Her own weight to bear was nothing so tangible as hundreds of strands of glass beads, but Nina still felt it pulling her down. It was the dreams, of course—they were like an anchor tied around her neck. If she didn’t stop having them soon, they would drown her as surely as the Seminole women, too proud to take off their necklaces, had drowned in the swamps of the Everglades. And like a woman adding strand after strand of beads, the dreams kept getting worse until she woke up every night in a cold sweat, feeling like she might be sick.
“It’s going to be all right,” Nina told herself bravely. She lifted her chin. “Everybody has weird dreams once in a while.” Except these dreams had been happening for months. At first, they were no big deal, but lately…
If only I didn’t feel so…funny every time I have one.
Except funny wasn’t really the word, was it? It was more like aroused. Incredibly aroused. Nina didn’t know why, but whenever she saw the faceless man in her dreams, her heart started pounding and her palms got damp. And that was only the start—when he came closer, her nipples tightened and her pussy suddenly got so hot and wet she felt swollen between her legs. And all the time the man whose face she couldn’t see was talking to her in a low, harsh voice. Telling her all the things he wanted to do to her. Saying that she was the only woman for him, that she was the only one he wanted to touch…
She always woke up from these dreams sweaty and disheveled. And confused—so confused. Had she had a nightmare or a wet dream? Part of her said nightmare—no question. A man with no face chasing her? That had to be a bad dream. Except…bad dreams didn’t make you horny out of your mind. So much that she had to touch herself before she could go back to sleep. Nina couldn’t help being ashamed of that—how could the idea of a huge, frightening man whose face was hidden make her so hot? And why wouldn’t the dreams leave her alone?
Stop thinking about it! You’re only making it worse. And anyway, it’s time to go.
Nina glanced down at her watch and gave a low curse. She’d been thinking about her bad dreams so long she had forgotten about how late it was getting. It was past time to be out of there.
Flipping off the light switch, she locked up the small museum and ran for her car, parked at the far end of the employee lot. The hot Florida sun beat down on her, but Nina was used to it. She slid into her little hatchback, barely noticing that the interior was like an oven. The heat she could handle—it was the few cold days a year that got to her. Luckily, living in Tampa, those days were few and far between, so she was generally pretty comfortable.
She went through the drive-thru and got a double cheeseburger for Mehoo-Jimmy and a chocolate shake for herself from the dollar menu. It was a small splurge, since she was trying to save every penny to go back to school, but after the particularly bad dream she’d had the night before, Nina decided she deserved it.
I just need to let the dreams go, she told herself as she sipped the shake and drove toward Mehoo-Jimmy’s little bungalow. Need to forget about them and just breathe.
Pulling up in front of the little green house, she saw that Mehoo-Jimmy was sitting out on the front porch, petting one of her many cats and probably humming to herself. Sure enough, when she got out of the car, Nina could hear the soft, wordless crooning that was surprisingly tuneful drifting through the air. It was this soft sound that had comforted her after the death of her mother, when Mehoo-Jimmy held her and whispered that all was not lost, that she would see her again someday on the other side.
Nina had only been twelve when her mother had died of breast cancer, and Mehoo-Jimmy had taken her under her wing and protected her when Nina’s father was out trying to drown his grief in whiskey and gambling. In some ways, he had never gotten over her mother’s death—or at least that was the excuse he always gave when he came home drunk or lost his paycheck at the craps table.
But Nina didn’t want to think about her father now. She ran lightly up the path to the tiny pea-green bungalow, the white paper sack with the cheeseburger crinkling cheerfully.
“Mehoo, how are you?” She took the porch steps in two bounds and bent to kiss the soft cheek, wrinkled with age. As always, Mehoo-Jimmy smelled of baby powder and the herbs she grew in her garden out back.
“Hello, eecho.” The affectionate name meant “little deer” in Miccosukee, one of the Seminole dialects. The old woman gave her a wide smile, revealing teeth too white and even to be anything but false. “What you doing here? Don’t you have to be at that Greedy Massage place?”
“It’s Massage Envy, and I have a few minutes. Thought I’d bring you lunch.” Nina handed her the bag and pulled up a wicker chair to sit beside her. “So how are things?”