Bob awoke the next morning, alone and with a start. He hated waking up this way, as it usually meant he'd be bothered by his dreams all day. Today would be particulary troublesome, as not only were his dreams erotic, but they had also hardened his loins.

"My God, Seas," he grumbled to himself. "I miss you when you're away."

His arousal came with scents; so many and so strong. They lingered long after having awakened, like a blanket on his brain. Perhaps a shave and shower would get thoughts of his wife to stop thumping on his manhood.

"It seems so real," he said, rubbing his eyebrows and chin.

Bob struggled with the fog that lay between imagination and reality. In the dim and frozen dawn, Egyptian lilies and tuberose floated lemon-light on oaky moss. It lay upon a bed of fresh coffee, French vanilla with hazelnut cream.

The perfume was familiar. The scent of coffee, even moreso, for it came from his kitchen.

"Who's there?" he asked upon the realization.

The scents began making noise. They thunked the drawers of his dresser. The sounds of them opening and closing were as real as the the burble being made by the coffee maker in the kitchen, brewing its final drops.

Bob sat up straight and in alarm. He pressed the bed sheets against his hard-on, hoping it would not get in the way should he have to grapple, naked, with the intruder. Her back was to him as she pulled items of clothing out of the pockets of a silver maxi length, down-filled coat. Tall and strikingly thin, waves of curly black hair spilled over her narrow shoulders, spreading out and curling further due to the faux fur rim on the hood of her coat.

Two mugs of coffee sat atop his dresser, steaming in the dawn chill. They laid down the base notes to the woodsy aroma spilling from the woman placing clothes in the dresser. A woman who, despite the morning darkness, despite the fogginess in his head, despite having only noticed her hair, Bob knew in an instant.

"What are you doing here?"

Mahui spoke with her back still turned, fussing with the contents of his dresser. "I made coffee and brought you some."

Bob scarcely realized he spoke. "Thanks."

"You should lock your doors at night."

"I don't usually have intruders."

Mahui turned to face him, standing at the foot of his bed. She clutched her coat at the collar, holding it shut, as it was unzipped.

"We're intruding?" she asked, saying it more like a statement.

Her eyes were wide and bright. She blinked twice in quick succession, forming her lips to make a silent hiss. Visibly saddened and hanging her head, she began to leave.

To Bob's amazement, he spoke again. "No. It's okay. Don't go."

Now at the far side of the room, Mahui stopped walking. She faced away, still clutching her coat. Silence lay atop the scent of her perfume and that of the coffee, almost as if it were filling the room with a fragrance of its own.

"I want you to dress me," she said to the doorway leading out.

"Why?"

Her nostrils flared as she raised her head, causing her hair to flow back. She heaved in air before sucking her lips into her mouth, turning only her head to face him.

"You buy the same coffee as we do. Probably from the same store."

It was Bob's turn to heave in air. "Okay."

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

The intruder's eyes went to the mugs steaming on the dresser. "I know you like cream because I smelled it on your breath at Benjamin's yesterday."

Bob said nothing, merely blinking.

"We don't know, though, if you like sugar."

She blazed her victim with dark brown eyes, her libido clearly visible. Bob gulped before speaking again.

"Yes. I like sugar."

Mahui moved towards the mugs on the dresser, never breaking eye contact. "White sugar? Or raw?" she asked while digging in a pocket of her coat. "Or perhaps, Sweet and Low?"

"Raw is what I like."

She dug further in the pocket. "One packet? Two? Or three?"

Bob wondered if he was still dreaming. His bedroom had heavy shades and drapes, drawn tight to keep out the chill. Outside it was not yet light, and the room was deathly dark.

"Ahm." He hesitated, still clutching the sheets, his penis hard as a rock. "One is good for me."

Mahui's lips popped out from her mouth. No longer being sucking on, they brimmed caramel wet and full. She smiled beautifully.

"We always knew you were sweet."

She performed the task of preparing his coffee, stirring in sugar from a packet she produced from her pocket. "I want to be called Ma'amusa while we're here," she said with her back to Bob. She turned and approached with the coffee, as he sat up further in bed. "La'u Ma'amusa. I'm your heart of stone."

