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I'm Not Dead Yet

By: Tony155



Author's note: A special thank you to Blondiesheart for editing this for me. She suggested I post a warning to readers. This story involves an embalming scene and may not be suitable to readers with sensitive stomachs. I didn't think it needed a warning, but she's the editor. ~sigh~ 

Kim Campina nervously glanced at her watch noticing the time passing seemingly faster than normal that morning. Not hearing her alarm clock and getting up fifteen minutes late certainly didn't help things along in her pursuit of claiming lost minutes. The morning traffic was unusually brisk for a Monday, or so said the DJ through her car speakers, and that was the only thing saving her from being late to class. 

She maneuvered her blue 1999 Dodge Neon into the right lane and set her cruise on 75 mph, knowing the cops were few and far between on that stretch of road. Her thoughts settled on her date for the evening with Joe. Joe Roth to be exact. Just the thought of him sent shivers through her. Six feet tall, muscular, handsome face and boyish smile, he made her heart flutter every time he was near. They had met at a frat party on campus and it had seemed they were drawn to each other by magnets. That was three months ago and they had been inseparable since.

But that night was going to be special. His parents were away for a week and they were going to make love for the first time. The thought of surrendering herself, opening her sex to him and letting him invade her most intensely private area brought little tremors of pleasure between her stocking covered thighs. Kim shifted in her seat as she refocused her attention on the traffic ahead.

Sure, he had let her play with his penis and had even asked her to give him a blow job on more than one occasion, but those times were normally in the cramped front seat of his car. She resisted sometimes, knowing they would have to watch their time and not be seen. It was never that pleasurable for her during those times. On occasion, she had let his hands roam inside her bra and down the front of her panties, but she drew the line when he actually tried to jam his finger inside her. That was just too much.

Tonight, they would be able to take their time and do whatever they wanted without looking at the clock or jumping at every sound and jeopardize losing that wonderful feeling that sometimes occurred when he hit a good spot.

Kim hummed along happily with the radio as they played Enya's "Time". It was one of her favorite songs and it gave her an instant feeling of peace whenever she heard it. During the second chorus, the familiar ring of her cell phone broke her thoughts. Annoyed at its interruption, she debated whether or not to answer it. She glanced down at the caller ID and saw it was Joe and a smile escaped her lips. Only he could interrupt Enya and not anger her too much. 

Just as Kim heard the ring, a tenth of a mile ahead of her, the front tire of a big rig hit debris and exploded. The driver cursed loudly as he fought gamely to control his vehicle. Tires squealed, brakes protested, and underpants were soiled as the speed of the rig decreased rapidly. Behind the suddenly swerving trailer, another driver hit her brakes almost as soon as she saw what was happening in front of her. And so, the speed of traffic decreased from 75 mph to 40 mph in a matter of seconds.  

Taking her eyes from the road, Kim reached for the phone and fumbled it, sending it across the seat a few inches away. She made another stab at it before something out of the corner of her left eye caught her attention . It was then she heard tires squealing. The back end of a large construction trailer loomed in front of her not sixty feet away. Attached to it was a bulldozer making it seem even more sinister.

The ringing phone forgotten, Kim jammed both feet into the brake pedal, but instinctively knew she was in deep shit. Closing her eyes before impact, she hoped it wouldn't hurt too badly.

Sounds and smells slowly came to her when she awoke. Burning metal, rubber, gasoline, excited voices, and sirens were all penetrating her senses. The deflated air bag in front of her looked like a lopsided breast and she thought it odd. Kim tried to move, but nothing seemed to work, and strangely, she felt no pain. Looking left and right, she saw people and rescuers on the outside of her car, or what was left of it. Even in her limited vision, she could tell it was pretty much destroyed. At least it's paid off, she said to herself.

She knew she was paralyzed and that was quite evident. No pain and not being able to move were pretty good hints, yet it didn't sadden her. She was happy to be alive. 

Seconds later, a hand reached through the shattered glass of her side window and pressed their fingers to her throat and then her left wrist.

"I think I'm paralyzed," she said in a clear voice.

The paramedic shook his head and withdrew his arm. He looked to his partner and said, "DRT?" 

His partner nodded and frowned as they began to walk away. "We already tried working on her."

Puzzled, she said loudly, "Hey, aren't you gonna help me? Aren't you gonna get me out?" She saw them move away and couldn't understand. "What the fuck?" she mumbled. Now, she was completely flustered. She knew she needed medical attention quickly. Maybe they needed help in getting her out. 

A few minutes later, workers returned with the jaws of life, a metal cutter used to open demolished cars in rescue attempts.

"I'm glad you guys came back."

"Move those people back, Harry," one paramedic said. "They don't need to see this." A few curious people were moved away by a police officer while another officer reached through the passenger window and retrieved Kim's purse.

"Hey, that's my purse! Why are you taking it? My name's Kim Campina if you need to know," she said. He ignored her and began to rummage through it. "Answer me or I'll report you for going through my stuff without permission."

Her attention was diverted as metal screamed and argued, the blades cutting through the hinges of the door. Soon, the door fell into their hands and was pulled away.

"Too bad the seat belt and air bag didn't help her," one remarked.

"I know, but I can live with being paralyzed. I'm okay with it, really. Just get me out."

"Yeah, she was a cute one, too."

"Thanks for the compliment, guys, but shouldn't you be working a little faster? I need to get to the hospital." Even in her state, she was starting to get irritated. Why were they taking their time? "How bad am I? You can tell me. I can handle it."

The first fireman took out his rescue blade and slashed the straps of the seatbelt away from Kim. Her limp, mangled body fell into his arms and he gently began to pull her out. "Got the bag ready?" he called over his shoulder.

"Bag? What are you talking about? You mean stretcher, don't you?"

"It's coming. Just put her on the ground for a second. No one will see her. We've got it blocked."

"Okay." The fireman gently laid her lifeless body on the road beside her car, her head lolling to the side at a ghastly angle.

Kim yelled at him in panic, "What are you doing? I need medical attention!! I need IV's or SOMETHING." He ignored her pleas. "Answer me!" she begged. 

Another fireman arrived and looked down at Kim before speaking to the other. "The ambulance is here to take her to the morgue."

"Morgue?"

The sickening sound of peeling vinyl could be heard as they began to unfold the bag.

Panic seized Kim as she desperately tried to make herself heard and understood. "I'm not dead! What the fuck are you doing? Stop doing this!!!!!"  But her screaming pleas were not heard. Slowly, she began to realize her fate. "No, no, this can't be happening. Somebody listen to me. Please...." she sobbed.

After the bag was unfolded, they carefully picked her up and placed her inside. The policeman who had her purse walked over and put it inside the bag next to her right arm. "I got all the information I needed," he said.

"Thanks for bringing it back," Kim said sarcastically.

She then heard the sound of a zipper at her feet and she became scared beyond terror. "No! Don't close me up. I'm claustrophobic. I won't be able to breathe. I'm not dead. I can't be dead. I'm not dead...." She tried to push it off her by kicking and flailing with her arms, but she could not move. Once it was sealed, the paramedics picked her up and carried her to the stretcher where they strapped her body to it. They could not hear the desperate cries from within the bag.

As the paramedics placed her in the back of the ambulance, no one could hear her sobbing within the black rubber casing. The back doors of the ambulance slammed shut and Kim was alone. As the blackness engulfed her, a hysterical Kim felt a strange sensation. Suddenly, she was sitting next to the body bag and observing the scene. Through the back window, she saw the mangled mess of what was left of her car. Sighing, she turned and looked down at her lifeless body encased in the dull black bag.

"I would have liked that date tonight," she said sadly.

The ambulance began to slowly weave its way through traffic.

"Boy, this really sucks," she said . She looked to the cab of the ambulance to see if she was noticed.  "No one's going to hear me anyway", she grumbled. "Damn it, I was only five minutes from school, too!"

Looking down at the body bag, she said, "You really screwed up this time. Nice job, dumbass! You just had to answer the phone, didn't you?"

She thought of Joe and her parents. Oh, if she had only been a few minutes earlier or later. But then again, she knew it would not have mattered. She was where God wanted her to be when he took her. Where was He, by the way? Wasn't there supposed to be a shining light or something to show her the way. Why was she still here?

"Shit, this is really fucking great," she exclaimed. "You don't know where the hell you're supposed to be."

Her thoughts turned to her parents again and she knew they'd be devastated. She could only hope her father's weakened heart would stand such a loss. Her mother was a strong person and Kim was certain she would be able to cope eventually. As for Joe, she knew he had the strength to go forward. He was very resilient in that way. She would miss him terribly as she would her parents. She could only hope she was going to a better place, as her faith had taught her all those years.

Within ten or fifteen minutes, the ambulance arrived at Cedar Cliff Hospital where it pulled around to the back to the entrance of the morgue. The ambulance backed to a dock area where a doctor and two nurses waited for their arrival. Once the doors opened, Kim got out and watched the medics remove her body and wheel her inside to the cold, sterile examining room. They removed her from the stretcher and placed her on a metal table.

The medics handed the doctor the clipboard which had Kim's personal information, plus all of the medical information that could be provided. Then they reached around and began to unzip the body bag. As they did this, Kim saw her lifeless, bloodied body and face staring up at the doctor through dull blue eyes. They had once been a lovely ocean blue color. She was a mess and Kim could barely manage to look. She was sad, but she was also numb from everything that had happened to her. The doctor handed the chart to one of the nurses and began to examine Kim in much the same way as the medics had by checking her carotid artery and her wrist. He checked her eyes as well.

"Note the time of death as 0810," he instructed the nurse.

"Well, at least I know when I died," Kim said.

"Time of arrival," he said while checking the wall clock, "was 0917."

With help from the nurses, the medics removed Kim from the body bag. They left soon thereafter, as did the doctor, and Kim was left alone with the nurses; one a short brunette and the other, a tall, older woman with gray hair.

