She rode the subway to work, as usual. The seats were hard and uncomfortable and the car was crowded with commuters talking loudly on cell phones and jostling each other, reminding her why she disliked public transportation… but she couldn’t afford a car, and in the city, where parking spaces were more precious than gold, it just made more sense to use the subway.
She got off at her stop and walked down the sidewalk to the blocky, brick building on the corner. The words SMITH & BLEEKER were stenciled on the glass doors in front. As she approached the doors, her pace slowed, and each step seemed to take more effort than the one before it. It seemed as though the very air had thickened, resisting her, though she knew it was just her own reluctance.
Every day at Smith & Bleeker’s accounting firm seemed longer than the one before it. Every day, she told herself that she wouldn’t be a receptionist for much longer, that this was just a survival job until she found something better. She’d been telling herself that for months.
After eight long, dull hours, she punched out and walked straight to the library. She spent an hour hunting through the “occult” section, looking for books on ghosts and spirits. She found only a few volumes, none of them especially promising. One was about alleged haunted houses across the U.S. She skimmed through a few chapters, mostly local legends and anecdotes about encounters with ghosts, but nothing remotely helpful. Another book, called Ghost Hunters, detailed the travels of a group of “paranormal experts” who visited haunted locations. Still nothing that might help Gregory. The only one that looked remotely useful was called Spiritual Connections: The Dead and the Living, and was by a woman who claimed to be a medium. Linda checked it out and took the subway home. She sat, holding the thick, tattered book tucked under one arm as the train rolled through cement tunnels beneath the city.
A large, bearded man in a hooded gray sweatshirt approached her. “Hey,” he said, and leaned closer. His breath smelled stale. “What’s your name, baby?”
Linda hesitated. “Kristen.”
“Kristen, what a pretty name.”
She looked away, hoping he’d get the hint.
“You doing anything tonight, Kristen? You want to get a drink?”
Linda kept her eyes averted. Men bothering her on the subway was nothing new. Just one of the hassles of public transportation. Still, it always caught her off guard. Her stomach tightened to a nervous ball. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel like talking right now,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Please leave me alone.”
His face darkened. “Oh, really. Too good to talk to the likes of me?”
Should she have said something else? Maybe told him she had a boyfriend, or that she was a lesbian? She looked around. There were only a few other people on the subway. A man had his face buried in a newspaper a few seats away and seemed to be making an effort not to look at her.
Damn it. She knew she should just tell the guy to fuck off, but her nerve had deserted her. She felt cornered.
“Come on, stop looking so nervous. I’m not a fucking nut job,” said the man. “Jesus, can’t a man just ask a woman out? Just a few drinks, then maybe, you know, we’ll see how it goes. What do you say?”
A cool, tingling sensation swept over Linda’s skin. When she opened her mouth, the voice that emerged was cold and commanding, totally unlike her normal tone. “How many times must you hear ‘no’ before you understand? What sort of man keeps harassing a woman after she’s made her disinterest clear? Have you no sense of chivalry at all?” The words sprang from her mouth of their own accord. She felt her eyes narrow. “I will say it once more. Get away. Now.”
The man backed away. “Okay, okay, sorry,” he muttered. He retreated to the far end of the subway car and stood clutching the pole, his wide eyes still focused on her.
What just happened, wondered Linda. She’d never spoken to a stranger like that before. She usually just kept stalling politely until she could escape the situation. Goose-bumps rose on her arms and breasts. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.
Gregory’s voice spoke in her mind. “Are you all right?”
“I… yes, I’m fine,” she whispered. “Where did you come from?”
“I have been watching you.”
“All day?”
“Of course.”
“Great, I have a supernatural stalker,” she murmured.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes darted back and forth to see if anyone was looking at her. She probably sounded like a crazy person, muttering to herself. “Listen, Gregory… I don’t mind you visiting me in my apartment, but you can’t just follow me around everywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because… never mind. We shouldn’t be talking now. We can talk when we get back, okay?”
“If you wish.”
The train stopped, and she got out, the book clutched against her side. Gregory was silent as she walked home, but she knew he was there, walking alongside her, or hovering nearby. She could feel the tingle of his presence, alternately warm and cool, on her skin.
