My Life Is Over

As such, I let her pick what she wanted to watch first, whilst I got my laptop out of its box to connect to my new network too.

'What should I call the internet modem?' I asked her.

'Hmm,' she said. Broadcasting verbally what I was sure was a sarcastic deep-thinking face. 'Maybe a bad joke about being haunted?'

I thought for a moment, and then something came to me. 'Hey, I'm a divorcee, right? And you know what divorced men usually have?'

Margot didn't answer, so I finished my joke by naming the WiFi network 'DeadBedroom'.

'Really?' Margot deadpanned, now over my shoulder. 'You're hilarious.'

We spent the rest of the night sitting side-by-side in front of the TV, my back against the bare wall. Margot watched show after show, giggling to herself as she made her way through Brooklyn Nine-Nine and The Good Place. I had my laptop open to several job sites, sending off my CV and writing up applications for hours on end.

o-O-o

'Hey,' Margot said at one point, jabbing into me. The sensation was the strongest single motion I'd felt from her - yes, even stronger than that - and jolted me out of my half-sleep. Netflix was asking if we wanted to continue watching.

'What time is it?' I asked.

'Past midnight,' she whispered. 'Maybe one? I don't have a great grasp on time, I have to admit.'

'Hmm,' I grunted.

'If you're going to go to bed - could you press play for me? I only got to about three episodes in and it stopped.'

I sat up, groaning at the ache in my back. That was the last time I fell asleep on the damned floor.

'You okay?' Margot asked.

I nodded. 'Just a sore back. Falling asleep against a wall is never a good idea for an old man.'

She snorted. 'You're not old.'

'My children would argue with you on that.'

I felt her hesitation. She didn't want to intrude. But, Margot wasn't known to me for her self-restraint. 'You have children?'

'Two,' I said, abandoning my attempts to stand up. I simply sat forwards, stretching out ever so slightly. 'My daughter, Sarah, she's fifteen, and my son, Jack. He's ten.'

'Wow,' Margot said, but there was little excitement in her voice. 'What happened?'

'Divorce. She got the kids. And the house, and the car.'

'How'd she manage that? What, did you cheat?'

'No. She did, actually. With a lawyer. I couldn't afford to pay for one, so I wound up penniless against her loved-up bloodsucker, and he cleaned me out. My company went bust afterwards, cause I couldn't afford to keep it going.'

'That's why you're here?'

I nodded, rolling forwards onto my heels. I pushed against the wall, my sleep-addled head swimming as I managed to rise to my feet. 'That's why I'm here.'

I took two staggered steps towards the doorway that led upstairs, when I felt a soft touch on my forearm. I didn't feel like Margot's 'pressure', and for a moment my heart skipped - was someone else inside?

But when I turned, no one was there. Well, no one I could see, anyway.

'Press play? Another three episodes is better than nothing,' Margot asked, her voice quiet in the dark shadows cast by the lamplight streaming through the windows. I obeyed, clicking play with my toe, before staggering upstairs.

'Night, Margot,' I called.

'Night, Tom' I heard from the living room, and I smiled.

o-O-o

Maybe it was the fact that this was a new bedroom, or the fact that I wasn't on a real bed, or the fact that my new living situation was grade-A haunted. Whatever the cause, it was hardly surprising that I was a light sleeper all of a sudden.

For the second night, I felt dreams leaking into reality as I woke, only this time there was no sexual activity rousing me from a wet dream. The memory of Margot, her ghostly form pleasuring me in a way I'd almost forgotten, encouraged me to stay in that dream-space for a little while longer.

It was disrupted, however, by something out of the corner of my eye catching my attention. It was like feeling a hair on your tongue - just a tiny thing in the wrong place, throwing everything off.

There was someone in my room.

No, not a person. A shadow. From outside, perhaps?

I knew that was stupid - there was no way for a shadow to make its way into my second-floor room with its form so clear.

My tired brain remembered that sleep paralysis was a thing, and I considered that - until I moved my head towards the shape, and my movement alone was enough to discount my theory.

Then, of course, there was only one remaining possibility.

'Margot?'

The shape moved, standing up straight, like a puppy caught with a stolen treat.

'Margot, is that you? I can...' I sat up, hearing what I was saying. 'Margot, I can see you!'