"What's next?"  Kim asked no one in particular. "Anyone for a game of cards?" When no one answered, Kim decided try and go back within herself once more. She laid down on top of her body and felt herself being pulled back in until she was staring at the nurses above her.

The nurses began to undress her and placed her personal belongings in a white plastic bag with her name on it. Her black skirt, stockings and underwear were the first to be removed. Next came her blood-splattered white blouse and her white lace bra. 

"I was hoping my boyfriend would be doing that tonight. I would have enjoyed that so much," she told the nurses.

Next, they gently washed her with special anti-bacterial soap, getting rid of the dried blood and grime from the collision. Unfortunately, the soap did not have magic powers to take away the bruises and cuts which were prominent on her face and chest area. After they dried her, she was placed in a hospital gown and positioned flat on her back once more.

"Thanks," Kim said. Although she could feel their arms and hands supporting her and cleansing her, she would have rather had a nice warm shower in her own apartment after her classes. The sterile smell of the soap did nothing to change her mind about that, either.

"She was such a pretty girl," the brunette nurse remarked as they began to place a drab green sheet over her. "It's such a shame."

"Tell me about it."

Kim got up once more and watched from the side as the nurses covered her completely with the sheet.

"Please take that off my face. I hate having stuff over my face."

Ignoring her request, the nurses began to roll the table down a corridor towards the refrigerator. Kim walked with them and without thinking, tried to stop them by placing her hand on the shoulder of the older nurse. "Take it off," she said, a bit more urgently. Her hand went right through the nurse's body.

The nurse stiffened slightly and stopped. Turning to her partner, she asked, "Did you feel a draft or something?"

"No. Why?"

"I don't know. I just felt something weird."

"Will you stop and take that damned sheet off my face?" Kim demanded, even more urgent. She was almost to the point of hysteria.

They began to walk again and the squeak, squeak, squeak of the wheels became more prominent. The tall, gray haired nurse looked over her shoulder more than once, still uncertain as to what had just occurred.

The frustration, sadness, and anger was more than Kim could take. "I SAID TAKE IT OFF MY FACE!!!" she yelled at the top of her lungs while reaching for the sheet.

Above their heads, a section of lights dimmed before they heard a faint hissing sound. Soon, the florescent bulbs sputtered and popped loudly, making the already frazzled nurse jump with fright.

"What the hell was that?" she exclaimed as she looked up at the darkened bulbs.

"Beats me," the brunette answered. "It's probably a fried transformer. I'll call maintenance and have them look at it."

Like a kid who had a wicked secret, Kim smiled at her new discovery as the nurse's began their journey once more down the hallway. In their haste to get away from the darkened area, the nurses didn't notice the sheet pulled away from Kim's face.

* * * * *

It was late in the afternoon when Kim was removed from the hospital morgue to begin another journey. Her parents had arrived shortly after noon to identify her and take possession of her personal items. Not able to bear looking at them, Kim closed her eyes during the time they were there, but it broke her heart to hear and feel the grief and sorrow pouring from their souls.

Much to her consternation and against her supreme will, she was placed in another body bag. "Can't you find something else to put me in?" she asked indignantly. "A floral sheet would be nice".

The two men dressed in stern, black business suits merely went about their work in an orderly fashion. Gentle, but businesslike, they treated her body with grace and dignity, as they did with all their clients. After the necessary paperwork was signed and copies were made, she was placed in the back end of a solemn gray hearse. Kim climbed in before the door was shut and sat down next to her body.

* * * * *

At the funeral home, Darrell Brogan's day was beginning quite well. He worked the evening shift at Harris Funeral Home as a mortician. As a junior mortician, his job was to embalm and cleanse the clients so that the morning shift could dress them and apply the necessary makeup before viewing. Most of the time, late arrivals did not have clothing provided by their family yet. If it was a particularly slow night and he had the clothes available, he did the dressing and cosmetics himself, but that was rare. Darrell enjoyed working in the evenings because no one bothered him and he was by himself. Most of the staff was gone by nine o'clock if a viewing was taking place, or by six if there wasn't. Also as part of his duties, he had to answer the phone, make arrangements with the area hospitals and nursing homes for pickups and deliveries, and sometimes did the pickups himself if the client could not be delivered to the funeral home. 

Yes, it was beginning very well as he scanned the folders of his clients that evening. There were no views that evening and only three clients on his list, but that was just the beginning. His first client was an eighty-three year old man who died at a hospice that morning. His second was an infant who died of SIDS. Oh, how he loved babies! They were always so sweet and beautiful, plus they took little time to treat because of their size. Lastly, he saw he would be receiving a young woman who died in a car accident. Promising, he thought to himself. Very promising. He would save her for last so he could take his time. She would be arriving shortly and if things went according to plan, he could relax and enjoy himself.

Well liked by his peers and considered a handsome man by most women he encountered, Darrell was married and had two children, ages five and three. He loved his wife and thought their sex life to be okay considering it had diminished a bit with the arrival of the kids. All in all, their sex life could be better or more frequent, but Darrell wouldn't think of complaining about it. Every once in a while, things became quite good when it was least expected and that made the wait most worthwhile.

Once at the funeral home, Kim was taken out of the body bag and again put on a cart and placed in a refrigerator. As she looked around, she saw other bodies on carts, although there weren't too many. She did see a small bundle against the far wall and got off the table to look. It saddened her greatly to see a baby laying there wrapped in a blanket. Except for the ash-blue skin, it looked to be merely sleeping peacefully.

An hour later, the door to the room opened and Darrell pushed Mr. Jenkins' body, the eighty-three year old, into the refrigerator. It had been an easy three hour job with no complications, even though he was interrupted when he had to answer the phone a few times. He hummed a tune in a soft voice as he scanned the dimly lit room for a second or two. There she was, he thought to himself, when he saw Kim. He moved over to her and studied her for a minute. He thought she was very pretty even though her head was tilted at an odd angle from her broken neck. Her jaw was a little too tight and she looked like she was grimacing. He would have to try to make her smile more natural. Darrell ignored the ghastly cuts and bruises and saw only the beauty he wanted to see. 



I'm Not Dead Yet



I'd like to thank Capschroud2000 for his continual help with my stories.

*

On February 18th, two months before my 51st birthday, the unthinkable happened. I had a heart attack.

I was on the pool deck having a Corona and waiting for the coals on my smoker to heat up. At first I thought my last swallow of beer had gone down the wrong way, but when it got worse, I knew something was terribly wrong. The pain was excruciating and growing more intense rapidly. It seemed as though someone was standing on my chest as I felt, and even heard, my heart beat out of control. I fell to my knees and then onto my back gasping for air.

Thank God for cell phones because that's the only thing that saved my life. I reached into my shorts pulled it out and hit 911. I don't remember if I said "help" or anything else only that within a couple of minutes there was a loud crash, and a whole lot of people were doing things to me. I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember I was in the hospital being told that I was being prepped for surgery.

"Mr. Moore, can you hear me?" a voice asked. "We need to do a heart bypass on you immediately, do you understand?" 

I nodded that I did. They put a clipboard under my hand and I signed my name to some kind of release, or maybe it was an order for Girl Scout cookies. I hadn't a clue nor did I care. I just wanted the pain to stop.

"Is there anyone we should contact?" a nurse asked.

"My wife. My wife ... is she here?" I asked.

"No. You were the only one in the house when the paramedics arrived. I'll have someone check back as soon as possible," she told me. "Now try to relax. We're on the way to the operating room, and you should be fine."

At this point, I think I vaguely knew what was going on, but nothing was really registering in my brain as I was wheeled into an elevator and then into a large bright room.

"Breathe deeply, and when you wakeup, it'll all be over," the doctor told me.

My life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't have any out of body experience, and thank God, I didn't see any bright light at the end of a tunnel. I just woke up in the recovery room to a middle age nurse standing over me, taking my pulse.

"How are you feeling?" 

I tried to say something, but my mouth was too dry. Even though my mind was working, my body wasn't doing what I wanted it to do.

"Don't worry, you'll feel much better in a couple of hours. Just get some sleep."

She was right. The next time I awoke I felt a lot better yet worse all at the same time. There sitting next to my bed was my wife of twenty-eight years, Sandy.

"Are you alright? When I got home, the neighbors told me what happened. The doctors said you're going to be just fine," she said smiling.

My mouth was still very dry, so when I started to say something, I could barely get it out. 

"Leave me alone," I started to say, but it came out softer than a whisper.

"What are you trying to say," Sandy said moving close to my mouth.

"Get out of my sight and leave me the hell alone," I said loud enough for her to hear this time.

"Honey, don't try to talk ... just lie back and rest. I'll be right here," She told me touching my cheek.

At that point my heart rate shot up, my face became flushed, and a nurse came running into my room to see what was going on.

"Leave me the fuck alone," I now shouted at her.

"Miss, you're going to have to leave. You're upsetting the patient and raising his vitals. Please leave, miss," she told Sandy.

"But I'm his wife," she stammered.

"Be that as it may, you're upsetting him, and I need you to leave right now."

"Hon, I'll be in the hallway if you need me," she said looking back at me as she was ushered from my room.

I motioned to the nurse, and she came close. "No visitors, please," I told her. "And only discuss my condition with me. No one else!"

"I understand, Mr. Moore. I'll put a sign on your door that says no visitors are allowed, and I'll make sure the doctor discusses your condition only with you. Will you be needing anything else?" she inquired. I nodded no. "Well, that being the case, please try to relax and get some sleep. The doctor will be in later to check on you."

You don't get any rest in a hospital. If they're not jabbing you, their taking blood or trying to give you some damn pill in the middle of the night. "Sleep, yeah sure, lady," I thought to myself.

