LINDA

When I awoke the next morning, he was gone. Like the wind. He didn't ask for anything. I awoke with a pounding ache in my pussy. I smiled softly, spreading my legs widely for some fresh air. It was the best fuck of my entire existence. I managed to get dressed, sorted all my bills with the receptionist, and set off for my home.

When I arrived home, I prepared a sitz bath. The soreness I felt was too overwhelming to let me breathe. Random flashbacks came with my pussy throbbing, drooling pussy juice leaving trails on my panties. I moaned to the memory of how his  innocence vanished and I was at his mercy. I sucked on my fingers softly, replaying the mental picture. I was excited and looking forward to seeing him at work on Monday.

*******

Monday came early as I had wished. And I hurried to work, taking rehearsals in front of a mirror on how to remain casual and non-confrontational like a teenager, despite the fact that that young man had me on my knees begging.

I arrived at the office, eyes searching for him at every corner. He wasn't anywhere. I waited several hours, peeking through my glass partition often for his now-familiar silhouette, but he never came.

Monday rolled into Tuesday and then Wednesday till Friday. He never showed up. Today was Friday and it didn't feel any less hurtful. My heart felt empty. No one at work seemed to know anything about him. I searched through his temporary employment file, taking out his phone number. At the first dial, it went straight to voicemail.

Thoughts came flooding my head like a natural disaster. Did he dump me after a one-night stand? Or was he just playing hard to get? I kept questioning myself. Eventually I tried to stop worrying. I failed. I still did..

I visited the club, hoping to see him again. My favorite stripper bucking his hips at me like he always did. But I was unmoved. I had fallen in love with my young intern. I even promised that he owned me-a pledge I am not proud of. But then he had disappeared without a trace.

******

Today was Tuesday and I recalled I had to attend my auntie's funeral. Our family had made all the arrangements for it. But I barely remembered, having my head lost in my dilemma. My clothes lay smoothly on my bed: a black dress, above-knee length, with stone patterns. Black stiletto heels to match.

A black fascinator with transparent eye covering and a frantic bow tie behind it. A coffee brown colored channel bag. Jewelry to match. I pulled out of my house; my driver pulled the SUV right in front to pick me up. We rode in total silence toward the funeral hall.

The hall was crowded; wailing and screaming echoed all around. It was a multi-funeral hall with over three funerals being held within the same venue. I hated funerals; they gave me the creeps. I just needed to show my face and disappear afterward. A pile of work awaited me.

Suddenly a sudden shiver ran through my spine. Strange.. My teeth gnashed with the cold. I wrapped my hands around myself, searching for a crowd of people. It was unusual. I wasn't superstitious, but I would have believed some ghost had walked past me or stood behind me.

Then I saw it. My hands shivered violently, teeth gnashing with a jamming sound. Behind me was a funeral poster of a young man from another funeral service-young and vibrant. It was Lucas. The banner said he had died two months back. We had met just two weeks ago. My life began to flash before my eyes.

My channel bag dropped off my hands, hitting the floor with a loud thud that drew all attention to me.

I froze. He was dead? I fucked a ghost? I yanked the fascinator off my face. My breath labored. "Ahhhhh!" I screamed, holding my hands against my temples. All eyes dashed toward me with pity and sadness Other voices raised in tears like I had triggered their pain.

"Is that Linda?" someone called out. It was my mom, running up to me. Concern splattered all over her face. "Are you okay, baby?" she said, flicking her fingers to a group of other men to help me into an armchair specifically for grieving family members.

 I remembered his changes, his different attitude and aura, how he disappeared from the room the next morning. It all made more sense now.

 Then. I saw him right before my eyes, walking toward me. All dressed in black, his towering height and body still intact. I froze. My eyes fixed on him as he moved closer.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, shaking my shoulder with a smile. Tears gathered at the edge of my eyes, falling uncontrollably. I was seeing a ghost again. "It's me, Lucas," he said, wiping his hands over my face. His voice calm and collected amidst my mother and family members' panicking screams. "You're dead, Lucas."

I said, my words slurred, eyes weak and shutting. "Look at me, ma'am," he said with a soft slap across my face, pulling me out of my syncope. "I'm not dead. That man over there," he said, pointing at the banner, "it's my twin. He died in a fire explosion months ago. The name says Diego." I looked back at it. The name boldly read "Diego Martin." Tears rolled down my cheeks.