She stepped forwards, as my eyes adjusted - she wasn't a shadow. Nor was she quite... solid. She looked like a full-body reflection, her form perfectly believable, and yet I could still see the corner of the room behind her, through her body.

'Tom?' she said, though it wasn't much of a question. It was a lot of things, rolled into one word - a request for comfort, for recognition, for confirmation.

'I can see you!' I called, throwing off the covers. She was there - right there!

Colour seemed to escape her, but the details were everything. Her clothing was casual, obviously the wear of someone who cared more about comfort than following style. Her tee had a faded band logo I couldn't make out, and her jeans were ripped at the knees. She was in socks, one of her toes poking out, and her whole stance was adorably... small. Like she was trying to shrink back into the darkness from whence she'd come.

'Fuck off,' she said, as she softened, realising I wasn't having her on.

'I can! Uh - ripped jeans, your hair is long, dark, I think. You look...'

'...dead?'

'No,' I scoffed, my eyes adjusting to the dark enough for me to see the features of her face. Her jawline was sharp, her eyes large and searching, her lips full, even as they tensed in an uneasy expression. 'You're really pretty.'

'Oh,' she said, taken aback, as a smile drifted its way onto her face.

I pulled myself up, standing across the room from this spectral beauty. She looked so... normal. In movies, or books, or TV, so often ghosts were shown as monstrous things, alien and awful. But Margot looked just how I imagined she had when she was living - she looked youthful, and kind, and inquisitive.

'Sorry,' I said, realising I was staring, averting my eyes slightly.

'No,' she said quickly. 'Look at me.'

So I did. I watched her, the gravity of the moment flooding the room like water, turning everything into slow-motion.

'No one has seen me, ever,' she said, taking steps towards me. She stopped when we were only a few feet from each other, her eyes connected with mine. Up close, she seemed more real. More solid. Her eyes had tears in them, and I almost asked her what was wrong.

But I knew there wasn't anything wrong. Something was right.

'I can see you,' I repeated, softer, not wanting to speak too loudly and risk breaking the spell put over us. The knot in my stomach twisted as I realised I wanted to touch her, to connect with her further. So, I sucked in a breath, and held up my hand to her face.

She almost flinched as I made contact, her soft cheek feeling perfectly normal, no matter how paranormal this was. Her skin was cold, but the mere fact I could touch her skin, feel her under my fingertips as something other than just lifeless pressure was incredible.

'You're warm,' Margot breathed, as her hand fell over mine.

'You're cold,' I said, then instantly wanted to take it back. Margot closed her eyes, a look of strange resignation on her face, my reminder of her lack of life undercutting what should have been a happy moment. 'But you're here.'

She opened her eyes again, and the look she gave me was... intense. It wasn't unhappy, nor happy. A melancholic gaze that ended as she took that last step between us, wrapping her arms around me, and holding on for dear life.

I squeezed her back, and even though she seemed so small in comparison to me - again, I'm no athlete, and she was a petite thing - she had never been so apparent to me.

The repetition of thoughts in my head just kept spinning, circling the concept of Margot, for real, in front of me.

'Thank you,' she whispered, as I held her. It was a surprisingly chaste embrace, considering how... intimate we had been lately, and yet I'd never felt closer to her.

'For what?' I asked.

'For being here,' she said, pulling slightly off me to meet my gaze. 'For moving in with a dead girl. For getting divorced.'

That last one made me laugh, and she smiled too, before putting her head against my chest and just enjoying the hug.

'How is this possible?' I asked.

I felt her shrug. 'No idea. But I'm not gonna question it. You can feel me, see me. I'm real Tom. For the first time in, what, ten years. I'm really here.'

I kissed the top of her head. 'Yes, you are.'

We just kept in that embrace for a while, allowing our hearts to slow. Or, mine at least. Then, I remembered something.

'Were you watching me sleep?'

'Uhh,' Margot hesitated, pulling off me again. 'The TV stopped again, and I didn't want to wake you. You're nice when you sleep.'

'Thanks?'

'Not in a weird way!' She huffed, and sat on my beanbag. I followed, sitting next to her, sideways on my makeshift bed and pulled the duvet up to cover us. 'You just... I was here for so long on my own... have you ever worked a shitty job, where every day is the same? And you're there for months, or years, but there's no defining moments between the days so everything sort of blends into one? That's been the past ten years of my life, except there was no job to keep me occupied. You're a total disruption, Tom, in the best way. You... you were like a sledgehammer, smashing through the walls of whatever stasis I was stuck in. And, for whatever reason, now that you're here, I'm more here too. When you sleep, it's still not as still as those years. You breathe, you shift, you mumble. You're alive. And, truthfully, I'm drawn to you.'

