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Who Am I?

By: sexygirl76



Chapter 1

Patrick Wallace walked down the street. He didn't understand why people kept gasping and turning away from him. Wasn't it perfectly normal for a man to walk down a public street? Patrick is 35, an ad executive for an important company. He has a beautiful wife and two beautiful children that he loves more then life itself. Patrick also has a problem. He doesn't remember any of this. He doesn't know who his is or for that matter where he is.

He woke up about an hour ago lying on the ground in a dirty alley. He looked around but nothing seemed familiar to him. "I have to get home." he said to himself as he pushed himself into a standing position. The only problem was, he had no idea where home was. He walked to the entrance to the alley, turned left then started walking down the crowded street. People kept gawking at him and it was starting to get on his nerves. He reached the end of the street and looked up at the street sign. 3rd and Mason. Okay...well at least he knew that much.

Patrick was startled when a police car pulled up beside him and two men stepped out of the car. One about 6' with a slim body and brown hair and eyes. The other one was short and round. Both looked at him kindly. "Um...Sir...Are you okay?" The taller officer asked him as he took Patrick by the arm leading him over to the squad car.

Patrick ran a hand through his short black hair and looked at the officer. "Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

The officer looked up and down over Patrick's body then looked him in the face again. "Um...Sir you are walking through a crowded street buck naked."

Patrick looked at him affronted. "I most certainly am not..." he looked down at his body and gasped. Patrick is a well built man. Medium build with black hair and green eyes. His 8 inch cock rested soft against a mound of black pubic hair. He was well muscled and had a light coating of hair covering his chest. "Oh lord." He exclaimed realizing the officer was telling the truth.

Patrick gratefully took the blanket the other officer handed him and wrapped it around him. "I...I don't know why I'm not wearing any clothes." He said as the taller officer helped him into the back of the squad car.

The officers sent the gawkers on their way then climbed into the car. The shorter one looked at Patrick through the mesh gate separating the front and back seat. "What's your name sir?" He asked kindly.

"Well it's..." Patrick started to say then stopped. He looked at the officer blankly. "I don't know."

The taller officer looked at him shrewdly. "You don't know who you are?"

Patrick looked at him and shivered. "No."

The two officers looked at each other then they started the car and headed for the nearest hospital.



***

An hour later Patrick was dressed in a hospital gown and lying back on a bed. It turned out he was dehydrated and they were giving him fluids through an IV. The hospital was practically deserted and his eyes kept running over the nurse who was checking him out. She had a slim body and huge tits. He guessed they had to be at least a D or E cup. His mouth watered and his cock started to harden as she leaned over to check his pulse. "The doctor should be in in a bit." She said standing up and giving him a smile.

"Thank you." he said laying his head back against the pillow and clenching his fist to keep from reaching out to her. "What's your name?" He asked.

She looked at him. "Miranda. Miranda Anderson."

He reached up and gently ran his finger through a bit of her hair that had escaped her braid. "Miranda. That's a pretty name."

She looked at him in shock then glanced down at the blankets covering him. His cock had made a tent in them. "Oh my." She said glancing at his hard cock through the blanket.

He smiled and ran his hand lightly over her face. "Hungry Miranda?" He asked huskily.

She looked quickly out the open door to the nurses station. There were two nurses standing there talking but that was it. She knew it would be at least an hour before the doctor could come in to see him. The hospital looked deserted but actually they were quite busy today. They had a 15 car pile up not an hour before and all the doctors were currently busy taking care of the critical patients.

She licked her suddenly dry lips then walked over to the door. She said something Patrick couldn't hear to the other nurses then closed the door. She turned back to him and lifted the skirt of her nurses uniform. She grasped the sides of her panties slipping them down her legs until she could step out of them. She left them by the door then walked back to his bed. "If I get caught, I could lose my job." She said as she lifted the sheet off of him exposing his hard cock.

He lifted his hospital gown to give her more access then grasped her breast through her nurses uniform. She moaned and he felt her nipple harden against his hand. "Um...Nice." He whispered.

She smiled at him as she took his cock into her hand and slowly began to stroke it. Then she leaned over taking the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking gently on it. "Mmmmm...Yea...That feels good." he said running his fingers over her face.

Miranda closed her eyes, savoring the taste of the hard cock in her mouth. She hadn't had a decent fuck in over six months and she was horny as hell. She moved her mouth down over him whipping out her tongue and lightly grazing the flesh with her teeth. She tasted a bit of precum and tasted it on her tongue moaning as she swallowed it.

Patrick had his eyes closed and was moaning softly as she worked at his cock. He didn't know how long it had been since he last got laid, all he knew was that this nurse sure knew how to suck cock. He grasped her skirt slowly pulling her lower body towards him. She came willingly and when she was close enough he lifted her skirt with one hand and reached beneath with the other. His fingers brushed against soft curls then found the treasure hidden inside. Her clit was poking out of it's hood and he caressed it with a fingertip.

"Mmmmm..." She moaned going harder at his cock as she pressed herself against him. She lifted one leg resting it on the bed to give him better access to her pussy.

When she lifted her leg, it lifted her skirt up and he had a perfect view of her pussy. There was a light coating of hair above it but the pussy lips themselves were shaved. There was a bit of pussy juiced clinging to the tip of her slit. He reached down taking the drop on his finger and brought it to his lips. He licked it and moaned. Then moved his finger back for more. He slipped a finger into her and she cried out against his cock pushing back against him. 

Patrick chuckled. "Like that do you?" He pulled her hips closer to him then lifted her onto the bed her until she was laying over him on the bed in a 69 position. Her legs were spread wide and her pussy was just inches above his face. He pulled her down to him and darted out his tongue licking at the juices she had on her pussy lips. 

"Ooooohhhhh..." She moaned around his cock. She sucked deeper at him letting him slip into her throat.

Patrick groaned and pressed up with his hips but other then that he ignored the feelings running through his cock. He had a sweet pussy in his face and he planned to take advantage of it.

He spread her pussy lips open with his fingers and darting out his tongue ran it over her clit. He felt her shiver and moan around his cock. He chuckled and licked at her clit again before taking it between his lips and sucking deeply on it. She went crazy and started moaning like a bitch in heat. He pulled one hand off her pussy and wrapped it around her waist holding her close to him. While she went to town on his cock he decided he wanted to taste more of this luscious pussy. He moved his tongue from her clit and teased her slit with it. She moaned again pressing back against him. He chuckled once again. He had a hot bitch above him. That was for sure.

He pointed his tongue then pushed it as far into her slit as he could reach. This drove Miranda over the edge and she pulled her mouth from his cock moaning as softly as she could as she began to ride his tongue like a small cock. "Oh God I need to get off." She cried as she pushed against him.

Patrick held her down with his arms and fucked his tongue forcefully up inside her. Miranda was squeezing his cock as she stroked it but most of her attention was on the fire in her pussy. "Please." She begged pushing desperately against him.

Patrick took one hand from around her and started flicking his finger fast and hard against her clit as he continued to tongue fuck her. Suddenly he heard a muffled cry as she flooded his face with her juices. He figured she had covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the cry of her orgasm. He continued to tonguefuck her for another minute then released his hold on her and felt her collapse over him. Her face was resting against his pulsing cock and it jumped with each of her breaths.

"Wanna ride me baby?" he asked just loud enough for her to hear.

She looked over her shoulder at him through passion glazed eyes. She smiled then pulled herself up onto her knees. She carefully turned around until she was facing him then straddled his hips until she had one leg resting on each side of his hips and her pussy braced above him so his cock brushed at her pussy lips. She rested her feet on the bed and leaned back as she moved his cockhead against her sopping pussy. She watched his eyes close and heard his moan. She positioned him at the entrance to her body and slowly lowered herself over him. "Oh so big." She moaned as she took him in.

Patrick moaned and grasped her hips. "So tight." He moaned as he felt her engulf his hard cock.

She took him completely inside her then held herself down over him. She unbuttoned the front of her nurses uniform and undid the front clasp of her bra until her breasts fell free. Then she leaned back with her hands on his legs and slowly started to raise her body feeling him leave her.

Patrick moved his hands from her waist and grasped her tits in his hands. "Oh...So nice." He moaned as her tits bounced with her movements.

Miranda closed her eyes throwing her head back as she slowly rode his cock. She would pull out to the head then slowly take him back inside clenching and unclenching her pussy muscles around him until she had taken him completely. "Oh god...I need this so bad." She moaned as she started moving harder and faster over him.

"Yea...I can tell." he said with a chuckle that turned into a moan. He mauled her tits and held them tightly as he pulled her down over him as he thrust up. "I'm not gonna last long." He groaned as he felt the cum boiling in his balls.

"Oh No...Don't cum yet." She cried bouncing harder on him. "I'm so close. I need to cum again."

He pulled her to him until her breasts were in front of his face. He grasped her hips pulling her forcefully up and down over him as he started chewing on her breasts. "Oh yea." She cried as her orgasm built. "Fuck me..." 

He bit down on her nipple and heard her cry out in pleasure and pain. He bit down harder and chewed roughly at her breasts as he took one hand from her waist moving it between them until he found her clit. It was pulsing and completely out from it's hood. He took it between two fingers and pinched it hard. Miranda cried out and fucked herself on his cock even harder and faster. "Oh fuck me...I'm gonna cum." She cried no longer caring who heard her cries.

He continued pulling and twisting at her clit and biting on her breasts as he thrust himself almost painfully up into her repeatedly. "Cum bitch." he growled against her breast. "Cum on my fucking cock." He slammed harder and faster into her and heard her cry out in joy as she came. He felt her flooding his cock and knew he had lost control.

How he managed to flip them over on the small hospital bed he didn't know. All he knew was suddenly he was above her and pounding the shit out of her pussy as he sought his own release. "Oh fuck meeee..." She cried clawing at him. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist pulling him deeply inside her.

"God, you are a hot bitch aren't you." He growled as he took her mouth roughly. Thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth in time with his thrusting cock.

She sucked greedily at his tongue as she lifted her hips against him. She felt her orgasm building again and dug her nails into his back.

"Agh..." He cried out at the pain and fucked her faster. "You'll pay for that." he growled as he pummeled her pussy.

"Give it to me." She cried clinging to him. "Give it to me. I need it so bad."

Patrick felt his cum shooting up his cock and cried out. "Here it cums" just as the first shot splattered deep inside her. Miranda cried out as she came yet again. He thrust into her continuously as he felt his balls empty. Finally he stopped cumming and he collapsed against her. "Oh god. That was fantastic." he panted leaning against her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Yes it was. You are one hell of a great fuck. She giggled. "Any time you want a repeat performance I'm your girl."

He chuckled as he pulled out of her and leaned back so she could slip off the bed. He lay down on his back and watched as she straightened her clothes. "I might take you up on that sweetheart." He said with a smile then drifted off to sleep.



***

Patrick came awake with a start and looked at the older gentleman standing by his bed. He was covered with the light blanket and lay his head back against the pillow. "Hello. My name is Doctor Wilson." He looked down at the chart in his hand. "I understand you don't know who you are."

Patrick watched as the doctor sat down in the chair by his bed. "No...I have no idea. I don't know who I am, where I am or anything." He let a sigh escape his lips.

The doctor smiled at him kindly. "Do you know what day it is?"

Patrick thought about that for a minute. "Um...June 17th?"

Dr. Wilson nodded and made a note on the chart. "Do you know what year?"

Again Patrick thought about it. "2008?"

"Very good." Again Dr. Wilson noted the chart.

"Do you know where you are?"

Patrick looked at him. "I'm in a hospital."

Dr. Wilson chuckled. "I mean the city."

"Oh....No."

"You're in Chicago." Dr. Wilson said looking at Patrick.

"Chicago? As in Chicago, Illinois?"

Dr. Wilson nodded. "Yes."

"If you say so." Patrick said looking out the window.

Dr. Wilson looked down at the chart again. "Well I will be honest with you. It isn't going to be easy to find out who you are. You came in with no identification or anything." He looked at Patrick's left hand where there was an outline of a wedding band. "I would guess that you are married and have a family out there somewhere."

This made Patrick look at him again. "Married? Family?"

Dr. Wilson nodded. "There is an imprint on your finger from a wedding band." Dr. Wilson said nodding to Patrick's hand.

He looked down at his hand and saw the white outline that looked like a wedding band had rested there. He felt an instant of guilt at fucking Miranda. What if he had a wife out there somewhere?

Dr. Wilson stood up and patted him on the arm. "You rest. I will be back later to check on you."

Patrick nodded and went back to looking out the window. 


Chapter 2

Patrick was released from the hospital the next day. He was given some clothes to wear and introduced to Helen Masters. She was a lady in her mid 30's with a petite body and flowing black hair and dark blue eyes. She smiled at him as she introduced herself. "I'm from Health and Family services. I'm gonna find you a place to stay for a while, while we try to find your family."

