Just a Dream
Copyright 1998 Ginger Johnson
All Rights Reserved

Moaning, I lifted my head, my vision blurred. I touched my forehead and my hand came away covered with blood. Oil and gasoline fumes assaulted my nose.

"Jack!" I scrambled across the seat, littered with glass slivers to the still form behind the steering wheel. His blond head was matted with blood. With care, I pushed him back against the seat.

No answer responded to my call. Frantically I searched for a pulse. "Jack Homes, don't you dare die on me!" In the distance, I heard sirens.

The heat of his skin warmed my fingers. My fingers stroked the bruise at the base of his neck, left last night when our passions had consumed us.

"Jack, don't do this to me!" Tears flowed down my cheeks. "Honey, I need you. Hold on honey, help is on the way."

I brushed the hair from the cut on his forehead. Caressing the stubble on his jaw, I pleaded. "We're too young to be parted, stay with me. Darling, please... I love you."

Sobbing, I was pulled away from him. "No!" I screamed, twisting away from the arms trying to enclose me.

"Shhhhh... it's just a bad dream." A familiar voice soothed me. I stop fighting for a moment and the scent of our ardor clung in the air.

I pulled his head down. "Oh Jack, I need you."