The Ghost of East Hill Bridge

"Like, uh..." I said, blushing.

She grinned at me. "Yes, like sucking cock. I've always liked pleasing people, making them happy and making them feel good. So I'm dead, so what? I still want to make people feel good. It makes me feel good, and it's worked out pretty great for a lot of them."

I blushed more at that, remembering her warm mouth on me and how good it had felt.

Maria didn't seem to notice. Instead, she was staring off into the night, her brow furrowed. "I guess it's a little odd, I didn't really have much practice at it while I was alive but when I came out here with Greg that night it was all I could think about and now it's like a compulsion. Guys come out here and they want something from me, and I can give it to them. I want to give it to them."

"So, it was the last thing going through your head?"

"Sure, besides a big rock."

I winced. She looked apologetic.

"Sorry," she went on, "it was funny to me. I haven't had much conversation lately."

"It must get lonely."

"I'm not really here all the time, just for a few days around Halloween and then I've got company. They're not really here for a chat, though," she laughed. "The rest is like a really long dream I can't remember."

"So you haven't really thought about it?"

"What?"

"Being dead?"

"Not..." she paused, brow furrowing again.

"You'd be thirty-one, now, if you'd been alive."

She shook her head. "To me I'm nineteen. To me it didn't happen that long ago."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"Being dead," I responded, a little exasperated. "The life you missed. Didn't you want to be anything?"

"It just sort of is," she said, although she didn't seem fully convinced. "Sure I miss people, a little, I guess. I miss what my life could have been, maybe, but that life isn't here. It's like that life belongs to a different person."

"I thought you said you were the same person?" I pointed out.

Maria shrugged, and as I watched her something odd happened: she seemed to fade, become less colorful, less bright. I could almost see through her to the bridge behind.

"The hell?" I asked.

Maria glanced down at herself, then pointed up. I followed her finger and saw the moon. Small stretches of cloud were crawling across the sky, and one had partially obscured the glowing white orb.

"Moonlight," she said, "I can only be seen in moonlight. Good thing it doesn't rain too much around here."

"That's not weird? Just disappearing?"

She shrugged again, but she was no longer looking at me. She was staring out over the water and the calm, friendly expression she'd been wearing since I'd opened my eyes was missing. She looked sad.

"What did you want to be?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Come on."

She shook her head again, but spoke anyway.

"A singer," she said, as the cloud moved off the moon and she became relatively bright and detailed again. "I love music. I was terrible at it, though, I couldn't hold a tune for anything. My brother used to stuff cotton in his ears when I was cleaning, because I sang when I was cleaning and because he's a little brat." She shook her head. "Was. Was a little brat."

Then she took a deep breath, the first I'd seen her take all night, although no air moved.

"I told my parents I could take lessons, and they kept saying they'd find me a teacher, but no one teaches voice lessons in this town. Taught. And driving an hour each way seemed like a lot of work to go through for something that's not really going to do me much good anyway. I just really like, liked, like..." she trailed off.

"Maria?"

She shook her head.

"Maria, are you-"

She interrupted me. "What did you want to be? Do. What do you want to be?"

"I want to have a restaurant," I told her.

"Restaurant?"

"I haven't told anyone that, except my dad. My mom, my sister, even my friends don't know. It sounds stupid, saying it out loud, but I love good food, I love cooking and making things for people and watching them smile."

"What kind of restaurant?"

"I don't know," I laughed. "My own, not a chain. Something small where I get to decide what gets made and the food is always good. Except I'm like you and singing: I'm really bad at cooking. Most of the time when I try, my folks say it's the effort that counts and choke it down but they're not fooling anyone."

"Cooking's not singing, though," she retorted, "that's something you can learn. If you're tone deaf nothing's going to help you sing, but cooking anyone can learn. As long as you're not one of those people who puts ketchup on ice cream."

"Who puts ketchup on ice cream?"

"Wallace."

"Who's Wallace?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "My brother, remember? He's..." she trailed off, suddenly staring out into space, then quickly looked down at her hands like she was studying them.

"Maria?"

"What did your dad say?"

"About what?"

"About owning a restaurant," she responded, but she sounded a little distracted, even a little panicked as she kept staring at her hands. Or maybe through them.

