Pulled From The Wreckage

Ordinarily my stories are long, drawn out tales with multiple characters, but not this one. I dreamed it last night and started writing immediately when I woke up this morning. No editors, no advisors, this one's all me, typos and all. I hope you enjoy it.

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It was raining like hell; I'm talking real lighting-and-thunder-wrath-of-God-somebody-get-Noah-off-his-dead-ass-and-build-that-damned-ark rain. It had been a warm and breezy evening when I left for my 10pm -- 6am shift at the warehouse, not a drop of rain in the forecast; when I clocked out at 5:48am, the weather had changed drastically.

Working the graveyard shift had its disadvantages; the regular world carried on during the day while I slept, so it made doing normal things like going to the bank or the post office a pain. It also had its advantages; getting off work in the early hours, things were quiet and peaceful, and the air was fresh and cool. It had a calming effect. But not today. Oh, no. Not even close.

On the plus side, the bus stop shelter was about 100 feet away from the warehouse employee exit, so I only got partially soaked as I dashed across the parking lot for it. My heart sank when I saw the red LED display that announced when the next bus would arrive; instead of reading the usual, "15F bus arriving 6:12am" it just read "DELAYED". Not good. Not good at all. Shit. How bad could my luck get?

My name is Joseph Sands. I'm 5'8", about 150 pounds. I used to be 195 pounds; working at the warehouse for the past two years has made me whip thin, all muscle and bone. I don't have a driver's license because my long-distance vision is sketchy. The drunk driver that ran the red light and hit my car took that vision from me; I can read things up close, but I can't see down the road, so I'm forever doomed to ride the bus to work.

The same drunk driver who took my distance vision also took my fiancé Erica. He hit us on the passenger side where she was sitting, killing her instantly. My head whipsawed back and forth, finally hitting the driver's side window and causing some brain damage. When the police measured the scene, they estimated he was doing about 75mph in a 35mph zone.

In a small piece of poetic justice, a street sign that he'd hit after ricocheting off our car went through his windshield and impaled him; like Erika, he was pronounced dead at the scene. You'd think I'd get some satisfaction that he was dead, but it just denied me the opportunity to kill him myself.

While I was recovering in the hospital my parents sued the driver's estate on my behalf. They got enough money to pay most of my non-covered medical expenses and a little for a nest-egg. Funny thing was, I now had no future. Erika was gone, what was the point? I wasn't suicidal, but I was just plodding through life one day at a time with no purpose. I wasn't living, I was merely existing.

While I was recovering, I'd sent my old boss an email resigning from my position as Purchasing Manager at a local manufacturing plant. I wanted to cut all ties with my old life; this is how I ended up as a 3rd-shift warehouse worker at a candy wholesaler. I didn't give a shit about a career; the very idea of a career was meaningless to me now. I had no ambition; I needed something mindless to do, that only required my body and not my brain.

So here I was. A warehouse worker, sitting under a bus shelter in the pouring rain waiting for a bus that might not be here until tomorrow. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Fuck it. I was tired, the sky was black, I'd sleep here. Let it rain. I began to doze.

A horn blast woke me with a start. In front of me was a 1st-generation Ford Explorer with the passenger-side window down. A woman's voice called out, "Excuse me, but are you Joseph Sands?"

I stood up, my legs stiff. Limping over to the Ford in the rain, I leaned towards the open window. "Yeah, that's me. Do I know you?"

She popped the dome light on so I could see her face. "It's me, Ann Hatfield. Erika's aunt. They just announced on the radio that all bus service is cancelled until the storm passed -- too many flooded routes. Do you need a ride?"

Holy shit, Ann Hatfield! She was the only one of Erika's family that came to see me when I was in the hospital. In their grief, Erika's mom and dad somehow blamed me for the accident. I was in a coma when they held Erika's funeral; they never came to see me after I woke up. Ann, however, did. Multiple times. She even brought her husband Dominic a time or two. She helped me to grieve, talked me through a lot of it. I never did thank her properly.

When I was released, I was so focused on leaving my old life behind I just closed the door on everything, and everyone. I'd been a damned fool. Yet now, here she was. "Yeah, Ann, that would be great, thanks." I got in and told her my address. She pulled away, back into the storm.

