Last Wish

You shouldn't, James thought with dark abruptness, looking away. He pulled on his cigarette, stared out across the placid waters of the lake.

"You're thinking about her," Megan observed, reading his face.

James sighed. "Sorry."

She stretched out her legs, setting them upon his lap, while simultaneously guiding his hand up her body to her right breast. "Don't be."

James allowed himself to squeeze the firm mound, feeling a stiff nipple push against his palm. But arousal was not so easily triggered, given his thoughts. "I think I need to tell you something."

Megan lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. "You don't want a relationship," she said in a soft, distant voice.

He looked to her, brow furrowed. "Why do you--"

She laughed sharply. "No one fucks like that unless they're in love, or they think it's not gonna last."

His face slowly softened. "Yeah."

She smiled again, an almost sad smile. "It's okay," she said. "It really is. I mean, you already told me you're only gonna be here for a few weeks. I'm not an idiot, Jimmy. I knew what I was doing."

He laughed suddenly, a faint, nostalgic sound. "You called me 'Jimmy.'"

She grinned. "Is that okay?"

He squeezed her hand. "Only my grandfather really called me that."

Megan was silent a moment, smoking her cigarette and holding James' hand between her breasts. "He was really important to you, wasn't he?"

James nodded, inhaling through his cigarette. "My father wasn't the best in the world," he said after expelling a thick cloud of smoke. "He wasn't very nice to my mother, and not much better to me. I remember enduring nine months of hell out of the year when I was growing up, looking forward to the summers when I could come up here and go fishing with Gramps. He just had this way of . . . making everything go away. All the pain, all the bullshit. When I was here, the rest of the world just disappeared."

Megan watched his face in profile. "So is the pain going away now?" she asked at last.

He turned his head and gave her a somber smile. "Some of it."

She smiled back.

*****

He had resisted the idea at first, but Megan was a difficult woman to refuse. James was quickly discovering that she was a tenacious woman who brooked very few refusals.

"A movie?" he had asked, lamenting. "In town?"

She had laughed. "You make it sound like being around other people is a bad thing."

"I just . . . I came up here to be alone."

"Well," she said, straddling his lap that morning and gracing his lips with hers. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly alone right now."

Resignedly, James gave in and allowed Megan to pick him up that afternoon in her bra-top Jeep. Driving into town, James hid behind his sunglasses and hoped that whatever minimal coverage his trial had received had not made its way to this little community. He need not have worried, he realized, once he and Megan laced their fingers together and strolled to the tiny theater in the lakeside town. What few people were out barely noticed them.

The movie they saw was showcased in a tiny venue, with barely twenty rows of well-worn and moth-eaten seats facing a flickering screen. The only other patrons in the theater were a small group of young men in baggy jeans and oversized tee-shirts who occupied the front row. They did not notice as, halfway through the movie, James and Megan abandoned casual kissing and groping for more serious play.

She breathed lustily into his mouth as she exposed his cock and stroked the stiff member with a skilled hand, then lowered her head to lavish his throbbing penis with her hungry lips and tongue. But after only a minute or so of her skillful oral ministrations, Megan lifted her head and straddled him, framing James' thighs with her own and lowering her steaming pussy onto his length. They both moaned at the union, moans which were drowned out by the cacophony of the film they no longer watched.

Megan pushed up her loose top, revealing naked breasts which James quickly attended to with his tongue. She hissed, riding up and down his cock, holding his head close and growling with pleasure when he bit her nipples and slid his fingers between the firm cheeks of her ass. Her first orgasm was heralded by a series of muffled cries and held-back moans, as James' cock stabbed repeatedly in her pussy, his finger probing just inside the entrance of her anus.

"Come with me," she whispered, smothering James' face with kisses, pumping up and down insistently. "Please, baby, come with me . . . ."

James fell back in the theater chair, looking upon Megan as she leaned back, uncaring to anyone who might observe them, bracing her hands upon his knees and spreading her legs wide, sliding her clenching cunt up and down his cock. She threw her head back in a silent wail as her orgasm tore through her, and the visual effect was too much for James. He grunted and sighed with pleasure when his cock erupted deep within Megan's womb, filling her with his seed.

They recovered together, laughing softly and sharing affectionate kisses, heedless to the wondering and jealous eyes of the four young men who filed out of the theater once the show was over. None of them would ever be able to remember what the movie they had paid for was about after the first hour.

*****

For the first time in two weeks, James awoke truly alone. The absence of Megan's warm body beside his was distressing at first, making James realize just how accustomed he had become to her presence. At the least, however, sleeping with Megan had apparently banished the nightmare.

He rose, showered and shaved, then set a sliced bagel in the toaster while sipping orange juice. Megan had left the afternoon before to visit her mother in the city, leaving James with the promise of returning the following day. James wanted to be ready for her when she showed. He found it ironic that, so close now to end of his 'free time,' he was looking forward to enjoying more of Megan's delights. Her explosive sexuality, he had discovered, was addictive, especially so for a man living out the last days of his life.

If I'm gonna go, might as well go with a bang, he thought wryly as he spread cream cheese across the toasted bagel.

The knock at the door made him frown. It wasn't Megan, of that he was certain; she never knocked anymore, and beside that, she almost never came through the front door. Warily, James approached the door, seeing the distorted figure of a man through the frosted glass. For a long moment, he paused, staring at the blurry man on his doorstep. A sense of anxiety crept into James' mind.

The man rapped his knuckles upon the door frame again.

Snap out of it, James berated himself. You still have a week.

He reached for the handle and slowly opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked the skinny young man on the other side.

The young man smiled broadly. He wore a white shirt, yellow tie, and was extremely well-groomed. "I might ask you the same thing, sir," he responded with an obvious Texas twang. "Have you accepted the Lord Jehovah into your life?"

James groaned inwardly, his shoulders slumping. Now, how ironic is this? "Um . . . yes I have, thank you," he said in a way that was politely dismissive. He started to close the door. "Thanks for your concern."

"But, have you really?"

The tone in the young man's voice sounded subtly ominous to James, making him pause. He frowned upon the smiling face before him, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"There are many who say we're living in the End Times," the missionary continued, gesturing with a small bible in his hand. "And if the end is coming soon, don't you want to know that salvation awaits you?"

James swallowed dryly, his mind whirling with thoughts. This can't be . . . no, it can't. I still have another week!

"I only ask for a few minutes of your time, sir," the missionary said. "Now, what are a few mere minutes when compared to the eternity of your soul?"

James looked away from the young man, feeling somewhat dizzy. "I think you should go," he muttered.

The young man leaned in slightly. "Pardon me?"

"Go!" yelled James, suddenly glaring at his visitor. "Get the hell outta here!"

The man shuffled back, a stunned expression on his face. "O-of course, sir," he stammered. "I'm sorry for troubling you."

James closed the door quickly, watching through the frosted glass as the figure on the other side retreated. He turned both locks and stepped back, conscious of the dryness in his throat and the slick feel of his palms. It took him a few moments to calm himself.

Get a grip, James. That wasn't what you thought it was. It was just a kid, just a damn holy roller looking to save another soul. Hell, you probably should'a talked to him. Death Row inmates always get to see a priest before they go to the chamber, right?

Suspicion crept back into his mind. Yeah, that's right. They do . . . .

*****

"What's wrong, Jimmy?"

He sat up in bed, dragging his hands down his face for a moment. The aroma of Megan's sex filled his senses; her flavor was still rich upon his lips. But even her sweet, seductive charms could not erase the nagging fear that had been prompted by James' earlier visitor.

"I just, um . . . I've got something on my mind," he grumbled, looking out through the French doors at nothing in particular.

Megan eased up, the blush from her recent orgasm still glowing on her chest and neck. She ran her hand across James' back. "Wanna talk about it?"

James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wish I could."

She frowned, moving around on the bed until she faced him. Her face was full of concern. "Thinking about your wife?"

He studied her face for a moment. God, she's gorgeous, he thought yet again. And I have to meet her now, when I'm so close to my own death. "I'm thinking about a lot of things," he said.

