In His Fantasies

3. Pessimist

Astrea

My alarm blares against my ears. I groan, rolling over and hitting snooze before burying my face back into my silk pillowcase willing my body to take advantage of these next eight minutes until the next alarm is bound to sound.

My mind rewinds back to the blur of dreams that consumed my mind throughout the night. They weren't as vivid as they were emotional but nonetheless, I could feel every minute as clear as day. It's like I was there but not physically. I could see but no more than the emotions that I felt. Trapped in what I wished was a reality only to be stripped of such a wish as quickly as it began.

I lean over to my nightstand and pick up my journal writing down every little detail I muster, surrendering my mind entirely until the page is full. Anything I can see, feel, or smell. Any significant detail is big enough for me to deem important. Ink stained the paper and painted a picture I dared never to forget.

"Who are you?" I whisper trying to put a face to the man of my dreams. The one piece to the puzzle I just can't seem to remember. I bite my lip, my imagination beginning to build its own little dream with a certain man who rules my fantasies.

Closing the journal I toss it to the side slumping back into my bed. I lay for a few more seconds letting my mind run wild.

At the second alarm, I hit stop, get out of bed wipe my tired eyes, and head to the closet.

It's Friday and while I'm not doing school work I still have to fill the service hours each intern is required to complete in order to graduate.

Today I'm needed as a professor's assistant. The department has a guest speaker coming for one of the graduate classes and I opted to be there to help out, curious of who would be speaking for the seminar.

The interns have very specific jobs as we each have one common goal at the end of this. To survive. For the awarded intern, an internship at the company of their choice in any position of their picking. We have a list of choices given to us by the school but ultimately it's up to us who we pick to work for and there is no way I'm letting this chance slip through my grasp.

Walking to my closest I slip on my white bodysuit. My nipples peak through just the slightest but I leave it because my jacket will cover them anyway. Once buttoned I pull on my black bell-bottom pants and nude heels admiring myself as I give my body a once-over.

I check myself in the mirror for the last time heading for the bathroom and finishing up. Once my hair is perfect and my smile as bright as the day I walk out snatching my jacket off the hanger and collect my things.

"You look hot."

I do a little twirl as I walk to the kitchen collecting a bagel. Jess sits at the table in her work clothes with a bowl of cereal laughing at my morning mood.

"Thanks. We have a guest speaker today so I wanted to look my best."

"And who exactly is this guest speaker you are trying to impress?"

I roll my eyes at her insinuation and take a bite of my bagel walking over to take a seat across from her at the table. "They never said, but if I had to guess some big-shot CEO coming to tell us about his life as a millionaire."

"You act like that's such a bad thing."

She says raising her brow at me. Honestly, it wouldn't be such a bad thing if rich people weren't such snobs thinking they have some invisible hold on the world and people around them.

"They are all the same. Entitled assholes with superiority complexes." I say matter-of-factly leaving no room for disagreement. Jess rolls her eyes taking a sip of her coffee and brushing off my negativity.