Dream vs Reality - part 5

The next two weeks stretched and blurred, thick with nerves and anticipation.

J couldn’t focus at work. Every time he glanced at his phone, his stomach flipped — a new message from Her, Estella, the dream girl he’d only ever known through screens. She was real. She was planning.

“Send me your hotel details,” Estella wrote one night. “I’ll make sure I can get there on time. Also… are you sure Lisa is okay with this? I don’t want any drama.”

J reassured her — again — though he wasn’t fully sure himself. Lisa said she was okay. Lisa acted confident. But he could sense a flicker of nervousness behind her wide smiles, her teasing comments.

In the mornings, Lisa curled up against him, her body warm and soft, her laughter wrapping around him like a blanket. She joked about the trip, about seeing him nervous for once. “You’ve been chasing this for years, baby,” she whispered one night, her lips brushing his ear. “Let’s see what you do when you finally catch it.”

But when she said that, J wondered — was it still just his dream? Or was it theirs now?

By the time they landed in Frankfurt, J’s body was taut with adrenaline. His heart raced the whole cab ride to the airport hotel. Lisa, in her floral dress, her glossy hair falling over her shoulders, watched him with a catlike grin.

“Relax,” she murmured, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “We’re here to have fun.”

In the hotel room, J fumbled with the bags while Lisa freshened up. She slipped into a new dress — something low-cut, brightly colored, hugging her curves.

He caught his breath.

“You look…” he began.

“I know,” she smirked, spinning her wheels toward the mirror. “Let’s go.”

Downstairs in the bar, they grabbed a table, ordered drinks, and waited.

J’s leg bounced under the table. His palms were damp. He glanced at the clock, then at the entrance. Where was she? Would she show? What if—

And then she was there.

Estella rolled in, graceful and poised, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders, her slim frame wrapped in a deep red dress that shimmered under the lights. Her eyes met J’s — and then flicked to Lisa.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke.

Then Estella smiled. “Hi.”

Lisa grinned, stretching out her hand. “You must be the famous Estella.”

They shook hands, and J felt the air shift. The two women were sizing each other up — not in jealousy, but in curiosity.

They ordered drinks. They chatted. Lisa teased J for being too quiet; Estella laughed softly, teasing too.

Under the table, J’s body was tight, hard, his mind racing with the sight of the two of them — the dream girl and the woman he loved — leaning in toward each other, voices low and close.

They talked about everything: how long they’d each been in chairs, funny work stories, travel, life.

But under it all, a slow, electric tension built.

At one point, Lisa’s hand brushed J’s under the table. She leaned close, whispering, “She’s even prettier in person, huh?”

J shivered. He could barely speak.

They stayed for hours, the drinks flowing slowly, the conversation winding deeper. Estella’s eyes sparkled; Lisa’s laugh was softer now, more intimate.

Finally, Estella checked the time, then smiled slyly. “It’s been lovely… but I need to decide. Should I grab a taxi back to my hotel — or should I join you both upstairs?”

Lisa turned to J, her eyes gleaming. “Your call, baby.”

J swallowed hard.

His voice came out rough, thick with longing. “I’d love you to come upstairs. If you want to.”

Estella’s smile deepened. “I want to.”

And just like that, the air cracked open.

J excused himself, heart hammering, slipping away to splash water on his face, grab some last-minute supplies — water, snacks, condoms. He needed to be ready. He needed to not mess this up. I also took a cash from an ATM. He knew Estella would appreciate that.

When he came back to the bar, the women were gone.

The waiter grinned, giving him a knowing look. “They went upstairs.”

J’s breath caught. His skin flushed hot.

He clutched the small grocery bag in his hands, stepped into the elevator, and rode it up, up, up — to where the dream, the fantasy, and the reality were waiting for him to walk through the door.