Patrick nodded and followed her out of the hospital. He groaned when his cock gave a jerk in his pants as he looked at her tight ass. Helen looked over her shoulder at him but didn't say anything.

He followed her to a beat up Honda and climbed into the passenger seat. He buckled up then leaned against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. He heard the car start then the motion of the car in gear. "I'm gonna put you up in a hotel for a couple of days. If we can't find out anything we will go from there." Patrick opened his eyes and looked at her. 

"Okay."



They pulled up in front of a Motel 6. Patrick stayed in the car while she got the room. She came back a couple of minutes later and drove over to his room. "Here we are." She said with a smile.

He followed her out of the car and up to the door. She opened it and he followed her inside. Patrick was barely inside the door before he was pushed up against it and Helen's body was pressed seductively against his. She locked her mouth on his, kissing him deeply as she worked at his pants. "What are you doing?" He asked finally pulling his mouth from hers.

She smiled at him seductively as she undid his pants then pushed them down his hips exposing his semi hard cock. "I paid for this room out of my own pocket sweetheart. Now it's time to pay me back." She dropped to her knees before him and grasped his cock in her hand.

Patrick moaned as she squeezed his rapidly growing cock then came to his senses. "Wait. I might have a wife and family out there somewhere. I can't do this." he pressed at her shoulders but she didn't budge.

"Like I give a shit." She growled before engulfing half his cock into her mouth at once.

"OH GOD!" He groaned at the sensations suddenly flooding his cock. She sure knew what she was doing and was driving his cock crazy. His came to full hardness in her mouth and started pulsing wildly. 

She went to town on his cock, sucking, biting and licking as she ripped off her shirt and bra and pulled her skirt up. She shoved three fingers into her wet pussy. She fingered herself hard as she sucked on him. "Mmmmmmm..." She moaned around his cock.

Patrick tried to ignore the feelings running through his cock at her rough treatment. He kept his mind focused on the fact that he might have a wife out there. When she took him into her throat though he lost it. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH........." He groaned as he started fucking her face. "Suck my cock baby. Feels so fucking good." He grabbed her head and rammed forwards hard.

Helen slammed her fingers in her pussy while she mauled her breast with her other hand as he furiously fucked her face. She moaned around his cock, loving it when he would slam repeatedly into her throat. "Cum for me." She growled around the pummeling cock. She took her hand off her breast and started squeezing his balls hard.

"OH FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!" He screamed as he began emptying himself into her sucking mouth.

Helen drank up his juices greedily as she came around her thrusting fingers. When he collapsed back against the door, she suckled gently at his cock to get the last drops then let it slip from her lips. "Hmmmm....Yummy."

Patrick watched her through half closed eyes as she pulled her shirt the rest of the way off then stepped out of her skirt. She stood there in nothing but her nylons and high heels. He didn't protest as she pulled his shirt over his head or shoved his pants down until he could step out of them. Nor did he protest as she pulled him towards the bed and pushed him back onto it. "My pussy needs a good licking." She purred straddling his face and spreading open her pussy lips with her fingers.

He looked up at the shaved pussy above his face. He tried once again to picture his wife's face then gave up and dove at her pussy. Her clit was hard and pulsing, her slit wet with her juices from coming. He wrapped his arms around her ass, pulling her closer as he dove his tongue all over her pussy. He flicked it over her clit and heard her cry out. "Yes baby. Eat my pussy." She ran her fingers through his hair.


Who Am I?



He lifted his eyes to her face and watched her massage her tits with her hands. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back. He flicked his tongue over her clit a couple more times then took it into his mouth sucking deeply on it. "Ooooohhhhh." She cried pressing her pussy closer to his face.

He sucked on her clit as he slipped two fingers into her hot pussy. "So hot." he said against her pussy as he began to fingerfuck her.

"My pussy is hot for you sugar." She cooed as she rubbed her pussy against his face and reached behind her to grasp his growing cock. "Mmmmm...What do we have here?" She licked her lips as she wrapped her hand around his cock.

Patrick groaned against her pussy lifting his hips against her stroking hand. "Mmmm...Do a good job lover and I'll let you stick this baby up my sweet pussy." She rubbed her pussy against his face again.

Patrick reached up grasping her tits and holding them tightly in his hands as he went to town on her pussy. He sucked at her like a man dying of thirst. He bit lightly at her clit and heard her cry out. Then he moved his mouth down until his tongue was even with her slit. He teased the entrance with his tongue.

"Oh...Tongue fuck me." She cried stroking him faster.

His hands squeezed her tits roughly as he pressed up with his hips. He dipped his tongue into her waiting hole and licked around anywhere he could reach. Helen grasped his head and held him tight against her pussy as she rode his face. "Fuck Me...." She demanded moving her hips back and force forcefully.

Patrick had a hard time keeping his tongue buried in her pussy but he didn't give up. He grasped her hips holding them still as he began to force his tongue in and out like a small cock. He moved his tongue as fast as he could and heard her cry out. "Yessssssssss.....So fucking good. Eat my pussy you bastard." She cried stroking his cock fast and hard.

"Ugh...MMMMMMMMMM...MMMMMMMM..." He moaned against her pussy as he fucked her hand. He was so close to cumming again and wanted her to cum with him. He took one hand off her hips and brought it to her clit. He dug his nail into her clit painfully as he continued to fuck her repeatedly with his hot tongue.

"Oh fuck...I'm cummmmiinnnngggg..." She cried as she flooded his face with her juices. She stopped stroking his cock and he groaned in disappointment against her wet pussy.

Helen chuckled as she moved off his face. Leaning down, she licked her pussy juices from his face then kissed him softly. "Don't want you coming yet lover. I haven't had that sweet meat in my pussy yet."

He smiled at her. "Wanna ride me?"

She looked down at his cock standing straight out from his body. She smiled at him. "I have a better idea."

She moved over beside him but facing his feet then climbed on her hands and knees. "Fuck me baby. Fuck me like a dog." She panted over her shoulder at him.

Patrick smiled at her widely as he moved to his knees and moved up behind her. He spread her legs wider, giving him sweet access to her pussy. He watched her inner lips gripping as if looking for something to grab a hold of. He placed on hand on her butt while he held his cock with the other. He rubbed it up and down over her pussy lips and brushed the tip of his cock against her clit. "OOOOOHHHHHH..." She moaned pressing back against him. "Fuck me baby. Fuck me good."

Patrick planned to do just that. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and thrust forward forcefully burying himself completely inside her. "Oooooooffffff..." She grunted at the force of his thrust.

He grasped her hips in his hands as he started slamming hard and fast into her. His balls slapped against her pussy from below and she cried out in joy. "Oh yes. Fuck me..." She cried slamming back against him on every in stroke.

He took his hands off her hips and leaning over her reached below her shaking b body and took her tits in his hands squeezing them painfully. She grunted at the pain but he just ignored her. He fucked her harder and faster feeling his balls slap repeatedly against her flesh as he pounded her pussy. "Oh Fuck...So good." he breathed against her ear as he continued to pound into her.

"Fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeee..." She cried digging at the blanket. "I'm gonna cum."

Patrick slowed down his thrusts as he moved one hand down beneath her and rubbed his fingertip lightly against her clit. "Oh baby...Don't stop now." She begged trying to get him to move fast inside her again. "I need to cum so badly."

Patrick had an evil smile on his face as he moved his free hand almost lovingly over her ass. Then he gave it a hard slap and she cried out. "What are you doing?" She cried suddenly trying to pull away from him.

He took his hand off her clit and grasped her hips keeping her impaled on him as he continued the slow fuck. He long dicked her a few times. Pulling out to the head then slowly pushing back in. He slapped her ass hard again and heard her cry. "Don't do that." She cried trying once again to pull away.

Patrick reached down and grasped her legs, pulling them out from under her until she was flat on her stomach with the weight of his body holding her down. He continued to piston his cock into her pussy while he slapped her ass. "You ain't going anywhere until I'm finished with you bitch." he growled against her ear.

Helen felt a shiver of fear and clawed at the edge of the bed trying to pull her body from under his. Suddenly she let out a loud scream and tears streamed down her cheeks as he pulled her head back by her hair. "Where you going sweetheart?" He said roughly against her ear as he continued to fuck her. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you to pay for the room."

Helen cried silently as he pulled her body roughly against his. His arm wrapped around her neck. "No...I don't want to fuck you anymore. I just want to go home." She whimpered through her tears.

Patrick chuckled against her ear as he kissed it softly. "I don't think so sweetheart. I'm having fun." he pulled his cock from her sopping pussy and positioned it at the pucker of her asshole.

Helen's eyes widened as she felt his cockhead pressed against her ass. "Noooo..." she screamed clawing at his arm. "Please. Not there."

Patrick just held her close to him as he slowly pushed forward with his hips. He felt her asshole starting to open and he continued pushing until the head of his cock went past her assring. "Oh god. No." She cried as his cock tore at her virgin asshole. "Please. Don't fuck me there. I'm sorry." She pleaded wetting his arm with her tears.

Patrick suddenly felt filled with guilt. He had started this as a bit of revenge for her forcing him to want her. But he had never raped a woman in his life and he wasn't about to start now. He pulled his arm from around her neck and his cock from her tight asshole. He sat back on his knees as she curled up in a ball crying. "I'm sorry." he said tightly not looking at her.

Helen slowly unwrapped her body and pulled herself off the bed. She slowly began pulling on her clothes. She didn't look at him again until she was completely dressed. "No...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to want me."

Patrick raised his eyes to hers. She still had tears in her eyes but she did look sorry. "I couldn't help myself. I haven't had a good fuck in so long and you looked so hot there at the hospital." She turned towards the door and stopped when she had her hand on the handle. Then she turned back to him. "I do truly hope you have a family out there waiting for you. I do hope you find them. You have this room for 2 days. I will come back sooner if I hear anything. Otherwise I'll be back then to relocate you somewhere else until we can find out who you are."

She turned back to the door and started to turn the handle. Patrick knew he couldn't let it end up this way. "Helen, wait." he said jumping out of the bed and running to her. Not caring about his nakedness.

She didn't turn back to look at him but she did stop turning the door handle. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder and felt her flinch. "Look..." he said softly. "I'm sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have taken it so far. I may have a family out there but I may not. That's what makes this so frustrating." He ran a hand through his hair. "The truth is I'm attracted to you and before it got out of hand I was really enjoying being with you."

Helen kept her hand on the door handle but didn't try to open the door. She just stood there listening to him. "Um...Do you think we could try this again. You know without the forcing on either part?" he was relieved when he touched her shoulder again and she didn't flinch.

She slowly turned around and looked up into his eyes. "You mean you still want to fuck me?"

He gently cupped her face with his hands and kissed her softly. "No...I mean I want to make love to you. That is if you will let me."

She looked up into his eyes and saw the fire and passion he held there for her. She felt her pussy leak against her leg. Tentatively she raised her hands until they rested on his bare shoulders. "I think I would like that."

Patrick wrapped his arms around her gently and pulled her to him as he kissed her again. Softly at first then harder. When he touched his tongue to her lips, he heard her moan as she opened to him. He didn't dive in but caressed her tongue with his. His hands moved around her and held her close.

Helen molded her body against him as they kissed. She moaned into his mouth. She hadn't been with anyone this tender in a long time. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he suddenly lifted her body against his. He carried her to the bed and lay her down gently coming down over her. He moved his lips from hers and kissed her face and neck as he worked at the buttons on her shirt. He moaned against her skin as he opened her shirt to reveal nothing but skin. She hadn't put her bra back on when she got dressed. 

He rubbed his hard cock against her skirt covered pussy as he lowered his head to her breast. He nibbled lightly at the skin and heard her moan. He moved his mouth down until he could take her nipple into his mouth. Suckling gently. Helen moaned, pressing her chest up against him as she ran her fingers through his hair.

He continued nursing at her nipple as he moved his hands down and undid her skirt. He pushed it down her legs until he couldn't reach anymore without pulling his mouth from her breast. He gave her nipple one more deep kiss then worked his way down her body. He stripped her skirt down her long legs until it was hanging off one ankle. She kicked it off and spread her legs wide. She looked at him between her legs with desire filled eyes. "Eat me baby." She said softly.

He smiled up at her then lowered his head. He didn't attack her pussy though. Instead he dropped kisses on each of the insides of her thighs. Then he kissed each closed pussy lip. She moaned and pressed up with her hips. He pushed her gently back to the bed then slowly spread her open showing the treasure inside. He looked at her pussy for a minute. Her clit was peeking from it's hood. The skin around her slit was glistening with pussy juices. He dropped down and licked around her slit. Drinking up her juices. "Oh..." She murmured at the light touch of his tongue.