The doctor came in and said everything had gone according to plan. They had done a triple bypass, and that when they'd gone in, they'd seen evidence of other damage, as they like to call it, from an earlier attack. I told him that it probably happened about three months earlier, but I had thought it was just a stress attack.

"You're very lucky, Mr. Moore. If you hadn't had your cell phone, you might not have made it," he explained. "You really need to get your weight and blood pressure under control, or you're going to end up seeing me again," he said while looking at my chart. "I want you out of the bed tomorrow morning. I need you to start walking at least ten minutes every hour, and after that, we'll see how it goes."

"How long will I be laid up doc?" 

"If you're asking me when can you go back to work, the answer is not for at least two months. When you go home, you'll need someone there at all times, at least for the first couple of weeks. After that, we'll play it by ear depending on how you feel."

"Doc, I won't be rehabbing at home, so can you recommend a good facility?" 

"Well, there is a pretty good one about three miles from here that has a great workout area and a dietitian on staff." he told me. "All you need to do is have our business office call and set it up for you. Let me warn you though, it is kind of pricy, but it's got an excellent reputation. By the way, you've had a lot of visitors, and a few of them became a little irate when they were informed that you'd requested no visitors or phone calls," he said with a puzzled smile. "I guess you had your reasons, but I'd hate to be in your shoes when you go home," he said walking out the door.

"Who said I was going home," I thought.

*******************

A week later, I was sitting in a private room in the rehabilitation center. It overlooked the outdoor pond and was more like a hotel suite than a hospital room. I was given a full physical screening and asked how long I planned on staying.

"Let's plan for two months and go from there," I told the coordinator. 

"Mr. Wilson, you're about sixty five pounds over your ideal weight and not in the greatest physical shape. We need to get you in the gym and set you up with an exercise routine. But first of all, we're going to get you on a good nutritional program to get your weight more in line. It's not going to be easy, but if you follow the staff's instructions, you'll see results. So with that said, I'll take you down to the gym, so you can get started."

"Well, you've got me for the next two months, so do with me as you wish," I said with a laugh as we proceeded to put a recovery program in place.

*************

You're probably wondering how I got myself into this condition; the reasons simple. I'm too good at what I do for a living. I'm not bragging or saying that to pump up my ego. It's a fact. I have a certain knack for finding the best people for the job, making sure they're fully trained, and finally letting them do what I've hired them to do. I learned a long time ago that I couldn't do it all. I tried for a while, but it almost killed me. Now I sit back and let others do their jobs. I give them a project, tell them what results the customer is looking for, and then turn them loose to do what they do best. Life is now good.

You see I'm the sales manager for a marketing firm. I've been with the company for 26 years, and a couple of years ago I became a silent partner. No one, and I do mean no one, including my wife knows this. Five years ago I took a twenty-five percent cut in pay to buy into the company. I've got five more years left, and I'll be a fifty percent owner with my buddy Ken. Sound like I've got it together? Well, I do when it comes to my business life, however my personal life is another matter.

I've got two spoiled kids and a social climbing wife. My youngest, John, made it through college by the skin of his teeth and was more than a little upset when I didn't offer him a position in the company. I just told him, family and business don't mix. Between you and me though, I didn't want to have be the one to fire his lazy ass when he didn't work out. He did find a nice girl and got married, but he still hits me up for money about every other month. I guess I never learned how to say no to him, but no more.

Tina, who is two years older than John, is a professional student. I think she's on the six-year graduation plan. She's changed her major three times, and I haven't a clue what it is at the moment, but no matter. At the start of this school year I told her she had one semester left to finish, and after that she was on her own. She went to her mother and complained, and when Sandy approached me, I just told her enough was enough.

You kind of see where I'm going with this don't you? I'm done being the nice guy with the open checkbook. At 25 and 27 years old, I shouldn't have to support them any longer, and I'm not going to. They are now officially off my payroll.

As for my wife, Sandy, that's a whole other story. About three months ago, I was feeling a little frisky one night. Our sex life had gone down a lot over the last year, and I was trying to jump start it to where it should be. I'm not looking for sex five times a week, but three would be nice.

Well, where was I? Oh yeah, after dinner I gave her a glass of wine and asked her if she was in the mood.

"For what?" 

"You know. How about you and I go upstairs and have a little fun," I said with my sexiest smile.

"I'm a little tired tonight, and you know I have that party to plan for," was her reply.

"Come on, hon. It's not like I'm asking for a kidney ... just a little loving."

I should have known it wasn't going to go as I'd planned since Sandy looked about as interested as someone sitting in a dentist chair awaiting a root canal. We undressed, got into bed, and that's when the complaints started. I was taking up too much room; she was hot; I was sweating; and finally, she didn't want me lying on top of her because I'd gained too much weight.

"Why don't you climb on top babes and ride me like you used to," I suggested.

"You know I have a hard time getting off that way," Sandy wined.

"OK, just forget about it," I said getting off the bed and walking towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" 

"To beat my meat in private, so I don't have to hear you whine about how unpleasant it is to have sex with me anymore," I said as I slammed the door. 

I took the matter in hand, so to speak, and when I'd finished, I headed to our spare bedroom.

"Now where are you going?" she called out.

"Away from you before I say something I'll regret," I replied slamming the door.

She was right. I'd gained a lot of weight in the last couple of years. I guess I should be taking better care of myself, but I'd gotten lazy. I had taken up golf, but that was more just to bring in new business. I didn't like it much and really sucked at it. The only good thing that came out of joining the country club was that they were always having some type of activity.

I was gone the next morning way before Sandy even got up. I was still pissed but had mellowed a little bit. 

"I guess it wasn't all her fault," I said to myself as I sat at my desk eating a donut and washing it down with my second cup of coffee. 

It was about 10:00 when I got an e-mail from Sandy at her work. There was no ... I'm sorry, or I love you, but only how she wasn't in the mood last night and instead of taking to her about it, I had just left in a huff.

I put my coffee down and tried to think back to the last time we'd had what I'd consider a good love making session. Lately it was a quickie, a hand job or her just lying there waiting for me to finish. It really had gone down hill, and it seemed that Sandy would rather do without than do it with me anymore. That's when I got an epiphany. 

"Maybe she's getting her needs satisfied somewhere else." That's when I decided to push the issue, and see what happens. "What the hell, what was she going to do? Cut me off?"

I replied with the following e-mail. "Whatever you're doing, with whomever, you'd better stop right now, if you want to stay married to me." When I hit the send button I knew I'd get some type of reaction, but I thought she'd at least wait until I got home.

Sandy sent a scathing e-mail and laid into me about how dare I accuse her of cheating. That I was the problem with our sex life, not her. And that since I got winded just walking up two flights of stairs, what kind of sex life was I expecting. That maybe she should get an oxygen tank, and put it next to the bed for the nights I wanted sex, and those were some of the nicer comments she wrote back. Her final comment was that maybe I should move to the guest room permanently, so that she wouldn't be held responsible for me having a heart attack.

My response was short and to the point, "So be it."

I didn't go home for supper that night. I ate with my partner Ken. I thought about not going home at all, but I figured that would make matters even worse. Sandy was waiting for me when I came through the door.

"How dare you. How dare you accuse me of cheating," she yelled. "I have never been unfaithful in all the years we've been married." 

"Well, I figured, if you're not getting it from me any longer, you must be getting it somewhere else," I said not backing down. "So if you don't mind, I'm tired, and since all you're going to do is yell at me, I might as well go to bed," I told her.

"So I assume you're not sleeping in our bedroom any longer?" she said sarcastically.

"What's the point? You don't want me there any longer, and I don't go where I'm not wanted," I said climbing the stairs.

"Sleep by yourself. See if I care," Sandy said screaming as I climbed the stairs. 

It was then that my chest first started to hurt. Every step I took was agony, but I wasn't about to stop. I barely made it to the top landing before I had to rest against the wall or fall down ... one of the two. I made it to the spare room and fell down on the bed fully clothed and passed out. 

When I finally awoke and looked at my watch, I saw it was half past two before I woke up. 

"I can't let her get to me like that," I told myself as I went to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face I looked in the mirror and didn't like what I saw. "I've got to get it together," I told myself as I stripped off my clothes, which were soaked with sweat.

I slept in until almost 9:00 the following morning. The house was quiet. Sandy had already left, so I called into work and told them I was taking a vacation day. Instead of relaxing at home, I went to my doctor.

"You've got to drop at least fifty pounds," he told me. "And your blood pressure is sky high. I'm going to prescribe you something to bring it back down to earth, but if you don't start taking better care of yourself, you're asking for serious trouble," he warned.

I'd heard it all before, at least for the last two years. I'd tried to diet. It just wasn't something I liked to do, and so I didn't. I told him I would try to drop some weight and would take the meds. He set me up for a three-month follow up appointment, and I left with a chart on calories and two diet programs to try. I threw them on the back seat of the car.

Things around the house turned chilly at best. We no longer ate together and only spoke to one another when we absolutely had to. It was the end of our second month when we started talking to one another again. There was no "I'm sorry." We only talked about superficial things or the kids.

Saturday was the annual charity auction at the club. 

"Steve, are you going?" Sandy asked.

"Yes, I'm going," I replied.

"Well, we might as well go together. Is your tux pressed?" she asked.

"Cleaned, pressed and ready to go."

It was a quiet ride to the club. We talked about nothing important until I took the lead. 

"I'm sorry," was all I said as I drove on without looking at her.

"I am too," Sandy replied. "I've missed you, and I don't want to fight any more."

That's all we had time for as I pulled up to the club. I gave the attendant my keys, and he gave me the claim ticket. I walked around, opened Sandy's door and gave her my hand. She took it, smiled, and my heart skipped a beat. We walked in to the dining room and found our table.

