Life of an Actuary

Diane walked home from the grocery store, with her usual bag of Friday evening groceries: celery, three apples, a box of low-fat triscuits and some microwaveable entrees. She had an addition purchase, a pound cake that had been in the day old bin. Diane was rather regular in her shopping and eating habits, but she thought for half off, she could afford a pound cake. And the calories wouldn't hurt, for a woman of her age, she was certainly in shape. She had a three day weekend, as she always did. She was a semi-retired actuary, living modestly but comfortable on her savings and on her part time job in the accounting department of a local university.

Diane was a fairly innocuous woman. She was five foot six, of medium build, and with a hair color that might have once been a strawberry blond, but now was light brunette with flecks of grey that she didn't try very hard to conceal. Her attire was businesslike, but neither severe nor expensive. