, playing them over and over again. She loved how convenient technology was. Around the same time, her right hand, which was doing all the work, was getting a little tired, so she reached up to her headboard, retrieved her vibrator and gave her fingers a little break.

Once her pussy was ready, she activated the clit stimulator. Her brain lost its grip on the rest of her. It was a little harder to focus on the TV now that her eyes were pinching shut, then blinking open to blurriness. Her groans loudened as the electric tingle from her cunt started dancing over her in all directions. She slid down from her sitting position and whapped her head on the pillow, howling in wild giddiness. Her entire body started to pulsate uncontrollably, making waves in the mattress. Once she could no longer see the TV at all, she did her best to hold an image of Velette in her mind’s eye, and desirously chanted her name.

“Ve—…le—…fu—…m—…plea—…” she spastically wheezed. Again, she imagined the vibrator was Velette’s powerfully, rhythmically skilled hand. Or yet better, also her tongue. The room rose in temperature with her radiating body heat and dripping sweat.

A miniature wave of passion drenched her.

“Yes!” she declared. “Yes…more…mooooore…” she strained to her pussy. “My…GODDESSSSSS…Ve-…lehhhhhtte…”

A larger, more powerful wave hit her.

“OHHHHYES!” she shrieked. She knew it was upon her now. She saw the next wave coming. It picked her up and slammed her on the shore. Heaven’s shore.

The waves rapidly doubled in Vel-ocity, tripled in frequency, and quintupled in intensity. Each forthcoming one came like Vel-vet heat, drowning her deeper and deeper in marVel-ous splendor, making her dance in Vel-lication. Such was the wondrous nature of her orgasms—it was so much for her to take that she couldn’t bear it, and yet also didn’t want it to ever end.

“VE—!…LETTE!…Ve—…lette!…V—…”

Finally, the big knockout killer—the wavegasm—seized her, gripped her, rocked her like a hurricane, spun her in its dizzying swell, mercifully let her go thirty seconds later…and put her out like a light.

She was down for the count. She fell dead asleep, the DVD player still replaying over and over.

November 19th, 3:11 a.m.

The nonstop DVD repetition finally dug deep enough into Sara’s brain to wake her, and she reached to shut it off. As she did so, switching off the TV, plunging herself into total darkness, she heard the soft Voice of a Goddess say—

“Happy Birthday, Sara.”

Sara gasped. She fumbled around for the lamp. “Wh-who is it? Who’s there?” she anxiously called out.

“Turn on the light and find out.”

At last, she located it. She flipped on the lamp, squinted until the light no longer stung, and her face transformed to a portrait of shock and awe. She had to blink at least a dozen times to make sure she was really seeing what her mind registered. But it was true, as before her disbelieving eyes swam…

A pajama-clad Velette Voxe smiled at her matter-of-factly. “Who else?”

Sara was at a total loss for any sense-making words. “O—my Go—but h—what d—You—You coul—how di—” Dulled as her faculties already were, they were flat-out obliterated by this revelation.

“Don’t worry, Sara,” She told the girl softly. “You’re just having a dream.”

Sara looked around her room. Sure enough, things did look distorted, fuzzy and out of place from her normal arrangement. She looked up, and across the ceiling were yet more glow-in-the-dark star stickers that weren’t there before. And she’d fallen asleep naked, but found she now wore a set of plaid red and white jammies…which were faded, worn and frayed. And here was a cat, with a black coat and white paws sitting beside her on the bed. A cat whom she’d never seen before, but still somehow knew was named Dewdrop. So this was a dream. “…Oh,” she finally said. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, she just hoped she didn’t wake up soon.

“But…I-I’ve dreamt about You before,” said Sara, “…And, I couldn’t talk to You like this those other times.”

“That’s because this dream is lucid,” Dream-Velette explained.

“Oh,” Sara repeated. “Well, how does that happen?”

“Sara, sweetheart, I’m a singer, not a hypnotist.”

“Oh…right,” Sara replied with a nervous chuckle, still disoriented by it all. “Well…oh my gosh, I mean…I-I don’t even know what to say…or-or where to start,” she said. “I mean, there’s so much I wanna tell You, and ask You, and-and…”

Dream-Velette climbed onto her bed on all fours with her, to Sara’s widening eyes. Sara glanced back to where the cat was before, but it was gone.

“It’s on the TV,” whispered Dream-Velette saucily, on Her hands and knees. She gave Sara a little eye candy, shaking Her pleasingly large, round, cleavage-bared breasts in her nightgown.

Sara looked, and reacted with a start. There Dewdrop was all right, purring, swishing his tail just as before, but the pattern of his fur was reversed. Now he had a white coat and black paws. She looked back at her Goddess with an even bigger start. Dream-Velette’s pajamas were gone. She was in Sara’s bed, on Her side…naked. Completely…gloriously…naked. She stared sultrily at Sara, a bit of comforter between Her luscious thighs, an arm just barely covering Her nipples. Sara’s gaze tilted down, and her eyes fell on the shadow of Velette’s perking nipples. She instinctively shut her mouth and swallowed to keep from salivating.

“OHHHMY…” Sara breathed. The relieved/disappointed debate was gone. She now wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or thrilled.

Dream-Velette nodded at her with a suggestive smile. “Nice curves.”

Sara looked down to see that she was suddenly nude as well. She let out a small scream and grabbed for the comforter to cover herself. Jumping on the bed and slinking by once more, the cat now wore their pajamas.

Distracted by Dewdrop, Sara did not notice Dream-Velette’s hand sneaking beneath the comforter until it cupped one of her girls. She gasped again, with an inaudible moan as her eyes closed and her head slid back. Velette sat up and leaned in closer to her.

“Goodbyes for time good a is time no,” Dream-Velette exhaled in Sara’s ear, fondling her shoulder and tickle-rubbing her tummy.

Sara’s face turned to momentary confusion. “…Huh?” she said quietly, looking into Her eyes.

“Yes, my love?” she huskily whispered.

“Eyes your in brewing are storms,” continued Dream-Velette. “Sara…Sara.”

Those words rang a bell. “Oh!” Sara said silently, suddenly realizing what was happening. Velette was reciting the words to the beloved Starship song to her, but in reverse. She began to feel very charmed by it all.

“Oh, yes, more, more! Please, keep going!” Sara urged Her excitedly.

“True come won’t dream a…ice and fire we’re…two takes it endings happy for…you like girl another find never I’ll,” chanted Dream-Velette, taking a well-timed pause between each line. Under normal circumstances it would sound absurd and laughable, but in her unconscious, surreal state, Sara found herself adoring this, more and more with every word. Especially as Dream-Velette touched her, while reciting the song. She wanted to grab Dream-Velette, to pin Her to the bed and smother Her with kisses, showing Her just how much she loved Her, but…not just yet. She just wanted this exquisite moment to last a little longer.