Chapter 3: Missing You

Friday Night

The blackness was warm, like a blanket around her. Janelle realized that it was a blanket, that she was in a bed in the darkness, and had a blanket over her. But the body felt different. Not different as Cutie's body had -- that was because they were only slightly different, but all the parts were more or less in the same places -- this was different because the body was much too tall, and the muscles too hard, and the penis was stiff. Her hand was stroking a hard penis that was attached between her legs. Her voice was deep, and it was moaning. "Janelle, I love you. Why did you have to die?"

The voice belonged to Bob, Janelle's boyfriend. She felt her hand stroking him, and that wasn't too strange; she had touched his sex organ before, even kissed it. What was strange was the feeling of the strokes in her body. Janelle slowed the hand and moved it gently until it was stroking just the head of the penis. Then she moved it back down and rubbed the shaft and imagined that her lips were kissing the head, then surrounding it. Her body moved up and spun around, leaving his on the bed, but her knees stayed inside him so they were still connected, and her ghostly lips moved down and tasted him. The feel of lips on his penis was enough to bring Bob to an orgasm. "I love you Janelle! I love you!" His voice exploded along with his juices. There were already tissues in his other hand, and she used them to catch the spurts, then tossed the damp papers in the direction of the wastebasket.

Moving through the blanket and standing beside the bed, Janelle watched Bob as he slowly drifted to sleep.

What a difference: his orgasm started from the inside and moved outwards; when she came, it started outside her body and moved to her sex and then into her.

Janelle also remembered how he loved her -- she had felt that as well. He had felt the love with his skin, then it soaked into his muscles, and his brain, and heart, and filled him completely. When she thought about loving Bob, she felt it first in her stomach, and it moved into the rest of her body, especially her sexual organs, then made her skin glow and -- she thought -- it was as if it was shining from her skin into the rest of the world. She ran a hand through his crewcut hair and kissed his cheek.

Aside from being dead, this was turning out to be a day when Janelle learned lots of things. She had never thought about how Bob's orgasms were different than hers; she had just enjoyed them both, when they happened. And she had known that he loved her, but never knew that the love he felt was different from what she felt. It was all love; but it was expressed differently for him than for her. Just as their orgasms were expressed differently -- his spurting outwards, and hers pulling inwards -- their loves were felt differently. She touched his arm one more time and felt his love settle into his heart.

For a few minutes, Janelle just stood and watched as her boyfriend slept. She heard his soft snores. She smelled his soap; he must have showered also. She even smelled his orgasm and the sweet sexual sweat he produced. She loved him, but she was dead.

So, why was she still here?

Was her spirit looking for sexual satisfaction? Could it be revenge on whoever killed her? Was she supposed to guide others to understand this new outlook on sex and loving? Was there someone else she needed to hurt or help, still, in this life? Janelle did not know, and the possibilities were endless.

A tug at her arm got her attention. Well, not really her arm; someone was calling to her and her spirit wanted to answer. Janelle relaxed, and let herself drift away from Bob's bedroom.