The Spirit of Frankenstein

I smiled back, possibly reflecting her embarrassment, as she turned her head and blushed again. When she looked back, I nodded. Her gaze lingered for a few long moments; she was biting her bottom lip as if to pinch back that smile and shifting her glance from one of my eyes to the other. Then she chuckled quietly and leaned toward me again, kissing me long and hard, aggressively even, driving her tongue deep into my mouth. As we kissed, she settled her feet onto the floor and urged me backward. I conceded, not fighting her in the least, and a few seconds of travel left me with my back to the door leading into the kitchen.

When she pulled her lips away again, she took hold of the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My shirt gone, my hands quickly found new focuses, one gripping her left buttock while the other massaged her right breast, but not for long. She kissed me once more on the lips, only a peck, then pressed her lips against my cheek and began kissing her way from beneath my left ear to the base of my neck, then down past my shoulder and to my chest. My right hand lost its positioning as she lowered her body some, her buttocks slipping out of reach. I moved it to the small of her back, feeling the shape of the muscle beneath the skin there.

It retreated further up her back to between her shoulder blades as her knees found the floor. My left hand joined it as her breast fell out of reach as well. She kissed my stomach, paying special attention to my naval, as she worked my belt loose and undid my jeans. In the past, at this point, I would have been fully erect, ready for anything, but the past two years had left me without this sort of physical contact, and my body had lost some responsiveness to it.

As she brought my jeans and boxer-briefs down to my knees, my half-erect penis bobbed in front of her. She didn't seem to mind or even notice the difference, just took the base in her hand and licked her way up the shaft from underneath to the head. More blood rushed in, causing it to twitch in the air a few times in tune with my heartbeat. She watched it do this, then opened wide and took it into her mouth, taking it down to the base and sucking as she withdrew until her lips were wrapped around the head, then pressing forward again, moving straight into a moderate rhythm.

A few seconds of that and I was fully erect, almost ready to beg for attention should she cease for some reason. She didn't cease, nor did she really have time to. Within thirty seconds, I felt the sensations building inside me. I groaned, my hand finding the back of her head and pressing there, urging her to continue.

She worked more vigorously at it at first, and I could feel her eyes focused on me as I closed my own and rocked my head back. The sensations weren't much, nor were they particularly satisfying, but in thirty seconds, what else could I ask for? And after two years of missing it, I was pleased just to feel what were almost my wife's lips wrapped around me again.

"I'm gonna' come," I groaned, feeling her lips stop just below the head. She sucked lightly for a second, waiting, then I ejaculated, letting loose two years frustration and tension in a few quick and thick blasts of semen.

When she was certain I was finished, she turned her head and looked around, searching for a place to spit. I took in a few deep breaths, my body relaxing.

"Over there," I said, pointing. She found the small circular drainage vent I pointed to and leaned to one side, spitting onto the holed plastic cap that covered it.

"You must have really wanted that," she said, grinning up at me.

I smiled back, nodding. "Yeah. Can you...uh...keep going?"

She looked at me, surprised. I couldn't remember ever asking her to do that before, and I doubted she could either. She hesitated for only a second, then leaned forward and took my shrinking penis into her mouth again, sucking away, trying to persuade the blood to return. At first, I thought it would never work. The sensations were arousing, but my penis remained flaccid in her mouth for almost a minute before the first signs of regaining erection occurred. Then, as if my doubts had dared it to respond, it began to grow erect again, egged on by her soft, milking lips and warm, caressing tongue.

After realizing the change, she let it slip from her lips and smiled up at me, her warm breath striking my skin in a sudden rush as she exhaled.

"That doesn't happen everyday," she said, her voice thick, her grin genuine.

No, Gwen, I thought. It doesn't. I've got too many surprises for you today, I think.

She lowered her lips again and went back to work, keeping me at attention for a few moments longer before I stopped her again. I waved her to her feet, reaching out to her with one hand and pulling her lips to mine before she had gained her full balance. She kissed back, holding tight to my hips to keep herself steady.

I paced her backward, guiding her toward the air mattress, not the ideal place for lovemaking after so much time without her, but I felt certain that no matter how things went, I would remember them as perfect anyway.

We'd have time for more romantic encounters in the future. Now that we were together again, man and wife, till death do us part.

A shiver crept up my spine as the thought ran through my head. Till death? Only then?

Her heels found the mattress, and I pressed down on her shoulder with my right hand, my left still holding her lips to mine. She followed my lead, lowering herself onto her knees, me in tow. In a motion most lovers performed without thinking, she was on her back, and me on top of her, our bodies less than an inch apart as I supported my weight with my right hand and left elbow, still kissing her.

Her hands ran along my sides, slipping underneath to my stomach as they moved up and down along my ribcage. As I shifted my focus to her neck, pressing my lips tightly there and tasting her skin, I fought awkwardly to remove my pants the rest of the way, using one foot to press the jeans off the opposite leg. After a minute of struggling, my legs were bare and my feet free. By then, I'd moved even lower, my lips finding the skin above her breasts, moments later, between. Cupping one breast in each hand, I let my weight rest on one elbow, lips disconnecting with skin only long enough to let out and take in heavy, panting breaths.

Her right hand groped along my stomach, stretching toward my waist but unable to reach what the fingers wanted to grasp. Without thinking, I shifted my weight upward, returning my attention to her neck and feeling her fingers wrap around my penis and immediately begin to stroke. As though acting of their own accord, my hips began to move in pace with her fingers, pumping into her hand. I balanced my weight on my left arm, sliding my right hand down between her legs, testing her for moisture.

More than prepared. Normally, I would have taken the time to kiss my way down and tease her with my tongue, some cunnilingus play, but tonight, uncertain of whether or not my second erection would hold up after being gained so soon after the first, I let impatience get the better of me.

I drew my weight back, pulling my penis free of her hand, then took hold of it and pressed the head against her opening, sliding it up and down there. I watched as her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, then I pressed the head in and let the shaft follow, entering her entirely in one smooth motion. She held her breath as I penetrated, then exhaled as I reached the deepest part of her I was capable of and stopped, pausing for a second.

She opened her eyes, looking impatiently up at me.

I pulled my hips backward, then pressed forward again, doing so in slow, methodical, direct strokes at first, then gaining some speed and rotating my hips. Her impatience melted away, her eyes closed, lips curled into a temporarily satisfied smile. Her hands found my hips and moved in unison with them, ready to give me direction should she feel the want or need.

I spread my own legs further apart, lowering my base, then leaned back so I was perched on my knees between her legs, gripped her thighs just above the knees, and pressed them back toward her chest. She pulled her hands back, moving them around her legs so they weren't hindered, then spread her legs further apart, trying to keep my efforts from overly condensing her body. From where I was, I could see either breast just inside the inner curve of a thigh. I looked her in the eye for a moment, returning the pace of my thrusts, which had ceased during this quick position change, back to what it had been before. When they closed again, that smile returning full force, I let my eyes scan down her body, seeing her breasts rise and fall in slow but fairly heavy breaths. Even at that moment, the scientist inside was awake, paying close attention, taking mental notes; my attention was focused more between them and down the line of her stomach to her navel, where the incisions I'd made and sealed in order to replace the organs were barely visible lines, slightly lighter in color than the tone of her skin.

Her skin? I thought. It isn't her skin, not just yet.

I let go of the analytical for the moment, unable to shut it down but capable of pushing it to the back of my mind for the time being. I let my gaze slide lower still, taking note of the area where my wife would have possessed neatly trimmed pubic hair but this body part's previous owner shaved altogether. Not a second later, I was watching as I penetrated her, keeping pace with the movement of her hands, now bent behind me and pressing on my buttocks.

A couples minutes like this was enough to satiate the voyeur inside, and I looked back up to her face, seeing her watching me, smirking at her husband's simple fetish as she had so many times before. I smiled back, half-embarrassed after so long without that gaze fixed on me but somehow fully comfortable behind that feeling.