Dinner was OK, but the wine was a lot better. I'd ordered four bottles for our table, and along with the other three couples, we toasted to our good health. After the dinner the band started and people began to dance. I danced one slow dance with Sandy and that was more than enough for me. She asked if I minded if she danced with a few other men.

"No problem," I told her.

I walked around the room and was visiting with a few friends when I caught sight of Sandy on the dance floor. It was a slow dance, and I didn't recognize the man she was dancing with. His arm started around her waist but was slowly moving south. Before long it was resting on the center of her ass. Two dances later the same thing happened again as they danced outside onto the moonlit patio. I followed staying out of sight.

They were too far away for me to hear what they were talking about, but their body language was speaking loud and clear. When he bent over and kissed her, I'd seen enough.

"Not staying for the auction?" the parking lot attendant asked.

"Nothing in there I want anymore," I replied as I got into my car and headed out. I was about twenty minutes away when my cell phone rang ... guess who? I turned it off, and put it on the seat next to me. I had been home about two hours when Sandy stormed in.

"What the hell is your problem? Why did you just up and leave me?" she yelled.

"I thought the two of you wanted to be alone," I replied.

"What the hell are you talking about Steve?"

"The dark haired man, the patio, the kiss. I saw it all," I told her.

"That was nothing," she shot back.

"Nothing? Are you saying that a man kissing my wife is nothing? Well, I care to differ, Sandy. And I suppose you're now making it a habit to let men feel you up while you dance with them? I and everyone else saw your display on the dance floor," I told her. "Or was I just imagining it Sandy?" 

"It's not what it looked like, Steve. I guess I should have asked Rick to move his hand, but it was all just a little innocent flirting," she told me. "And the kiss was nothing more than him thanking me for dancing with him. I left to look for you right after that."

"And it took you two hours to come back home?"

"Since you weren't answering your phone, I had to find someone to give me a ride home."

"Let me guess, Rick, just happened to volunteer to drive you home. Am I right?"

"Yes, it was Rick, and no, nothing happened," she tried to assure me as I started to walk away. "Damn it, nothing happened, Steve," she said again.

"How long has it been?" I asked.

"How long has what been?" 

"How long ago did you give up on us?" I said walking up to my new and permanent room.

"God damn it Steve, I didn't do anything," she screamed at me as she started to cry.

"I guess it was shortly after I gave up on myself," was my final comment as I closed and locked the bedroom door.

I never left the bedroom Sunday. I slept in and did a lot of thinking about how my life had turned out. I had two shit kids that I never heard from unless they wanted something and a wife who I was basically cohabitating with ... something like a sister. I needed to get away for a few days.




I'm Not Dead Yet



Our lake cabin was about an hours drive from the house. It had been my parents and when they passed on, I bought out my brother's share and redid the interior. Monday I threw together a few things and headed out. A quick call to work and I was on my own for the next four days. I just needed time alone to sort out a few things without Sandy hovering over me.

As soon as I opened the door I knew something was wrong. I hadn't been there in at least four months, and when I left, the place was immaculate. Someone had been here since then. There was an empty bottle of wine on the counter and after a quick inspection; I found that our bed had been slept in. Not only slept in, someone had had sex on the bed. I could still see the ring left from what was the wet spot on the white sheets. 

"Well, I now know where, and I've got a pretty good idea with whom," I said to myself as I dragged the mattress to the door and tossed it out on the lawn.

My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I was sweating buckets as I sat down in a chair on the porch. 

"Steve, old buddy, it looks like you've been replaced," I said to myself as I started to get angry again. "The hell with all of them. I don't need them. I used to, but not anymore," I told myself.

Over the next four days I made up a list of what I wanted out of life, where I wanted to go, and none of it included any of my family. It was something like a bucket list without having to kick the bucket. 

I got home late Friday afternoon, but Sandy was nowhere to be found. She never came home that night, and by Saturday afternoon I decided to smoke a rack or two of ribs and wait for her. I was almost looking forward to her explanation of where she'd been for the past two days, when all hell broke loose, and I had my heart attack.

***************

So that now brings you, to where I am currently. I finally called Ken from the rehab place to tell him I was still alive and kicking.

"They wouldn't put my calls through," he told me. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, but still pretty weak. It looks like I'm going to be laid up for a couple of months. I need Judy to bring by my laptop so I can keep in touch and updated."

"You think that's wise?" Ken replied.

"Don't worry. I won't over do it, but between Judy and me, we'll keep everything current," I told him. 

"You know your wife was here the other day. She took something off your desk. I think it was that picture of the two of you. You guys doing ok?" he asked.

"Never better. Just have Judy drop off my computer, and for Gods sake, please don't tell anyone where I am. I sure as hell don't need any visitors," I told him. "By the way, I'm milking our health insurance for everything I can get out of it," I said with a laugh.

"That's what it's there for. Just get better and let me know if you need anything buddy."

"Bastards," that's what I called them after the second week. First they tried to work me to death in the gym, and now their trying to feed me no more than a few scraps of food. 

"I've seen bigger appetizers," I said to myself looking at my dinner plate.

I was exercising four times a day and eating five meals a baby couldn't survive on, but I was losing weight. After about five and a half weeks I was less crabby and into the groove. The food sucked, and there was never enough, but I liked what was happening to me. I could walk on the treadmill for thirty minutes without oxygen. My pants were loose around my middle, and for the first time in a long time, I started feeling better about myself. 

"Damn it, I can do this," I told myself.

Chapter Two 

When the Good Will truck pulled onto the driveway Sandy thought they were just using it to turn around. 

"Mrs. Moore?" the driver asked.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Moore."

"I've been given a pickup order, with instructions to get with you," he told me.

"What pickup order? I never ordered a pickup."

"I know that, Miss. It was initiated by your husband, Steve Moore," he said showing me his signature on the bottom of the page. "It says here, to pickup every piece of clothing in the house that belongs to your husband. The note explained that they're not already boxed up, so if you don't mind, could you please show me where things are so we can get started? We've still got one more pickup this afternoon."

I showed them Steve's closet and dresser in our bedroom and took one of the workmen down stairs to where his winter clothes were stored. It took them just under an hour to get everything boxed up and put into the truck. I signed their receipt, and got my copy before they drove off. 

"What the hell is he doing?" I thought to myself. 

After the blowup in his room, I was not allowed to see or speak to Steve while he was in the hospital. The doctor wouldn't tell me how he was doing or when he would be released. When Steve wouldn't see John or Tina, I really got worried. I know he was mad at me, but that was no excuse not to see his kids.

Tuesday I snuck into the hospital and climbed the stairs to his floor. There was no way that nurse was going to keep me out this time. I waited until she was at the other end of the hall, and then ran into Steve's room. 

Bursting through the door I shouted out, "Why won't you talk to me?"

A stunned woman looked at me and replied, "Because I don't know you," she said trying to figure what the hell this crazy woman was doing in her room.

"Alright, where have you moved Steve Moore," I shouted to the nurse at the front desk.

"I'm sorry. He's gone," she replied.

My eyes teared up. "When? How?" I asked. "What did they do with his body?" I cried. "I'm his wife, damn it. I have a right to know," I said getting angry again through my tears.

"When I said he was gone, I mean he checked out two days ago. And if you want any more information, you'll have to go down to the office. So if that's all, I have a floor of sick people to take care of," she told me. 

The business office said Steve had been discharged and had been sent to a rehab clinic, but they were not at liberty to tell me where. Patient's orders, I was told. 

"Great, back to square one," I said to myself walking out the door.

Sitting in my car I planned my next move. Steve was right. I'd given up on the two of us a long time ago. His weight had sky rocketed, and whenever I said something about it, he told me not to nag him. When we did have sex, he was like a huge sack of potatoes lying on top of me. When I told him he was crushing me, he'd get upset and try to finish on his arms or elbows. By that time I was just happy to have him finish and get off me. Sex with him was no longer enjoyable, and when he even mentioned the word sex, my stomach would tighten up.

We did it maybe once a month, and that was only after he whined about it for a day or two. I guess you could call it pity sex because although he got off, I never did. I was getting really frustrated, and that's when Rick came into the picture.

I first met Rick when we joined the country club. They had a dinner and dance once a month and he would always come alone. During the night he would dance with all the available women. As the evenings progressed Steve would be off drinking or feeding his face, and Rick and I would dance the night away. It had been a long time since anyone had held me like that. Soon the routine became one of dancing a few numbers and then sitting and talking on the patio until it was time to leave ... or until I spied Steve looking for me.

After a couple of months we met for lunch one Saturday afternoon while Steve was off golfing. We had a couple of glasses of wine and everything just seemed so right. 

We ended up in the back seat of his car making out like a couple of teenagers. We did everything there was to do without taking our clothes off. I jacked him off and he fingered me until I climaxed at least twice. It had been so long since I'd felt this way. 

We straighten our clothes, kissed goodbye and I headed back to the house. I didn't even feel guilty until I was in the shower trying to get myself off again while thinking about Rick. 

"What the hell was I doing? I'm fooling around with some guy in the back seat of his car and now I'm trying to get off while thinking about him instead of my husband. How sick is that?" I said to myself getting disgusted at what I was doing. The problem was I no longer felt sexually attracted to my husband.

I nagged Steve for the next two weeks about his weight and tried to tell him how sexy he'd be if he lost forty pounds, but he never got the hint. He just got angry with me again. Everything came crashing down when he wanted to fool around one night after dinner. It was a disaster of a session, and he got mad and went into the bathroom. I felt bad, but not that bad. He slept in the spare room that night and was gone before I got up the next day.

I had the dark brown touch the following morning at work. Everything I touched turned to shit. I was feeling sorry for myself and did something stupid. I e-mailed Steve and basically told him that it was all his fault last night because he'd walked out on me. He however came back with a real eye opener.

"Whomever I was cheating with, I'd better stop if I still wanted to stay married," was all it said.

