Chapter 5

Once I accepted that Annie simply was what she was, however much a mystery it was to me, our coexistence in the old Victorian home became much less stressful to me. We gradually slipped into a routine that respected my right to privacy (as if I would even know) and her right to cohabit the house. The enticing smell of chocolate always told me when she was about to appear. I never doubted there had to be a sound scientific explanation for her existence, but I had to accept that science might not advance far enough in my lifetime to explain it.

The sex, of course, was the center point of our relationship. She came to my bed every night and did things to me that I truly believed no live woman could recreate, and I gladly paid for her services with epic ejaculations of semen. My testicles, prostate and seminal vesicles must have been stressed to their limits to keep up with the demand. Obviously, my nightly donations weren't absolutely essential to her ghostly wellbeing because she'd gone for years and years without it. I assumed her craving was something like an addiction. Well then, so be it! There were certainly worse vices, and I sure as hell had no objections, moral or otherwise.

And she did a lot more than provide sexual gratification. Every time we did it, she'd teach me how to do things that she assured me were guaranteed to make a woman scream for mercy and beg for more. When I did oral sex on her, she could make her labia feel very firm and wet and even create the soft musky odor of a sexually excited woman. All the time I was licking or touching or pinching or fucking, she kept up a steady stream of instructions on what I should be doing along with all the whens, whys and hows. She bragged that when she was finished with my education, I'd be able to satisfy a lesbian ice queen. I seriously doubted that, but it was fun to pretend.

Friday evening rolled around and I was in my bedroom getting dressed to head over to Jennie's when she gave me the olfactory alert and appeared in the doorway.

"Enjoying an evening out, are we?"

"Not we, me. I'm having dinner with a friend from my college days."

"What's her name?"

I turned and looked at her. "How do you know it's a her?"

"Oh, just a knack I have. I can sense just a hint of excitement in you that wouldn't be there if you were having a night out with the boys. Unless you're planning on having sex with the boys. Is she pretty?"

I hadn't really given a lot of thought to Jennie's looks, and I had to stop and picture her in my mind. "She's not beautiful like you are, but I guess she's OK. She certainly isn't ugly, but it wouldn't make any difference if she were. She's a very nice lady and that's all that counts for me."

"Why, thank you for the nice compliment, Steven. So, what does she do?"

I pulled a light sweater over my shirt and sipped my feet into my loafers. "She teaches physics at a local community college."

"Oh, so she's a brain, huh? So, are you going to have sex with her?"

I gave her a scowl and asked, "Now what kind of a question is that? We're going to have dinner and talk over old times. Why would you even care?"

"I don't care! I was just asking."

When I glanced at her face in the mirror, I could have sworn she was pouting. "Annie, are you jealous?"

She didn't answer. She just dissolved.

I stopped at a liquor store on the way and picked up a nice merlot; at least the sales clerk promised it was nice. I rarely drink anything alcoholic other than an occasional beer, so I hardly qualified as an expert.

Jennie looked very nice when she answered the door. She was wearing black slacks with a red and yellow flower-print top that emphasized her rather buxom figure. The first two buttons were undone to reveal some impressive cleavage. When she took the wine and leaned close to kiss my cheek, I could smell that she already had a head start on the 'getting stupid' part of the evening. She didn't really act like she was intoxicated, but she had that unfocused, slightly glassy look in her eyes.

"Come on in and get comfortable, Stevie. I'm just about to take the lamb roast out of the oven to rest. The merlot was a good guess."

I followed her into the kitchen and took a deep whiff. "Mmm! Smells awesome! Can I help with anything?"