"angels of my dreams: Tales of Mystery, Love, and Triumph"

angels of my dreams begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so angels of my dreams becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In angels of my dreams, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in angels of my dreams, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that angels of my dreams worked better than any sleeping pill.