Chapter 3: CHAPTER THREE: CONNECTIONS
Hey Auntie." Damien bent over to give her a kiss. She gave him a glance as she stirred the pot.
"How did everything go?" She placed the pot cover back and turned to face him. Her face a picture of concern.
His shoulders heavy under the unseen weight he carried.
"Did she wake up this time"
"Yeah a little. I left when she fell back to sleep. Just that bit exhausted her." He sank into the recliner. Exhaustion written over his entire body.
"I made you some food. Lay mr share some out. You look like you haven't eaten."
She pottered around the kitchen. Soon the familiar domesticated sounds lulled him to sleep. He awoke to a bowl of soup being placed in front of him.
"You need to rest. Eat something first. You need your strength as much as she does. Wouldn't want her coming home to a ghost." Before he could respond, his aunt swept away towards the kitchen. Her took her advise. The soup was delicious. A reminder of family, friends and good times. But the memories also came with a painful knowing that everything faded.
He took his dishes back to the kitchen.
"Auntie I'm going to take your advise and turn in early. I will see you in the morning, okay?" He turned towards the bedroom.
"Oh Damien. You had a call earlier. I almost forgot. Somebody by the name of…I know I wrote it down…Darcy? Marcy? Something like that."
"Don't worry. I'll call them back later"
He left her still looking for the message. All he could think of was his shower and bed. The pain of seeing his wife after a near fatal stroke too much to bear.
<i>He tasted her juices. My God! She was delicious! Her excitement coated his tongue. He felt her tremble as her held her in place, not ready to let her go. He could feel the swell of his member. He had to calm himself a little. No early ejaculation here. He wanted to feel and taste every bit of her. Her skin as just as he remembered it, milk chocolate with a hint of caramel. He slipped out of his pants hurriedly after last shudder. Her moans reaching a fevered pitch. Her thrashing fiercely for a few as she begged him for release. He could tell just putting in would send her to the top. He gave her one last kiss on her swollen clit. Protection in place, he slowly inserted himself. Damn it felt so tight and hot. Her wetness gave him access. Her muscles enveloped him, threatening to pull him in deep. He paced himself. Not even six strokes in and he felt her climax. Good now he could take his time building back up. Her skin felt cool to his touch. The perfect mix to the heat he felt building deep inside her. His stroke plunged deeper. Grasping ahold of her body, he climbed further inside. With each thrust his balls hit against her lips. Another orgasm raced through. He knew he hit the spot. That little knob all the way at the top. He wanted her to remember whose she was. She belonged to him and with. Final thrust, he knew…he belonged to her also.</i>
Damien awoke the next morning drained. The mirror said he aged 10 years in his sleep. It never lied. Truthfully, the last year aged him. Having a sick spouse made time speed up when all you want is to slow it down. That's why his aunt moved in. Staying on top of everything became impossible for him. Eating was the last thing on his mind. Now all he wanted was for her to come home.
Time to head in. He looked at his bed once more. The dream he had becoming a fleeting memory. Yet he could still feel the love surrounding it. Strange, he thought. I don't think that was Jackie.
Damien tried and failed to remember a time when the center wasn't a part of his daily routine.The nurses greeted him on his way. His steps faltered at the door. For the last several months nothing changed. Multiple strokes over a short period robbed her of the ability to move, talk, and recognize him regularly.
"Hi sweetie. You missed me?" The kiss he planted generated no response. With a sigh, he sank down to take up residence. He visited for an hour before heading off to work. The guilt of leaving her there rode him. Work requirements kept him afloat. It helped to not focus on his wife for a portion of the day. But he dreaded going home. Without her there, the house felt empty. Echoes of her footstep haunted his existence. It was as if she…
When he arrived home, the house seemed unnaturally quiet.
"Auntie, I'm home." The note on refrigerator said she would be back after church. His aunt never missed a Wednesday night service. She left his dinner in the microwave in anticipating his arrival. He fixed his plate and took up his favorite spot in front of the tv.
The day wound down with a whisper and a sigh. Only the television kept him company. He hadn't bothered to turn on any other lights in the house. Lights from the tv flickered on the reflective surfaces, lulling him into sleep.
He kissed the nape of her neck as they embraced on the deck. The smell of salt filled the air and seasoned her skin. She was as beautiful as the day he met her...
Damien jerked away. In one swoop he closed the recliner and stood up. Disoriented, he didn't know what was wrong at first. Then the sound came again. A thump upstairs.
"Auntie is that you?" He looked out the front window when no answer came. She hadn't arrived back yet. He glanced at the wall clock to make sure. Still too early to expect her.So what or who was upstairs? Now feeling the need to be overly cautious, he got the bat from the front closet. His heart raced from adrenalin pumping. Nothing like confronting an intruder to make one feel alive. The climb seemed to take forever. He had been in the house long enough to know how to avoid each creak. It was an old house. Bu they had never had any problems with unwanted guests.
"Who's here? I have a gun and I know how to use it." He jumped around the corner with the bat held out in front of him. There in the middle of the hallway was a little girl holding a ball. That must have bee where the thump came from.
"Hey! Little girl. Where did you cone from and what are you doing in my house?" Uncertainty filled him. The more he looked at her, the more he realized she wasn't all there. Her body appeared translucent. That fear that builds from the stomach up like a kettle boiling water, pierced through his senses. He would deny it later, but for now his scream burst forth; crescendoing like a geyser from his very soul.
Later on, he relegated the vision to exhaustion. For when his aunt came home, she found him passed out on the couch. No telling how he got there. All he knew is the figure he saw took him to a place he never wanted to go again.
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