Dead Sexy: Second Endings 1

by Lulu M. Sylvian

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I kept my tone happy and lilting. Anyone eavesdropping would hear pleasantries in my tone, and not the murderous rage I felt.

  “So Rich, you and John are roommates. You don’t happen to work together too, do you?” I asked because I didn’t want the torture of saying another word to John.

  That was the opening of the flood gates, and the moment Holly plastered her grin and bear it smile on for the duration. They did not talk about the predicted video games, and I didn’t win a bingo score for living in Mom’s basement. But they did bitch about the servers at work and used really specific computer-related jargon, so I know they weren’t talking about our waitress. They might as well have been speaking a different language. I don’t even remember if either of them asked Holly or me about what we did.

  We left as soon as was polite after dinner.

  Holly and I agreed we both lost and would be buying each other's lunch next time we went out. At least the second half of the evening was a success. We took ourselves over to the nearest Mexican place with a bar and got nachos with our well-earned margaritas for having survived the date. By the time we were done for the evening, we laughed hysterically at the awkwardness of the whole date-fail. Neither of us would call it a date—that might imply that something good had come of it.

  Standing in the middle of the kitchen, I gave Mike a quick recap of the terrible date when I got home. He howled with laughter.

  “Poor guy really doesn’t have a clue, does he?”

  “None. Do you think he realizes that not everyone shaves all their body hair off? I mean, clearly, he didn’t.” I gestured at my chin indicating the unfortunate mange of a beard John had.

  Mike shivered. “Better you than me, I might have dropped trou to show off the jungle garden I am cultivating.” Mike did a dramatic pose, spun like a pop star in a music video, and opened the fridge to look for a snack.

  “Goodnight, Mike.” I slipped off my shoes before climbing the mountain of stairs.

  “Night, Gil.”

  I dragged my butt upstairs to get ready for bed. I wiped off my makeup, brushed my teeth, and then took a shower. I fell asleep almost before I finished buttoning up the front of my pajamas once in bed. Peter waited for me on the dream plane. I recognized this was not a normal dream.

  “I don’t like it when you sleep with other guys.” He sounded rough like he had trouble controlling his emotions.

  I scoffed, “I noticed.” I sat up in bed, expecting him to sit by my feet as usual.

  He stood there, staring at me. His arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m serious, Gil, I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

  “Look, Peter,” I said as I crawled out of bed to stand in front of him. I prepared to wag my finger at him, giving him what-for. He had no claims on me, and really, what was he going to do about it? He’s a ghost.

  I had forgotten this was his domain, he could touch here. He was corporeal here.

  Peter wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest, and then claimed my lips in the tenderest kiss. His lips were soft and warm as they caressed mine. At first, I didn’t react. I was too shocked. Then I melted into him. A million butterflies swarmed in my tummy. The skin covering my body tingled. I couldn’t believe he touched me, and I was more than thrilled to touch him back. My arms snaked around his neck and I began kissing him. I clung to Peter as if he were rescuing me, and he pulled me to him as if he could somehow merge our bodies into one.

  His hands were warm as they clutched at my back, firmly grabbing me, like a massage. Yet, so gentle as he began stroking my hair.

  “I can’t handle it anymore, Gilligan.” He held my head forcing me to look at him. His eyes were so full of pain. I would do anything to help him. “I can’t handle knowing you’re out there looking for someone else when I’ve been right here the whole time.”

  “Peter, I—”

  His lips crushed mine again. When he pulled back, he searched my face.

  “I was with David. I couldn’t have, I wouldn’t have. There were boundaries in place I would never have crossed.”

  “No more David, no more boundaries?” he asked.

  “No David, no boundaries,” I confirmed.

  There was more want, more need in this kiss from both of us. I didn’t realize how much I craved him until then. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste him more thoroughly, wanting to finally lick his teeth. He tasted like warm spices and citrus. His tongue danced with mine, and I welcomed him into my mouth.