* * *
Once she was safely inside her apartment with the door locked behind her, Linda crossed her arms and looked around. It was hard to talk to someone when you couldn’t look him in the eye. She wished she at least had a vague idea of where he was standing. “Okay, Gregory. We need to establish a few rules. You can’t follow me everywhere.”
“It’s a good thing I was there. Otherwise you’d still be fending off that toad’s advances.”
“I knew it. That was you, wasn’t it? You hijacked control of my voice to tell him off. And that’s another thing. It’s really freaky to hear someone else talking through your mouth, especially when you don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t do that again.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But I’m a big girl. I’ve been looking after myself for a while, and that’s not the first time someone’s bothered me on the train. I can deal with it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
She smiled. “That’s very chivalrous, but things have changed since the 1400s, you know. I don’t expect a big man to sweep me off my feet and fight all my battles for me.”
“You were frightened when he approached you. How could I stand by and do nothing?”
A flush rose into her cheeks. “I wasn’t afraid,” she said, but it was a lie, and both of them knew it. She set her purse on the coffee table and undid the clips in her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. She combed out the tangles with her fingers.
“What is that book you have?”
“Oh. This?” She glanced at the book, still tucked under one arm, and set it on the coffee table. “I was just curious. I mean, now that I know there’s such a thing as ghosts, I thought I should learn more about them.” She opened the book to the table of contents. “Of course, I don’t know whether the things in this book are true or not. A lot of people pretend to be psychics or mediums for attention, or to make money.” Her eyes skimmed down the list of chapters.
“Will you read it now?”
“Maybe a little.”
“I will leave you alone, then.”
She hesitated. There was a hint of coldness in his voice, and she wondered if she’d offended him. “Gregory? Are you angry?”
He was silent a moment, then sighed. “It is a difficult thing when the one person who can see and hear you is uneasy with your presence.”
“Oh, Gregory, please don’t take it that way. It’s not that I don’t like having you around. I’m just not used to interacting with someone I can’t see all the time. A part of me still feels like I’m going nuts, and I don’t quite know how to deal with it.”
Another moment of silence. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “It’s a little strange for me, as well. It has been centuries since I have spoken to another person, after all. I am out of practice.”
She smiled. “I’m a little out of practice, myself. Since moving here, it seems like I’ve been alone all the time. Even when I’m around other people, I feel alone.” She paused. “I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. Now, I’m far away from my family, my friends, everything familiar. Being in the city, surrounded by all these big buildings, all these strangers… it makes me feel small, sometimes. Insignificant.”
“You are far from insignificant, Linda.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Do you wish to read now?”
She glanced down at the book. “Oh… right.” She sat down at the kitchen table and opened it again. After a half hour of reading, however, she sighed and closed it.
“Not what you wanted, is it?”
“Not really. I got my hopes up when I saw a chapter about how this woman helped a little girl’s ghost get to the afterlife, but she makes it sound like spirits have a choice, that they can move between worlds at will and only stay on Earth because they have regrets, or can’t accept that they’re dead. That doesn’t sound like your situation.”
“No. Strictly speaking, I’m not even dead, but I’ve often thought that might be preferable.”
“Don’t say that. You can’t give up hope. Just because you haven’t found a way to return to life doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
“I’ve been this way so long, I’ve almost forgotten how to hope.”
“I’ll just have to keep reminding you, then.”
She felt his presence moving within her, brushing against her very heart. “I am very lucky to have found you, my Linda.”
My Linda. The words reverberated in her soul. She felt warmth creeping into her cheeks. The endearment should have felt inappropriate -- after all, they’d only just met the other day -- but somehow it felt right, and that sense of rightness scared her a little. This was all moving way too fast.
Linda’s stomach growled. She pressed a hand over it. “I should have something to eat,” she murmured, and stood.
She dug through her cabinets, but there was little in the way of food. Cereal, ramen noodles, some eggs in the refrigerator and a few TV dinners in the freezer. She broke a few eggs into a bowl, stirred them with a whisk, and set a saucepan on the stove. She could feel Gregory’s curiosity, sense him watching her movements. “What are you making?” he asked.
“Scrambled eggs.” She turned the stovetop on low and dropped a pat of butter into the pan to melt. A few minutes later, she carried a plate of steaming scrambled eggs to the table and took a bite.