Shit, there was no way he could possibly have known about that Saturday. However, if he were taking care of business at home, it never would have happened. And, it's not like we had sex or anything; it was only a little fooling around, that's all.

I guess I never should have answered his e-mail when I was mad, because I called him everything I could think of. I told him I'd never cheated on him, and if he weren't such an overweight slob, we'd have more sex. I now realize that I was basically pushing him away, and I guess he was tired of arguing. That's when he replied back that maybe he should stay permanently in the guest room if I no longer wanted him any more. 

It was now spiraling out of control.

When Steve got home, we had a huge argument. We threw accusations at each other and he went one way and I the other. I slept alone that night and for many, many nights after that.

It was the night of the charity auction that we finally apologized to each other. It had been tearing me apart, but I guess we were both too stubborn to admit we were either wrong or what the real underlining problem was. We had a wonderful dinner. Steve danced with me and then decided to mingle with his friends. I made the mistake of dancing with Rick. We danced maybe a little too close, and out on the patio he told me he wanted to take it to the next level ... and then he kissed me. I told him that it had been a mistake and that I would never cheat on my husband and left him out there licking his wounds.

I never saw Steve leave, nor did anyone else. The parking lot attendant told me he had left about a half hour earlier, and when I called him, it went right to voice mail. I was pissed and had one too many drinks before realizing I'd have to find someway home. Rick came over and asked what was the matter.

"Steve got mad for some reason and left. He won't answer his phone and I need to find a way home."

"Sandy, after the auction I'll give you a ride home," he said.

I shot him back the look.

"And I'll keep my hands to myself also," he assured me.

I drank half way through the auction, before we left. On the ride home I started getting angry all over again.

"How could he just leave me there?" I fumed.

I guess Rick saw how angry I was, and told me to relax. When he pulled into the parking lot by the lake I was surprised, and when he reached over to kiss me I didn't stop him.

The only reason we didn't go all the way that night was that a police car, making his rounds through the parking lot. When he hit the car with his spotlight, I sobered up in one hell of a hurry.

"Rick, take me home; now," I demanded.

When I got home, I thanked him and ran to the house. I was almost sober but angry as hell all over again. When Steve accused me of cheating, I went ballistic. What cut me to the core was when he asked me when had I given up on our marriage. I crashed inside and started to cry and tell him that I'd never cheated on him, but he no longer believed me.

Sunday Steve never left his room, and I didn't push it. I figured we'd have words Monday, and I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row. When he didn't come home Monday night, I just thought it was his way of punishing me. When he didn't come home Tuesday, I called his secretary, Judy, and was told that he had taken a couple of days vacation. 

"The bastard off some where sulking," I said to myself. "Well two can play that game." 

I left Wednesday to spend a couple of days with my daughter up at college. We had a great time bonding and even had a girl's night out with a couple of her friends Friday night. Saturday morning I woke up with a hangover and an upset stomach. 

"Guess I'm too old for that kind of partying anymore," I said dressing to leave. I said goodbye to my daughter, thanked her for the good time and drove home. I had no more than gotten out of my car when my next-door neighbor came running over. 

"Steve was taken by ambulance to the hospital this morning," she told me.

The front door was shut but the lock was broken. I ran inside and saw a few things had been moved around, and could smell the smoker on the deck. The coals were almost out, but there were two slabs on the grill. I took them off, put them in the refrigerator and opened up the yellow pages. There were only two hospitals in our area. I called Mercy General and hit pay dirt. Steve had been admitted but they wouldn't give me anything over the phone. I changed and headed out.

"A triple bypass," I almost shouted. "How long will he be in surgery?" I asked.

"About another hour," I was told. "There's nothing you can do but wait. He's got a great doctor and we caught it in time. From surgery, he will go to post-op and from there, he will be assigned a room. If you wait in the lounge, I'll come and get you when they're finished."

Can you say shit head? Because that's exactly what I felt like. 

"He could have died," I kept saying over and over to myself. "When I get him home, I'm going to show him how much I love him, we'll get through this together," but I wasn't given the chance.

I finally tracked him down to the rehab clinic but he still refused to see me. I was getting pissed. Stubborn was one thing, but Steve was carrying this to the extreme. He must have found out somehow about what happened with Rick. I don't have a clue how, but someone must have seen us and told him. I just need the chance to explain to him that nothing really happened, but he was avoiding me like the plague.

Ken and Judy weren't much help, but when I found out he had his laptop I sent him an e-mail, although not like my last one.

Steve, I love and miss you; honey, and I don't understand why you won't let me see you. I know we've had some issues lately, and we've both said things in anger, but I love you and I still believe you love me. Please give me the chance to explain anything you think I've done or not done. 

Steve I need you, and want to grow old and gray with you. If you won't let me see you, at least talk to me. Also, the kids don't understand why you won't see them. They came to the hospital and when the nurse wouldn't let them in your room, John got more than a little angry. 

Please drop them a line, because they're very concerned also about you.

Your loving Wife

Chapter Three 

I was sending an e-mail to a salesman who had lost a big order out of shear stupidity when Sandy's e-mail popped up. I finished reaming the salesman telling him if it happened again, he'd be on the outside looking in. Then I got back to Sandy's. I read it three times, before I responded back to her.

Dear Sandy, Let's cut to the chase. You haven't been my loving wife in well over a year. It's true I've put on a lot of weight, but when you got as big as a house while pregnant with John, did I belittle you? Cut you off? Skinny or fat I'm the same man you married all those years ago. Don't try blowing smoke up my ass now that I'm laid up. You no longer have any interest going to bed with me. You made that perfectly clear the last time we were together. From what I've seen and found out, it looks like I've been replaced by Rick or whom ever.

I found your love nest. You could have at least, done me the courtesy of changing the sheets and throwing out the trash. I did manage to toss out the mattress and empty wine bottles. You are right about one thing though. We will both grow old and get gray. It's just that we won't be doing it together.

Your soon to be ex-husband.

"That should shut her up," I said to myself as I hit the send key. 

I made a list of all my assets. Sandy was going to get fifty percent of everything she knew about. It's the things she didn't know about I wanted to make sure were kept secret. Ken told me that if he was asked by the court, he'd have to reveal I was a partner, but if they just wanted to verify my wages that's all he would give them. The cabin was mine, a gift from my parents, and we could just keep the cars we were each driving to make it simple. I guess everything else would be thrown into a big pot and we'd each get half. I was satisfied with that. 

"What Love Nest?" was Sandy's reply. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about? Our bedroom is the only love nest I know about. If you're accusing me of something, at least have the courtesy to confront me instead of playing these childish games." 

I guess this mode of communication is as good as any as I replied back to her.

"How stupid do you think I am? I went up to the cabin, and found all the evidence. Too bad I was up there the week before my heart attack. Did you spend Friday and Sat at his place, or did he spring for a hotel room this time?"

I thought that should shut her up, but it wasn't more than ten minutes before I had her reply. Hell, this is the most we'd conversed in the last four months.

"Call your daughter up and ask Tina who spent Wednesday through Saturday morning with her up at the college after you so graciously disappeared Monday without telling me. And for your information, I haven't been back to the cabin since you and I were last there about four or five months ago. So if that's all you've got, it's pretty pathetic."

Could I be wrong? Regardless, the last two years of our marriage have been a real turnoff.

"John, dad here," is how I started the conversation with my son. "Yes I'm fine and doing pretty well, and no I don't want to discuss your mother right now." I told him. Now came my bluff. "I know you've been cheating on Cindy, and I want it to stop before I call her and rat you out, you piece of shit."

"Dad, I don't know what you're talking about," John replied.

"John, I was up at the cabin and our neighbors said they saw the two of you, when you went up there. You didn't even change the fucking sheets, you ass hole. What do you think Cindy's going to say when I call her. If she doesn't shoot your ass, her brothers are sure to pay you a visit," I said still fishing.

"It was only that one time dad, you've got to believe me. It's not an affair, it was only one time and she doesn't even work at the company anymore," I could hear him pleading for his life. 

"I'm going to say this one time, and one time only. If I ever hear of you fooling around or even think you're looking at another woman, I will call Cindy in a heartbeat. From now on, she'd better be the happiest and most taken care of wife on the face of this earth, if you get my drift. Get you head out of your ass and grow up, God Damn it." 

"I will dad, you can count on it, please just don't call Cindy," he begged.




I'm Not Dead Yet



"Alright, son, I've got go. Remember what I told you," I warned him before hanging up.

"Well, that was interesting," I said to myself as I considered my next move and wrote one last email to Sandy.

"Well, I guess you weren't screwing anyone up at the cabin. It turns out it was our shit head son. That however still doesn't explain your actions with Rick and whomever else. I guess I was still in love with you up to that night, but no more. I think you still love me, but you haven't been 'in love' with me for a very long time, I'm sorry to say. And I can't live like that anymore. Life is way too short. I found out in a very painful way."

That's how I ended it.

I was to blame as much as Sandy. We knew we were drifting apart and never did anything to stop it. Between her work, the kids, and her social calendar, there was no time left for "us". And with me trying to conquer the business world all by myself, I was no better. The only difference was that Sandy looked as good as when I first met her, and I looked like someone out of 'Slobs Are Us' magazine, but no more.

I spent the next three months doing nothing but exercising and eating right. The first thirty-five pounds dropped off fast, but then I hit the first on many plateaus. I never let up though. I was now driven to regain what I'd lost years ago ... my waist and most of all my life.

Sandy and I e-mailed each other every week, to keep one another updated on what was going on in our lives, but we never saw one another. After six months I half expected to get divorce papers, but none ever came. Our e-mails mostly dealt with how we felt about one another and our breakup. The problems each one of us saw in our marriage and why we did nothing to resolve them. As I said earlier, we were both at fault. 