She paused. If she had breath, I thought she'd be out of it. Her confession ended with us both looking into the dark, still room, shoulder to shoulder, fingers interlaced as though she was scared letting go of me would send her spiralling back into the nothing.

It was true, though - the world was still. The sky outside was a blanket of dark grey, the light of the lamppost on the street corner outside glistening on the few bits of dust uprooted by my movement. There was no hum of traffic this far from the main road, no chatter from sleeping neighbours. Margot didn't sleep, didn't have that respite through the dark hours. She had spent so long alone.

She just wanted to connect. I can give her that much, at least.

'Well, I'm not going anywhere,' I said, echoing our conversation from the kitchen. She gave a short laugh, and lay her head on my shoulder. 'You feel solid, Margot.'

She sniffed, pushing through tears she was keeping quiet. 'I feel like emotional mush.'

'Hey, it's fine,' I said, bouncing her shoulder on my head a little. 'You're drawn to me, it's no big deal.'

'Don't make fun of me.'

'Just stop me,' I said, teasing her.

She lifted herself up a little, and met my gaze. 'Okay,' she whispered, before kissing me. Even though, arguably, we had been far more intimate than this, her lips against mine felt like the most vulnerable, open act I had seen from anyone in a long while. Her arms, thin and cold, wrapped around my neck as she pulled me down, and I felt my hands grip her waist, just holding her as the kiss became more bold, more passionate.

I didn't care that she was dead. I didn't care that she was some incorporeal, paranormal, supernatural being. Margot was Margot, and her kiss sent waves of warmth through me I hadn't felt in years, and as she clung to me I felt my own urges - just as human and indecent as hers had been yesterday - take control.

My hands moved under her waist, and with a quick lift I managed to move her round me and into my lap. She was light - whether that was due to her lithe shape, or the fact that she was a literal ghost was unclear - and eager to enjoy the possibilities of our new position.

Our kiss melded into a teenage make-out, mouths hungry, tongues curious and eager. Margot gripped my shirt, forever pulling me towards her, into her. I felt her body against mine, her legs around my waist as her pelvis rolled on mine; her chest pressed into me, her whole being gyrating in sudden, excited movements.

'Let me kiss you,' she moaned, pulling off me. I was confused for a moment, before she grabbed the bottom of my tee and yanked it up over my head, revealing my torso. Margot immediately went to kissing my neck, my shoulders, her fingers trailing lovers' lines along my skin as her lower half ground into me.

I moaned, my mouth now free of her, and focused instead on just feeling her. Her attack on me was clearly an extension of her need to feel, to connect - an dI had no intentions of stopping her. She felt amazing against me, her lips soft and her hands just cool enough to leave goosebumps along my back.

Unsure how clothing worked in the afterlife, I wasn't sure what would happen if I tried to go under hers, but the passion of the moment led to me giving it a go. Tentatively, I allowed my hands to drift from her hips upwards, finding the hem of her jeans. Margot whimpered against me at the sensation, so I slid higher, under her grey tee. Her back was just as soft, her skin supple, the bumps of her ribs and spine revealing how thin she actually was. Her slight form shivered atop me, her hips now happily dry humping me as she worshipped my chest, my hands feeling up her back to find that she wasn't wearing a bra beneath her top.

Inspiration struck, and my second hand quickly rose to meet the first, holding her at her ribcage lightly as she moaned into my shoulder. My cock was rock-hard beneath her now, and I could feel her sex through the fabric of my pyjamas and her jeans rubbing into me desperately.

My hands snaked around her, feeling her taut belly before travelling up. I grasped her breasts, one in each hand, and squeezed her as she moaned into me. Her mounds were pert, youthful and full, but not large - they just about filled my palm as I fondled her slight body.

Both of us were breathing ragged now, and just as I was about to speak she kissed me again. This time, I could clearly see the glint of tears in her eyes, and I slowed.

'Margot?' I asked.

She shook her head, resting her forehead on mine. However, in just a moment, the tone had shifted. Something was wrong.

'Margot, talk to me,' I said, releasing her breasts and pulling my hands out from beneath her clothes. I hugged her again, and she wrapped her arms around me.

