One More for the Road

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He has a most unusual birthday celebration.
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This piece of fiction is intended as adult entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, sexual nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please do not read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.

Copyright © 2005 Jim Reader. All rights reserved.

* * * * *

Beth and I were married right out of high school. We'd been sweethearts most of our lives and our marriage worked. It was glorious. We were so happy we'd cry together after we made love, holding each other all night.

But fifteen years can take a bit of the shine off and when you've borne each other's moods and eccentricities and bad days and childish tantrums for that long, sometimes the romance is hard to find. While the love is still so strong it can hurt when you look at each other, most of your days are spent in a routine that offers little in the way of excitement.

Until the doctor looks at her test results and says the "C" word and the "advanced stages" words... and rips out your heart with the phrase "we'll try everything but I really don't hold out much hope". And while you're trying to find a pulse in your own arm, while you're praying he's wrong or it's some cruel joke, well, everything gets real again and nothing's routine anymore.

Every day she felt up to it I made love to her, as long and as gently as I could. And when she didn't feel up to it, I'd hold her hand to my lips and bathe it in kisses and tears, inhaling the scent of her, healthy or not, memorizing it, studying her face, erasing in my mind every sign of pain so I'd never forget who and what my Beth was, cherishing each smile, numbering them, cataloguing them.

It was quick. After Smile 348, there were no more as she was no more. I so wanted to go with her.

But Beth wouldn't have liked that, so I kept living and pretended to enjoy it.

It was a few days before my thirty-fourth birthday when I got a call from Dan, an old friend of ours.

"Chris, your birthday's coming up. While I doubt you're in the mood to celebrate, Beth left us with clear instructions the last time we saw her. Sandy and I are to take you out, show you a good time and give you Beth's presents for you."

So that's what Smile 325 had meant, the sly smirk that had crossed her face one morning. Is it any mystery why I loved her?

That Friday night I was at Beth's and my favorite club, a little piano bar called "Clyde's Place", waiting on Dan and Sandy. It was mostly empty for the first set of the evening.

The club had a new singer, Carly Galvan. She was maybe five foot two, the kind of thin that comes from genetics not anorexia or heroin, late twenties or early thirties, calm and composed as she walked to the mike in a simple black spaghetti-strapped sheath that clung to her body, hung to her ankles and was slit to her knees. She seemed to me too small and frail to hold much of a voice and I checked my watch, wondering where Dan and Sandy were and why they hadn't called. Checked my cell phone to find I'd left it at home. Intelligent of me, I know.

Then with Ed, Clyde's son, at the piano Carly launched into "Chances Are" and my view of her shifted like the San Andreas relieving stress. From that tiny, frail-looking woman came a voice that was a little Marianne Faithful, a touch of Janis Joplin, all mellowed with the smoothness of Diana Krall, driven out of her body with passion and control.

I didn't notice when the tears began rolling down my cheeks. To hear one of Beth's favorites sung so beautifully, it was as if Beth sat beside me. I knew if I reached out my hand, I'd feel her soft skin beneath my fingers and I knew I was mad for thinking so. I kept my eyes on Carly, on the bar, afraid to look to my right, afraid to break the magic that was giving me one last moment with my love, a moment that would be over far too soon.

And then it wasn't. She went into "Unforgettable" and my heart pounded in my chest as her voice wrapped around my mind. Beth was stroking my hand, I felt her. My love was there and I knew I was losing it. I fought to keep my sobs silent.

"So this is what a nervous breakdown feels like," I thought to myself. But she was there and if two songs of having her near meant the rest of my life in a padded room it was a small price to pay.

And then it was three. We stroked each others hands through "What a Wonderful World". I knew I was delusional. So what?

Next she ripped out Beth's and my heart with a beautiful arrangement of Dire Straits' "Romeo and Juliet" and I heard my wife crying next to me as she held my hand tightly the way she did every time anything brought her to tears.

My waitress was headed toward the table but I waved her away, fearful she'd break the spell this young woman had woven. If she did I wouldn't be responsible for my actions. I couldn't be. Beth was back and I knew this was all I was going to have.

Through "The Air That I Breathe", "Trouble In Mind", "Dance Me to the End of Love" and "Night and Day" I sat with my wife. I held and made love to her hand. I wished I had faith enough to touch her anywhere else, but my belief in magic was too long dead. I didn't dare.

The sorceress at the microphone began "Crazy" and Beth whispered "Close your eyes, no peeking". As soon as I had done so I felt her warm weight settle onto my lap and her arms go around my neck. As her hair brushed my face, I smelled her, not as she'd been at the end, reeking of chemicals and sickness. I smelled my wife on the day I'd married her, all honeysuckle and roses with a touch of delicious perspiration. Her skin against mine was warm and soft, the tiny hairs tickling my neck as they always did. Her breath was sweet and from the faint whiff of bourbon I knew she'd take a sip of my drink. My cock hardened down my pants leg.

"Chris," she murmured, "I love you. I always will. But you have to let me go, not for my sake, but for yours. I want you to live and you're not doing that, you're barely surviving. Let me go. Free yourself to go live again."