Thanksgiving sucked. The kids split their time between the two of us ... her dinner and my dessert. John announced that Cindy was pregnant, and Tina said she'd finally gotten her degree or would have it by the end of the semester. I laughed and said I'd believe it when I see it. 

They tried to pump me for information, but I told them it was none of their business. Tina got a little huffy, but backed off when I told her "enough is enough!"

Our e-mail during the holidays took on a new direction, but I still can't tell you how it happened. They became more intimate and emotional. One night Sandy asked if I remembered the first night we ever did it. How her roommate and parents walked in on us. I corrected her, telling her that time didn't count because we never had a chance to actually finish. It wasn't until two weeks later did we finally did the deed, and so on. We walked down memory lane for almost a month. 

For Christmas I sent her a pair of emerald earrings. I know that she didn't have a pair, because she had given hers to Tina on her twenty-first birthday. I just put in a little note, "To replace the ones you gave up," is all it said. Sandy never sent me anything for Christmas, but I guess I really didn't expect anything.

As New Years approached, Ken hit me up with a problem he had.

"Steve, my wife's sister is coming into town, and Carry wants to take her with us to the New Years Eve party at the country club. Her sister won't go stag, and Carry refuses to leave her at home by herself. Can you be a buddy and be her date New Years Eve? Come on Steve, I'll owe you big time."

He must have begged for a week before I finally relented. 

"What the hell, I was just going to sit in front of the boob tube anyway." 

I then realized, it was formal, and I no longer had a tux. It took me three stores and a huge bribe to get a tux and have it tailored in less than a week.

"Wait until Ken sees my expense report for December," I said with a laugh.

John and his wife invited me over for New Years Eve, but I told them I was going out. 

"You've got a date?" he asked.

"Not a date, I'm chaperoning my boss's wife's sister," I told him. 

"You don't have to lie to me. I won't tell mom," he replied.

"I'm not lying, and your mom's probably already has a date for New Years Eve herself, so why don't we just drop it," I said getting a little annoyed.

That was the one thing neither one of us had mentioned over the last nine months ... if either one of us was dating. I'd gone a few business lunches, but that was about it. I wasn't sure about Sandy though. A good-looking woman like her probably has had a full dance card. We were still married but basically in name only. 

"I guess after the first of the year, we should probably address that issue," I said to myself.

I was at Ken's house by 7:00. He let me in and I met Sue, Carry's sister. She was about forty-five and very nice on the eyes. I suggested that we go in one car, but Ken insisted that we take two cars.

"Look, after the dance, you can head home and I'll take the two women back with me; that is, unless you plan on trying to get lucky with Sue," he said elbowing me in the side as Carry told him to act his age, not his I.Q.

The place was packed and there wasn't an open seat to be had. I knew most of the people at our table, as they marveled at how good I looked.

"Wow Steve, how much weights have you lost?"

"Somewhere in the area of eighty pounds," I told them.

"Hell if I didn't know you so well, I never would have recognized you," one told me.

Dinner was decent with a choice of steak or chicken and along with the vegetables and rice, it was palatable. I ate about half. There was no use blowing my diet tonight. I had one glass of wine and nursed my second as I reacquainted myself with people I hadn't seen in the last nine months. After dessert the lights dimed and the band started.

Sue said she wasn't much of a dancer, and I sure as hell wasn't, so after a few songs I excused myself and started walking the room. That's when I saw her. She was smoking hot, about 5'8" tall, brown hair and a body to die for. She was wearing a blue strapless dress that hugged every curve of her body. I watched her for the next half hour as she danced a few semi-fast songs with three older gentlemen. Every time a slow dance started, she went back to her table and sat down. Even though she was asked, she never danced a slow dance with anyone.

I slipped one of the members of the band a hundred dollar bill and asked him to play two slow songs back to back, with the first one being 'You Look Lovely Tonight'; and I didn't care what the second one was, as long as it was slow. Just as the band started to play, I walked behind this angel and asked her to dance.

"I'm sorry. I only dance slow songs with my husband," she started to say without looking at me.

"Well then, I guess there'll be no problem," I said reaching in and grabbing her hand.

She turned around and started to say something when she yelled out, "Steve!"

"In the flesh. Now about that dance," I said as I pulled Sandy to the floor.

"Steve I...," is all I let her get out of her mouth.

"Don't talk, just dance with me," I told Sandy as I held her tight moving across the floor. 

I never released her as the second song started. I was feeling her back and waist, and as the band played 'Nights In White Satin' I pulled her in even tighter. My body responded with the largest erection I'd had in the last year. This time, however, rolls of flab didn't hide it.

"Looks like someone missed me," Sandy whispered into my ear.

She was right, I had missed her, but I wasn't about to go back to the life I'd left behind. When the song ended, I didn't want to let her go, and I didn't.

"I guess we should talk one of these days," I started to say still holding onto her hand.

"Why not now?"

"Don't you think your date might get a little jealous?" I replied.

"What date? I came with John and Cindy," she said motioning to them on the dance floor as John smiled back at me.

"I'll be back in a second," I told her as I went back to my table. "You set me up, didn't you?" I asked Ken. 

"No, John, Tina and I set both you and Sandy up," he said with a smile. "Hell, Sue didn't even want to go. I had to bribe her to even come, so why don't you be a good little boy and get the hell out of here, and I'll see you sometime next week."

John and Cindy were already back at the table by the time I returned. 

"Think you two are pretty smart don't you?" I asked as Cindy and John smiled at Sandy and me.

"I had no idea what they were planning," Sandy said, as her eyes begged me to believe her. 

"Dad, I didn't say where we'd be ... just if you'd like to spend New Years Eve with us."

Cindy interrupted the three of us. "Look, you two need to talk, and John and I need to leave. I can't drink, I've eaten my fill and I'm waddling like a duck on the dance floor in my condition," she said rubbing her belly. "So if you two don't mind, we're out of here."

There were a million things I wanted to say, but Sandy started talking a mile a minute.

"You look so good Steve, how much weight have you lost? Where are you living? I lost track of you when you moved out of the rehab center? Are you dating? Are you seeing anyone in particular?" And on, and on and on she continued.

It was like she was trying to get all her questions answered in the first five minutes, because I guess she was afraid there wasn't going to be another chance.

"Let's get out of here and go somewhere where we can talk," I told Sandy grabbing her wrap and leading her out to my car. 

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," I replied.

We drove in silence for the first five minutes, both of us almost afraid to say something that would break the mood.

"I haven't been dating, and haven't been to bed with anyone, if you're wondering," Sandy said without looking at me. "And I never went to bed with Rick or anyone else either, no matter what anyone told you."

"I know," I replied keeping my eyes on the road.

"What do you mean, you know? You were the one who accused me of cheating on you."

"I know that, and if I had proof that you were sleeping around, we wouldn't be in this car together right now," I told her. 

She was now quiet and deep in thought.

It was just before midnight when I pulled into the driveway of our lake house. I left the lights on as I unlocked the door and came back to the car to get Sandy. Once inside, I started the gas fireplace and opened up a bottle of our favorite wine and poured us a glass.

"This is the way it started and ended nine months ago," I said handing her a glass.

"No it didn't, it started a lot earlier than that. It just came to a head that night," she told me. "You can't imagine how many nights I lay awake, wondering how you must hate me for what I said and did to you. And that if you ever gave me another chance, how I'd make it up to you," Sandy said starting to tear up. 

I reached over and pulled her to me, covering her now salty lips. Our glasses of wine weren't drunk for quite a while after that.

Our clothes were scattered on the living room floor, on the kitchen table and the rest lying in a pile on the bedroom floor, as we got naked and fell into bed. It had been a long time for the both of us. I was erect almost from the first kiss. 

Our tongues played tag with each other as our hands explored every fold and every square inch of each other's bodies. The first thing I noticed tonight, was that Sandy was wearing a red thong and had come braless to the dance. My next surprise came as I felt for her wet pussy. It was smooth and hairless except for a small patch at the top. She'd always sported a full bush, and told me that only the young girls waxed their privates. When I felt her smooth lips, I looked up at her.

"You can thank Tina for that," she said smiling. She talked me into it about three months ago. She said it would make me feel a bit naughty, without anyone knowing. You like?"

"I think I just came," I said laughing. "Let's see if it still works with the new modifications," I said moving down between her legs. 

With a hand under each cheek, I raised her pussy up to my lips. First I kissed and licked her outer lips, and then I separated them with the tip of my tongue. My tongue slid up to the area where her clit had been before. 

"Yes, still there," I said as I started licking and sucking at her little nub.

"Oh God yes," Sandy cried out as she used her own hands to spread her outer lips to give me better access. "Oh shit," she yelled. I felt her hands on the side of my head as she guided it over her pussy, and then she climaxed. 

Sandy wasn't a squirter but usually got very wet when she climaxed and this time was no exception. I continued working on her clit as I easily slipped two fingers deep inside her wet pussy. Her movements under my touch became rapid again, and I knew that another orgasm was building. 

Grabbing my head she pulled me up to her lips. She kissed and licked my lips and around my chin before driving her tongue down my throat and rolling me back onto my back.

"I owe you this," she whispered as she moved south. Her lips weren't warm ... they were hot as she consumed my hard dick. She was licking and sucking, like a woman possessed, but I had to stop her.

"I want the first time to be inside you," I said kissing Sandy as I positioned her over my dick. With my back against the headboard, Sandy straddled me as I feasted on her beautiful breasts and nipples as she started to ride me. 

Damn, it felt so wonderful as she ground her pussy onto my dick. I reached down and placed my thumb at the base of my dick, so I could rub her clit with each and every stroke. Hand jobs were a good release mechanism, but nothing, I mean nothing, could take the place of a warm, wet pussy. 

Three strokes later I started cumming. I thought my first spurt would blow the top of her head off as I let go. The next two weren't quite as massive but nonetheless, I must have filled her cunt.