"He said culinary school is a thing, but I should get a degree in accounting first. He says other people can cook, but if you're going to run the business you'll need to manage it or it won't survive. He... Maria?"

Just then another cloud scraped across the moon and Maria faded. This time she lost more color, more form, and I could definitely see the bridge and the railing behind her.

"Maria?"

"Clive?"

"Are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped up to mine and she shook her head rapidly. Her eyes were sunken, bright but rimmed in dark. It was a little scary.

"No," she said.

"What's wrong?"

"This is... I don't... this..." she started.

"Maria?"

"What happened to my brother?" Her gaze was piercing.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, but I almost instantly regretted it. I was scare: what if it's not the answer she wants? What if...

"I think your family left town at some point," I went on quickly, "not too long after you fell. I'm not sure exactly, it was a long time ago I just know they're not in town now."

"They left? I fell last week! How could they..."

"Maria?"

The cloud left the moon and suddenly she was right in front of me, looking and feeling very solid as she grabbed onto my arms with her too warm hands. Her eyes were blazing white, staring at me out of the deep shadows of her face. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

"Clive!"

I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron.

"Clive, I don't... I'm... "

I wanted to tell her to let go. I wanted to tell her she's scaring me. I wanted to tell her all that because I was fucking terrified all of a sudden, but I didn't. Instead I asked: "are you okay?"

She shook her head violently, ghostly hair tossing around her face. "No, I'm really not."

Then, just as suddenly as she freaked out, she collapsed against me. All her strength was gone, her fingers weak and clutching at my shirt. I found myself wrapping my arms about her, because that's a totally normal reaction to having a terrifying undead specter who you think is about to eat your soul dropping into your arms.

"Maria?"

Her body was shaking, I could feel it, and for the second time that night I could hear her breathing. Except she wasn't just breathing, she was crying.

"Maria?"

She didn't answer, just cried, and for a ghost that could disappear without moonlight she was awfully heavy. I lowered myself to the ground, still holding her, until I was sitting on the cold, wet, wooden slats of the bridge with Maria shaking in my lap. I'd never held a ghost while she cried, before. I'd never held anyone while they cried before, this was an entirely new experience for me. What do you do when a ghost girl is crying in your lap?

"They're gone!" she sobbed.

"Who?"

"Everyone! Everyone is gone and I'm dead! I'm dead and they're all gone and they've... and here I am on this bridge, except I'm not! When Halloween is here and the moon comes out I am too, but the whole rest of the year I'm gone, sleeping or floating about or just gone! I don't know! Then Halloween comes and what happens? Halloween comes and some horny town boy or three comes out here and I suck some dicks and then what? I'm gone again! Off to wherever!"

Then her words stopped and she just cried, shaking in my arms. I pet her hair, because that's what you do when someone's crying in your arms. It felt like hair, but warm, like the rest of her, which was just another topping on the salad of weirdness. I pet it anyway while she cried.

It went on for a while, it could have been minutes or it could have been an hour, I don't know. After a time the crying died down, although her body still shook. She faded out and in a few times as clouds drifted in front of the moon. I realized I was rocking slightly and stopped, self-consciously, then started again. Maria sobbed silently.

After a time that stopped, too, and I was just holding her as the moon drifted across the sky.

A long time later, Maria spoke again.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I answered. "You okay?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. But I think I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"I'm dead."

"Didn't you know that already?" I asked, gently rubbing her back. It was like the hair, it just felt like something you're supposed to do. Her blouse was soft, and yellow. I hadn't noticed the yellow before.

"I knew," she said, "but I didn't know. I knew, but I didn't. I wasn't thinking about it, didn't let myself think about it, didn't have time to think about it and when I did there were distractions." She laughed a little at that.

"Sorry to break the spell."

She glanced up at me then, and the scary terrifying soul eater eyes were gone. Now they were just her eyes, pale and ghostly white but with a lot more blue than before. In fact, all of her seemed to have more color now.

"No," she said, "don't be sorry for that. I feel like I've been asleep for twelve years and I'm just waking up."

Maria pushed against my arms and I released her. She sat up, brushing pale brunette hair away with one hand and wiping at her face with the other. There were still tears in the corner of her eyes, and I realized my pants were wet from her crying. Not glowing white wet, just regular wet.