The weather outside was brutal, and coffee in bed while naked never tasted so good. After the first sip, though, Bob eyed it with suspicion.

Ma'amusa rolled hers. "Here," she said, gently switching her mug of coffee with his.

She took a big swig of his, telling him with the way she smiled that everything was as it seemed. Bob sipped at hers and, finding she didn't like sugar, switched the two mugs back.

Ma'amusa stood up straight and tall, sighing with her eyes closed. Her shoulders rose and fell, feathered with curly hair and the faux fur rim of her jacket. Speaking soft and true, she lowered herself to sit on the edge of Bob's queen size bed.

"I want us to trust one another."

"You're not starting off on the right foot."

He caught her with her coffee to her lips. She became animated and hurried with swallowing, so as to reply.

"I know. I know. I'm not often good at chitchat. And after today, we may never see you again."

The heat of their bodies being so close together filled the air with a different type of fragrance as she carried on. "You stared at me, and I guess I stared back, all the time at the manor the other day. I felt your eyes on me. I feel them all the time. They excite me."

Ma'amusa slipped closer to Bob, who sat propped up on pillows at the head of his bed. "You excite me," she concluded.

Bob fidgeted before speaking. "You excite me, too."

Her eyes slid down, settling where the sheets fought to cover his erection. "Do we excite you now? With what we did? With what we're doing?" She returned his gaze, pleading, begging, wanting. "Do I?"

Bob sipped his coffee. "Yes. You do."

Ma'amusa rose to stand, lowering her coat to reveal delicate jasper shoulders. "I want you to dress me," she repeated, burning his face with a stare. "Will you?"

The sight of her bare shoulders heightened his arousal. Now fully awake, he wondered if instead of dreaming, he was going insane. Sensing his alarm, she covered herself back up. After placing her coffee on the dresser, she produced from his closet two woman's suits sporting skirts. Both were covered in plastic, having been brought fresh from a dry cleaner.

"I picked these up today, before... ahm..." She paused.

"Breaking into my house?" he offered.

Ma'amusa tried not to smile. "I don't know which one to wear. I thought with your sense of fashion, you'd be able to help."

Bob laughed. "My sense of fashion? For someone who says they know me, you obviously don't know much." To her newly returned, downtrodden face, he spoke kindly while querying further. "Where are you getting these ideas from? And how do you know where I live?"

Ma'amusa moved with care. She slowly unwrapped each outfit before placing them on the bed, at Bob's feet on either side.

"It's not hard finding out where a person lives," she said as she labored. She paused to soften his glare with a look of doe-like innocence. "You have a lovely home, Mr. Rohan. You do. It's amazing."

Ma'amusa's downy coat fell open when she bent low to lay out the suits. "Yeah," was all Bob said, responding to both her nakedness and the compliment.

She straightened, breathing hard, billowing small lungs. "You do. We live in a dump. I guess we're not good at decorating."

Bob pressed his lips shut, pondering if he should call the cops. While doing so, Ma'amusa again bent low, exposing her body a second time. She lifted the suits off the bed, holding them by their hangers while seeking his approval. One was azure and pencil-thin, its skirt tastefully slit to expose her knees. The other skirt was dusty red, paired with an open jacket, full and flouncy and fun.

He felt his lips part without permission. To his gaping face, she continued. "We know you have a favorite. You can't tell me you do not."

She was correct. The blue suit, tight and expensive-looking, exposed the athletic lines of her body. Yet the red one, light and loose, left room to grope and play, should a man be so lucky.

A strip of nakedness ran down her body as she held up the clothes, centered where her coat fell open, all the way past her knees. A pomegranite garter belt was strapped around her waist, clipped to smoky stockings.

"We want to be dressed by you, Mr. Rohan, on this most important day. Dress me for your pleasure."

The pleading, begging and wanting returned to Ma'amusa's eyes, more so with every blink.

"Please," she said to him through them, speaking with wet caramel lips.