There was no doubt Sandy could tell I was climaxing. She ground her pussy onto my dick and thumb and climaxed for the second time ... this time with me. She fell forward onto my chest as we started to come down, and we held each other tight, almost afraid of letting go.

"I guess that's what you call starting the New Year off with a bang," I told her. 

I went back to the kitchen and grabbed our glasses of wine and the bottle.

"This conversation is going to take a while," I said flopping back on the bed. 

Glasses in hand, we toasted the new and hopefully better year.

"I know we have a lot to discuss, but I just want to tell you again how sorry I am and that..."

I stopped her right there. 

"You're sorry. I'm sorry. The kids are sorry. Everyone is sorry, but that changes nothing. We need to change. You and I both need to change the way we look at what's left of our marriage. I won't go back to what I left, I'd rather get a divorce and start over," I told her.

"I don't want a divorce," Sandy said as she started to cry.

"Listen to what I'm saying, I don't want a divorce either, but I won't go back to the life I was living, before all this shit happened," I explained to her. "The house has to go, and you can move into the condo I'm renting for now. We can figure out later where we want to live. It's just that that house has too many bad memories for me."

"But that's our home!"

"And I'm your husband. It should be a no brainer for you which to choose. We'll sell the house, take what furniture we want and either donate the rest or give it to the kids. I don't want the expense, upkeep or responsibility of a big house any longer. A two-bedroom condo is all we really need. I want to travel and see all the things I've put off all these years. I've been given a second chance and I'm not going to squander it," I told her.

"But you and I both have commitments and responsibilities."

"Screw them all!" I told her. "I'll work, and give them a hundred percent when I'm there, but that's it. No more weekends, business traveling or damn golf outings any more. I want my life back. I want to have fun, and I want to feel excited about doing some thing new. And if I want to make love, morning noon and night, I don't want a wife telling me she's not in the mood. Not any more."

"Steve, I don't know if I can do all that," Sandy replied.

"Well then you have a choice to make, but make it quick, the train is leaving the station and you're either on it or not."

*****************

The wind on my face was warm as we road the bike towards our third leg of the trip. I'd never seen the wine country and decided to take a week and visit a few vineyards staying a night in each. We had left shortly after breakfast and figured that even with a little sight seeing, we'd still arrive early afternoon and have more than enough time for a tour.

It had been a million years since I'd been on a bike, and it had been only a 250cc Honda. The Harley we'd rented was about 1350cc and weighed over 1200 pounds. What a difference! But it handled like a dream, and for the first time in a long time, I felt happy and free as I felt her arms around me. We arrived, checked in and made our way towards our cottage.

"I'm glad I came," she said kissing me in the doorway.

"I'm glad you did too. I think we have just enough time to put our stuff away before the tour starts," I said throwing our bags on one of the beds.

Taking off her jacket and then pealing off her shirt, she stood there with her hands on her hips. 

"You have a choice. We can take the tour, or I can give you a tour of my own," she said with a wicked look on her face.

I shut and locked the door.

Her tour was a lot more fun and rewarding. We showered and while getting dressed for dinner I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. 

"Any regrets?" I asked.

"None," Carol replied. "So let's get moving. I'm starved."

That's right, Carol. You see ... Sandy missed the train.

"Steve, we're not kids any longer, we just can't throw everything away and start again," Sandy said that night at the cabin as she tried to convince me. "Let's give it six months and talk about it again. Ok?"

The divorce only took three months. Even though everyone thought I had lost my mind, I moved on. The kids took her side, figures, and Sandy decided to keep the house. We split up 'almost' everything down the center as Ken gave the court my annual salary. I haven't spoken or seen Sandy since the divorce. I hope she's doing ok.

You see I met Carol at a 5K run one Saturday morning. We both took first, in our respective age groups, and after that we started jogging together after work. After a long run one Sunday morning we took a shower together and had wild monkey sex for the next two hours. That was eight months ago. She's six years younger than I am, but she calls me her 'Wild Child'. 

Her only question is, "Are you ever going to grow up?"

"God, I hope not." 



I'm Not Dead Yet



Kim saw a very handsome man in his mid-twenties and wearing green hospital scrubs staring at her intently from above. She saw him wet his lips slightly. "What are you staring at?" she asked. She knew he couldn't hear her, but she had to ask anyway.

Darrell bent forward until he was inches away from her face. He wore too much cologne, but it wasn't unpleasant to her. His hand moved to the edge of the sheet, touching it with his fingers, but he stopped himself. There would be time for that later. Instead he straightened and said, "I'll see you in a little while, sweetheart," as he patted her shoulder affectionately.

"Sweetheart? I'm not your sweetheart, numbnuts! I don't care if you're cute or not."

He then turned his attention to the infant in the corner. Gathering her in his arms carefully, he twirled in a complete circle as any loving father would and cooed softly in its ear, "Oh Amber, you're so pretty. I love babies." He exited the cold room with the infant cradled carefully in his arms and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Cute, but strange," Kim remarked when he left.

Kim sat on an empty cart next to her body and sighed. She really didn't want to be there anymore. She felt empty, sad, and alone and wished she would receive a sign or something of where she was to go or what she was to do. She knew she was dead. She accepted that fate, but surely, she was supposed to go elsewhere and not haunt the earth aimlessly. If that was her fate, she wanted nothing to do with it.

The grief and sorrow she felt from her parents was real. Somehow, she wished she could give them a sign and tell them she was okay, that it wasn't so bad. She wondered about Joe and hoped he was okay. Kim couldn't say she was in love with him, but she was ready to give herself to him. That was something, wasn't it? It wasn't fair to him that she was snatched away without so much as a good bye from her. Nothing had been fair that day, that's for sure.

It seemed but a short time later when the door opened and the young man reappeared with the baby in his arms. He was humming softly with his head close to the face of the little one. Kim watched as he carefully placed the baby on the cart again and gently caressed her forehead. "Ah, sweet angel," he said softly.

The phone rang in the other room and Darrell didn't want to answer it, although he knew he must. Only if he were in the middle of an embalming or out of the building was he allowed to let the answering machine pick it up. His code of ethics never let him shirk his duty to his employer. He was a trusted employee and he would never break that trust. On the second ring, he turned and walked quickly away from the refrigerator while shutting the door behind him.

Kim didn't know what to make of this man. He was a bit unusual, but who wouldn't be if he was working in a funeral home? He seemed kind and gentle to the baby and that was comforting.

At the desk in the next room, Darrell jotted down the information given on his yellow notepad. It was a pickup from the Harding Retirement Village and it would have to be done that night. He checked his watch and frowned. It was almost eight o'clock. He would have to put off his last client until he made the pickup. Sighing disgustedly at the latest interruption, he dropped his pen on the tablet. He could stay late if he needed to. He was on salary and it was not unusual for him to stay later at times if they were particularly busy. This might be one of those nights if things went his way. Staying late for her would be worth it.

Darrell glanced at the refrigerator. Even in the state she was in, he could tell she was beautiful, one of the better prospects he had encountered in a while. It was hard to contain his enthusiasm when a real beauty came through the doors. With thoughts of his evening dancing through his head, Darrell got up and began to prepare for his pickup.

It was an hour or so later when the metal door of the refrigerator opened. Kim saw Darrell, dressed in a suit, push in a new body, then watched as he maneuvered it to the other side of the room. Glancing at Kim on the table, he smiled and asked, "Did you miss me, sweetheart?"

"Did I miss you? What the hell are you talking about?" Kim didn't know what to think.

"Are you ready for our date, baby?"

"Date? Baby? Are you crazy?" She certainly hoped he talked that way to all his corpses.

"Be back in just a little bit and we'll get started." 

Kim frowned, not caring for the tone in his voice, or what he said for that matter. 'Are you ready for our date, baby?' That was a bit too spooky for her. This was going past being a little strange.

He brushed past her and closed the door behind him. Darrell went to the locker room and changed back into his scrubs. He washed his hands thoroughly and after drying them, he picked up a fresh mask and a couple pairs of examination gloves before heading to the refrigerator one more time.

"Ready for some fun?" he asked her as he grabbed hold of the cart.

"It all depends on your definition of fun," she replied warily. "You're a strange fucker."

Darrell didn't answer as he wheeled her out into the hallway and shut the door.

"We're going down to a room and we'll make you feel all better," he said as he looked down at her.

"Why are you talking to me as if I was alive? Is it supposed to make me feel better? You can just stop, because it's not."

They entered a brightly lit room that had various machines and other tools of his trade. Darrell positioned the cart and locked the wheels into place. He flipped the switch to the exhaust fan on the wall closest to him. Kim wasn't smelling too bad, but it had been over twelve hours since her death. Darrell donned the mask and the gloves and began preparing a cleaning solution. Once that was done, he turned to Kim.

"I've been waiting for this all night, sweetheart."

"Waiting for what? And stop calling me sweetheart. I'm not your sweetheart, asshole."

Slowly, he pulled the sheet away from her and tossed it into a laundry basket. Reaching behind her neck, he untied the cloth lacing and pulled the hospital gown away from her. Darrell gasped in awe as he saw Kim naked for the first time. Her breasts were small, beautifully shaped, and she had large nipples poking out from them.

"You are so beautiful, baby," he said softly as he gazed at her. "I'm going to make this so special for you." Tentatively, he reached forward and caressed her left nipple, pressing and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you like that?" A bulge could be seen pushing out through his green cotton scrubs.

"It would probably feel great if I was ALIVE, you fucking moron. I'd kick you in the nuts if I could. That's just great. I'm dead and who do I get to embalm me? A fucking pervert. That's just my luck!"

Kim tried to push his hand away, but he didn't flinch. He then touched her right breast and played with the nipple much in the same way as the other. His eyes traveled down to her downy fine pussy hair and a groan came to his throat. He left her side and moved a few feet down as his eyes examined her sex.