Patrick ran his tongue lightly around the skin surrounding her clit again. He did it softly, almost lovingly. Then he moved his tongue up and ran it over every inch of her pussy without touching her clit. "Oh please." She cried pulling at his head trying to get him to touch her clit.

He knew she was hot but he wasn't about to be rushed this time. He planned to love her like he was the last man on earth. He blew gently on her clit and watched it peek more from it's hood while he teased her slit with a fingertip. When she pushed up to pull him inside her, he pulled his finger away. "Uh uh." He said looking up at her with a smile.

She just looked at him with fire in her eyes. Her breathing was ragged. He felt his cock throbbing but ignored it. This was for her. He moved his face back to her pussy and spread open the area surrounding her slit. She drew in her breath. He dipped his tongue into her a little bit and she just about came up off the bed. "Oh god." She cried pulling at his hair. Patrick pushed more of his tongue inside her and licked around. He could taste all of her and relished in the taste. Then he slowly withdrew his tongue only to push it back in again. Within a few seconds he was tongue fucking her and she was going nuts. 

"OH yes...Tonguefuck me baby." She cried. Her hips were rising to meet him with every thrust of his tongue. Her fingers tangled painfully in his hair. He reached up, loosening her grip on his head but didn't stop his thrusting tongue.

He dipped his tongue inside her, swirled it around then pulled it back out. He loved the taste of her and the smell of her freshness was driving his senses crazy. He finally pulled his tongue from her and she whimpered in dismay. Her whimper turned into a shriek however when he locked his mouth on her clit and sucked hard, while he whipped his tongue over it. "Fuck...Yes..." She cried unable to keep her hips still.

He raised one hand up and gently caressed her breast as he used the other hand to slip three fingers inside her. Slowly moving them in and out.

Helen was a bundle of nerves. Her body was singing with the sensations he was sending through it. She could feel her orgasm building. "Oh god...What are you doing to me?" She panted as she ran her fingers through her hair.

He raised his head to look at her. "I'm loving you baby." he said hoarsely before diving at her pussy. He went at her pussy this time like a man possessed. He wanted to have her cum on his mouth. He needed to taste the juices he knew she would give him. He bit down gently on her clit while his fingers flew in and out of her pussy. "Agh...Oh...Yes...I'm cumming..." She cried bucking against him as her orgasm washed over her. 

Patrick pulled his fingers from her spasming pussy and replaced them with his tongue. He licked all over inside her trying to get all her goodness. When he got all he could find, he licked around her pussy until she pushed him away.

He moved gently up over her until he was covering her completely with his body. "Put you legs around me baby." he demanded softly. She obeyed wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her feet together. He guided his hard cock to her entrance, then kissed her deeply as he pushed slowly into her. "Mmmmmmm..." She moaned into his mouth as she felt herself being filled.

She tightened her legs around him as she lifted her hips and wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss. Her tongue moved over his in a caress like he had done earlier and he moaned into her mouth. He flicked his tongue lovingly over hers as he filled her with his heat. When he was embedded completely he pulled back out to the head before slowly pushing back in again.

He continued the slow torture for a couple of minutes before she grasped his ass-cheeks pulling him roughly into her. She tore her mouth from his and looked into his eyes. "Ride me baby. Ride me hard. I need it so bad."

He captured her mouth with his again as he started slamming hard and fast into her. Their bodies bounced with their movements. The bed squeaked with the power of their lovemaking. They moaned into each other's mouth. Neither willing to break the kiss. He brought his hands up and cupped her face as he continued to pummel her body with his own. 

"Cum baby." he growled finally breaking the kiss. "Cum on my fucking cock. Let me hear how good I make you feel." he bit at her neck and she shivered.

"Fuck meeeeee..." She cried as she felt her orgasm building. "Oh fuck me."

Patrick did just that. His cock slamming repeatedly in and out of her hot snatch. He could feel their juices mixing with each of his thrusts and this drove him to new heights. "Cum for me baby." he panted. "Tell the whole world how much you love my fucking cock."

His words sent Helen to places she had never been before. She had never had a man talk dirty to her during sex before and it was turning her on like crazy. Suddenly she was there and she couldn't stop the scream that left her throat. "Fuck me you bastard..." She screamed at the top of her lungs. "I'm cummmmiinnnngggg...I'm cumming on your fucking cock."

Patrick felt her drown his cock with her juices but he didn't stop fucking her. Instead he fucked her even harder then before. Helen felt herself pushed deep into the mattress at the power of his moving body. "Oh GOD...No way..." She looked up at him wide eyed. "I'm gonna cum again."

Patrick smiled at he as he continued to hammer his cock deeply in and out of her body. "Cum again sweetheart." he smiled at her.

She dug her nails into his back as her orgasm washed over her yet again. He fucked her through it and continued to thrust into her over three more orgasms. She lay panting beneath him. "Cum baby...I need to feel it fill me." She begged looking up into his eyes.

He kissed her deeply as he continued to punish her pussy with his pistoning cock. Finally he pulled his mouth from hers and let out a loud, animalistic growl. "Oh fuck...I'm cumming." He screamed as he began to fill her. Three, Four, Five shots before his cock slowed down. Finally it dropped to a drizzle inside her and he collapsed on top of her breathless.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she felt his softening cock leave her body. "Oh, that was wonderful." She whispered kissing his ear.

He lifted his weary head and kissed her softly. "Did I make up for earlier?" he asked hoarsely.

She kissed him back then giggled. "Oh you did, and then some..."

He rolled off of her, then pulled her into his arms as he fell into a dreamless sleep 
Chapter 3

Patrick woke some time later to the room in semidarkness. The only light coming in was from the moonlight through the open curtains. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp by the bed. Helen was gone, but he could still smell her scent on the sheets and got instantly hard. "Sorry pal..." he said to his cock. "She's gone."

He pulled himself out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. He let his stream fill the bowl then washed his face in the sink. He threw the towel on the toilet then walked back into the main room. He found two bags sitting on the dresser along with a note. He looked at the note first.

"I don't know your name so I will call you John. I picked you up some groceries and a couple of changes of clothes. I hope the clothes fit. I didn't know your size so I guessed. 

Thanks for the most memorable afternoon I have ever had. I hope you find your family. If you do have a wife, I'm sure she is missing that sweet cock of yours. I will see you in two days unless we get a hit on you. If you need anything give me a call. (507) 555-2094.

Helen."

Patrick chuckled as he put the note down and checked out the bags. There was some boxed foods he could cook on the stove. He checked the small fridge to find a half-gallon of milk, a dozen eggs and a six pack of beer. He pulled one of the beers out and popped it open taking a long drink.

Then he checked the other bag. He found two pairs of blue jeans, 2 t-shirts, a package of underwear and a package of socks. Sitting next to the bag was a pair of cowboy boots.

He took the clothes over to the bed and proceeded to get dressed. The underwear were a little snug but they fit okay. The jeans and shirts all fit perfectly. The boots were a bit big but he figured he should be able to wear them okay. Taking off the boots, he lay back on the bed and flipped on the TV. 

There was news, some comedy sitcom, a game show and what looked like a soft porn movie. There was a small buxom blonde riding some hot guys cock and moaning up a storm. He flipped off the TV and standing up and grabbing his beer stepped outside making sure the door didn't close behind him.




Who Am I?



The night was quiet. The parking lot almost empty. There was a car parked in the stall for the room next to his and one a few doors down but that was about it. He turned his head to look at the street and saw a girl that looked to be about 17 wearing a halter top and shorts walking towards him with a smile. He suddenly had a flash in his head. He was seeing a small girl about 6 or 7 bouncing on his lap and laughing. "Bounce me daddy." She cried as she bounced on his lap. 

"I am Laurie." the voice in his head said. "Although you are getting to big for this."

He shook his head as the vision faded. He looked at the girl again as she stopped in front of him. "Hi...You must be the guy in number 4. I'm Leslie. I'm the owners daughter. My dad told me to help you out any way I could. Do you need anything?"

Patrick let his eyes drift lazily down her body. Finally he pulled them back to her face. "Um...No...I'm fine." he said taking a drink of his beer and trying to ignore his hardening cock.

Leslie chuckled and he looked at her. She was looking at his crotch and he blushed. "Hm...Looks like your body thinks differently." She lifted her dancing eyes to his face. They were almost a purple color but he figured that was because of the lighting. 

"How old are you?" 

She smiled. "19..." he groaned. She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. "I would love to take care of that for you. See I'm quite the little nymph. I can't seem to get enough hard cock." She ran her tongue over his ear then nipped it with her teeth. While running her hand down over his crotch.

Patrick groaned and closed his eyes as she squeezed his crotch with her hand and brushed her tits against his chest. "Get in the room." He growled pulling roughly away from her.

Leslie smiled, looked to make sure no one was around then sashayed into the room. Patrick took a deep breath. He finished his beer, throwing the can into the nearby trashcan then turned back into the room closing the door behind him.

What met his eyes when he stepped back into the room made his cock jump to full attention. While he had been outside, Leslie had stripped completely and was laying spread eagle on the bed. Her legs were spread wide and her shaved pussy was winking at him. "God, you don't waist any time do you?" he asked standing at the foot of the bed and pulling off his t-shirt.

Leslie giggled as she moved to her hands and knees and crawled across the bed to him. She sat back on her ankles and started working at his jeans. "Uh uh...Not when it's something I want. She pushed his jeans down then pulled down his underwear until his cock bounced back against his stomach. She abandoned his clothes about halfway down his legs and took his hard cock in her hand. "Mmmmm....Looks good enough to eat." She moved her mouth over him taking him deep into her mouth.

Patrick shivered at the first touch of her mouth on him. He moaned deep in his throat when he felt her take him into her throat. Massaging him with her muscles. "Oh yea..." He moaned pressing forward with his hips. "Suck that cock baby."

Leslie moaned around his cock. Letting it slide in and out of her throat. She had one hand braced just above his cock and the other one was massaging her tit. Patrick shoved his clothes down until he could step out of them then he brought his hands to her breasts. Feeling their fullness. "Nice titties baby." he said huskily.

Leslie smiled up at him but didn't release her grip on his cock. She whipped her tongue all over him and moved her head slowly back and forth. When he wrapped his hands around her tits, she brought her free hand down to her pussy. She flicked her fingertip over her clit a couple of times then slipped two fingers inside herself. She closed her eyes and moaned around his cock as she started to finger herself.

As Patrick watched her finger herself, he felt his mouth begin to water. His cock seemed to grow even larger in her mouth. When she dug her tongue into his piss slit, he thought he would lose it right then and there. He clung to his control and pulling his hands from her tits, pushed her off his straining cock. "Stop baby. Otherwise I'm gonna cum."

She smiled up at him, juices coating her mouth. "So...You can get it up again can't you?" She kept her fingers moving in her pussy.

He looked at her with a smile. "You really are a nymph aren't you?"

She licked her lips. "Oh yea." 

She leaned forward to take his cock into her mouth again but her pushed her away. She looked at him with a pouting face and he had to laugh. "Relax you little minx. I'm not done yet." 

She rewarded his words with a sweet smile. He reached down pulling her fingers from her pussy and stuck them in his mouth sucking up her juices. 

"Ooooh...That's kinky." She said with a giggle as she watched him suck at her fingers.

He licked her fingers clean then let them slip from his lips. He smiled at her. "Lay back on the bed baby." he said moving onto the bed.

She lay back on the bed. "You gonna fuck me now?" She asked breathlessly.

He lay over her, kissing her softly. "Later, right now I need to taste that pussy." He lay down on his side beside her so his head was facing her feet. He pulled her onto her side and pulled one leg over his chest bringing her pussy close to his face. He leaned forward inhaling her scent. "You smell so good baby." He moaned.

She giggled again. "I took a shower today."

Patrick smiled then leaned forward. He licked her bare outer lips and heard her moan. Then he felt her take his hard cock in her soft hand and pull it to her mouth. At the first touch of her lips, he bucked forward with his hips burying half his cock in her mouth. He heard her gasp of surprise then felt her sucking on him. He enjoyed the feelings of her mouth on his cock for a minute then focused on the pussy in front of his face. 

He spread open her outer lips and moaned. Her clit was hard and pulsing. Her slit was covered with juices. He wasn't sure which to attack first. He felt like a man at a feast with no idea what to start with. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her clit. She moaned and bucked her hips forward.

Patrick chuckled. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his face. Then he let his tongue drift over the outer lips of her slit. Again she moaned. She sucked harder at his cock and he had to grab a hold of his control to keep from filling her mouth right then. He let the hand under him, tease her slit. She pushed forward trying to bury the digit inside her. 

He ran his finger over the small bump above her slit. Then he licked her clit. She cried out around his cock and he felt a burst of pussy juice cover his face. He knew she hadn't cum but he figured she wasn't far from it. He tightened his arm around her. Holding her close to his face. He licked at her clit again as he finally slipped a finger inside her. Her pussy clenched down on it. She had strong muscles and it took a minute for him to be able to move his finger.

She was going at his cock with a gusto and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back. He figured he'd better get busy if he wanted this little sex fiend to cum with him. He pushed a second and then a third finger inside her. Slamming them forcefully in and out. Leslie was moaning like crazy around his cock. He locked his lips on her clit and bit down gently with his teeth. This drove Leslie crazy and she started humping at his face as she sucked harder on his cock. 

Her mouth was moving at what seemed like light speed over him. "God, she's a hot little bitch." he thought to himself. He fucked her face as he continued to suck at her pussy. It wasn't long before she was crying and whimpering. He tightened his hold on her to keep her pussy wedged against his face. He felt the cum sliding through his cock and knew there was no chance to warn her. He sucked harder at her clit and slammed his fingers harder inside her hoping she would cum. 

She must of have liked the first blast he sent into her mouth because her pussy muscles suddenly tightened almost painfully around his fucking fingers. She moaned loudly around his cock and he could tell she was swallowing as hard and fast as she could.

When her pussy muscles relaxed and he was able to free his fingers, he tore his fingers from her and locked his mouth on her slit. He dug his tongue as far inside her as he could reach. She bucked against him while she let out a loud squeal. He lowered his eyes to see her holding his cock in her hand while she had her head thrown back and her eyes closed. "Tonguefuck me mister." She cried. "Tonguefuck my hot little pussy."

Patrick's cock had gone soft after cumming but as he tonguefucked her pussy mercilessly. He felt it begin to rise again. He rolled her over onto her back and buried his face deep in her pussy. She was clenching her hands on his ass-cheeks as she thrust her pussy against his face. "Oh fuck me. I'm gonna cum again." She cried.

He dove his tongue in and out of her pussy like a small cock while he dragged his nail painfully over her clit. His reward was a mouthful of juice as he came around his fucking tongue. "Fuck....I'm cummmmiinnnngggg..." She screamed as she dug her nails painfully into the skin of his ass. He cringed at the pain but didn't stop his moving tongue. Finally she relaxed under him and he licked her out slowly not wanting to miss a single drop.

By this time his cock was rock hard again and leaking cock snot like crazy. He knew he had to be inside her. It didn't matter if she was 19, 29 or 39. He needed to fuck her and he needed to fuck her now. 

He quickly turned around on her and lifted her legs up over his shoulders. Then he leaned down until her legs were touching her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her eyes widened as she was quickly impaled on his cock. "Oh yes...Fuck mee..." She cried trying to lift her hips against him.

Patrick growled and started thrusting powerfully into her. He could feel his cock bumping against the insides of her pussy and she was just crying out for more. "Fuck mee...Fuck me hard...Pound the shit out of my pussy." She screamed.

Patrick closed his eyes as he pummeled her pussy. His cock battered the tender flesh inside but he was to far gone to care. She ran her nail down his chest and he hissed at the pain. 

He looked down at her and she smiled. He retaliated by slamming his cock painfully into her a couple of times. "Ohhhhhh..." She cried in surprise.

He gripped her hair in his hand. Not hard, but hard enough to pull her face back. "You like that you little cock sucking bitch." he growled close to her face. "You like my cock walloping the shit out of your pussy?"

"Yessssssssss....She screamed with her eyes wide open. "Fuck the shit out of my pussy mister. Fuck me till I can't sit down for a week. Oh god...I'm gonna cum." He felt her pussy muscles tighten around his cock and it took a sheer force of will to pull his cock from her spasming pussy and cum on her stomach.

"Oh God." He moaned closing his eyes as he let stream after stream shoot onto her stomach. He didn't notice her bring her hand down to the mess and run her finger through it then bring her finger to her mouth. "Mmmmmmm..." She moaned sucking his cum off her finger.

Patrick opened his eyes and smiled as he flopped over onto his back. "Tell me you have a boyfriend." He said turning to look at her.

She giggled as she put more of his cum in her mouth. "Yea...he can't keep up with me either."

Patrick just shook his head.





After Leslie left, Patrick lay back on the bed, sated but confused. Who was the little girl he saw bouncing on her father's lap in his head. Now that he thought about it, she did look a lot like him. Same color hair and eyes. "Is that my daughter?" He asked out loud to the empty room.

He shook his head and rolled over onto his side closing his eyes. He dreamed about a small woman with a beautiful smile and two beautiful little girls. Both of whom looked just like him. They seemed to be at the end of a tunnel but the closer he got to them, the further away they seemed. He screamed out their names when they were suddenly pulled from him by a hard wind. He woke with the name Laurie on his lips and tears in his eyes.

He sat up suddenly in bed. The morning sunshine was coming through the window. He didn't know how much it would help but he jumped out of bed grabbing the phone and Helen's note. He sat back down on the bed and started dialing.

The phone rang three times before a sleepy, male voice answered. "Hello?"

"Um...Yes...is Helen there?" Patrick asked hesitantly.

"Just a minute." He heard muted voices. "I think it's one of your John Doe's." 

Then he heard Helen's voice. "Hello...?"

"Helen...? This is..." he stopped then remember what she called him. "This is John. From the hotel."

He heard her rustling. "John...Hi...Is everything okay?"

Patrick broke out in a cold sweat. "I don't know. I hate to bother you at home but is there anyway you can come over? I don't know what it means or even if it was real but I think I dreamed about my family last night."

There was silence on the other end of the phone then... "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Patrick hung up the phone shaking. 

He quickly jumped in the shower and dressed and was eating a bowl of Raisin Bran when there was a knock at the door. He answered it quickly. Helen stood there dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and sandals. "Sorry it's actually my day off." She said sheepishly.

Patrick just smiled and moved back so she could come into the room, closing the door behind her. "It's okay." He sat back down on the bed and continued to eat. 

"You said you thought you dreamed about your family last night?" She asked sitting on the bed next to him.

He drank down the milk then put the empty bowl on the table by the bed. "Yea...I was in a tunnel. There was this petite woman with strawberry blonde hair. She was holding the hands of two little girls. Both of who look just like me." He looked at her. "They were crying out daddy and there was tears streaming down their cheeks. She kept saying Patrick come home." He stopped talking for a minute. "I think that's my name. Patrick."

She rested her hand on his leg. "Okay...Well at least we have a first name now. Any idea what your last name is?"

He just shook his head. She squeezed his leg lightly. "It's okay. It's a start. Go on."

He took a deep breath. "They were suddenly pulled away by a hard wind. I remember calling out their names. Patricia, Kathy and Laurie. I woke up with the name Laurie on my lips and tears in my eyes."

Helen nodded. It wasn't uncommon for amnesiacs to get their memory back during so short a time. She figured something must have triggered a memory but she wasn't sure what it could be.

She looked around the hotel room but didn't see anything different then what she had left yesterday. She nibbled absently at her lower lip. She turned back to him. "Did you go anywhere or meet anyone after I left yesterday?"

Patrick thought about the hot sex he had had with Leslie and blushed. "Actually the managers daughter introduced herself." He didn't mention that he had fucked her brains out.

Helen nodded. "Leslie is a good kid. I bring most of my John Doe's here. The managers help to make them comfortable.

Patrick thought again at how well Leslie had made him comfortable. "What does she have to do with it?" He asked trying to ignore his growing cock.

Helen was distracted and didn't notice. "Hm...I wonder if maybe something about her triggered a memory."

Patrick was looking at her tits. But at her words, raised his eyes to hers. "When I first saw her, I had a vision of a little girl bouncing on her dad's lap. I think it might have been my daughter."

Helen nodded. "It's possible she looks somewhat like your daughter."

"Yeah..." Patrick responded.

She looked at him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If we can find your family we will Patrick. I promise." He nodded.

She stood up to leave. "I'll pay for you here a couple more days. Where I was gonna take you afterwards fell through and I need time to find you another place." 

He nodded absently. She looked at him but was sure he couldn't see her. He was lost in his own thoughts. "I'll go into the office with the information you gave me and see if anything comes up." Again he nodded. With one more tender look at him, she left.


Chapter 4

Patrick spent the next 3 days cooped up in the hotel room. He watched some TV but couldn't seem to keep his mind on anything. But the fourth day he was going stir crazy. He hadn't seen Leslie or Helen again. He didn't dream about his family again but he did wake up with tears in his eyes. He was confused and frustrated because he didn't know who he was.

On the forth day, he was sitting on the bed pulling on the cowboy boots Helen had brought him. He was going to go for a walk. When suddenly there was a knock at the door. Getting up he answered it. 

Helen stood there holding a piece of paper in her hand and a huge smile on her face. "Does the name Patrick Wallace mean anything to you?" She asked stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

He sat down on the bed and looked at her. "Patrick Wallace?"

She sat down on the bed beside him and read off the paper in her hand. "Patrick Wallace, age 35. Married to Patricia Constance Wallace, age 32. Married for 15 years. Have two twin girls, Kathy and Laurie, age 12." She looked up at him then back to the paper in her hand. 

"Patrick is an ad executive for NIO Industries based out of Portland, Oregon. He came to Chicago a week ago for a business meeting and never returned back home. His wife called the office and the airlines but no one had seen or heard from him since he left the office after the meeting." She pulled a picture out of her pocket and handed it to him.

It was of him and the three women he saw in his dream. They were standing on the beach smiling at the camera. He flipped the picture over. "Seaside Oregon, June 2005." he read. 

He turned the picture back over. Then he closed his eyes as memories flew over him. He had left the meeting at 5:00. He was tired and just wanted to get back to the hotel and sleep until his flight the next day. The street was deserted and the sky was darkening as night came on. He shivered in his coat and pulled his coat closer to him. Suddenly two guys came out of nowhere. They kicked him to the ground and stole his money, wedding ring and briefcase. To make sure he didn't go anywhere anytime soon, they stripped him naked then knocked him unconscious before running away.

He looked into Helen's smiling face. "I remember." He said softly.

She nodded as tears filled her eyes. "I punched in the names you told me about yesterday. Nothing came up. Then I was at home last night watching the news with my husband." he cringed when she mentioned husband. 

She didn't seem to notice though. "Anyway, there was a woman and two children standing in front of a house. The woman was begging for anyone with information about her husband to call and a number panned across the screen along with a picture of you."

Patrick felt tears fill his eyes and closed them as he clutched the photo to his chest. "I called the hotline number and was connected with your wife. I told her who I was and that I thought I had her husband here. We talked for a while and they caught the first flight out this morning."

That got his attention and he looked at her. "They're here?" He asked his voice breaking.

Helen got up and walked over to the door. She opened it and nodded to someone outside. Patrick barely had time to react before his wife and two children walked into the room. All three of them had tears running down their cheeks. The twins tore their hands from their mothers and launched themselves at Patrick. "Daddy." They cried in unison as they clung to him.




Who Am I?



Patrick held them close and buried his face in their hair as he cried. He looked up when he felt a touch in his arm. He looked into the eyes of his wife. Also filled with tears. He took one arm from around his children and pulled her into his arms, locking his mouth on hers. He kissed her with all the love and passion he felt in his body. It was as if the last few days hadn't happened.

Helen watched as the family was reunited. She to had tears running down her cheeks. Tears of happiness for another job well done. 


Epilogue: Oregon 1 week later

Patrick closed his daughters bedroom door then turned to his wife. She was so beautiful. He felt love swell up in him. He ignored the thoughts of the women he had screwed when he had amnesia. He was back with his wife where he belonged. "They asleep?" She asked softly.

He nodded as he pulled her gently into his arms. "Yea...Finally." She chuckled against his chest. Then squealed when he suddenly lifted her up into his arms. 

"Patrick..." She squealed as she wrapped her arms around him. He didn't say anything just carried her to their room, kicking the door closed behind him.

He sat her down on the bed, then lifted her nightgown over her head. His eyes devoured her naked body. "Like what you see?" She asked barely in a whisper.

He smiled at her as he stripped out of his pajama bottoms. "Oh definitely."

He climbed onto the bed beside her and drew her into his arms. "I love you so much." He whispered as he kissed her softly.

"I love you to. Make love to me daddy." She said smiling sweetly at him.

"Your wish is my command." He kissed her again as he gently pushed her onto her back on the bed.

Patrick continued to kiss her as he let his hand roam over her body. She spread her legs when his hand rested above her pubic region. He moved his hand down over her. She moaned into his mouth as she felt him slip a finger inside her and slowly move it in and out. He moved his head to her breast, sucking on a nipple. 