She acted like it had been two days instead of two years since I'd seen her, her warmth was still there. "You look thin, Joseph, you look like you've lost a lot of weigh in fact. You doing OK? I think about you a lot."

"Thanks, Ann. To be honest, I'm not doing great. After all this time I'm still numb from losing Erika." I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the tears that formed out of nowhere. "I'll be honest, I feel a little guilty -- I never...thanked you and Dominic. I was screwed up emotionally; I was running away. Please thank him for me."

Ann responded quietly, "I lost Dom to a heart attack last year." Oh, swell. I'd really put my foot in it now.

I touched her arm. "I'm really sorry, Ann. I wish I'd known. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like you were for me."

"Water under the bridge, Joseph. I had 36 wonderful years with Dom, you had two with Erika. You were the one that was robbed, not me." She paused, then said, "Your place is across town, mine is a few blocks away. How about I take you home with me, you can grab a shower, I'll make you some food, let you get caught up on your sleep?"

I realized that between being tired and wet, my bones were aching. This actually sounded great.

"I'd like that very much, Ann. Thanks."

We arrived at her house, a nice one-story ranch style. "What do you want to eat?"

"Well, being a third-shift worker, my morning meal is my supper, so I usually have steak and eggs or something filling."

"I don't have any steak, but I've got some sliced ham. How about ham, eggs, and hashbrowns?"

"That sounds fantastic, thanks. Do you have any beer to go with that?"

"In the fridge. When you finish your shower, help yourself. Oh, and while you're showering, leave your wet clothes in a pile outside the bathroom door and I'll wash them. I'll leave a few of Dom's old things you can wear until they're dry."

I went into the bathroom and took a long hot shower. After being soaking wet and starting to chill, it felt really good. I used Ann's shampoo, I didn't think she'd care.

When I got out, there was a small pile of clothes outside the door. Dom had been a big guy; the plain white XL t-shirt really hung on me, almost like a short skirt; the XL boxer shorts were a joke. No way I had the waistline to keep those up. The legs on his jeans were a little long, but I managed by rolling up the cuffs; by using the last hole on the belt, I could keep them loosely secured around my waist. Glancing in the mirror, I thought I looked like a little kid dressing in his dad's clothes.

I walked out to the kitchen doing my best to keep my pants up. Ann looked at me and giggled. "I guess I estimated wrong," she laughed, and kissed me on the cheek as I sat down at the table. The laughing stung, but a kiss from an attractive woman goes a long way towards easing humiliation.

Ann was actually very attractive; her body could be described as thick. She had a full ass but smaller breasts, maybe 32Bs. A little under 6' tall, her long hair was salt-and-pepper, black with streaks of grey. She wore it tied up in a bun. Her eyes were a deep blue.

She did bear a likeness to Erica; her face was classically pretty, with rounded cheek bones, full lips, and prominent dimples. Not twins, but I could see the family resemblance. She had a few wrinkles here and there, but to me they just enhanced her natural beauty.

As she was preparing my food her back was to me, allowing me to admire her ass and the way it filled her jeans. I wondered if she was wearing a bra underneath that old sweatshirt.

She put the plate of ham, eggs and hashbrowns in front me; when the smell hit me, I was suddenly ravenous and tore into them. "Oh, we forgot your beer," she said, and quickly got one out and opened it. "Bottle, or would you like it in a glass?"

"Bottle's fine, thanks." As simple as it was, the food tasted delicious. That's when I realized that something was happening to me.

Food, for me, the last two years, was merely fuel. Flavorless, bland, lacking any kind of enjoyment whatsoever. There was no pleasure involved; I ate to stay alive, period. Now, with this woman next to me, I was enjoying it, tasting all the flavors.

Ann sat down to my left, sipping a cup of coffee and watching me eat. The look on her face was, for lack of a better term, joyous. She reached over and took my left hand. "Joseph, I have to say it's been so long since I've fed anyone, I'm really enjoying this." Deep inside the coldness of my chest, I felt something warming up.

