Wednesday. It hasn't even been a week since that fateful Friday, when Henry had decided his life was no longer worth living. Then Grace walked over to his truck and simply said, "Hey, Henry."
Now look at us. Grace moved in, sleeping in my bed. Fucking me at least twice a day, and hinting that four would be optimum. I'm content. Depression? What's that? Our CEO is confessing feelings for her. My wife Doreen, possibly soon waking from her coma.
Henry was going to get up and make some early coffee, when he felt the bed shake a little as Grace stirred. Her arm reached for him, and he smiled as he felt her hand move lower and pet his cock. He thought,
fuck coffee. This is better.
"Henry, I've been thinking about Doreen."
"So have I, honey. Is yours good or bad?"
"Mostly good. You see, I've been reading about comas. Especially the long-term ones. Have you?"
"Not lately. I did a lot of reading to begin with. But I realized that reading about them, well, just wasn't doing me any good. So what have you read?"
"Sometimes when a coma victim wakes, their short-term memory has been erased. Not that big a deal, really. Other times the long-term memory has parts missing."
"Yeah. So?"
"You and I have been having some wonderful sex. You've hinted to me about the things that Doreen wouldn't do. What if she forgot about that? You two could, sort of, start over with your sex habits. And then I thought, even if she doesn't forget any of it, some gentle prodding on your part might simply be all that she needed."
"You're thinking forward, then, to a time when you are gone and all I have is Doreen to fuck? Correct?"
"I won't leave you if you need me, big guy. But since you put it like that, I guess that's what I've been thinking. You've been telling me you think I'm magic. I don't know, maybe I am. You're not the only one who's said something like that. Mr. Cameron, Terry, Mr. Nakamoto, all sort of hinted at that. I think Douglas will be next."
"You're leading up to something. I can't quite get it yet. Come on, Gracie, tell me straight out what it is you want."
She took a deep breath. "Friday, when you go to visit Doreen again, I want to go with you. I want to be in the same room with her. Breathe the same air. Think some healing thoughts. Talk about all the fun ways to fuck each other. I want my thoughts to become her thoughts. And with you there, we could talk about some of those things out loud. For her ears to hear. I want to flood her senses. Play her favorite music, smell her favorite cologne, talk about your wishes as well as hers. What have we got to lose?"
Henry was stunned. He could picture it. Being there, machines keeping Doreen alive while they spoke of love, sex, pleasure, and fun.
"Sure, we can do that. Have you done anything remotely similar to this?"
"Only in my dreams. And if I can dream it, maybe we can do it, too. Remember, I told you and Mr. Cameron about my dreams of Al, and the very next day I found him! Coincidence? I think not. Plus, it's something to look forward to doing, at the hospital, instead of just sitting there, with hope draining away. I know it's hard to talk to someone who doesn't talk back. So if we talk about these things to each other, as if she's an active participant, where she can hear, who knows?"
Henry agreed. "If we told the hospital staff what we had in mind, they would say we're crazy. But I'm game. It's better than anything anyone else has suggested. I'm in."
Grace hugged him, kissing him, so happy! It did seem crazy when she first thought of it. She was simply trying to go to sleep, to stop thinking about yesterday's terrible ordeal with Stephen. Thinking about what she could do for Henry. He had helped her so much. She hoped, now that she found Al, Doug, whatever he called himself, that Henry would not need her for much longer. In that case she wanted to leave him full of anticipation, and happier than she had found him. Sex could do it!
Henry's hands were busy. Fully awake now, feeling her warm body, running his hands over those special parts of her, sleep was now the last thing on his mind. He kissed her, and surprised himself by thinking she was Doreen. The lovely young Doreen, his bride, and the desire he had for her ten years ago when they first married. It was her hand that was stroking him now, and her mouth that kissed and licked his straining cock.
"Oh, Doreen, how I've missed you," he cried. Grace smiled and continued, thinking only of Henry as she tried once more to fit him down her throat. Another half inch farther down, but then no more. It didn't matter. He came in bursts, exclaiming words of love, wondering how she could swallow his gift, believing in magic.
He could hardly wait for Friday, he thought, as he drifted back to sleep for another hour.
- - - - - -
Awake and now up, Henry had made bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast for breakfast. It was something Doreen would have done.
"Gracie, are you sure you're feeling good enough to go to work? You could stay home. They would understand."
"I'm okay. I want to go. If I stayed here I would dwell too much on yesterday. I know it won't be the same, but going to work will be comforting. It's a normalcy I need right now."
Henry gave up, not all that disappointed. He felt wonderful. He attributed it to that early morning blow job that Grace bestowed upon him. Grace knew it was much more than that.
He called me Doreen! That's a sign, if ever I saw one.
Her car was still in his driveway. They drove to work in Henry's truck. She carried her phone, and walked with pride to Building 10, wearing her newest short short skirt and see-through top.
Posture, Grace,
she reminded herself.
I was told wear this. I can tease whoever I want.
She waved goodbye to Henry and walked into the building.