Patricia's body was on fire. She had gone crazy during the time he had been missing. He told her about the other women he had been with when he had amnesia but she just told him that wasn't him. That was some man named John Doe. Then she proceeded to erase those women from his mind with her body. 

Patrick and Patricia had always had a healthy sex life. She figured if she hadn't had to get fixed after the twins were born that she would have a houseful of children by now.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present when she felt his tongue whip over her clit. She bucked against him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes baby. Eat my pussy. You always ream my hot little pussy so good."

Patrick remembered this. He remembered how his wife's pussy always tasted of lemons and honey. He loved her scent and he loved her taste. He lashed his tongue madly over her clit as he slammed three fingers hard inside her. Patricia clung to his head as she bucked roughly against him. "Oh eat me..." She cried as she felt her orgasm building.

Patrick went at her with a gusto. He bit gently down on her clit and heard her squeal. Then he wrapped his tongue around it and she moaned even louder. His fingers moved fast and hard inside her. "Cum for me baby." He chanted against her pussy. "Cum in my hot mouth.

"Keep that up and I will." She panted pushing hard against him. "Oh baby. I'm gonna cum...Don't stop...Feels so good."

Patrick had no intention of stopping. He did however pull his fingers from her pussy and his tongue from her clit. She whimpered in dismay until she felt his tongue slide into her. "Oh yes...that's it baby...Tongue fuck me." She humped against his face as he tonguefucked her ruthlessly. He dug his finger into her clit and felt her shake as her body wracked with her orgasm. "I'm cummmmiinnnngggg..." She cried digging her hands in his hair and holding him hard against her spasming pussy.

Patrick continued sucking on her pussy through her orgasm. When she finally relaxed, he pulled his face from between her legs. 

He moved his body up over hers and his cock seeked her entrance. He brought his cock to her hole and slowly slid into her. "Ooooohhhhh..." She moaned opening her eyes and looking up at him. "Feels so good." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips to hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She wrapped her tongue around his as she lifted her hips to his slow thrusts. She felt him deep inside her then he was gone only to come back deep inside her again. "I love you honey." He said pulling his lips slowly from hers. "I love you so much." He kissed her eyelids, cheeks and finally her lips again. He kept his thrusts slow. Pulling out to the head only to give her him completely on the in stroke.

"I love you to baby." She said running her hand down his face. Her hips were moving with his in the slow dance they called making love.

Patrick kept his eyes locked on hers as he started thrusting harder inside her. "Yes...Fuck my hot little pussy." She begged moving her hips to match his strokes. "Make me cum on your thrusting cock."

Patrick growled but didn't take his eyes from hers as he started slamming hard and fast inside her. "Cum on my cock bitch." He growled locking his mouth on hers. "Cum all over my fucking cock."

Patricia groaned into his mouth and tightened her hold on him as he rode her hard and fast. She felt her orgasm building hard and fast. "I'm gonna cum..." She cried clenching her pussy muscles around him. "Oh fuck me...I'm gonna cum."

He fucked her harder. Feeling his cock go deep inside her on each in stroke. "Cum baby." he panted trying to hold back. He sucked at her neck leaving a cherry red mark on her skin.

"I'm cummmmiinnnngggg." She cried as her muscles clenched around him.

He felt her orgasm and let himself go. "Me to..." He roared as he filled her.

After it was over, they lay curled in each others arms. Patrick lay on his back with his arm around his wife and her head resting on her chest. As he drifted off to sleep, he finally knew who he was. Who he was and where he belonged.



THE END



Who Am I This Time



“Would you like another martini, sir?” The tall, raven-haired stewardess asked him. Rueben eyed his glass and shook his head slowly.

“No, thank-you, I’m fine.” 

The stewardess nodded obediently and moved on mechanically to the gentleman beside him.

Rueben cleared his throat, sighed, and settled down. The Captain had previously announced their nearing descent into Boston, Mass, so it would only be now a matter of minutes before the plane landed into the city and Rueben could be safely into a nice, cool cab.

As soon as Rueben gripped his thin briefcase and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, he bounded off the plane into the exit hallway and grimaced to the smiling staff members, as he made his way into the terminal.

“Excuse me, pardon me, thank you,” he announced, with a tone almost as methodical as the staff’s. He breathed a gentle sigh of relief as he raised his arm to catch a cabby’s attention. Part of his damp, wet, denim work shirt rose, un-tucking itself in the process.

Lucky for Rueben, Boston’s Logan airport was quite popular, not to mention busy that June. Almost immediately, the familiar yellow car stopped at the curb and the driver signaled to get in. Rueben shuffled his leather shoes, stepped quickly inside and slammed the door.

“Double Tree Boston,” Rueben announced.

“Buck and a quarter per mile,” the cab driver shot back. The cabby knew how to dress but the accent could not keep him from seeming lower-middle class to an American.

Rueben could not help as he glanced towards the nameplate. He grinned slightly as he saw that it was ‘Ishmael’ and he was reminded of the literary figure. “Yes, yes. I’m in a bit of a hurry to make a conference at three this afternoon, so as long as you get me there, we have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” The cabby nodded and rushed them out of the parking zone.

There was a dead silence between driver and passenger. In usual circumstances, the cabby would either hear nothing but the sounds of his heartbeat for the entire ride, or the passenger would begin to start light conversation.

Ishmael’s deep brown eyes casually made their way to look at Reuben’s face. Rueben was appeared to be about thirty three, had slight lines in his face, he had dark brown hair, and his bluish eyes could see that Rueben looked pensive, as if he wanted to pour out his whole life story but felt like Ishmael was too much of a stranger to listen. This bothered Ishmael: Mr. American thinks he’s too slick to talk to me. We’ll see about that.

“What conference is that, sir?” He asked, giving way to a half-smile. Rueben looked like uneasy. Good.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I’m training to be a human resources consultant and this is a conference to learn about how to deal with cultural diversity. You’re…um… ‘Hat’ there might be considered offensive to other co-workers if they didn’t know any better.”

Now it was the driver’s turn to feel uncomfortable. “I see,” Ishmael grumbled. 

The car was silent for a few minutes, save for Reuben’s loud cough. Ordinarily, Ishmael would have thought nothing of this simple gesture, but when the cough was followed by what seemed like Rueben going into some kind of shock or seizure, the atmosphere became quite a different circus.

“Are you all right, sir? Are you all right?” The cabby asked. He darted his head back and forth from the road in front of him and his ailing passenger.

Something inhuman was taking place behind poor Ishmael. The seemingly normal face of the anxious, insensitive passenger had turned to something totally different. When Rueben didn’t look as if he were breathing, Ishmael, pulled the car over, and without thinking, put a light palm on Reuben’s shoulder. Rueben jerked away and slumped back into his seat. Rueben’s eyes rolled back into his head, and they closed.

Suddenly, he opened his gray eyes and situated himself back in his seat. His breathing returned to normal, and he eyed his driver with strange contempt.

“Get away from me, you goddamn Turk! I want to get off! Right now!”

“ What the! I’m sorry sir I can’t do that! We’re right in the middle of traffic. It’s very dangerous. Please control yourself for both our sakes.”

“Let me out! Please, for God’s sake, let me out! Do what you have to, whatever you must do! If you use that sword on me, I swear, I’ll have you executed forthwith!”

“What sword? I don’t understand what you mean. Please, sir, I can’t watch the road and tend to you at the same time. Would you like me to take you to the nearest physician? No fare?”

“God save the Queen!” 

Rueben was acting stranger and stranger. What was Ishmael to do? His brother had instructed him that the customer was always right, but he knew better than to send his passenger to his death by letting him waltz out into the middle of traffic.

Then, something odd entered Ishmael’s mind. Could it be? He’d heard of this thing before, but the cases were so few and far between, that it couldn’t have been. Could it? He wondered. “What year is it … me sahib?”

“Don’t be daft! It’s 1930!”

“1930?” It didn’t make sense. His fare had seemed all right when he’d entered the cab. Ishmael figured that he’d better do the right thing and made the turn to go to the hospital.

“Yes, you fool, it’s 1930!” Rueben shouted and pounded on the Plexiglas.

Ishmael stepped on the gas, and was almost to the hospital when the light suddenly turned yellow, than red at a corner. For an instant, he considered running it, and getting Rueben there much faster, but he’d already been in trouble with the police for speeding, and figured that everything would be fine for the five or so minutes at the light.

Unfortunately, he had not thought that Rueben would leap out of the stopped vehicle and charge into the busy street.

CHAPTER 2

It was approximately nine when Ishmael put the car into park, and set the emergency lights. He raced out of the cab, and started towards Rueben. However, the light turned green and several cars started to honk. Ishmael begrudgingly got back into his cab and started for the police station. “Let them figure out how to deal with the crazy, passenger.” He thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Rueben had cleared the street and was now racing down the sidewalk. There was a blank look in his eyes and he was mumbling in a British, well to do accent. He bumped into several couples on the sidewalk, splitting them up, and occasionally knocking some back.

Loud yells followed Rueben as he walked, but nothing deterred him from his path. At the corner of Twenty-fifth and Main, he paused for a minute, thinking to himself. “Could it be? No, that’s impossible.” The resemblance was so uncanny, that surely it could be no other. Rueben started towards the man.

“Ahem, Captain Northcliff, how nice to see you again. Do you know of a good spot for high tea? I could use a spot of it.”

The man looked at him oddly. “I’m afraid I don’t know you, sir.”

Rueben chuckled, and reached out to pat the man on the back. “Don’t be silly, old boy, how can you have forgotten the Gandhi years so quickly?”

The other man backed away rather quickly. “Get away from me!”

Rueben was surprised by the man's attitude, but continued on. His journey had led him to a little known area.

He knew where he was going -- a small café where he usually went to think. Hopefully this would help him clear his mind, and possibly explain why people were acting so peculiar. The only tea that he knew of had ice in it and on special occasions a little bourbon.

The road diverged, and instead of taking the right towards the café he inexplicably felt drawn to the left.

Here the pathway became more treacherous. Several pine trees were all overgrown, intertwined and nearly choked out what used to be a road. Many of the small tombstones in the nearby cemetery had been overgrown with masses of weeds.

Rueben plodded his way through, stopping at a marker. Rueben pulled away most of the foliage and read the following lines: “Here lies Lieutenant James McIntyre, Member of the Royal British Army from 1915-1936. Retired, became citizen of United States, and died in 1959.”

Rueben clutched at his stomach, a sensation of nausea overwhelmed him and he fell into a fetal position. “Heal all, must heal all.”

“Hey, Mister, what are ya doing? You don’t need to be here! Sleep it off somewhere else.”

Rueben sat up, dusted himself off, and shook his head at the night watchman. “Yeah, fine, I’ll go now.”

“Yeah, you’d better! Otherwise I’ll call the cops.”

He nodded and started on his way home. He needed to make sense of what happened to him, and figured that the act of writing it out might put the jumbled pieces together. He walked out of the cemetery trying to figure out how he’d get this disturbing image out of his head, and onto paper. He felt himself the happiest when he was sitting at his computer, and typing the images that flowed from his mind.

He arrived home, still trying to guess what the hell he was doing in the cemetery to begin with. He took the house key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

Once inside, he raced into the den and turned on the computer. He started to write down what had happened to him; the morning’s packing to go home, the plane flight – maybe the recycled air filters weren’t working right, or something; the very odd cab ride, the encounter with a pedestrian, whom he thought was Captain Northcliff – and the night watchman.

He re-read it all on the screen, just to be sure that it made sense, and started to print it. There were about three pages in all, and he seemed excited to get it printed, and it took a few moments for the printer to actually spit out the pages. As the printer was working, he suddenly had this craving for good English for tea, went into the kitchen to prepare a cup. He set a pot on to boil, and placed a bag in the cup. Soon, he had his tea and he was ready to go.

After he read the printed version, he turned on an overhead light and sat down in the computer chair. With a few clicks of the keys he was telling his story, although it was nothing like he’d ever heard of before.

“Lieutenant James McIntyre here. Goodness, it feels good to scratch the ol’ quill. I hope not to run out of ink, as it is a precious tale that I need to tell. It was hard to deal with the savages today as they were everywhere, and one could not help but step on them as one walked by. They were so oddly dressed that it was hard to describe, bare chests and a towel covering their heads!”

Reuben continued to read. “I have already heard of plans to enter into treaty with these godless heathens! How foolhardy can one get, pure rubbish! If it were up to me' I'd draw and quarter the lot of them and be done with it. Clear the land for those that are willing to abide by the laws that are placed down by our Queen, what I say.”

“Rather odd.” Reuben thought, lingering slightly on the delete button of the computer for a moment, but hitting the save button a moment later. “Might be of some importance, be able to use it for a short story or something.”