"I have to admit, I was having a really bad day until you picked me up. It's getting a whole lot better now. Thank you." Impulsively, I picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. Wait, I did WHAT?!? Was I living in an update of that movie 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'? Finishing up my meal, I carried my dishes to the sink. "It's late for me, I should probably get to bed," I said.

"Sure," Ann answered, looking a little disappointed, "let me show you to the guest room."

I followed her down the hall, into a room that looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. "Here you go," she said, "the sheets are clean; the bed hasn't been used since Dom's funeral." A note of sadness crept into her voice, "Have a good rest, Joseph. I really am happy you're here." She left, closing the door behind her.

I stripped down into just the t-shirt and got into the bed. Unlike most mornings, sleep evaded me today. My zombie-like existence was beginning to crumble. My feelings were actually... feeling!

There was a slight knock at the door. "Joseph, is everything all right? I hear you tossing and turning."

"Ann, come on in. I'm having trouble relaxing, maybe if we talk for a bit I'll relax and drop off."

She came in and sat in a chair across the room. "Aw, hell, Ann, don't sit over there." I patted the foot of the bed. "Come sit here next to me. Please."

She came and sat down, and it made me feel good. I liked having her near me. After 2 years of living like a hermit, this was a refreshing change. "What's on your mind, Joseph?"

"It's been two years since I got out of the hospital. All that time I've kept to myself, living in my studio apartment. No friends, no relationships, nothing. I get through each day simply by putting one foot in front of the other. All I do is work, I don't go out, I don't do anything. Emotionally, I'm a machine. I don't feel happy or sad, or angry. I just go to work." I took her right hand.

"Then you came riding up from out of the past, took me in, fed me, cared for me. It felt wonderful. You're helping me feel again, Ann."

I held her hand to my chest. "I can feel myself coming alive again. After losing Erika, I never thought I'd feel anything again. I sat up and stroked her hair, tears suddenly coming from my eyes.

"Ann," I started to say but the emotions washing over me buried whatever words I was trying to say. Taking her shoulders in my hands, I pulled her to me and put my lips on hers. At first, her lips were rigid; then I felt them soften, her arms wrapping around my neck and pulling me in.

I lay backwards, pulling her on top of me. We kept kissing like a couple of teens at an after-prom party. I felt the heat of her body through the t-shirt. "Ann, Ann," I murmured, "I want you. Please. Please."

I reached down and pulled her sweatshirt off, kissing her neck as I undid her bra. Her skin was pale, but my lips didn't care. I peppered her neck and collarbone with kisses, then moved down to her nipples. I sucked each one lightly, then turned my attention to the stretchmarks on her breasts. I traced them with kisses, then reached down to undo her jeans. I felt her hands on my shoulders; not pushing me away but instead trying to delay me.

"Joseph, wait, do you really want me? I'm almost 60, surely I can't be what you want." I silenced her by pressing my lips hard against her mouth.

"I've been living in my own misery for 2 years, trust me, I know what I want." I moved my mouth back down and sucked at her nipples again; when my hands went to undo her jeans, this time she offered no resistance.

When I finally got her jeans off, I stood and looked down at her as she laid on the bed. Her bun had come undone, now, her beautiful long hair spread across the pillow. My cock was completely rigid, something it hadn't been for over 24 months. Kneeling by the side of the bed, I pulled her panties off, exposing her pussy. I was so excited I could barely breathe.

"Ann, you're so beautiful." I tried to gently move her legs farther apart, but she resisted. I moved my face up and rested it on her ample belly just below her navel, kissing the soft folds. "You've gotten this crazy idea that you're an old, undesirable woman."

I moved my hand, pressing it against her thigh to open her legs further. I felt her give a little bit. I moved my hand all the way up and caressed her folds. She gave out a little moan. "Please trust me. I'm 27, I'm not a kid, a grown man, and I find you very desirable. Tell me you believe me."

"I believe you," she whispered.

I moved my head again, this time between her spreading legs. Using my fingers to hold her lips apart, I began to massage her lips and clit with my tongue. "Tell me you're desirable," I murmured as I covered her with licks and kisses, "and that you want me."