"I was scared," I told her, because I felt like I needed to say it. I wasn't sure if I was admitting something to her, admonishing her, or something else. "You got really creepy for a little. I was worried you were turning into a flesh eating ghost."

She smiled at me. I was surprised, and delighted, to see it.

"What?" I asked.

"I am a flesh eating ghost. Or flesh sucking, at least."

I chuckled, a little.

"Clive, I'm sorry I scared you."

I shrugged. "I'm glad you're okay."

She wiped her eyes again, glancing around suddenly. "I am. Okay. Actually I think I'm better than that, I feel..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"I feel like myself."

"That's good, right?"

"It is. It hurts, too, though. A lot. All the things I haven't been thinking about, like my family, and Wallace? What happened to my brother? What the hell happened to all of them? What did me dying do to them? My friends, my boyfriend, I mean we were out on this bridge snogging right before I died what did that do to him?"

"Just snogging?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Just snogging, the rest was supposed to come after, and it was exciting and scary and it was all I could think about until that car came around the corner and we ran, and then I fell. Then I was dead and for some reason it was all I could think about again."

"And now?"

She stared up for a second. "Maybe it's a ghost thing. The compulsion. Or maybe it was how I was distracting myself so I didn't have to think about it all. It was enough, for a while, it was what I wanted and I was happy with that, except I wasn't, I was just using it to distract myself. Now, though? I feel like me, again, and I want a lot more than horny boys looking for a warm mouth and la petite mort."

"La what?"

"La petite mort, it's French, it means the little death. Also it means an orgasm, something about losing consciousness or time or your senses, like a little death. Except for me, when guys did it, it was kind of the other way around, it made me feel more alive to give that to them and maybe that's why I did it."

"You're saying sex is life?"

"Sex makes life, so why not?"

"And blowjobs?"

She shrugged, grinning, and actually blushed. I could see the blush. She had a lot more color than before.

"Thank you," she said again, "for talking. No one has ever talked before, and I think I needed it. It made me think. It made me stop hiding."

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know," she answered and didn't sound displeased about it. "I feel awake, though, and free and I think that's important. That means something."

"Like maybe now that you've realized you're dead, you can move on?"

Maria paused. "That hadn't occurred to me. Maybe. I hope so, this bridge has a nice view but it gets old after a while."

I tried for a laugh, but a smile was the best I could manage. Above us, a cloud brushed the edge of the moon and Maria dimmed for a moment. I glanced up at the sky and noticed that while it was black and dappled with stars to the east, it was grey and featureless to the west; a wall of clouds was moving in.

Maria stood up, looking at the clouds as well, so I followed suit. We both watched the grey shapes march across the sky, covering the stars one by one and drifting every closer to the moon.

"Storm coming," Maria noted.

"Yeah," I responded. Fifteen minutes, maybe. Then she would be gone.

Maria looked at me, an indecipherable expression on her face.

"What?" I asked.

"That means I don't have much time left."

"Left for what?"

Her expression broke into a sly smile. "To thank you properly."

"Tha..." I trailed off as it hit me what she was talking about. "Oh, hey, no, you don't need to do that."

She took a step towards me. "Have to? No. Want to? Absolutely."

"Maria..."

"I like pleasing people, didn't I tell you that?" She stepped close enough to me that I could feel her warmth against my skin again.

"I like making them happy," she went on, "and you've helped me more than I think either of us realizes yet. You might have saved my life. My dead life. I think that deserves a reward, and besides I've got a reputation to live up to. It wouldn't do for you to come all the way out to Blowjob Bridge to get your gears greased only to drive away disappointed."

"I'm not disappointed..." I started, not entirely sure why I was arguing as I felt her take my hands in hers.

"I know," she said from inches away, and I thought I felt breath on my face, "but I want to. Let me."

Then she slid down to her knees, hands still holding mine.

"Can I?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Do you want me to?"

"Very much."

Her fingers released mine, then, going to work on my jeans. I leaned back against the railing because my legs were suddenly shaking. Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit.

"Thank you, Clive," she said as the button came free and she started to tug at my zipper. "Thank you for stopping to talk. Thank you for making me think. Thank you for making me me again."