Reuben clicked off the computer and went to bed.

CHAPTER 3

In the morning Reuben awoke, and went to the den. There he was treated to the peculiar sight of the computer being on and five more pages on the screen. However, the last part of the page was the most interesting since his own name was mentioned. 

What in the hell? Rueben considered that it might have been a sleepwalking incident and thought nothing of it, committing the document to save.

“Dear Rueben, I thought that you might like to hear the exploits of a good merchant man on a mission from the Holy God Almighty. I sense that you are likeminded as myself, and that you should have an interesting scope to take on this tale. Remember, Rueben, I am entrusting you to take care of this story and that it is up to you to treat it with the value that it so deserves.”

Rueben started to read, his mind soaking in every little detail. It was a new story to him, but it did not lack for truth.

“This evening on the twelfth of July I witnessed the proper treatment of a Indian woman. She was the nanny to a nearby old English couple who had made the grave mistake of putting her in charge of their two-year-old child; I cannot even begin to tell you what they might have been thinking. Yet, I will tell you that if those lovely, old folks had chosen another nanny, then their child would still be alive!

“The story is already splashed about the newspaper this morning, about how the lad was sent out in his play suit in the yard. The nanny ‘supposedly’ had some other errand to run, or what not, and the child ended up wandering in the yard for quite some time by his lonesome.

“During the day, the heat had set into the nineties and by the time that the parents returned home, the lad was sprawled out upon the grass, his face a beet red, and eyes staring blankly out into the sun.

“When the nanny returned home, the parents were already there – they had since brought the whelp in to try and treat him for heat exhaustion, but it was, of course, too late.

“That poor boy.” Rueben mused.

There was still more to go.

“Of course, the judge acquitted the bitch of all wrong doing, but it didn’t take just any man to realize that the judge WAS on their side – the Indians, I mean. It took a real man like myself, to do what was necessary and finally bring the murderess to justice.

“Many people might have seen what I did as murder, that the assassination of a woman is wrong, but it is up to those with a brain to take matters into their own hands. When a brainless one takes the life of an innocent infant, that is when the tables must be equalized. The child had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to die like that, and his murderess was going to walk, Scot-free. That was just wrong.

“I knew what had to be done, and set about doing the deed at approximately twelve fifteen the next morning. I had thought about using my Luger on the wench, but that would have probably connected me to the whole thing, as it is known as a military issue weapon.

“I had to think of some other way to go ahead and do it.

“The thoughts racked my brains almost ceaselessly not giving up in the least, and after a few days I realized that I had found not only the perfect way to do it, but also the best way to implicate those heathenistic Indians.

“It was well known that many in the Royal Indian guard had sabers or cutlasses of the like, and that if one were able to sever a head then that would be the almost perfect way to go ahead and do it. Yet there was still the question of how I was going to go ahead and procure the blade.

“I must say that I have had a brilliant stroke of luck! I was walking by the local trading merchants when I had the most fortunate stroke of luck that one could possibly think of!

“Cutlasses, sabers; dozens of them all standing there in a nice little row! They were all fine pieces of craftsmanship and the blades themselves had all been recently honed to a razor sharp edge!

“They seemed to call out to me, begging to be picked up and held by a proper English gentleman.

“I tightened my grip on the blade, and felt the weight and pressure in the palm of my hand. I swung the blade around slightly, just to see what it would be like to actually wield a piece of metal like that. (I had to force myself not to vomit at the thought of an Indian holding such a mighty fine piece of weaponry like this). It was in that instant that I knew that I had to have the blade and that nothing would keep me from my appointed post.

“I knew that I had to become that child’s protectorate – God rest his soul – and that the vile perpetrator of his death need take full heed of the vileness that she wrought.

“I slyly looked to either side of myself, just to be sure that I would not be caught stealing it; after all there were eyes everywhere, and it was of utmost importance that I not be seen from any point.

“It was later in the week, a Tuesday, I believe that the whole lot came together. The slave girl was just returning from her shopping rounds, I had watched her from afar, but I wanted to make sure that she was alone in her home.

“It was a modest, little wooden shack, like most of the lower end Indians had, and hers was no different. There was no lock to speak of on the door – heh, there was no door to speak of for that matter either; just a simple slab of cloth upon a bar that swung back and forth to allow both the breeze as well as people to come through. It could be nailed shut during the night, but it would be no problem for me to cut through the cloth and gain access.

“At approximately eleven PM, I made my move, the cutlass was clasped in my left hand, and ready to be put to good use, if I do say so myself.

“I pulled back the cutlass, and made a pinprick slit in the cloth, just to make sure that she really was there. If indeed I had the wrong house, then the damage could well be attributed to moths or something of the sort.

“Yet, as my eyes peered sneakily around, I knew that it was the right one.

“I then made ready to ensure the second part of my plan, and I left the cutlass in the local tavern, not attending it, exactly, but making sure that it was within sight so that no ugly Indian could take it back to its rightful owner.

“It seemed like hours passed before someone even REMARKED on goddamned the thing, the beauty of it all, and so on and so forth. Why, oh why, Dear Lord, was it taking so long for one of them to pick it up and examine it?

“I thought that I should go over to one of them, and have them look at it, make sure that it was authentic or some other plausible lie. But they were shirtless, dark skinned, and I doubt that they even had the civility to be able to carry on a proper conversation with one such as me. I’d leave it to the law to connect the two. After all, it shouldn’t be that hard.

Rueben stopped, and pressed the keyboard aside. This task of writing was getting way too difficult for him to deal with. “Why, oh why, am I being forced to deal with such a subject matter, and in such a cavalier attitude?” He rubbed his temples, got up from his seat, and went to get a cup of coffee. The cursor was blinking for the next paragraph, awaiting his next thought.

“Reuben, what is taking you so long? I need to finish this now. Time is growing short, the time for my story to be told is here and now.”

Reuben stared at the screen. The whiteness becoming encompassing.

He typed into the keyboard. “Who are you?”

CHAPTER 3

“I am simply a spirit. A man who has been tormented and framed by the demons of his past.”

“What do you mean? Explain it to me.”

“I don’t know if I can, Reuben.”

“Try.”

“All right. Where would you like me to begin?”

“As the saying goes, begin at the beginning.”

“As you wish.”

“I guess the story began in the 1890’s.”

Reuben grimaced. If someone had told him that he would be talking to a spirit, he would have told them that they were nuts, yet here he was. It was so implausible that he could think of nothing else, save for that it might be true. 

“Go ahead.”

“Well, as you know, the English were controlling India, correct?”

“Yes, I believe that we had gone over that, and that you were sentenced to death for the death of a child right?”

“That’s right,” typed out the computer. “Well, since my own death by the governing bodies of England, my psychic life has been even more disturbed if such a thing is possible.”

“Explain.”

“Well, with the woman’s death that I had orchestrated, even though she was the lowest of the low – the governing body’s took it upon themselves to take my own life.”

“What was that like?”

“Well, at that time, the rules that governed the land were being twisted, demented, shall we say. If I had done what I did ten – no, even five years earlier, my action would have been seen as justifiable. And yet, in that time and place, I was condemned to death for the murder of an Indian. Can you even begin to imagine how awful, how horrid, that was?”




Who Am I This Time



“No,” typed Rueben.

“All that I had wanted to do was to reclaim the Holy Spirit of an innocent child and the lives of any other child that that scoundrel might try to harm. Don’t you see that? Doesn’t anyone even see that?”

“I’m trying to,” typed Rueben.

“There were just so many of them swarming around there, that it was like trying to tiptoe through an ally and not step on garbage. I felt unclean all of the time, everywhere I looked, and all that I saw were Indians. When the bitch, whoremonger went ahead and let that child die out in the hot desert sun, I was insulted, hurt, and then when she was acquitted in a court of law that was just too much for me to handle.

“I like many others in my time had suffered through many other injustices during those awful Gandhi years. When we were seen as the ‘Evil English’ and our methods of government was questioned, I took it on the chin, as did every other soul borne under the Queen.

“Yet extenuating circumstances presented themselves to me one wonderful night that could naught but be ignored. I heard the voice of God calling out to me. Telling that it must be me to go ahead and punish the evil whore for the innocent who could no longer lay claim to the deed.

“Indeed, it was up to me. I cannot tell you how good it felt to slit her throat, and watch as her eyes widened, and she gasped for air like some damned fish that had been brought out upon the land.

“Her blood spewed forth, vomiting from the wound that I had brought about her neck – most unfortunately drenching my clothes in the process and forever both marking me and condemning me to the eternal torment that I am now facing.

The spirit stopped talking and Rueben shuttered as he watched the scene unfold in his head. Instead of seeing death from afar, Reuben watched as HE was the one stalking the poor woman, placing his hand around her neck, holding her tightly to him as he drew the cutlass across her olive tinted skin. He saw the blood that the spirit was talking about, and felt the rush of adrenaline as he felt her struggle against him.

He drew back from the computer, and fell to the ground, his stomach churning, and knotting up. He felt sick, the thought of even thinking about committing an act so violent was torture. Reuben felt unclean, as though even a few years of showers would rid him of the vileness that he was feeling. “Delete the garbage now,” Rueben murmured. “Just take the mouse and drag the whole goddamned file into the trash and purge it forever.”

Rueben placed his hand on the mouse and tried to move it, but he felt as though there was something that was holding his hand.

CHAPTER 4

“Here let me.” There was a voice seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Rueben tried to look around to see where the voice was coming from, but he was unable to do so. It felt as though someone had his or her hands around his head, and he was forced to look straight ahead staring at the computer screen.

“This feels so good,” typed itself out onto the computer screen.

“What?” thought Rueben?

“Being able to tell my story, this really is the first time that someone has actually been able to hear me and ergo listen to me.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

Rueben felt his head turn slightly, from the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of something misty waft pass, and a cold sensation merged through his right arm. Instantly Rueben felt a great sense of sadness and longing, as though he had not seen a good friend in a long, long time.

His eyes filled up with tears and though he was not truly sad, Rueben started to weep.

He wept for a short time, but the tears were falling like glass shards. “So sad, so very sad. I feel as though my heart is breaking.” He hunched over and wept yet again.

When he regained his composure, Rueben again looked up at the screen, and more had, of course, been typed.

“It seemed rather odd to look at all of them walking around in their clothing, as if they had not a care in the world. A few of them actually had the audacity to look me straight in the eye, and smile. As if they were on equal par with me.

“Of course I knew that they weren’t but it still cut me to the quick to think that now, by law, I would have to treat them as equals. I didn’t know how long that I would have been able to deal with it.

“Actually in a manner of speaking, the Nanny did me a good bit of favor.”

“How so?”

“Well, I knew that there was something going on with me, and I had been feeling rather ill for quite sometime since they were now on equal par with an English gentleman like myself. But there was really nothing that I could do about it. It was not until I had read of the family’s plight, by the audacious hands of that that nanny that I was able to realize what had been missing from my life.”

“What was that?”

“I had always liked hunting as a boy, and then as a teenager my passion took off. My father had given me a nice English Roan for my fifteenth birthday, and I had taken to it as a natural.

“The thrum of the horses hooves as it raced across the landscape hunting with me. As an extension of my own body. Trying to outwit one of the most noble of all animals – the fox – had taken many a wonderful animal, but in the end I was always the victor. There was no question as to who would come through it all with a fine pelt on his back.

A small echo could be heard throughout the room, as though lightning had been a wind had swept through the room. But there was no wind, and if you listened hard enough, it almost sounded as though it was laughter.

A sweat broke out on Rueben’s back, and he pushed himself from the desk. “Who’s there? Identify yourself?”

Silence fell across the room for another minute or so, and nervously Rueben stood up and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He passed by a guest bedroom, and looked through the open door. A window was open and blowing a wispy curtain.

“Whew,” thought Rueben. “Nobody there. It’s just my imagination.”

He walked to the kitchen and got out a glass.

As he walked to the sink, the water faucet turned slightly towards the left, and water started to flow.

“What the!”

The glass that Rueben had been carrying rose from his hand and levitated its way to the sink. The water stopped flowing as the glass was placed underneath it, and then began again.

Rueben watched fascinated as the glass filled up, and then was brought back to the counter.

“Drink.” The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Then get back to work.”

CHAPTER 5

Rueben blinked once, twice, shaking his head slightly as he tried to re-focus on what was going on. “This is only my imagination. Only my imagination.” He repeated the mantra to himself in a vain attempt to convince himself that it was his imagination and not something else.

The water glass marched forward and stopped at Rueben’s head.

“Drink.” The voice again commanded.

“Heh heh, silly imagination.” Rueben thought to himself, and he backed away slightly from the glass.

A cold wind whipped through the room, and the glass started to rush straight for him!