'You...' she said, before wiping her eyes. Ghosts, I realised, though it wasn't the first time I'd experienced it, could cry.

What else could they do?

'You make me feel alive,' she simply said. All her explanations, and everything we had shared, from the small moments of tenderness to the more elicit, could be found in those words. Alive.

She smiled, shifting on my groin again. I could tell she was looking to cut the tension. 'You feel alive, too,' she smirked. 'Want another go at 'connecting'?'

I kissed her, and I think that took her by surprise, but it felt right. She softened into it, her lips chasing me slightly as I pulled away.

'Something like that.'

I lifted her easily, standing and turning before she knew what was happening. In a moment, I lay her down on her back on the beanbag, her legs still wrapped around my waist, and her wrists behind my head. She's heavier than she was, her body becoming more and more human by the moment. The more we did, the closer we became, the more she changed. Into what, I wasn't certain. But she wasn't just a voice in an empty house anymore.

I returned her favour, starting by kissing her jaw and neck, her small moans and gasps telling me what she liked and what she loved. Turns out, she liked a bit of biting. I nipped at the nape of her neck, as she wrapped herself around me, always moving and shifting, her body alight with energy.

My body pressed hers into the beanbag, her spread thighs now a landing strip for my own eagerness. We gyrated into each other as I kissed my way to the neckline of her tee. I quickly pulled it up, revealing her B-cups in our dusty love den. Margot shuddered as I kissed them, her soft flesh so cold she felt like she'd been out in heavy rain. Her nipples, hard and pink, made her give a low growl of appreciation when I sucked them, rolled them between teeth and tongue, giving them attention that wouldn't even start to make up for what she had missed in the last decade.

'Fuck, Tom,' she moaned, her voice hoarse and gravelling - sexy as all hell. 'Kiss me more.'

So I did. I kissed her delicious breasts, and the shallow canyon between them. I kissed her stomach, twisting and gyrating as she tried to hump into my body. I slid down her, as she had done to me that night, until my mouth probed at the gap between her jeans and her pelvis. Margot's hands found my hair, pulling and pushing me to go lower, to give her what she had gone without for so long.

I looked up to her, and saw her chest rising and falling in short, anxious breaths. Her whole body was tightly wound, like a bomb seconds from exploding. I couldn't see her face - only her jaw, as she stretched along the beanbag, exposing every part of her body for me.

Well, not every part.

I popped open the first button of her jeans, and her legs around me twitched. Her fingers in my hair slowed, as though she was waiting for that explosion too. One, two, three buttons came undone, slowly revealing the panties underneath.

The thin material clung to her body almost as readily as I did, my lips and tongue tracing the line of her underwear. Margot shivered, one hand clutching me, the other gripping the beanbag as I rolled her jeans down off her hips. They peeled off, exposing the greyscale of her thighs beneath, clenched together while I stripped her. I dotted her shins with kisses, until all she wore was her pantis, her tee and her socks. Then I kissed her knees, parting them to let me in. She sighed a warm, satisfied sigh as my lips travelled up the inside of her left thigh, approaching the damp slit above.

'Don't stop,' she muttered, her fingers trailing the back of my neck, when I paused to swap to her other thigh. This time, I licked this tender, neglected, intimate area until I heard her moans grow in volume, in frustration. 'Don't you fucking stop.'

I smiled as I moved North, close enough to smell her - had I ever been able to smell her before? - and let her imagination rage. My breath on her damp underwear was enough to get an arched back and a high-pitched whimper, and I wondered if I had teased her enough.

I kissed the material of her panties, and heard Margot suck in air. My tongue drew the line of her slit into the already damp fabric, and I heard her whimper something, but couldn't make out the words - if there were words at all.

Hooking my hands around her thighs, pulling her wide, and I went to work. My tongue and lips teased at the edges of the fabric, before pushing against her clit through the thin lining of her underwear, all the time Margot moaned. Hands reached down and pulled me deeper into her sex, the smell of her a tangy sweetness that filled my senses. I could feel her body, writhing under my tongue as she got closer, higher, further -

She stopped me, yanking my head back. For a moment, I thought I'd done something wrong. Instead, I saw the look in her eyes as she panted, her cheeks flushed with phantom blush. Quickly, she bent a leg over my head, and in a swift movement shed her pants before returning to me, bare, wet and open.