Last Wish

"Can you give me a sec?" he asked Megan.

Her brow wrinkled. "Sure."

James slipped from his bar stool and approached the missionary. As if he had been invited, he slid into the booth across from the younger man.

The missionary glanced up, his expression blank. He carefully dabbed his lips with a napkin, then set it aside. "Can I help you?"

James smirked. "That's how our last conversation started."

The young man barely flinched. "Yes. I remember."

"Of course you do."

The missionary took a breath and sighed. "Did you sit down here because you wanted to talk about the Lord's place in your life?" he asked. "Or do you want to be angry with me again?"

James' gaze flickered down. Every instinct he possessed told him the young man before him was nothing other than what he appeared to be. But suspicion was a compelling master. "It's been a difficult time for me," he said at last without raising his eyes.

"The Lord God understands that times can be trying, especially now. But his love and guidance can overcome any difficulty."

James lifted his head. "What about salvation?"

The missionary nodded with unlikely sageness. "Of course."

"No matter what I've done, who I may have hurt?"

"Of course," the missionary repeated.

James laughed sarcastically. "You make it sound so easy," he said.

The young man cocked his head with a slight frown. "Why shouldn't it be? God loves all his children, no matter their indiscretions. He forgave Saul, who was a murderer, after all."

James' eyes became hard for a moment. "But Saul was an Apostle," he remarked. "I'm just a man."

"So was Saul, before he became an Apostle." The missionary's eyes bore into James' own, even as the younger man smiled amiably. "No one is without hope for redemption."

James rubbed his hands together, shifting uncomfortably in the padded booth. "I've, uh, never really talked to a priest before."

The friendly smile didn't waver on the missionary's face. "I'm not ordained, sir. I can only make others aware of the flock, not help guide it."

James smiled crookedly. "Right," he said. "You take your orders."

The missionary thought for a moment, regarding James with assessing eyes. "If you like, you can speak with my minister," he offered. "He will be here on Monday."

James quietly considered the young man's offer. Monday . . . the day after my 'safe period' is over. How convenient. He swallowed dryly. "Sure," he said at last, his voice dry and scratchy.

The missionary smiled genuinely. "I'll be looking forward to it, Mr. . . ."

"Mailer." James said nothing more as he eased from the booth. He felt no compulsion to respond to the missionary's excitement, which, to James, was more than a little morbid. He shuffled his feet back to the counter of the soda fountain, rejoining Megan. A confused and curious smile decorated her sun-kissed face.

"What was that all about?" she asked. "You finding religion or something?"

James took up his malt and sipped hungrily, relishing the feel of the cold, sweet liquid in his throat. "I just, um . . . he stopped by the cabin a few days ago, and I wasn't exactly nice to him."

Megan leaned close, as if to share a secret. "He's a Jehovah's Witness," she said under her breath. "Those guys are creepy."

James shrugged. "Doesn't mean they can't have something interesting to say."

Megan leaned back, shaking her head in wonder. "Just when I think I got you figured out, you surprise me, James."

He chuckled, the tension draining away. He gazed upon Megan with a look that was borderline lecherous.

"What are you thinking?" she asked in a playfully guarded way.

James leaned closer and spoke in a voice meant only for her. "I'm thinking . . . that I'd really love to take you home and fuck you."

Megan's eyes smoldered and she nibbled her lip. Holding his gaze, she sucked seductively on her straw, finally releasing it with a lingering flick of her tongue. She smiled, slowly, arousal welling up within her. "Okay," she whispered.

*****

She panted beneath him, clawing the sheets with her short-nailed fingers, sweaty face contorted with pleasure as James pounded into her from behind, straddling her narrow hips. Megan's thighs quivered as she held them tightly together, pushing her hips up off the mattress to meet the deep thrusts of James' cock. Their bodies glistened wetly in the hot, humid air; the oscillating fans that cast a strong breeze across them could not diminish the heat generated by their bodies.

"Oh . . . God!" Megan grunted, just before her body tightened with yet another explosive orgasm. She wailed loudly, shoving up hard against James' hips, barely aware of the pulsing of his stiff shaft within her spasmodic tunnel. The liquid rush that poured into her womb only heightened her ecstasy.