"You're welcome," I mumbled, watching her.

"And thank you," she said as she tugged my pants and briefs down.

"For letting me," she continued as my pants landed on the bridge and my dick was bared to the air, warmed by her presence instead of chilled like before.

"Suck your cock," she finished. Then she took me loosely in one hand and kissed me.

"Oh shit," I gasped.

She smiled and kissed me again, and again, then started to kiss her way down my shaft as I hardened against her lips.

"What should I do?" I asked as she started to kiss her way up the other side.

She made eye contact and smiled. "First time?"

I nodded.

She made a pleased noise. "You'll never forget your first time."

"I never would have forgotten you anyway."

"The time you got your flute," she licked me up, "played," she licked me down, "by a ghost?"

"Where do you get these?" I laughed.

"What, play your skin flute? Peel your banana? Bob for apples? Pray to the pink priest?"

"What the hell?" I asked, laughing more.

She kissed me on the head again. "I've been out here for twelve years. I've learned a few things." Lick. Smile. "Want to see what else I've learned?"

Oh shit. "Yes, please."

Then I was in her mouth again, just the tip, and then more, and then more, and then I was halfway buried between her lips while her hand held me gently.

I put my head back and groaned.

She went down until I felt myself bump the back of her throat, then she pulled back. Down, up, down, up, and I was lost in the sensations of her warm, wet mouth surrounding me. My heart was racing, my legs were tingling, and Maria was making little happy moans around my dick in her mouth.

Then I felt teeth.

"Ah, no, fuck!" I gasped and she pulled off with a laugh.

"Flesh eating ghost?" She joked.

"No, fuck! No don't do that!" I gasped.

She laughed again, then kissed me thoroughly and apologetically up one side and down the other. "I'm sorry." Kiss. "Let me make it up to you."

Then she was around me again, taking me in again as her tongue slid over my flesh..

"Oh shit, Maria..."

The happy noises returned, and her hand slid up to wrap around my shaft. She started to draw up, her hand following her lips all the way to the head, then took me deep again. She went slowly, gentle but constant, the way she had when we'd first met on the bridge and my eyes were closed. Then she slipped off me, still jerking slowly.

"Clive?" she asked.

"Uh-huh?"

"Look at me," she said, as if she'd been having the same thoughts. "See me."

So I did, and she was beautiful.

"I want you to watch me suck your cock. I want you to see my lips around you. I want you to see and hear how much I like having you there, and... I want you to remember me. And Clive?"

"Uh-huh?" Words are hard sometimes.

"Warn me, but I don't mind it in my hair. Although," she paused and winked, "I prefer it in my mouth."

I made noises. She laughed, licked her lips, and surrounded me again.

She bobbed her head up and down, up and down, slowly, with her hand trailing after and sliding over my saliva slick flesh. She continued her noises, soft, quiet moans of contentment. I put my hand on her head, ran my fingers through her now very brunette hair, and the noises became more approving so I kept going. Her hair was almost brown, now, in fact all of her still glowed but the colors had become richer and the paleness was almost gone. Her hair was brown, her skin pink, her blouse yellow and her jeans blue. Her fingernails were yellow, too, and her eyes...

Her blue eyes stared into mine, and my heart hammered even harder against my rib cage.

"Maria," I murmured.

"Mmhmm?" she answered.

"I'm not going to last long."

She slipped off and kissed me. "Then don't," she said. "I want you to feel good. I want to make you feel good. So do it. Don't last long. Let it go. Let it go for me." Then her warm, wet mouth was back on me and her eyes were locked to mine.

"Do it for me," she murmured around my dick, head bobbing, and suddenly she was sucking, actually sucking on my cock and it felt...

"Maria..." my toes tingled.

"Mmmhmm?" she asked, sucking, bobbing, eyes staring into mine.

"Oh shit, Maria..." my hips tensed.

"Mmm..." she moaned happily around me, pace never changing..

"Shit I'm gonna..."

My hands gripped tight against the railing and in her hair and...

"Oh shit!" Her mouth was small, suddenly, too small like she was sucking tight or I'd doubled in size or...

"FUCK!" I shouted out, hunching over the ghost of Maria McConnell as I erupted between her lips.