"You are going to be so much fun," he said happily.

"And I'm going to make this the worst night of your life, dickhead," she replied angrily, getting an idea of what he had in mind. "I'm going to haunt your ass forever!"

Without touching her anymore, he took a basin filled with disinfectant solution and placed it nearby. Finding a large sponge, he began to scrub and clean her from head to toe with the solution. Turning her on her side, he sponged her back, buttocks and legs as well. He was all business now as his eyes narrowed and his face grimaced. Darrell sponged under her arms, around her breasts, and between her legs in a professional manner, cleaning her quickly and thoroughly.

Kim began to relax seeing the professional side of him come out.

Once that was done, he began to massage her limbs with his hands to try and relieve the rigor mortis that had set in. By doing this, it would help ensure that the embalming solution would travel through the arteries and veins easier. It helped prevent blockages and other impediments which would make his job a lot harder and take much longer. He moved her legs and arms to and fro for several minutes until he was satisfied with her range of motion.

Darrell moved to her right side and took a scalpel in his right hand. "This won't hurt a bit, baby," he said softly.

"No shit, sherlock! I'm DEAD, you dumbass. Remember?"

With scalpel in hand, he made an incision in the lower part of her neck and exposed the carotid artery and the jugular vein. The embalming solution would enter the artery and travel throughout Kim's body, pushing blood and other fluid out until they exited from the vein. Darrell attached one tube to her artery and another to her vein and these two tubes were connected to the embalming fluid pump. He set the pump on low and watched carefully. If her stomach bloated, it meant there was a clot or something impeding the process. Taking into account her size and weight, Darrell figured he would need 2 ½ to 3 gallons of the solution to properly embalm her. He had added a pink dye to the solution to give her a more natural look, and also so he could watch the process as the dye traveled through her.

Kim felt strange throughout the process. She could feel the fluids moving through her as if someone had just started an IV in her. She looked at Darrell and he was staring at the gauges on the pump and checking her body intently. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy, after all, she thought. Maybe he cared about her. She didn't know at that point. Kim only knew she had two tubes sticking out of her neck and stuff was being pumped into her.

It took a while until that process was complete. Darrell wanted to make sure everything was done correctly. He may have been horny as hell for her, but he had to do it right. There could be no mistakes. He carefully removed the tubes from her neck and sutured the wound until it was neatly closed.

"All done with that, baby," he smiled through his mask. She was beginning to look like herself again, he thought to himself.

"Whatever."

Next, Darrell moved down to her abdomen where he made an incision just above her navel. He took a long needle called a trocar and pushed it into her abdominal and thoracic regions. The trocar was attached to an electric pump which is used to aspirate the two regions. Aspiration is a process by which all fluids are removed to ensure a more thorough disinfection. Once this was done, a stronger embalming fluid was put in each organ and cavity with a pump. After this was completed, Darrell removed the needle and sutured the wound closed.

He looked at her from above and examined the cuts on her face and neck. He debated as to the severity of them and wondered if he should suture them also or let the mortician on the morning shift try to cover them with cosmetics. Erring on the side of caution, Darrell carefully closed the bigger wounds and let the smaller ones be. If the other mortician didn't like it, he could always take out the stitches and use a special putty to smooth the cuts. Darrell did close a large wound on her arm which would be quite noticeable should her dress or top be short sleeved.

Kim felt the fluids being sucked out of her and the fullness of them being replaced. It was such a weird feeling for her and she couldn't understand how she could have these feelings since she was dead. She thought it was because she had some of her other senses as well, but it was still hard to fathom.

Darrell looked her over once more in awe. Her body was one of the most beautiful he had come across in his years as a mortician and he was going to enjoy her as much as possible, but he had one more thing to do.

"Our special time is almost here," he whispered to her.

Kim tried to strike him with her fist, but it went through his head. Darrell straightened up abruptly and looked around him. He thought he felt something near his forehead and then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up for no apparent reason. He looked left and right and then back at the woman on the table below. The look on his face made Kim laugh as it was one of confusion and uncertainty.

"I may just have some fun with you, yet," Kim laughed again. She raised her eyebrows and laughed harder.

Once he regained his composure, Darrell began to wash her with cool water, to which he added a soapy germicidal solution containing bleach to kill any remaining bacteria and viruses. He wrinkled his nose to the smell of the bleach a little, even though he was pretty used to it by then. Most of the time, he was able to ignore it, but it seemed stronger to him than normal with her. Once he finished cleansing her, his arousal began to heighten in anticipation.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asked lovingly as he bent forward to kiss her stone cold lips.

"I can't believe you're going to kiss me. You're a very sick puppy."

The coldness didn't bother him and only added to his excitement. He would love to have tasted her lips when she was alive, but this was the next best thing. Darrell pulled back and looked at her again.

Kim felt the pressure of his lips against hers and it wasn't as bad as she'd imagined. His cologne's scent had dissipated somewhat and he smelled pretty good. She had noticed his wedding ring before and she wondered what his wife was like and if she knew how messed up he was. She couldn't have, Kim thought, knowing a wife would never stay with a man like this.

Darrell smiled. There was something about this woman that reached within him. For the first time ever, he wanted to know more about a client, wanted to know what she was like when she was alive. And this bothered him. It bothered him because he didn't want feelings getting in the way, not now, not when he was so close. Reluctantly, he pushed aside his thoughts and reached into the back pocket of his scrub pants and produced two foil packets.

Kim saw them and her eyes grew big. "No, please don't."

Darrell put the packets on the table and moved down to Kim's torso. He took her legs and slowly began to move them in different directions to limber them a bit. He didn't want any bones to break or pop out of socket. After that, he reached under her and moved her down to the end of the table so that her legs were hanging over and spread apart slightly.

"I don't want you to do this. Think about your wife."

Darrell pulled down his scrub pants and underwear, exposing himself to Kim. He was already hard and a bit of pre-cum was present at the tip.

Kim saw that he was nicely endowed and wouldn't have minded having him inside her when she alive, but this was different. This was wrong. She wished he wouldn't, but what could she do to stop him?

He opened the packets and slipped the condoms on his penis. He always wore two to be extra cautious with bacteria and such. He once made the mistake of putting two on with his wife when she wasn't on the pill. He had to do some quick thinking to get out of that one.

Darrell moved closer until he was positioned between her legs. He looked at the delicate, soft curves of her labia and became even more excited. He touched her clit and pushed her outer lips open with his fingers.

"Don't, please don't," Kim cried. "Don't do this!"

He placed his rigid penis at her opening and inhaled sharply. There was always a split second of indecision in his mind at this moment, but he never failed to go through with it. The pleasure it gave him was too much.

"Don't do this. Can't you hear me? DON'T DO THIS, DAMN IT!!!!!"

To his left, Darrell saw a small glass container of embalming solution topple over onto the floor, shattering and sending glass and liquid everywhere. Above, the lights flickered, fizzled, and popped. To his right, the embalming pump turned on and off by itself several times. 

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed as he stepped back.

"Please, please don't," Kim whimpered. "I'm begging you...."

Darrell's head snapped forward as he looked down at Kim. The voice in his head was as clear as a wind chime on a breezy day. "What...?"

At that instant, Kim knew she had reached him and tried to seize the moment. "I'm asking you, no, I'm begging you not to do this to me."

"What's going on? Who are you?" The voice was in his mind, but it was as if he was hearing her with his ears. He had to be going crazy if he was hearing this. Darrell held his hands to his head and scrunched his face in fear.

"I'm Kim."

Darrell pulled back even more from the table and looked at her in disbelief. His penis had gone limp in just a matter of seconds. He noticed this and quickly pulled up his pants. Backing up more, Darrell bumped into the embalming pump, where he tripped on the wire and tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Kim laughed, a delightful light giggle that was quite pleasant in Darrell's fragile state of mind. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he stammered from the floor. He shook his head to try and clear it.

"For not going through with it."

Darrell scrambled to his feet and edged slowly towards the table again. He suddenly felt dirty and full of remorse. He had never taken into account that a corpse would have feelings. How could he? For the first time he realized what a sick, twisted perversion he had and he hated himself for it. He had a horrible, sickening feeling in his stomach as he struggled to keep his supper down.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't know." He truly was sorry, sorry for trying to take advantage of her and for every time he committed that horrible act before.

"I'm sure you didn't...."

Just then, Kim was filled with an inner peace she had never felt before and she felt herself slowly being pulled from her body. She knew she was about to begin her next journey and she welcomed it. She now knew it was time to go to a better place. Kim didn't see a light like she thought she would, but a radiant warmth glowed within her, bringing her joy like she had never before experienced.

"I have to go."

"Please don't go," Darrell pleaded. "I want to talk to you some more."

"I can't. I'm sorry." The urge to leave her body was becoming greater now and her thoughts were filled with happiness and hope.

"I wish you could stay longer."

"Promise me something."  Her voice was fading slightly.

"Yes?"

"Please don't do this anymore. I think you're a decent person. You don't need to do this."

"I don't know if I can," Darrell said softly, ashamed. "I've done it too much already."

"If you think you want to do it again, please think of me and remember that sometimes we still have feelings." Kim's voice was becoming softer and softer in his mind.

"I'll try," Darrell replied. "I will try," he said more emphatically. "Can I ask something of you?"

"Yes."

"May I kiss you one more time?"

"Yes."

Darrell moved to her side and bent forward. When his lips touched hers, they were almost as soft and warm as a live person's. He kissed her softly and gently before slowly drawing back.

"Thank you," Kim said in a whisper. "You're a good man. Good bye."

"Good bye," Darrell answered sadly as the voice died within. He looked down at Kim and shook his head in amazement.

Where there had been none before, a slight smile appeared and Darrell knew she was in peace.