James trembled over Megan's lithe body, relishing the release of his long-held passion. His cock burned within the sucking depths of Megan's pussy, spitting every drop of fluid he had to give. It felt as if his soul was being poured forth to join hers. He finally buried himself to the hilt within her and moaned, his last vestiges of strength devoted entirely to keeping his body from falling atop hers. Air escaped his lips amid shuddering breaths as he fought to keep his senses.

"Mmm, baby," his lover murmured, a thoroughly satisfied smile stretching across her deeply flushed face. Sticky, damp hair lay across Megan's cheek, strands fluttering as she exhaled heavy breaths. "Oh my God . . . ."

James shook with one last aftershock, then slipped out of her and rolled onto his back with a grunt. Stars glittered in his field of vision as he stared up at the ceiling. The sweet aroma of sweat and sex filled the small cabin, sticking to them both. He gulped for air, chest rising and falling deeply

Megan propped herself up on her elbows and regarded him with a dreamy smile. "You okay, Jimmy?"

He licked dry lips as his hands wandered aimlessly across his torso. "I think . . . I'm gonna have . . . a heart attack."

Megan giggled, biting the tip of her tongue. She snuggled close and kissed his cheek. "Not the worst way to go, huh?"

Mind inundated with euphoria, James laughed. "God, that'd be the best way."

She nuzzled his ear with her nose. "Baby," she whispered.

He managed to slip one arm beneath her slick body and hug her close. "Yeah?"

Megan nipped at his ear lobe. "You're the best fuck I've ever had."

He laughed again, then smoothed her hair back and kissed Megan's tender lips. As their pulses returned to normal, James stared into her eyes. "I think I'm in love with you," he said.

Megan's smile faltered, then vanished completely as she pushed up, staring down upon him. James wasn't sure if it was fear or alarm or something else that shone in her face. He immediately thought to retract what he had said, but Megan spoke before he could.

"No, you aren't," she said with quick words, looking away.

"Megan, I'm sorry. I-I don't know why I said--"

"You're leaving," she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest and folding her legs together as she sat on the mattress.

James nodded dejectedly. "Yeah."

Silence descended upon them like a cloak. Megan's hair stirred with each pass of the fans, dancing across her naked chest and arms. Her eyes wandered across the walls.

"I told myself I wasn't gonna do this," she said at last, her voice distant. She looked to him with a pained face. "I didn't wanna get too close."

He touched her arm tentatively. "I know. I didn't, either."

Her breasts rose and fell slowly. "I really wish I'd met you under different circumstances, James."

Pressure welled behind his eyes. He felt a single tear seep out and roll down his cheek. "So do I."

Emotion washed over Megan's features. She uncurled her body and lay atop him, touching James' face, gazing into his heart. "It's not fair."

His trembling fingers touched her soft pink lips. "I want to stay."

Megan sniffled, then managed a smile before pressing her lips to his in a deep, soulful kiss.

*****

The morning sun crept slowly up from the horizon that Monday morning, chasing away the indigo of night and rousing the birds in their nests. James leaned against the frame of the open French doors, braving the slowly-retreating chill of the vanishing night as he watched the light fall upon the lake. He blew smoke in the air, flicked ash of his cigarette. The sense of peace that permeated his mind was strange, yet welcome.

This is the last day of my life, he thought with a rueful smile.

He took a last drag off the cigarette, then flicked it out toward the water. It bounced once upon the pebbly ground, then hissed quietly as it was snuffed.

Guess it could be worse. I could be looking forward to fifteen years of appeals and legal double-talk, none of which would do anything more than delay the inevitable. It really is better this way. At least I got to live, really and truly, before I died.

"Jimmy?"

He half-turned his head and smiled at the sound of Megan's sleepy voice. "'Morning."

The stirring of sheets and the faint creaking of mattress springs told him Megan was getting up. "Why are you awake so early?"

James rolled his shoulders, then smiled at the warmth of the sun as it bathed his face. "I always wanted to watch the sunrise," he said.

Dainty feet padded upon bare wooden boards behind him. Warm hands slid around his torso before Megan's body pressed against him from behind. He heard, then felt, her sigh against the back of his shoulder. She kissed the skin there. "You really are a romantic."

James chuckled. "Sometimes. Depends on the company."