I nodded dumbly, unable to get words out through my tightened throat.

The song finished and Leonard Cohen's "Light as the Breeze" flowed out of the singer, every submissive, blatant word and double entendre of it. I felt Beth's breath on my ear as she whispered "Remember that night in New Orleans?" She shifted to straddle my lap. Her hand was caressing the erection that was straining at its imprisonment and she ran her fingertip along the bottom and curled her nail in just under the head. Through my tears I gasped and felt myself teetering on the edge of orgasm. Beth had always had that effect on me.

Though my eyes were closed I knew her body and my hand found her breast, felt it beneath my fingers and palm, shrouded in the silk of her blouse, warm and soft, her nipple erect and straining against the fabric. She kissed my neck, her lips gliding over my skin to give my earlobe a familiar nibble.

I struggled to speak. "Are you sure I can't come with you?"

"No, silly man, you've a lot of years ahead of you and a lot of joy to fill them with."

The song was heading towards its end and I felt this most precious gift was almost done.

"May I please see you one last time?"

"Do you believe strongly enough, Chris?"

"Oh God, I hope so."

"Then open your eyes."

And there she was, on my lap, beneath my hand, as beautiful, as sexy, as perfect as ever. My soul drank in the sight of her wearing Smile 349.

"One final kiss, Beth?"

"It's one more for my baby, and one more for the road," she said as she leaned in. I closed my eyes, unable to watch her fade, unwilling to lose her again.

Her lips met mine, soft and warm, sweet and yielding. Her tongue and mine met, beginning a duel I'd missed so much. Wet and tricky, she won it again, thrusting deeply into my mouth, most pleasant invasion. Her other hand pinched at my nipple playfully as once more her fingernail came up just under the head of my cock and I came as I hadn't since she'd gotten sick, my balls spasming again and again.

The final bars of the song were playing out as she put her face against mine, her mouth to my ear and said "Happy Birthday, Darling. When she asks you, lie." I felt Smile 350 on her face as my wife said good-bye forever.

I sat there with my eyes closed trying to regain my composure, smiling through my tears, thankful for this most wonderful of gifts. The remains of my climax made a large wet spot on my pants leg as my cock shrank.

"Excuse me, sir, are you alright?"

My eyes shot open. The enchantress who had cast the spell stood before me, concern on her heart-shaped face.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, it's just that with no lights in my face, I can see the crowd pretty clearly and I've never seen anyone cry through an entire set. I hope you're alright."

"I'm sorry Ms. Galvan, uh, thank you; it was your voice and the songs. I'm alright or at least I will be."

"May I sit down?"

"Uh, certainly," I said as I stood up, reaching out with my hand, "I'm Chris March."

"Carly Galvan. Did my singing do that to you as well?" she asked, glancing at the stain on my pants leg as she took my hand.

I was horrified. "When she asks you, lie" echoed in my mind.

"Uh, I'm afraid so and I'm probably the most embarrassed man on the planet right now," I said as I sat down and crossed my legs to hide the wet spot, "so if you'll just excuse me as I die of mortification, that would be most kind of you."

"No, don't be embarrassed. That's a compliment I've never received before, all the more special since your hands never went to your lap."

"Thank you, I think," I responded. "You truly are exceptional. And you put together a most eclectic and beautiful set."

"It's a new one. For some reason, tonight just seemed the night to give it a shot. This is going to sound rather strange and a bit forward, Mr. March, but could I buy you a cup of coffee some time, soon preferably?"

I gazed into her soft hazel eyes. "I'd like that, but only if it's after-dinner coffee and you let me buy the dinner."

Those eyes lit up. "It's a date, Mr. March."

"Then I'm Chris."

"Then I'm Carly."

Fifteen minutes later I was walking to my car, our plans having been made and numbers exchanged, only to see Dan and Sandy pull up.

"God Chris, I'm so sorry. We blew out a tire on the freeway, no spare and the cell was dead. It's been a nightmare."

"It's okay guys, I had a lovely evening." Thankfully in the poor lighting they couldn't see the stain.

"Well, looks like you're heading home. Here, they're from Beth" Sandy said as she handed me a dozen red roses and a book.

"When You're Ready To Move On: Dating After Bereavement". Cute, Beth.

I hugged them both and headed for my car, feeling alive again.

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keylime314159keylime314159over 1 year ago

A beautiful love story. I loved it. His emotions were so strong.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 14 years ago
Interesting

I really enjoyed this story. It was well written and it's use of imagery was excellent. I thought it was interesting that it wasn't so much a normal sex story so much as a poinient story about loss and moving on from that loss.

Hope you write more. You seem pretty talented.

dogabutiladogabutilaover 15 years ago
nice.

very good writing with a very good story.

not much of that around here.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Very Emotional

A very emotional story. My wife passed away six years ago of cancer. I remember taking care of her at home, cooking and cleaning the house, and all. It was hard for me to let her go and have relief from her pain.

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