The evening goes well until I tell you about a dream I had and ask what you think it could mean.
        You don’t reply.
        Instead, a knowing smile creeps into your eyes.
        I drown another fat chip in ketchup and change the subject.
        “So why exactly have you been working such long hours lately?”
        “I … “ you stop. “… it is not important.”
        “I believe it is.”
        “You need to come and see.”
        “See what?”
        You wink. “How I make dreams come true.”

The doorman buzzes me in with a knowing look on his face.
        My steps echo in the dark as I walk through a long corridor, past locked office doors until I see light inside a room.
        “You are late,” you say.
        “It was difficult to …”
        “Whatever.”
        You shuffle a few papers about to make room for the Pizza I brought.
        I take off my coat and grab a chair.
        “Don’t sit,” you say. “Stay where you are.“
        You light a candle and turn off the main light. You pull a penknife out of your pocket and cut the Pizza into six neat slices. With a wet pop you open a can of beer.
        “Now lose those clothes.”
        I unzip my skirt. It glides over my hips and falls on the floor. You watch me while you bite off chunks of pizza and chew them thoughtfully.
        I unbutton my blouse.
        “That’s enough.”
        I stop.
        “Come closer.”
        I do.
        You pull the blouse down over my arms. Your greasy Pizza fingers leave shimmering stains on the fabric. With one well-aimed slash of your penknife you cut the straps of my bra. I don’t flinch. Two more cuts and my knickers are on the floor. I’m naked except for my stockings.
        “Turn around.”
        You bend me over the desk, force my legs apart.
        I feel your breath on my neck.
        A bell goes off.
        “Perfect timing,” you murmur. “Don’t move.”
        You leave the room. I remain where you put me, my bare ass aiming towards the door. In the flickering candlelight I see the empty Pizza carton and the beer can. Your lips have left a soft imprint on the aluminium.
        All I hear is silence. Then footsteps. They tickle past the office door. They come back. They stop as if contemplating whether to come in or not. There is a draft from the door. I straighten up and turn around, grab my blouse and my skirt to cover my body while I watch the door open.
        “I told you not to move.”
        You sound angry.
        I drop my clothes, fly back to the desk and bend over quickly.
        You hold me down, take the candleholder and place it between my shoulder blades. The metal is cool against my skin. Your fingers glide down my spine and I shiver. Then you leave the room a second time.
        My knees tremble as I try to keep my balance on my wide spread legs. The candleholder gets heavier and heavier but I don’t dare reach for it to remove it. I’m too scared it will fall over and set me on fire.
        The burning wax makes a sizzling sound.
        It drips down on my back.
        It stings.
        I clench my teeth and hold my breath until it cools down.
        Then the next drop rolls.
        Again there are footsteps. Again the door opens. This time I cannot get up and hide.
        I hear a voice murmuring something I don’t understand; the swishing sound of zippers being undone; the whisper of wool and polyester mix rubbing against hairy legs as trousers fall on the floor.
        The candleholder is picked up. I want to stretch and stand up straight but I am pushed back down hard against the desk. The stiff, leathery tail of a dragon glides inside me. Hands grab my hair, guide my head and spear my mouth onto another dragon. A thrust of the tail in my cunt pushes my head onto the tail in my mouth, down my throat until I gag.
        I raise my arms to find you but my fingers close around the flesh of two more dragon tails.
        I want to scream.
        I want to run.
        I am the heart of an animal that smells of sweat and garlic and beer.
        Its moans are desperate.
        Its breath is poison.
        But I cannot leave.
        For without me the animal must die.
        Above and around me impatient hands glide up and down more dragon tails. Flabby white skin covers and uncovers their gaping eyes. They stare at me until they puke pale burnt honey. It fills my cunt and my mouth. It drips down my back and my thighs, my hips and my stomach, sticks to my arms and my legs.
        When all dragons are exhausted they hang their heads, timidly averting their eyes.
       
I don’t know who takes my hand, barely feel your touch, but when I wake up and see the smile on your face I know that my dreams no longer belong to me.