Megan stepped around before him, as casually nude as he was and smiling as well, despite the lingering heaviness of her eyes. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

He brushed the backs of his fingers against her soft cheek. "It is."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "How about some breakfast?"

James chuckled. "You don't have to stay awake," he said. "To be honest, I was about to come back to bed."

Megan grinned. "Then I can bring you breakfast in bed," she said bubbly. "I've never done that."

He laughed wonderingly after her as Megan bounced on her feet to the kitchen. She flashed him a ready smile, dazzling teeth and glittering eyes, before busying herself with the mundanity of breakfast. James turned away from the doorway and stepped to the bed, slipping under the covers. He watched Megan's inscrutable face as she scrambled eggs and slipped a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. Occasionally, her eyes would flash up to him, but only briefly, accompanied by a small smile.

Finally, Megan approached the bed carrying a wicker tray laden with scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a glass of orange juice. She tittered and giggled as she sat it upon James' lap, then curled up beside him on the bed.

James took up knife and fork, then paused. A sad smile crossed his face. "You know, this is better than any filet mignon in a five-star restaurant."

Megan smiled sexily, scratching lightly upon his chest. "Eat up, baby. You're gonna need your strength."

James said nothing as he smiled. He dug into the feast before him, savoring every bite, gulping from the glass of orange juice now and then. Megan watched him with a small smile upon her face, until only crumbs lay upon the plate and only pulp sat in the bottom of the glass.

He emitted a small belch, covering his mouth, and smiled sheepishly upon Megan. "Sorry."

She smiled adoringly. "It's okay. I guess that means I'm a good cook."

"You're the best, baby," he said, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. He frowned. "What about your breakfast?"

Megan bit her lip sultrily and lifted the tray, setting it at the end of the bed. She pulled down the covers, exposing him, then slid her hand up his thigh toward his quickly-stiffening cock. "Yeah," she whispered sexily, stroking him slowly. She lowered her head a moment, licking away glistening bubbles of fluid as they seeped from his cock. "What about it?"

James chuckled, then stretched out, getting comfortable as Megan kissed and licked all around his groin. "Guess it's my turn to serve you, huh?"

"Uh-huh . . . ."

*****

Megan answered the door after the polite yet insistent knock, finding two men upon the landing before her. One was the young man she had seen in the diner; the other was older, on the edge of being considered elderly, clad in a short-sleeved blue shirt with a yellow tie. Both men smiled in an overly friendly way.

"Good morning, young lady," the older man said. "My name is Avery. Is Mr. Mailer available?"

Megan frowned, momentarily considering closing the door. The older man's use of James' formal name made her reconsider, and she looked back over her shoulder to where James sat just outside the French doors. "Jimmy?"

He looked up, then, noticing the two men in the doorway, pushed himself to his feet. For a moment, the color drained from his face. He stared, his features blank and unreadable. Anxiety made his heart palpitate, but only briefly, before a sense of resigned calm washed through him.

I guess it's time, he thought. He approached the door, stopping a few paces from the men, and addressed Megan, forcing out his most disarming smile. "It's okay," he said. "I asked them to come."

Megan nodded, stepping back to allow the men to enter. The older man regarded James with a grandfatherly look. "I am glad you have decided to accept salvation," he said.

James' difficult smile remained, even as he ground his teeth. "Can you give me a moment?"

"Of course," the minister said with all the patience of Job.

With a polite nod to his guests, James took hold of Megan's arm and led her outside.

"What's going on, Jimmy?" she asked as he quietly closed the door.

He smiled fondly upon her. "It's nothing," he said. "I just . . . look, I'm not all that religious, but sometimes . . . you know. I figure it couldn't hurt to talk to someone."

Megan screwed up her face. "I guess," she agreed reluctantly. "You, uh, want me to go?"

James shrugged and tried a casual laugh. "Maybe, um, you could grab some beer or something," he suggested. "This probably won't last long." A feeling of dread coursed through his mind as he considered his own words.

"Okay, sure," Megan said with a roll of her shoulders, apparently oblivious to the growing anxiety James felt. She lifted up to give him a quick kiss, and was somewhat startled when he kissed back with passionate meaning and finality.

For a long moment, James held her against him, enjoying the warmth and feel of her body, the sound of her breath as she panted softly in his ear. "I love you, Megan," he whispered.

