>*(as the title suggests, this came to me in a dream. very new to writing erotica, so my apologies if it’s not super juicy. would like to maybe come back to it in the future.)*
You were in my dream again, only this time, I remember.
You say we’re in Montreal but how should I know? I’ve never been. It looks like a film set; cardboard storefronts and hundreds of people babbling about in French.
I’m wearing a skimpy black dress underneath my winter coat, which swallows my tiny frame. I can’t remember your face.
We take a turn down a cobblestone street and the adult theater is in front of us. An old white man pushes past us as we enter. His fly is still down.
You rent a private room. It costs you $50. We ascend a creaky staircase to the second floor and enter through velvet curtains. The lights are dim, romantic almost.
You ask if I want something to eat.
“No,” I laugh, while pulling off my coat. Porn and popcorn aren’t really my thing. I still can’t remember your face but I’m flushed, embarrassed. When was the last time I dressed up like this? Have I ever?