Her fingers touched his lips and chin. "I know you are. I can tell. Just don't let it ruin your life, okay?"

He laughed rudely under his breath. "It's already ruined."

"Oh, Jimmy, don't say that."

He took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to her. "You know, you're the only good thing that's happened to me since . . . well, since."

Megan smiled sweetly. "I'm glad. You've been pretty good for me, too."

He took her hand, squeezing gently. "Glad to know I can still do some things right."

She bit her lip sexily. "Oh, you definitely do, baby," she cooed, then suddenly rolled forward, pushing James onto his back. She straddled his legs and stared down into his eyes. "Now it's my turn."

She slid down his body until her face was hovering above his flaccid penis. Her hands roamed across his abdomen and gathered the soft member, lifting it toward her lips. She kissed the tip of his cock while staring into his eyes. "I dare you not to get hard," she challenged, then slipped her tongue out, dragging it wetly along the underside of his shaft.

James sighed, automatically undulating his hips. He felt the moist heat of Megan's mouth as it engulfed him, bathing his cock in sublime pleasure. Despite the torrent of fears and worries plaguing his mind, his cock began to stiffen, growing against Megan's massaging tongue. And as she pleasured him, the fears and worries slowly ebbed away.

"I don't even wanna try," he mumbled, settling his hands to her head.

*****

She brought up the topic later that evening, as they sat naked on the small patio, dipping spoons into a pint of Rocky Road. The air was cool, but not yet cold enough to necessitate clothing. James found he enjoyed the thrill of being naked outdoors with Megan.

"You know, when I caught Mike with that bimbo," she said after sucking her spoon clean. "I wanted to kill them both. I really did."

James swallowed his mouthful, tilting his head to observe Megan's face in profile. "I know what you mean."

"I bet," she said, apparently oblivious to the look James was giving her. She dug into the pint once again. "It's funny; you hear all about shit like that in the news, and you think, 'man, how stupid can they be? He cheated on you! Get over it!' But then . . . then it happens to you."

James nodded, regarding his spoon as if it was an alien object. "Yeah. It changes everything."

"Did you ever think like that?" she asked, turning her head toward him.

He laughed ruefully. "As a matter of fact, I did."

She sucked on her spoon in a way that, under any other circumstance, would have instigated an erection from James. "Ever wonder what would have happened if you acted on it?"

He ground his teeth. "All the time."

Megan lowered her spoon and settled a hand on his leg. "Baby, I'm sorry. You don't really wanna talk about this, do you?"

James let out a heavy breath. "Maybe I need to," he said. "I mean, except for one stupid psychologist, I haven't really talked to anyone about this."

She gazed into his eyes, her own full of compassion. "Only if you want to."

James laced his fingers together, balancing his elbows upon his knees. "It went on for about two years before I finally wised up," he said, then laughed ruefully. "All the signs were there; I just didn't want to see them. Other people had unfaithful wives. Not me. No, not James Mailer."

"Two years?" Megan asked, brow furrowed.

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. How could I be that blind, right? But . . . we had a good life, all things considered. Nice house, modern furniture, two cars, great careers . . . if I accepted the fact that my wife was unfaithful, then all that would go to hell. I was such an idiot."

Megan stroked his leg reassuringly. "You weren't an idiot," she insisted. "You were comfortable. It's hard to let go after you've spent so much time making a good life for yourself."

James nodded. "Yeah," he said, his features darkening. "It was the perfect life. Or, at least, it looked that way to all our friends. Well, the ones who didn't already know about Angie's infidelity, anyway."

"They knew?"

"Some did," James admitted. "They tried to give me little hints sometimes. 'Angie working late again?' 'Oh, Angie's out of town? Never thought she'd have to travel so much with her job.' I guess I wanted to stay blissfully ignorant. Didn't want to give up the nice house, after all. It was sad, really; the facade of a good life was more important than the life itself."

"So what changed?"

James reached down between his legs, gathering a handful of pebbles. He tossed them out toward the lake as he spoke. "A little bundle of joy named Jasmine," he said at last. His lip twitched. "Except, she wasn't mine."

Megan caught her breath. "Jesus."