Gregory sighed with pleasure in her mind.
She swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “Gregory?”
“It has been many centuries since I have tasted food. I had almost forgotten what it was like. This is wonderful.”
Linda felt a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad you like them.” She took another bite and swallowed.
“Slow down,” said Gregory. “I want to savor this.”
She laughed. “Is this going to become a recurring thing?” she said, but she took her time with the next bite, sliding the eggs into her mouth, then closing her eyes and chewing slowly. She tasted the butter she’d cooked the eggs in, the salt she’d added, savored the texture of the eggs themselves sliding across her tongue.
Gregory moaned in her mind.
She swallowed and grinned. “I think you’re enjoying this more than you did the sex. I didn’t know I was that good a cook.”
“The sex was better. But this is close,” said Gregory, so seriously that she laughed again.
She finished the eggs and washed them down with a glass of milk.
“So cool. So sweet,” Gregory said, and let out another heartfelt sigh of pleasure.
She licked her lips. “I wish I had some of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies. If you enjoyed plain old scrambled eggs this much, you’d probably have an orgasm over those.”
“You think so?”
“It’s possible.” She was still smiling. She felt more light-hearted than she had in weeks. “What do you say to a hot bath? I bet you haven’t had one of those for a long time, either.”
“I would love that.”
Linda walked into the bathroom and shut the door. She started to take off her blouse, then hesitated, feeling shy. She supposed it was silly, considering that they’d already had sex -- in a sense -- but still, she blushed as she slipped her blouse off and undid the clasps of her bra. As her bra dropped to the floor, her nipples hardened in the cool air. She felt Gregory’s lust flare to life inside her, hot as a torch. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took off her slacks. She stood there a moment in just her panties, staring at her reflection in the mirror, knowing that Gregory was looking, too, through her eyes. She took a deep breath and took off her panties, too. She shivered as cool air touched her naked pussy.
“You are getting wet again,” said Gregory, his voice like the purr of a huge cat. “I feel it.” There was a very male satisfaction in that voice. She could almost see the accompanying grin.
“Don’t get any ideas. I want to take a bath before we do anything else. I’ve been in my work clothes all day.” She turned on the bathwater and let it run until it was hot. She filled the tub, stepped in, and sank into the steaming water with a sigh. “That feels good. Nothing better than a hot bath after a long day’s work.” She rested her head against the tub’s rim and closed her eyes.
“Even when I was alive, hot baths were a rare treat,” said Gregory. “We did not have running water. This modern era is filled with marvels. It amazes me how many people are restless and discontent, in spite of these luxuries. The more they have, the less content they are.”
“Yeah,” said Linda. “That does seem to be the case, doesn’t it? I probably don’t appreciate the little things as much as I should, either.” She leaned back and stretched one leg up, letting the water drip from her toes. With a bar of lavender scented soap, she worked up a lather and rubbed it under her arms, over her neck and breasts. She felt Gregory’s lust burn hotter as her fingers circled her tight, slippery nipples. “Relax,” she said, “I’m going to be in here a while longer.”
“Wicked temptress. You know how that affects me.”
Linda grinned. She soaked for a little while longer, then drained the water and showered briefly to rinse herself off. She stepped out of the tub and wrapped a thick terrycloth towel around herself. She rubbed her hair dry, then slipped into a robe.
“Ah,” Gregory sighed softly. “The satisfaction of being freshly clean. Another thing I had forgotten about.”
Linda’s heart glowed. It made her happy to share these simple pleasures with him. She felt his enjoyment, a warmth deep in her chest. Still, she ached for more. She didn’t just want to hear his voice. She wanted to look him in the eye, wanted to touch him.
Linda bit her lower lip. “Gregory, will you appear in a reflection, like you did before? You can do that, can’t you?”
“Yes, though it’s a strain.”
“Just for a minute or two. Please?”
“Very well. I will appear in your bedroom mirror.”
She felt him slip out of her, like mist moving through her skin. She walked into the bedroom and stared into the mirror. At first, she saw nothing. Then mist flowed over the mirror’s surface. It shimmered, a white glow which slowly resolved itself into a human form.
