Twenty eight year old Mia Hart frustratingly rearranged her workstation twice so far today. The attention needed to concentrate on rewriting a defected program was eluding her. It’s impossible to think when one just had mind-blowing sex with an absolute invisible stranger. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she scream for help when she discovered he was in bed with her? Supposed he had been a killer? The police would be looking at her nude body right now, prodding in her private drawers, looking through her underwear drawer and poor Kyle and Andrea would be distorted with grief beyond repair. Without a clue as to what happened to her. In the clarity of daylight she can see in her mind’s eye her mother fainting at the news. Her father teary eyed asking what happened to his baby girl? Her sister quietly weeping. Her brother angrily punching the wall vowing to find whomever did this to his sister.
But she really doesn’t know what to make of what has been happening to her lately. It all started out as dreams. Very intense sex dreams. Her moans so real they would wake her up. But she always looked around the chic decorated bedroom and saw no one. So she fell back to sleep. In her dream she could never see his face but somehow she knew he was exceptional handsome. Of course, he would be. All fantasy or dream lovers are. So she causally dismissed to this as nothing more.