He laughed curtly. "Yeah. Funny; I had my suspicions about that, too, but I didn't want to believe it. Not until she had to go back to the hospital, just a few months after she was born. They needed blood tests from both Angie and I. That's when reality really smacked me in the face. There was no way I was Jasmine's father."

Megan's features contorted with emotion. "Oh, God, James--"

"That's when I snapped," he continued, interrupting Megan, his voice hard-edged. "I felt like such a fool. Worse, even, since I already knew the truth but I had decided to ignore it."

"What happened?"

James sighed, hurling the last of the pebbles into the lake. "She moved out," he said simply, his eyes glaring upon the still waters. "No good-bye, nothing. Took Jazzy and shacked up with her lover. Didn't even try to explain or apologize. A couple weeks later, I got the divorce papers. That's when it hit me: I had married a manipulative, selfish bitch."

He scooped up another handful of pebbles, and dropped them one by one into his other hand as he continued: "There was this sporting goods store I always went to. I guess I liked to think I was more like my grandfather than I really was. Never really went hunting or fishing, but I liked the idea of it. I used to watch that 'Man Vs. Wild' series every chance I got."

Megan managed a smile, but said nothing, waiting for James to go on.

James flicked a pebble out toward the lake, watching it bounce upon the ground before plunking into the water. "The day after I got the papers, I went to that store and picked up the biggest, nastiest, sharpest hunting knife they had. It was a real piece of work, with a ten-inch blade and jagged teeth on the back . . . ."

He finally looked to Megan, seeing the fearful expression on her face. His own softened. "I'm scaring you," he said.

"A little," she admitted, her voice faint.

He settled his hand upon hers tentatively, as if afraid she would pull back. But she did not. "I'm not a bad person," James said.

"I know you're not."

He took a deep breath. "I just . . . everyone has a breaking point, you know? That point when you stop thinking like a rational human being."

"I know."

His eyes sought hers. "I'd never hurt you."

Her face remained blank for a long moment as she studied him. "I've never told anyone this," she said at last. "Ted and I lived together. We had an apartment in a kind of rough neighborhood; it was cheap. Anyway, he kept a gun in the closet. After I found out about his second affair, I . . . ." She lowered her eyes, then sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. She stared at nothing in particular as she continued.

"I remember pointing the gun at him while he slept," she said, her voice haunting. "I mean, I was right there, with the barrel about an inch from his temple. We'd been drinking that night, and he was passed out . . . I could have put the gun in his hand and made him pull the trigger. It would have been ruled a suicide, and I would've gotten away with it."

"But you didn't," James said.

She sighed heavily. "No. I didn't. But the next day, I threw all his shit out the window and texted all our friends, telling them what an asshole he was. Still, I really wanted to kill him. If I'd been just a little more drunk, I probably would have."

Hesitantly, James moved closer to her, until his side pressed against hers. His arm slipped around her slender shoulders. "I guess we have something in common," he remarked.

Megan laughed softly. Her eyes glittered as they looked up into his face. "Yeah. Guess so."

*****

Whatever anxiety James might have felt weeks before about venturing out into the world was absent when he and Megan stepped into the fifties-style diner a few days later. The closer the end of his 'safe period' loomed, the more reckless and flippant James had become. On the one hand, he understood that his death sentence would be carried out soon, possibly within just another couple of days. On the other, he no longer cared. He was happy to spend the last days of his life with such a beautiful vixen as Megan. His mind had fallen into a philosophical mode which he had never before enjoyed.

They took seats at the soda bar, easing onto buffed red velour stools before the salt-and-pepper colored Formica bar top. The young man draped in a white apron and matching hat took their order for two chocolate malts while surreptitiously admiring Megan's body. James wasn't bothered by the fact that Megan seemed to garner attention wherever they went; in fact, the reality that such a beautiful woman as Megan was hanging off his arm and no other's fueled his ego.

Once they had their drinks, however, James happened to notice a young man sitting alone in a booth against the window of the diner, picking at chili-cheese fries while holding open a well-worn bible with his left hand. The innocent, unassuming demeanor that radiated off him was all at once suspicious and enviable to James.