Gregory stood there, huge and imposing. A chill ran down Linda’s spine. He looked exactly as he had in her dream. He wore the same old-fashioned clothes, the same long-sleeved, tunic-length, black silk shirt and trousers. His hair was jet-black and thick, tied tightly back, his skin darkened from the sun, his jaw rough with stubble, and his eyes…
She stared into them, hypnotized. His eyes were like black ice, cold and penetrating. But deep beneath the surface was something warm, something human and hungry. They were simultaneously the most expressive and the most inscrutable eyes she had ever seen. They pierced her very core. Her eyes moved a little lower and lingered on his broad, sensual mouth, framed by the shadow of a beard. She remembered the pressure of that mouth on hers, the heat of his tongue, the scrape of whiskers against her skin.
Linda placed a hand against the mirror. Gregory placed his own huge hand against it, so that their hands appeared to be touching through the mirror’s surface. She could almost feel the heat of his skin. Almost. They were separated by the thinnest of surfaces, and yet they were worlds apart, unable to truly touch. Even when he was inside her mind, they weren’t truly touching. It was a different kind of intimacy, just as powerful, but not the same as the primal contact of skin to skin. Tears welled in Linda’s eyes -- tears for him, trapped forever in this gray half-life, alone and adrift, and tears for herself, because she wanted him so badly, in so many ways, but she couldn’t have him… not really. Not in the way she needed. She stared into his eyes, aching. She wanted to run her hands over him, feel the roughness of his bearded jaw beneath her fingertips, trail her fingers through that thick hair, rest her cheek against his broad chest and feel the steady beat of his heart. She wanted to feel his arms around her. It had been too long since she’d lain next to a man. She’d always told herself she didn’t miss it, that life was so much easier without men and sex to complicate things, but being here now, so close and yet so far from this man… this man whom she desired so much…
Linda sank to her knees, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of her feelings. She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly feel as though her heart was splitting in half? “Gregory,” she whispered. “I… I want to help you. I want it so much. Please… is there nothing I can do?”
His dark eyes gazed down at her, and they were filled with heartrending pain. Then his image dissipated into mist. She felt him flow into her once more, a rush of warm wind, a tiny tingle at the base of her neck. “You have already done more for me than you can know,” he said. His deep voice was gentle. “Simply being within your body, feeling the beat of your heart and the rush of blood through your veins, is a great joy. After centuries of nothing, I feel warmth and pleasure again, through you.”
“But I’m mortal, Gregory. Once I die, you’ll be alone again.”
“That may be true, but I will have the memory of you to warm me for all eternity.”
Another tear spilled down her cheek. “Is there nothing else I can do for you?”
“Let me make love to you.”
A tiny chill ran down her spine. Heat spread through her body. She undid the sash of her robe and let it slip to the floor. She stood, naked, and stared at herself in the mirror.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
“Close your eyes.”
She obeyed. A moment later, she felt a gentle pressure on her lips, a scratch of stubble against her chin. She tasted the heat and wetness of his tongue, felt hands on either side of her face, the palms broad and rough against her cheeks. Her eyes opened, but of course, there was no one there. “How do you do that?” she asked. Her heart pounded, and her knees trembled. “Are you really touching me, or is it all in my head?”
“If I feel it, and you feel it, then it is real.” She felt the warmth of his breath against her lips. Then he kissed her again, deeply. His tongue was inside her mouth, and his hands were on her breasts. His thumbs circled her hard, tingling nipples. His mouth trailed kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, then closed over one nipple and sucked. She felt the gentle press of teeth. His hand glided down, over her stomach. Hot fingers delved between her thighs.
She gasped.
“So wet,” he breathed. His fingers plundered the hot silk of her folds, pressed deep into her body. “So warm.”
“Gregory,” she breathed. “Oh, God.” Her head spun. He was just a voice in her head, just a force, a presence, yet her whole being burned for him. She wanted to cling to him, to bury her fingers in his hair, to kiss and touch him, but there was nothing to touch. He could give her pleasure, but she could give him nothing in return.
“Believe me,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, “you give me pleasure.”
She felt his hands on her body, guiding her across the room, toward the bed. His hot mouth pressed against her breast again, and she felt a weight pushing down on her, pushing her to the bed. She sprawled across the soft sheets and arched upward, into his touch.