  His hands cupped my face before they began trailing down my arms, then on to my back. His arms tightened around me, crushing me against his firm chest. I began tugging at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans so I could run my hands up the skin of his back. His skin was so smooth. I could feel the strength of the muscles underneath. Tonight he chooses to be physically perfect and young.

  He broke away long enough to pull his shirt off. I inhaled sharply, appreciating the proximity and the view of his glorious chest. I tentatively placed my hands on his pecs. His muscles felt hard, solid under warm skin. He closed his eyes and sighed at the contact. Chest hairs tickled my fingertips as I ran my hands over him. Boldly, I ran my fingers down his flat firm abs and tugged the front of his waistband. Peter thrust his hips forward, and I began working the button free and undoing his zipper.

  I snaked my hand into the front of his jeans. Commando! My fingers found him, he was so hard. There was nothing else between me and his flesh. I wrapped my hand around his growing erection and squeezed.

  “Ah, don’t break it,” he moaned. I must have squeezed harder than I realized in my enthusiasm. I laughed, removing my hand before I shoved his jeans from his hips to his knees. Peter kicked them off the rest of the way.

  He was glorious—tanned tawny skin and lean defined muscles. Crisp blond hairs covered his chest and a darker thatch surrounded his long, thick manhood. I was able to touch it all. I could feel and smell him. I breathed him in, he smelled of clean soap and a hint of Old Spice. I pulled him on to the bed and on top of me. His weight was sensuous, an erotic pressure. Perfect.

  My hands ran all over his body, down his back, over his backside. I had never touched a body so toned, so firm before. Peter continued to kiss me, one hand cupping my head to him, the other slowly kneading a breast through my pajama top. His hand left my breast, but his lips were firm against mine. Slowly he found and began unfastening the buttons to my top. Once open, I could feel his chest against mine, this time, skin to skin. Peter broke the kiss and pulled back. He looked at me, my eyes, my lips swollen with his kisses, then down at my exposed breasts. Without a word, he pulled back more and yanked my pajama pants off. I squirmed out of my top, leaving me in panties. Those were pulled off next. I swallowed, my mouth dry as I watched him visually assess my body. I swear I could feel his eyes on my skin, like a firm caress. His eyes raked over me from head to toe, then back to my face.

  I knew Peter had mostly dated curvy, buxom starlets with dark hair. It was a type he seemed to prefer. At least, that's the type he was always photographed with. Even if the hair color changed, the body type didn’t. He seemed to prefer little waists and big boobs. This was the moment, which in my past could really defeat me as a human—that first time being completely nude with a new lover. I went for relationships over casual sex for a reason, emotional connections didn’t care about physical attributes so much. I bit my thumbnail, waiting for the comment about my small breasts, my pasty white skin, my narrow hips, or my naturally red hair. It never came.

  Peter let out a ragged sigh and clamped onto my lips again, ravishing my mouth with his tongue. His hands caressed and stroked as much of me as my hands were doing to him. This kiss was even sweeter to me, he hadn’t said anything negative. He had paused to look, and from his hooded expression, he had appreciated what he saw.

  As we continued to kiss, his hands found their focus—breasts, and butt. He caressed and teased my flesh. He pinched
a hardened nipple, causing me to moan into his mouth. Slowly, he began kissing along my jaw and down my throat. He left little bites along my collarbone.

  A loud moan escaped my lips when he sucked a pink nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the taut peak. He moved his hand, caressing my hip, then his fingers were stroking my pubic hair. I was nothing but nerve endings. Anticipation caused a riot amongst the butterflies in my lower abdomen as I waited for his fingers to continue moving closer and closer to my core.

  Two fingers slipped between my folds. My hips bucked. I tried not to call out. He continued to pet me, all while teasing my breasts with his mouth, tongue, and teeth.

  I had one hand bunched in his hair, the other grabbing handfuls of blankets.

  When he slipped those two fingers lower and then into me, I levitated off the bed. His thrusting fingers and sucking mouth were all I was aware of. I covered my mouth with a pillow so as not to scream too loudly.