This wasn’t Rueben’s imagination; however, it did stir him up enough so that he was forced to tear away from the room at a marathoner’s pace. He raced away, and made it as far as the den before he felt something grabbing at him and twisting him back around.

“Who are you and what is it that you want?” Rueben yelled at the unseen force. 

The glass stopped at his mouth and pressed violently forwards, forcing Rueben to open his mouth and take in some of the water that the unknown guest was offering him.

As soon as Rueben finished with his mouthful, the glass dropped suddenly, and shattered.

“There, you’ve had your break, now get back to work! You know what I want, and you’ll help me get it or else!”

“Or else what?” Rueben screamed shaking his fist at the computer. He stormed forwards and pressed the “off” button.

The file, however, stayed on.

Frustrated, Rueben walked to the back of the computer and pulled the plug. “There you go, you rotten bastard. See if I’ll write your goddamned book now.”

“I warned you!” The voice came from everywhere and for a moment Rueben had a hard time telling if it was real or not.

However, when an empty mahogany office chair rolled towards him with such force as one that had a live person in it, than one can have no doubt that there was other forces at work. “You will write my book. That is all there is to it. You’ll write my book, or you won’t be released.”

“Nothing doing,” Rueben stated, setting his jaw, and settling down to watch the cursor blink on and off. He didn’t want to do it. He wouldn’t be made to do it and nothing would make him do it. That much was true.

However, Rueben didn’t realize how resilient McIntyre was.

“There is nothing that McIntyre can do to me. Sure he has my body, but he has no way of getting into my mind. I can lose myself there. If McIntyre wants to try anything then, let him. Nothing can get to me.” Ruben contemplated

This moment Rueben was wrong. McIntyre grinned pressing his ghostly pallor into Rueben’s skull. He was shown McIntyre’s body as it morphed from a vibrant young man to a rotted corpse. When he smiled most of his teeth was a dull brown, except for a few that were totally black and rotted out.

The scene began to change drastically to that of an Indian town. Rueben felt himself transported into the middle of a crowded marketplace.

“So many people. So many people,” he whispered, feeling rather claustrophobic as he tried to fight his way through.

“You see what I’m telling you, boy?” McIntyre growled. “Do you understand now what it was like to be pressed into them like sardines in a can? To feel them so close to you that you can’t get away from it?

“This was what it was like every moment of every day for me. To have them shoved into me, and feel their sweaty palms on my back.”

Though he had never been claustrophobic, Rueben shuddered slightly as he tried to get himself out of the vision that McIntyre was bombing him with.

“Perhaps it was true that I did snap. That I did lose control of my sanity and think that there was only one possible way out of my predicament.”

“But,” answered Rueben, “I understand it.”

“Good. Good,” answered McIntyre. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“However, this is the 21st century and you aren’t allowed to prosecute anyone based on their race anymore. The powers that be have called that wrong, and have actually given it a name.”

“Foolhardy,” McIntyre mumbled.

“Actually no,” Rueben shot back. “Racism, also known as racial profiling.”

“Ah. Fancy- dandy words that mean little to me.”

“Yes, but they are true.”

“That may be so, but they have little to do with my own predicament as it is now. The fact still remains that I am dead, and that I still have a lot to teach you.”

“Though nothing that I truly wish to learn.” Reuben shot back at the computer.

“Yet it is also true that you need to learn it. To know what it was that fueled me.”

“Why?”

“So that in time, then you can become like me.”

“And why should I wish to do that?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I am the one who is controlling you!”

“And what if I don’t wish to be controlled?”

A haunting laugh could be heard throughout the house and Rueben tensed, feeling a cold claw grip his flesh and rake back and forth slightly. He breathed in slowly, trying to martial his muscles for one leap when he could be pulled free of Northcliff. Yet the response that Northcliff gave him was nothing like he had ever seen before, and unlike anything that he’d ever expected.

“NO!”

The words were like that of a sonic boom, anything made of glass in the house –mirrors, windows, vases - rattled and broke. Glasses were thrown from the cupboards, and shattered on the floor.

“I didn’t give you the command for you to leave, did I Rueben? Rueben, the writer! I did not say that you could go, did I?”

Rueben tried to open his mouth, but felt that his jaw was wired shut. His body felt as though it was pulling against him, as if his bones were about to be ripped out.

A lone, unbroken mirror passed by where Rueben was sitting. It floated by his face with the reflective side facing Rueben. It was then that Rueben saw the most disturbing vision thus far. There was a small girl, about six or seven, holding the infamous saber. The child was naked, and Rueben was revolted that a child so young could both be shown to him, in that state of undress, and also that he was forced to watch what happened next.

The child placed the blade of tip of the sword to her forehead, and instantly Rueben saw the droplet of blood that formed.

“No. I don’t want to!” This was a child-like voice and Rueben shivered slightly.

“You have to!” Rueben recognized this voice as McIntyre. “For it’s the only way that you’ll be able to reunite with your parents.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Now why would I lie to you?” McIntyre smiled down at her, and Rueben felt absolute revulsion for the man. “Your Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you.”

Rueben sensed that there was something that was driving McIntyre, but he couldn’t be sure. At that exact moment, he didn’t care and instead vowed that if it was the last thing that he did, Rueben vowed that he would “kill” the ghost.

The scenario continued, and Rueben watched as the child continued with her act. Robotically, she forced the blade of the saber into her forehead, and drew downwards slightly.

Rueben shuddered as her skin parted and white bone peeked through slightly.

“Good girl,” McIntyre told her, and patted her head gently, being careful not to place his hand into the laceration that was now opening even wider and leaking out more blood.

“Now place down the saber. If you don’t do it, then I’ll do it for you.”

Rueben was a bit puzzled as to why he was asking her to do this, but all became far too clear as the girl placed down the saber, and McIntyre stepped forwards. He placed his hands onto the girl’s sides and pulled, ripping the skin ever so slightly.

Rueben didn’t know what else that McIntyre had done to her before that scene, but amazingly, she didn’t scream.

“I don’t know how,” Rueben muttered to himself, silently offering up a prayer to whatever Gods there were that they were able to grace a child with such strength of character.

The chair pressed back ever so slightly, and Rueben watched in horror as his arms lifted slightly and settled down on the keyboard of the computer. Like two little live atoms his fingers started to fire off, ten times faster than normal. So fast in fact that he was able to finish a typed page in roughly a minute.

“I really wasn’t sure what to do next. It was all such a blur to me, but I had the shivering child in front of me. My clothes were covered in her blood, and flecks of her skin decorated my collar.

“I am still amazed at what had happened, not to mention the fact that I was able to do it. That I actually had the capability to be so very, very violent frightened me. Yet in the time that I was doing it, it felt so very, very good. I don’t really know what came over me. There was one other thing that I had to do in order to get the pain to leave me. I unbuckled my pants, and felt as my member sprung forth. This is what the queen had ordered, I reminded myself, that they wanted those Turks gotten out of England in any way possible. I forced myself on the girl listening to her moans only slightly as I pressed into her virgin womb…

“It was only after the fact, when I looked down at the ground, the maddening haze, the feeling that I had to go ahead and do something this dastardly, had left me. I looked down to my feet, not really expecting anything, nor knowing what would happen. To me only a few minutes had passed.

“Yet, in those precious minutes I had gone from an every day human male, to something far, far worse.

“Her little body was laying before me. The arms and legs contorted in such a manner that it was unmistakable.

“Yet the most frightening thing that I was unable to understand was ‘Why.’”

“Why what?” Rueben asked, though he realized that he probably knew the answer all ready.

“Why I did what I did, and more importantly, why she had to die.”

“What happened next?”

“Well, I ran as far and as fast as I could away from the scene. All the time thinking that there were going to be police on my tale in a matter of seconds. But I managed to get home.”

“Were there any strange looks from any …onlookers?”

“That was the weird thing. For the next couple of days I expected that there would be police at my door, waiting to arrest me every minute. I opened my door very, very cautiously for the next couple of days.”

“And what happened after that?”

“That, my friend, was an even odder part. It wasn’t until later that I heard from a casual acquaintance that the police had arrested another Indian man for the crime.”

“Oh. What happened after that?”

“I went to his funeral. I had kept my silence long enough. Why not do it for one more time and then all of my troubles would be over.”

“But they weren’t, were they?”

“No, not by a long shot. One of the odd things was that murder is like an addiction, and after I’d committed the first one…”

“And no one had found you out,” Rueben interrupted.

“And no one had found me out. I found that I could do my next one, and the next, and the next and the next, and the next, and so on and so forth.”

“How many did you actually do?”

There was a distinct pause, as McIntyre thought, and Rueben thought for a little while that he had left.

It was not until later when seven booms were heard throughout the house that McIntyre was telling him that he was responsible for seven more murders.

“Seven murders!” Rueben took a deep breath. He wondered if the insane spirit would come through the house, and just for the hell of it, knock the wind out of him. However, nothing else happened.

Rueben was rather thirsty, and pressed the save key on the computer, before he went out to the kitchen for a drink.

There was a hiss from the water as the faucet turned on, and Rueben placed the glass underneath it. He drank the water down in a few gulps, and wondered if his publisher would let him take such a load of crap to them or not.

He laughed as he pictured himself going to Marcus Halbertson, and saying, “Boss, you just aren’t going to believe this, but I transcribed a story from a ghost!”

He heard a small guffaw coming from his boss and the even bigger laugh when he intended to tell the old man that he believed that it was going to be a best seller!

“You aren’t going to believe this Marky, Old Hat, but I believe that we have the next greatest thing since the diary of James Maybrick was found. Yeah, yeah, Maybrick was also known by the more common (not to mention horrific) name of ‘Jack the Ripper.’”


Rueben waited, and imagined the long, drawn out pause that would come from Halbertson as he read the sordid tale. He imagined the pat on the back and the possible raise that he would get once this story came out in print, and thousands, no millions clamored towards the shelves to snatch the story into their greedy little hands and devour each word as though it were a filet minion.

He walked back to the computer. He could hear the phone as it rang, but he paid it no attention as he, once again, felt as though he could write for days. He didn’t know if it was due to McIntyre’s influence (though he believed it was).

He breathed out slowly, and waited for the oxygen to fill his lungs. “This is it. I can tell that I’m going to be able to completely finish this thing tonight. Hopefully McIntyre will be able to finally give me the rest that we both seem to need.”

As if on cue, McIntyre’s spirit popped into Rueben’s head, and began to dictate. “I told you that there were seven others that I did in my little crusade, before they nabbed me.”




Who Am I This Time



Rueben consulted his notes. “Yeah. I remember that. The only other question that I had, was what was it all for?”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear boy?”

“What I mean is that the first one that you did, the nanny was to avenge the death of the child that she supposedly caused.”

“Supposedly! She did cause it!”

Rueben ignored the outburst, and continued with his questioning. “Well, the thing that I was wondering was this… If the nanny was responsible for the death of the child, then what were the other deaths due from?”

“My dear boy, whatever do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you claim to have only caused the deaths of those that you believed to harm others. The nanny for instance…”

“Yes, what about her?”

“Well according to you, you only killed those that were responsible for the deaths of others, and yet you just confessed to me that the nanny was one-sixth of the deaths that you orchestrated. What were the others responsible for, killing rats in the pantry?”

McIntyre laughed, the hearty bellow echoing through the whole room and sounding like a crowd instead of just one. Rueben flinched slightly, nervous that McIntyre was just insane enough to go ahead and do something really, really dangerous.

Rueben had recently watched a movie (appropriately called Ghost) where this one dead guy threw another living guy out of a thirty-story window. Rueben hoped that a similar fate was not being reserved for him.

“Oh Rueben, Rueben, Rueben. Your heart is so filled with light that it nearly makes me nauseous. Believe you me, that if I didn’t need you to write my story down so urgently, then I would be more than pleased to spend the next few months haunting you.”

“I’m so elated that you need me,” Rueben spat. However, there was something that was lurking in the back of his mind. “What is so important that he needs me to write all of this down? What happens if I chose not to?” He turned towards the sound of the apparition. “What is so important about this writing, McIntyre?”

He laughed slightly. “Why the most important thing of all. If one does not write down his history then he has nothing to go on to instruct further generations."

“And what exactly is it that you are trying to instruct further generations on, dear old boy?”

“That should be self explanatory.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The treatment of the lower echelon. They are now, and have always been weaker than us.”

“That may have been true in your time, but not in ours.”

“Your society then is weaker than I could have possibly believed.”

Rueben laughed slightly. “Let me ask you something. What happened when they found you out?” He picked up a pencil, and started to twirl it between his fingers.

McIntyre laughed, a low hollow, sound. “That question has already been answered, otherwise I would not be here.”

“What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“What does it feel like to die?”

McIntyre paused for a moment, trying to think of the correct words. He shut his translucent eyes, and thought.