He trailed burning kisses over her heaving, sweat-damp breasts, her stomach, her thighs. His tongue traced the cleft of her pussy, swirled around her clit. You aren’t really feeling this, her brain told her. It’s not real. But her body replied, Yes, it is.
His fingers plunged into her again, two, then three. His hot, skilled tongue continued to lave her clit as he worked his fingers in and out of her pussy. Thick, sticky cream coated her thighs.
“Gregory, please!” she cried.
“Please what?” She couldn’t see him, but she could sense his smile, knowing and very male.
She quivered as he pushed his thick fingers into her. “I want you inside me. I need it.”
His fingers withdrew. He slid into her, huge and hard. He filled the aching need inside her. She clutched at the sheets and gasped. He pounded into her, again and again, and each thrust brought his cock against that sensitive spot deep inside her. Stars burst across the backs of her eyes each time he hit it. She heard her own voice crying out his name. Her toes curled, clenched the sheets, and her teeth pressed into her lower lip as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.
“Gregory!” she screamed as she came. Light exploded through her vision, blinding her, as if a bomb had gone off inside her head. She went limp, trembling and panting. She touched the sticky heat between her thighs.
The wild energy of Gregory’s desire, so thick in the room a moment ago, had subsided to a quiet stillness, and she knew he had shared her orgasm. She reached out instinctively, wanting to pull him close, feel his warmth and life, but of course there was nothing there. A tight, bittersweet knot lodged itself in her throat.
“What is wrong?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Nothing… nothing.” She wiped tears away.
“Tell me, Linda.” It was a command, soft and tender, but a command nonetheless, like iron wrapped in velvet.
She smiled. There was some of his old arrogance left, after all. But her smile faltered quickly. “I just wish…” She trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it. “I can feel you inside me. In my mind. And it’s a good feeling, but I want to feel you outside of me, too, on my skin.” She sighed. “That sounds really superficial. But that’s how I feel. I want to be able to hold you, kiss you… not just feel it, but actually do it.”
“I miss having a body, as well. But this is enough. This is all I need, right now.”
Warmth flowed into her at his words. But the knot of pain was still there, embedded deep in her heart. “Gregory? What did it feel like, when you first became a spirit?”
A moment of silence passed. “Why do you wish to know?”
“I’m just curious.”
“There is no reason for you to know it.”
“Please. I want to understand.”
Another silence, longer than the first. “When I spoke the last words of the spell that would grant me immortality, a tingling heat filled me. I was elated. I thought I was becoming a god. It seemed I could feel every particle of my body strengthening, transforming me into a perfect being, immune to disease and impervious to injury. It shames me to think of how obsessed I was with becoming immortal, because I understand now that it was fear that drove me -- fear of death, of human frailty. I welcomed anything that would protect me from my own mortality.
“There was pain, but at first, I didn’t mind. I accepted it as the price of becoming a god. But then…” He paused. “The pain grew worse with each passing moment. It was a deep, hot, sickening pain, and it consumed my entire being. I felt as though my skin were being peeled slowly from my body. I looked down and saw my flesh disappearing, being eaten away, as if by acid. Skin, muscle, blood, bone… it was all disintegrating. I screamed. And when it was over, there was nothing. No pain, no sensation at all. In spite of this, I believed I was still alive, for I could see my body, now seemingly whole and untouched. I stood and wandered the halls of my home until I found a servant. I tried to speak to him, but he walked past me as if I wasn’t there. When I tried to grab his arm, my fingers passed through him as if they were made of smoke. Only then did I realize what I had done to myself.
“As the full implications of my mistake sunk in, a cold horror gripped me. The knowledge of what I had done to myself, the sickening dread, was worse than any pain I’d ever felt. It seemed I could hear mocking laughter in my head, and I knew it was the one who had taught me the spell. He had tricked me… or rather, I had tricked myself. And I would suffer the consequences for all eternity.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Do not dwell on it. I should not have told you at all.”
“But…”
“Sleep,” he said. His voice was gentle. “You are weary.”
“It’s not that late,” she murmured, but she realized he was right. She was exhausted. Her eyelids fluttered and grew heavy, then slipped shut.