  When his mouth joined his fingers, I sang opera.

  His fingers and his tongue worked magic. His tongue laved my delicate flesh as his fingers thrust rhythmically, driving me to orgasmic heights. A peak that he held me at until I thought I would pass out from exhaustion. I had always thought orgasms were reached then done, like a timer, “Bing bing bing, it's over.” Not with Peter. Apparently “bing bing bing” was just the beginning. I had no muscle control as he continued to suck and lick and thrust screams from me. By the time he was done, I felt like a limp noodle.

  I swear he had to have been breathing through his ears. Or did he even need to breathe?

  He kneeled above me, the most satisfied grin crossed his face. His fingers trailed back and forth between my hips. I shivered with each tickle. I was still all nerves, and they all screamed to be touched more. I felt replete. I felt drained. I felt the universe forming around me, stars colliding and creatures walking from the primordial ooze to dominate their worlds. I was so sensitized I could feel a ladybug breathe.

  “I knew you were a screamer,” he chuckled.

  I panted, “I don’t think I can move.” I was spent.

  “You don’t need to, but a little encouraging action might help.” He stroked my sex with his cock. I shivered in anticipation. He pushed into my opening, easing in as I was more than ready for him. I moaned in satisfied delight. He was hard and thick and filled me in a way I had never been filled before.

  “I’m not going to need much encouragement,” he growled, grabbing my hips as I tried to meet his thrusts. Hooking his hands on my shoulders ended up providing the best leverage. I couldn’t help but continued making noises as he rode me to his orgasm.

  He didn’t scream, but he growled out my name. That sent me over the edge again, and I came around him in explosions of electrical shocks. Peter collapsed on my chest. He looked like he couldn’t move either. Peter rolled onto his back, dragging me with him so I lay across his chest.

  “Gillian,” his finger gently stroked my cheek. My name sounded like a caress.

  I placed my hand on his chest, then rested my chin against it so I could look up at him. “Hmm?”

  “No one else gets to touch you, okay?” His voice was thick with emotion—or was it exhaustion? Probably both.

  “I might be able to agree to that, as long as you agree to continue to touching me like this,” I teased. There was no way I was interested in finding anyone else. I certainly didn’t think anyone else would be able to touch me with the skill he had. Why would I even want to go looking?

  We made love a second, and a third time before Peter let my dreams morph into the oddities they typically were, and I got much-needed sleep.

  I woke with a start. It was late morning, fortunately, it was the weekend so I hadn’t missed anything, like work. Realization of my actions drowned me like a riptide. I gasped for air as I curled into myself, sobbing. What had I done? I finally had found my ideal match, my perfect lover, and yet it had to be the most colossal fuck-up of my life.

  I realized why breaking up with David hadn’t been so hard. I had completely and totally fallen in love with Peter. I didn’t think I could ever tell him. How was I supposed to live a normal life now? Where were his comforting arms now, when I was awake and needed him most?

  11

  After the first few days of making love all night long, and I do mean all night, I found it hard to concentrate at work. Even though Peter could put me to sleep to enter the dream plane, it wasn’t actually sleeping. My body thought it was wide awake. I was tempted to call in sick so I could stay home and sleep. I didn’t. I was still feeling pangs of guilt for having missed an entire week with the flu, and that had been a while ago.

  Hi, Lover. Peter’s voice purred deeply in my ear. My eyes watered heavier than normal. I guess he leaned against my back or touched me somehow. I hated that I could barely sense him. I hated it more that I couldn’t touch or feel him.

  Hey, Pete. I wanted to be able to turn and kiss him on the cheek or smile into his eyes. I would had he been corporeal.

  What’s that? It looks like a diseased stomach. He wasn’t wrong on the diseased part, but he was way off on the body part. It was a heart.

  Your anatomy sucks. I laughed in my head. It’s part of a heart. Upper left ventricle.

  Gimme a break, his accent came out more as he relaxed more around me. Last time I had biology was the eighth grade. Be glad I knew it was a body part.

