She has a grave in her backyard that she dug herself, and she's decorated it with little shells and a garland and polished stones and pictures so that when she dies she'll have something to look at.
She has glasses that see through skin.
She lives next door, in the house with the high bushes in the yard. I'd never seen her. Then I was upstairs in my room one day and I saw her through the bushes, naked except for the glasses. She looked young but who knows how old she really is. Her hair was black and blond and gray all at once.
The next day, I went out into my backyard and she reached through the bushes, pulled me into her yard, disintegrated my clothes, cupped my balls in her hand and pumped them to twice their size. She pushed me down into the grave, lay with me naked in the wet dirt. I swear I felt things crawl inside her when we were doing it — worms or maggots or crabs or something; I could feel the tickle of tiny insect arms and antennae on my dick. Her vagina had tongues inside. When I came, her stomach lit up like she'd eaten a headlight; the light shot out of her and into the evening sky, and she was lifted from the grave and floated above me, slowly turning in the air.
She says she wants me because I have the right "charge" — whatever that means — and because nineteen is a good age. Every time now it's the same — she pulls me down into the grave and when I push inside her my head is filled with fluorescents and my dick grows into a two-by-four. She sits on it, and is held high off my body, swinging like a girl on a seesaw.
I know she steals something from me when I come; her hair frizzes on her head and her nipples point towards the sky, but me, I sink deeper and deeper into the dirt.
***
They found Alice, one of the three or four women I was seeing at the time, dead in her apartment. Apparently she hung herself. She didn't leave a note, but the next day I got one in the mail, sent to me just a few minutes before her death. It went on about how she couldn't take sharing me with other women, why couldn't I just have devoted myself to her, I was the love of her life, blah blah blah.
The day after that, I came home to my apartment after work and Alice was there.
I walked into the kitchen and the knife drawer sprang open, spilling its contents onto the linoleum. I sprinted towards the bedroom. Furniture in every room was moving. Doors slammed open and shut.
I knew it was Alice — somehow alive and invisible — when she grabbed me at the door of the bedroom. I could feel her five fingers on each shoulder, her small hands gripping me. She whispered hello in my ear, then threw me back against the bedroom door. It swung open and I hit my head on the bed.
She held me down on the floor. I felt my pants unzip. Then she grabbed my dick and stuck me inside her. It was so hot inside, it hurt. I came right away. The come shot into the air and disappeared. Then she let me go and vanished. I called for her but she wasn't there.
Every night now it's the same. She comes back, pins me down, fucks me. She stretches my body, holds me against the wall, suspends me in the air, makes me hurt. Then I come and she disappears.
Sex is so much better with the dead. Whatever we can do here, however good we can make it feel, it's only the beginning — it gets so good on the other side you can't even imagine.
***
I said, Take off your mask, but she wouldn't. She said, It's like this or not at all. Like this, I said.
This was Joe's mom. She and I had gone out into the woods behind Joe's house during their Halloween party. Joe was busy upstairs with his girlfriend and Joe's dad was probably pretty drunk — the same as every other night. At one point Joe's mom came out onto the porch where I was sitting with my drink. She grabbed my hand and led me into the woods. I was dressed as a California Raisin that year, and she had on her rubber Richard Nixon mask and a man's suit.
She knew where to take me — deep into the woods in a nest of leaves. We fell to the ground and she held down my hands and straddled me. She unbuttoned her white shirt and unhooked her front bra clasp and hovered over me so I could lick her tits. She opened up her suit pants and slid my hand down into them, under her panties, and I stuck my finger in.
She slid her pants down, pulled down my black tights but left on my boxers and the trash bag I was wearing. She pulled my dick out of my boxers and sat on it.
I said, Take off your mask but she wouldn't. She said, It's like this or not at all.
She came almost right away, and then two more times. Every time she did she leaned back and screamed and squeezed my thighs with her hands. Come, she said. I want you to come now.
But I had trouble. I really had trouble because of that mask. Finally she said, Here, and turned over, and I pushed in from the back, and she moaned and grunted. Okay, she said, taking deep breaths, Now come into me. And she rested her head against the crackling leaves and braced herself. I could do it that way because I didn't have to see the mask. There was something about it — the hair combed back, the cheeks rubber and wide, the big floppy ears on the sides. It made me feel strange about the whole thing.