She stepped back, face flushed and chest swelling as she breathed in. She brushed a stray strand of sun-kissed hair behind her ear and met his gaze. She seemed nervous, scared, perhaps even perturbed. "Uh . . . I guess I'll get that beer," she said awkwardly, then turned and began walking away, down toward the road which lead toward town.

James watched her go, berating himself for not having said something more poignant. Guess it doesn't really matter, he thought grimly. Last words are never as eloquent as you want them to be.

He inhaled deeply, then let it out before turning to the door. Okay, let's get this over with . . . .

*****

Megan's pace slowed as she returned along the road, stepping onto the gravel driveway of the small cabin. She watched the minister and the young missionary get into their dark blue sedan, thinking how much it looked like the typical government car always seen in movies. For a long moment, she stood motionless, watching the car back out and turn around, the weight of the six-pack hanging in the bag off her hand digging into her fingers.

The sedan's tires crunched on the gravel as it approached, and the car slowed briefly. Both the older man and the missionary regarded Megan with sad and – to her – apprehensive looks. But then the car was gone, turning onto the road and disappearing beyond the trees.

Her heart fluttering, Megan jogged to the door of James' cabin, pushing the door open. "James?" she called.

Silence was the only response.

Oh, no, she thought dreadfully. "Jimmy?" she called again, closing the door and stepping into the cabin.

"Out here." His voice came from beyond the French doors.

Megan sighed with relief and stepped to the doors. James sat off to the side, holding a cigarette. His face wore both concern, wonder, and relief. His gaze drifted out across the languid water of the lake.

"Are you okay?" Megan asked, sitting down tentatively beside him.

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I think so," he said. "It wasn't a bad talk. I told them everything, and . . . you know what?"

"What?"

"He forgave me," James said, his voice caring a tone of quiet astonishment. He smiled upon Megan. "He actually forgave me."

Megan blinked once, her eyes round and wide. "Is that what you were looking for?"

James smiled. "I think so."

She smiled slowly, then touched his face. "God, you actually had me worried," she said. "The way you were acting . . . it was like I was never gonna see you again or something."

He leaned in for a little kiss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Her face softened. "It's okay," she whispered, then grinned. "Want a beer?"

James chuckled. "Sure."

A quick kiss, then she hopped up. "Be right back."

James returned his attention to the lake as Megan retreated to the kitchenette. He smoked his cigarette in silent musing, watching a sailboat floating lazily on the water. He felt calm, almost relieved in an unusual way. Whatever his fate, James accepted it without reservation, without fear.

He heard Megan as she returned, smiled when she sat beside him once more. Silently, she handed him one of two open beers. They clinked once, then sipped.

"You're different," she commented after a moment.

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted. "I'm happy. Strange as that sounds, I'm happy."

"Why would that sound strange?"

James sipped from the bottle again, then rolled it between his fingers. "I didn't tell you everything about what happened," he said. "I was afraid to, to be honest."

Megan contemplated her own beer. "I figured that," she said. "Guess that's why you wanted to talk to a priest, huh?"

James nodded. His smile wouldn't waver, no matter the turbulence in his heart. He watched the reflection of the sun as it rippled across the surface of the lake. "You know, when I came out here, I really didn't want to be around anyone," he said. "I just wanted to be alone, feel sorry for myself for a while in the one place where I was always safe."

"Do you?" she asked. "Feel safe, I mean."

His eyes were adoring and grateful as he looked upon her. "Yeah, I do. More than that, really. I think, for the first time ever, I'm truly content. And at peace with myself." he touched her leg, massaging the muscles above Megan's knee. "You're a big part of that."

She smiled back, eyes glistening. "I'm glad I could make you happy," she whispered emotionally.

His hand moved to hers, gripping it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He took a breath, watching the way their fingers intertwined. Megan, he realized, was so much more responsive than his wife had ever been. "If I wasn't going away," he said. "Do you think that, maybe . . . maybe you and I could--"

"Oh, crap," she interrupted with a dejected huff, looking to her watch. "I got you something else, and I forgot all about it. I left it in the kitchen. Be right back, baby."

James laughed under his breath as Megan rose swiftly to her feet beside him. "I'll be here," he said.