  You knew it was a body part because you know what my job is. I wouldn’t be drawing it if it wasn’t somehow related. I teased.

  I only know what your job is because for some inexplicable reason I am drawn to being with you as much as possible. He teased back.

  “Yeah.” I sighed contentedly.

  I was glad for whatever reason that had drawn him to me. I was glad for whatever it was that kept him around.

  What are your lunch plans? He asked as if we could go out together.

  I’m taking a nap.

  Good. He purred.

  Without you, I said pointedly. I need to sleep. I haven’t been getting much lately. I blushed at the thought. I could hear him chuckle.

  I finished outlining the section of the heart I was working on, printed out a quick note, and headed over to Holly’s desk.

  “Hey,” I said as I approached her. “Can you call or come wake me up in forty-five minutes. I’m about to pass out.”

  “Sure, you look exhausted.”

  “Not sleeping well,” I explained

  “It’s okay, Gil, you’ll get over him soon. Life will return to normal and get better.”

  I let Holly think I was still reeling from the break up with David. That was fine. It was easier to excuse any excessive or abhorrent behavior I exhibited as missing David. Blame it on the breakup. It actually made more sense and was certainly less crazy sounding than what was really happening. I broke up with my no good cheating live boyfriend and began sleeping with a phantom lover. Yeah, that all sounded so sane. There was no way I would ever tell Holly what was really happening, at least not on purpose, and not while sober.

  “Thanks,” I smiled at her, “I know it will take some time. I mean we were together for three years.”

  “You holding up okay anyway?” she asked.

  “I am. I’m gonna go pass out now.”

  I smiled and waved as I returned to my cube. I pinned the note I printed earlier on the outside of my entry. It said, “Shh napping, do not disturb.” I penciled in the times I would be unavailable.

  I put my head down on my folded arms. Darkness crept in behind my eyes. I felt the pull to unconsciousness by Peter, but he wasn’t there once I fell asleep.

  I woke with Holly jostling my shoulder. I slept hard and drooled on my arm.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Um, yeah.” I rubbed my face, and got up, yawning.

  “Thanks,” I said as I stood and stretched.

  She let me sleep for about fifty minutes. Perfect timing.

  “I’m gonna go wash
my face and inhale a sandwich.”

  By the time I returned to my desk I felt refreshed, fed, and ready to finish that heart illustration. I put on my headphones, popped the tab on a Coke, and got to work.

  You sing off key.

  I hadn’t realized I was singing along with my music. One of the more interesting aspects of being able to talk directly to Peter in my head was that I could keep my headphones in and still hear him clearly.

  I’m an artist, not a singer.

  Good nap?

  Yes, thank you. Have I told you that’s quite a talent you have, pulling me to sleep? I sighed.

  Yes, several times in fact, but you don’t normally sleep.

  I bit my thumbnail and tried not to blush at the thought of all the not sleeping we had been doing lately.

  I enjoy not sleeping with you, Gilligan. I’m finding out what they say about redheads is true.

  Oh yeah? I asked.

  Yeah, the carpets match the drapes.

  I rolled my eyes. I heard that entirely too often in college but usually formed in a question as part of a drunken come-on.

  And your fiery passion. He continued. And eruptive empowerment.

  Are you telling me you have never been with a real redhead before?

  Real as in real fake. Natural, apparently not. He chuckled.

  I completely blushed now. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation while I sat calmly pretending to be working

  I’m supposed to be working, you know.

  But you’re not, he purred, satisfied that he successfully distracted me.

  I would much rather spend my time being distracted by Peter than working on cardiac illustrations.

  I’ve got to work, deadlines. Will I see you tonight? It was a stupid question. Peter came to me every night since he claimed me as his. I needed to make sure he knew I wanted him to come back even though I was sending him away right now.

  Get your work done, Gilligan.

  My eyes watered as if he touched me, and he was gone. I missed him terribly the second he left. I wished I could kiss or hug him before went. It felt so dismissive this way without a gentle, loving send off.