I glanced down again, watched a moment longer, then released my hold on her legs and let them ease away from her shoulders. I slowed my rhythm to a halt, then pulled her legs back toward me until one was to either side again.

Leaning over her again, I slid my arms under her and leaned back, pulling her weight with me until I was upright once more, with her straddling and facing me, chest to chest. She smiled, slightly surprised by the action, then wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed her legs tighter around me, holding herself in place. I slid my hands down beneath her buttocks, raising her weight a few inches.

She bowed her head some and kissed me, mouth wide open, tongue probing. My tongue met hers with equal aggression as I started to press upward, slowly grinding into her. When she drew her lips from mine, for only a second or two, she expelled a sudden gust of warm breath into my face, half-shuddering, then pressed her lips to mine again, moaning lightly as I ground upward.

I knew from past experience that that moan in particular meant she wanted more speed, faster strokes. I pressed slowly upward a few more times, then pulled my lips away from hers, not wanting our teeth to strike together, and pressed upward faster. She pulled herself closer, holding on tightly as I moved my hips steadily faster until her pants, in time with my thrusts, were two or three per second. I could feel her hips, fighting against my grip to return my thrusts.

Her eyes were closed by then, and her breaths expelled into my face with sudden force. Normally, she would try to avoid doing something like that, would turn her head to one side or raise her chin, but just then, her mind was elsewhere, exactly where I wanted it in fact. I could feel and hear as her breaths became shorter, heard them hitch at times, as though one breath out of every five was too thick to properly exhale and became caught in her throat. I lowered my head, kissing the nape of her neck as gently as I could and listening as the seconds passed and those hitches in her breath became more frequent and were joined by a whimper every other breath.

Her grip tightened around my neck as her efforts to meet my thrusts became more aggressive. She let out a sudden, loud moan, her chest and shoulders actually shaking as she did. I held her tighter, finding it difficult to keep her under enough control to maintain the pace and depth I'd managed until then. I decided then that control might not be the best idea anyway. Keep doing what I was doing, the best I could, let her dictate any changes, consciously or otherwise, and let things follow their course.

And I stuck to that, my neck being squeezed a little too tightly as she spat loud moans and whimpers into my ear, her body seeming to vibrate from within. Then fell silent and relaxed some for a moment or two before the shaking commenced into a second round and her moans returned louder this time, and met at one point by a sound similar to a growl.

When she relaxed a second time, she settled against me, breathing in long, heavy breaths, her head bowed to rest against my shoulder. I tried to continue to press up into her, inspired to pursue my own climax then, almost helpless not to.

"Wait," she said, her voice thick in her post-orgasmic state. "Just give me a second."

I conceded, but with an effort. We sat there for a half-minute or so, just holding onto each other while her breathing returned to normal. When she felt she had calmed enough to continue, she drew her head from my shoulder and looked down at me.

"Let me down on my back," she instructed, and I did so, lowering her weight in a manner similar to but opposite of how I'd initially picked her up. She drew her legs up again and reached behind me, instructing me with her hands to press forward again, as though we'd never changed positions at all.

I gave no argument, merely went back to it, the need to come yielding to nothing else at that time. I didn't watch my thrusts this time, but looked up at her, locking eyes with her and wondering what she was thinking. Did she have a clue that things were different? Was she considering how or why just then? Those were questions whose answers would have to wait. There would be an asking time, followed by an answering time, and soon. But not just yet.

She gripped my shoulders, pulling me closer, chest to chest, where she wrapped her arms around my neck, looking up at me, and wrapped her legs around my waist. I closed my eyes, my hips slapping hers now as I thrust into her as fast and hard as I could. Her hips rose to meet each thrust, egging me on.

I could feel it building inside me again, and I knew already that the second time wouldn't be enough any more than the first had been. My body was growing tense, and she wrapped her legs around me, seeming to sense the end was near, using the leverage it provided to meet my thrusts with more aggression.

I held tightly to her, hands gripping her shoulders from beneath as the feeling overtook me, and I heard myself groan loudly. A second later, I emptied into her, body shaking as I did, then began to slow down until I was still, hips pressed against the inside of her thighs. I trembled slightly, as if I had last eaten days ago instead of hours, if it had even been that long.

I settled my weight against her, taking in deep breaths as my body calmed. I could feel her fingers running through my hair, front to back in that familiar manner. I could feel her legs loosen their grip and settle down on the air mattress to either side of me.

We lay there together, my heart gradually returning to the pace it normally held, which might have been either too fast or slow for all I knew; I hadn't seen a doctor since I'd started my research. Priorities, right? After a few minutes, I pulled back, removing my flaccid penis from her and looking down into her eyes. Blue eyes that would soon be just like Halle's again. Guilt hit me then, sudden but strong, like it had when I'd seen the kids had waited for me to return before eating dinner. But why? Hadn't I done this for them, too? Brought their mother back to them? Our family back to them?

She smiled, a questioning smile, and I shook my head, smiling back, and leaned down and kissed her, gently this time. Then I moved from between her legs and lay down next to her, reaching one arm around her and pulling her closer. In that moment, it felt as if she'd never gone, like this was the day after the accident for me as well.

I closed my eyes, took in deep breaths and felt myself begin to doze off already. Sleep, I thought, would be sweet as well, now that our time apart was behind me.

She muttered something, but I couldn't make out the words. Her low volume mixed with my half-awake state made recognizing the words impossible.

"Hmmm?" I requested, less a word than a sound.

She didn't respond right away, but instead sat up. I lay there, vaguely aware of her moving next to me. At one point, I could feel cloth swipe against my skin, and deciphered that she was putting my shirt on. Then she spoke again, and this time, the words were clear, though clearly she was thinking out loud. My heart pounded once in my chest, then stopped.

"Sometimes you don't know what you've got till it's gone," she said, her voice distant.

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding as it started up again. I was looking at her, trying to decide what she might be thinking, but doing so in vain. She turned her head when I sat up, her confused eyes meeting my nervous and scared ones.

"What did that mean? Gone?" She asked.

I didn't have the words, or know where to begin. But it was time. Her interest had already been sparked, and she needed to know eventually. Better to get things over with, while she sees the oddities of the situation and hasn't made excuses for them yet. Those excuses would become more and more rational, too rational after a while for her to deny them when faced with the truth, especially given the far-fetched nature of this truth.

"Honey, um..." I began. I glanced around at the various pieces of equipment and chemical vials that lay around the garage.

Her eyes followed mine, shifting among the items carefully, her brow wrinkling more and more as she did.

A moment later, our eyes met again, hers even more confused now. I had seen this coming, but hadn't been sure how to deal with it. Her last memories would have been two years old, but seemed like yesterday. She'd already said that word, "yesterday," referring to the morning before the accident. In her eyes, just yesterday this garage had been empty compared to the clutter of things it contained now. It had been a regular garage, not a laboratory. The various vials and bottles that were covering the workbench had replaced a few household tools, screwdrivers and hammers and nails, measuring tapes. The shelves that lined the wall opposite the garage door had held books on home repair and carpentry, books I seldom even opened leaning up against one another because the shelves were half empty. Now those shelves were stuffed full of textbooks on biology and chemistry, manuals specializing in DNA alone, not to mention my personal notebooks, filled with handwritten notes as I'd worked out what I needed to do to every detail. I'd worked hard, and fast. What should have taken me five years or more was finished in two and crammed sloppily onto those shelves. And where the heating bed sat, where she'd awakened a short time ago from what some might believe a holy slumber, is where the red Dodge Durango would be parked, freshly washed and waxed, shining beneath the overhead light. On the other side of the garage door, the black Ford Taurus coupe sat, desperately in need of rain to rinse the crust of dirt and dust that had settled over it and clung to its paint.

Where the metal cabinet filled with raincoats and galoshes had once sat, now we sat, both on an air mattress, looking at one another. Her brow was furrowed above confused eyes wanting an explanation. It had taken two years for these things to change, but in her mind they had changed overnight. Everything had changed, and in certain places, cobwebs and dust had even settled.