"I'm...I'm desirable," she whispered, "and I do...I want you. Please Joseph. I want you."

I shifted around and moved her towards the center of the bed. She'd spread her legs now without asking; I could smell her excitement.

I knelt over her, my rigidity bobbing above her face. "Kiss this, and tell me you want it in you." Propping herself up on her elbows, she kissed the tip.

"I want this in me," she said softly, "please."

I shifted around into missionary position, and slowly worked my way in. There was some resistance, but after a few gentle strokes it ended, and I was all the way in her. Both of us gasped in pleasure.

I continued to kiss her neck and face as I moved in and out. "Ann, Ann, I think I love you," I growled. I felt her wrap her arms around me and lock her heels behind my back.

"Please Joseph, please," she urged. I increased my pace, and I felt her press her mons back against me.

I had gone without intimacy for two years, so my climax was fast approaching.

Unable to hold back, I came hard, slamming into her, my balls sending jets of pent-up cum into her womb; then surprisingly, as I was relaxing, I was rocked by another climax, an orgasmic aftershock. Apparently, my balls decided to have a clearance sale. Still stiff, I began to move in her again, more slowly this time. Fortunately she wasn't far behind me; her climax arriving after a few more strokes.

As I began to recover, I kissed Ann's face. "I know this seems sudden, but it's not. I love you, Ann. I've loved you since you visited me in the hospital. I was just too stupid to know it then, but I know it now. I love you."

Ann buried her face in my chest and began to cry. I asked her softly, "Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Joseph, not at all. I haven't been with a man since Dom died. Sometimes I just miss him so much..." Then suddenly she was weeping, a torrent of tears, her whole body wracked by sobs. I could do nothing but gently caress her back and kiss her head.

Finally, her sorrow abated; the tears stopped, and her breathing returned to normal. I handed her a facial tissue, and she wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Joseph. You must think I'm pathetic," she whispered, "a desperate old woman just using you for her own comfort.

It's sweet of you to say these things, Joseph, but once you go home and think it over, you'll see I have nothing to offer you. I'm 58 years old; my body is a wrinkled junkyard. I can't give you children. There are a million younger more attractive women."

I tried holding in my anger, but it was hard. "Damn it, Ann! Didn't you hear what I just said? I LOVE YOU! I don't have to think it over - I know what I want, and it's YOU. I want the woman who cared about me even when I was in a coma and all my friends forgot about me.

I want the woman who cared enough to pick my soggy ass up, bring me home and take care of me, even though she had every damned right to just keep on driving and never look back. You look in the mirror and see wrinkles, stretchmarks, and cottage cheese thighs? I see a woman who brought me back to life after two years of living like a zombie; she's beautiful, kind, and desirable. YOU ARE WHAT I WANT, ANN."

I was shaking, trying not to lose control of my emotions. "Maybe you need to ask yourself, what is it that YOU want? Is it to keep living alone with only the ghosts of your past for company, or is it to love a man who appreciates you, adores you and will cover your body with kisses as often as humanly possible?" Despite my anger, I kissed her gently to make my point.

Ann was silent for a while. As I waited, I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Now that I'd put it out there, the dam had burst; it felt like I was falling more in love with her by the minute.

I started running things through my head, imagining, 'My wife, Ann,' 'Mrs. Sands', 'Merry Christmas from Joseph and Ann Sands.' I was loving the sound of all of it.

Finally, she broke her silence, "Joseph, you sweet man, God help me. Yes, I want you, too."

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I hadn't taken time off in over two years, so my bosses were shocked when I asked for two weeks off. They were even more stunned when I told them I was taking time off to get married. The next day, Ann and I flew to Las Vegas where I officially proposed on a hot-air balloon ride over Red Rock Canyon.

Three days later we had our license and were married by an Elvis impersonator in the Presley Wedding chapel.

When we returned, I requested a change to day shift; due to my excellent performance the previous two years this was quickly approved. No more alternate sleep schedules, now every night Ann and I go to sleep together.

Part of me is still a night owl, so I usually doze off after Ann falls asleep; often I'll just lay there and look at my beautiful bride, marveling at how she'd pulled me from my own wreckage and given me my life back.