“It feels like fire. It is quick, and burns like such when it is done. The neck, in my case was snapped very quickly, the breath rushed out of my lungs.” 

Reuben let out a long sigh. His eyes widened, due to the whirlwind of visions he had encountered in the span of what seemed like mere hours. He ran his hands through loose, brown hair.

“I have to get out, have to get away from here.”

“Where are you going, my dear boy? Don’t you want to hear of the unkindness of Hell? Surely that will be a charming feast for the ears.”

Reuben quickly shook his head. “There’s only so much a guy can take from an insensitive prick like you. I’ve heard your twisted superhero tales where you saved the world. I believe it’s time I brought you into the future and sent you right back where you came from.”

A black, swirling cloud twirled around Reuben’s head and a voice emerged, melding the squeal of a pig and a pathetic man in desperation: “Pleeaase don’t send me back, dear Reuben! Pleaaase! Do you know what they did to me there? Tied me up and had rabid dogs chew at my face for hours on end, every minute of every hour of eternity. Do you know what that’s like, Reuben? I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy! I wouldn’t wish it on you!”

Reuben only laughed. He knew just what would suit McIntyre.

“You know what, old chap?” Reuben began with all the chumminess he could muster, “I’ve always wanted to see India for what it really is, in all its decrepitude and squalor. What say we take a little trip, hmm? So I can live out your fantasies. Maybe kill a derelict or two, hmm?” 

There came a long, drawn sigh that reeked with sickening hopes.

“I would do absolutely, positively anything to go back. Slather my front with blood and cry to Heaven!”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll just call and make the arrangements. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Do not cloud my head, do not speak to me, do not do anything that would make me look suspicious, okay?”

“Yes, Reuben. Mum’s the word and all will be settled once you—we—return.”

The plane touched down into New Delhi that Thursday morning, the warm sun greeting Rueben with a smile. It had been a long journey, but well worth it. The only thing he did not know yet was just how he was going to surprise his ghost and rid himself of it. All he knew was that it had to be something crafty and gutsy only Rueben could design.

In the simple, but satisfying hotel room, Rueben lay on his bed and thought aloud on the possibilities of getting rid of McIntyre.

“I could take a tour of New Delhi and show that bastard that India is really a beautiful place…but then again, he’d catch me and direct me to the poorer section of town and say nothing has changed since his time. However, places he described are more or less everywhere around the world. I would have him there. Then again, he could tell me that people consider a river where cadavers are floated down a holy place where people bathe isn’t common. But, then I could reply that Christians worship Jesus Christ, who was crucified in quite a horrid way. A Christian would argue that the crucifix represents much more than a dead body on a cross. A Hindu would argue that the Ganges should not be remembered as a place of decay. It means much more than that to them…”

Just then, someone knocked quietly on the door and Reuben sat up quickly. “Come in.”

A fairly short woman with long, thick black hair and cocoa-colored skin smiled shyly at him, her oval-shaped, brown eyes blinking with life and energy.

“Oh, excuse me. You want me to come back later?” She asked. Rueben paused a moment to ponder what she meant. He wasn’t doing anything at the moment, so why…? It came to him.

“No, I don’t mind you being in here with me. It’s quite all right.”

“Sure?” She asked, her voice soft and sweet, with an accent.

“Sure,” he agreed, “It would give me a chance to admire the view from the window.”

She hurried over to the window and drew the curtains before he had a chance to get there.

“Ah, yes, you have a lovely view. Now, if you’d like anything, I can get it for you before I clean the room. Is there anything that you would like?”

“What would you suggest?”

“We have a ham sandwich, or maybe you would like an apple or some fresh coffee.”

Reuben laughed.

“I bet you say that to all the American tourists who are too afraid to try the local faire. Besides, I’ve had too many American meals on planes or in cheap restaurants. Surprise me. Bring me whatever you usually eat for lunch. Anything.”

The woman nodded gently.

“Yes, sir.” She hurried away. Rueben could feel her nervousness at his free talk with her. Perhaps she wasn’t used to strange Americans. Perhaps she had thousands of rooms to attend to and was worried about doing them all and attending to lunch. He made a mental note to ask her the next day.

That evening, Reuben asked for an evening snack of almonds and milk. He waited in his room for the noise of the tray finding the carpet outside his door. When it came, he thrust open the door and looked face to face with the cleaning maid he’d met earlier.

“It is you, again!” He smiled, staring into her young eyes. She looked nervously back in reply.

“Yes, sir. Would you like anything else?”

“What’s your name, Miss? Where are you from? I’m not going to harm you. Won’t you join me for some milk and almonds?”

She turned away and began to walk briskly away.

“Miss! Miss!” Rueben called out, and walked towards her. He gently placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Neidra. Ashram. I have to tend to other rooms. It’s getting quite late. Please.” She twisted her body to rid herself of his light grasp and walked away again.

“You were too forward, Reuben. Next time, demand that she stay. If she tries to escape your grasp, lock the door and remove the phone.”

Reuben blinked a few times and stared at the floor. Who was that voice that had just spoken? He didn’t want to murder her. Not in the least. Unless…

The second day, Rueben devised his crafty plan. His lips curled into a grin as he stepped back into his room and called out into the air, shutting the door behind him.

“McIntyre? McIntyre?” He cried. No one answered his cry. Good, so the ghost was keeping his word. Or was he? Reuben only knew he’d better not let a statement like that ever escape his lips again.



The second day, Reuben called the desk and asked for Neidra to bring him breakfast.

“She left something of hers in here with her name on it and I just want to return it.” Rueben said calmly.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Well, what do you have for breakfast around here? Whatever it is, I want it. American tourists can be so pathetic sometimes, ’I’m in the middle of a place where they don’t speak English, and I want a Big Mac’.”

“Right away. Neidra should be up shortly.”

And she was. Rueben could hear the soft steps of her flat shoes. Rueben imagined her breath quickening and her heart rate changing as she approached his door. He imagined her thinking that if she didn’t watch out he’d kill her or rape her or both.

The moment her feet stopped before his door, Rueben allowed her to knock just once. He flung open the door, placed a firm hand over her mouth and shoved her inside. Her muffled scream could have been heard for a few moments outside, but he took such a short amount of time getting her inside she had no opportunity to do so.

Once they were inside he locked them in with his left hand. Then he slowly took his other hand off of her mouth and whispered into her small ear.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it. I just want to have breakfast with you, Neidra.”

Neidra’s eyes told him that she didn’t believe him when she saw the broken phone and pulled out chair from the table.

“I know you don’t believe me, so I’ll tell you why I did. Only, I know that there are dozens of maids like you around here, so it won’t be noticed that you are gone. I did this to force you to stay because, for once, I want a meal with someone from India, a real companion for a while. I’m leaving in a few days. If I asked for a companion I’d never see again out there in New Delhi, someone would give me a prostitute. I want someone real. What would have happened if I had asked you in today? You’d have run away as you have done before.”

“Yes. What do you want from me?” Neidra said as she looked down at her shoes.

“Eat with me, Neidra. Tell me stories of Ashram, of New Delhi…whatever you want to say. Don’t leave anything out, all right?”

Neidra eyed Rueben, puzzled. Then, she sighed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, as if I’m every other Joe in this hotel. Call me Rueben.”

“Rueben.” 

She said it normally, but to him it was said like the name of some far off, exotic distant land only to be found in dreams.

She looked submissively at the floor again. “Where shall I begin, Rueben?”

“Begin by tasting your own food. Does it suit you?”

She took his fork and delicately took a bite. Almost immediately, she made a rapid swallow.

“And?”

“I could have done better.”

He shoved the plate away. “I see. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Tell me, Neidra, what do you feel is the current situation in India? How much has it changed since the English were here? How do you feel Gandhi would have fared?”

She cleared her throat.

“Well, I must say the English have their way when it comes to our dialect. We say ‘shall’ and ‘quite’ just like we did dozens of years ago to please the English. At least, some of us do. I would say India is a mixture of the old and the new. Old, in the sense of our English memories that flow into our dialect and new in the sense that cows can wander in the middle of the road, just like it used to be. Am I making any sense at all, Mr. Rueben?”

“Oh, yes, perfect sense. Do you feel as if you’ll ever be one in the old tradition or the new?”

“I don’t believe we ever will. India is a multi-colored quilt that has never quite managed to stay together.”

“Perhaps Krishna sleeps under that quilt beneath the stars.” Rueben added, and winked at her. She smiled a half-smile.

“Maybe…” She agreed, looking pleased he knew something of her country. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a sort-of cosmic connection.

“ …So you know about our god, Krishna?”

“I read a little about your mythology on the plane. Fascinating stuff, really. And, it passed the time nicely.”

“You know, Mr., Rueben, I am known as a storyteller in Ashram. Would you like me to tell you a tale of Krishna or Hanuman or something?”

“Why don’t you do that, Neidra? But, I want you to make it up. Do you know what that means? Describe a new story to me with whatever god or goddess you want.”

“A new one? Mr. Rueben, I’m not sure about that. I haven’t made stories up since I was a child.”

“Please, Neidra. For me? I’m an adult, just like you, way past the age to ask for a story with child-like wonder in my eyes. But, I’m willing to be like a child again and listen to you. Will you do it?”

“I will tell you my favorite story, Mr. Rueben, of how the god Krishna met his true bride, Radha. It’s very romantic. Isn’t that what Americans like?”

“Tell me your story, Neidra. Never mind what you think I want to hear. In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, never mind that blouse and skirt.”

She hesitantly removed her blouse and skirt, loosening her braid so that wavy, beautiful hair cascaded down her almost bare back.

“Please don’t hurt me, Mr. Rueben. You said—“

“I said I wouldn’t and I say it now. I also want to say how beautiful your voice sounds to me without meaning to. I want to say how lovely your hair is, without it tied back. I want to say how gorgeous you are—just being yourself.”

Neidra blushed.

“I know why you wanted to tell me the story of Krishna and Radha, Neidra. Because Krishna is a god as American tourists are gods to you because they bring in money. Radha is a Gopi, a shepherdess, like Neidra is a maid, which means there isn’t much money involved and still he finds her beautiful. And still he wants her out of all the others. And Krishna is imperfect because he lusts after all the other Gopi's, just as you think I just want you because you’re available right now and you think I’m going to break my promise and kill you or rape you—making me imperfect. But, deep in your wonderful heart you think that there’s a slight chance for us to think that we could be together for a little while. Just like Krishna looked deep into his atman, his soul, and said that he and Radha were meant to be. Do you follow, Neidra?”

“Yes, Mr., Rueben.”

“I’m Rueben, please call me that. And you’re Neidra, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re just saying that. I’m not the most beautiful woman. If I was, I would have been swept up by some American or something and would not be here, cleaning your room.”

“You are the most beautiful woman. And I’m here to take you away from this world you’ve made for yourself.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Do you believe in fate, Neidra? Of all the myths you could have told me, why’d you pick that one? ‘Americans love romance’. True. We love the art of surprise and affairs and anything the rest of society says isn’t right and shouldn’t happen. In other words, the art of the possible.”

“You’re crazy—Rueben. You’re—“

He took hold of her bare shoulders and drew her to him, kissing her slender neck and shoulders. She was tense with excitement and fear all at the same time. He kissed her dozens of times until gradually, she relaxed.

“Don’t relax, my love. Go with it. Try me.”

She gave him a sideways glance and then went limp to let him do as he pleased with her.

They made furious, but genuine love on his bed. He could never tell if she actually was enjoying herself, but at last, she was smiling.

“Why did you do this?” She finally asked.

“In Hinduism there are such things as devise, right? Gods or goddesses that enter a person, possess them, and other people would swear you were a reincarnation of that deity?”

“Yes.”

“There was a bastard inside of me who was a god of sorts—ruling over me and trying to instill in me hatred of the Indian race. Times have changed, I knew better, etc. I had to, for a moment, love you Neidra, to weed him out. I’ve seen India now, through your kind eyes, and it’s nothing like he said. I’ll call him now, and see if he’s fled me. If so, we’ve won and I would be so happy if McIntyre was rolling in his grave.”

He called the name out, into the air.

“McIntyre! McIntyre! Are you there, you son-of-a-bitch? Did I—we—send you back to Hell?”

There was no reply.

Rueben laughed victoriously and kissed his love on the cheek. His love smiled shyly. She looked at him strangely for a moment.

“McIntyre…hmm…perchance, was he a lieutenant in the English army?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He killed my grandmother.”

“He what!”

“Was she a nanny?”

“According to the records, yes.”

“Then, Neidra, we are not two strangers in the night. I was sent to right this wrong and our embrace has set me free. I’ll never forget this day. I’ll never forget you.”

“I’ll never forget India.”