Page 37 of Ghost

The contact, albeit small, pushed me over the edge of the cliff.

Enough was enough. I was thirty-one years old, my days on earth were limited, and I was in the presence of the most attractive woman I’d ever seen. My arousal was natural. Whether I acted on my desires or not, there was no sense trying to hide it any longer.

“Look,” I said, lifting my forearm. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck you on that stupid chair. I’m not saying I want to do it, I’m just saying I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Her gaze dropped to my bulge. Upon seeing it, her eyes shot wide. “This is dumb,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

“Let’s screw.” She motioned toward the chair. “On that.”

“You said you needed to--”

“You’re wearing jeans and a wife beater,” she said. “This is torture. I can’t take it anymore. My nipples are so hard they ache. I’m so wet it’s uncomfortable. I’m attracted to you because I’m attracted to you. What am I trying to prove?”

“So, you’re okay with--”

She nodded. “I am.”

“You want to--”

She tugged against the hem of her shorts. “I do.”

“I don’t want to force you to--”

“Come here,” she said.

I shook my head. “I can’t stand up.”

She lifted the oversized leg of her shorts and nodded toward the opening she’d created. “Stick your hand in there.”

I wasn’t about to argue with her. With my eyes locked on hers, I slid my hand along the inside of her thigh, from her knee to her pussy.

She began to giggle like a teen.

“Sorry,” she said, her face blushing as she spoke. “It’s been a while.”

I smiled in return and continued. As the knuckle of my index finger bumped against her clit, she flinched and let out a moan. Her pussy was just as she said it would be. Soaking wet. It was also, much to my surprise, surrounded by hair.

I grabbed her shorts by the waistband and pulled them away from her stomach. With the curiosity of a cat, I peered inside. A two-inch long vertical strip of hair as wide as my index finger was just above her otherwise perfectly pretty little pussy.

“What the fuck is that?” I gasped.

Her eyes shot wide. “What?”

I nodded toward the trail of pubes. “That. It looks like a caterpillar is crawling out of your twat.”

“It’s a landing strip,” she said matter-of-factly. “They’re popular again.”

I took one last look for conversations sake, and then released the elastic waistband of her shorts. I had news for her. That shit was never popular in my eyes. It needed to be shaved off and shaved off quickly.

Before I puked.

I laughed until I vomited in my mouth. After swallowing a mouthful of pink wine and bile, I shook my head in disagreement. “You need to shave that shit off.” I chuckled. “Really.”

“They’re coming back. They really are,” she said with a laugh. “By the end of the year, everyone will have one.”

I burst into laughter, again. I couldn’t help it. When I finally caught my breath, I shook my head. “Everyone but you.”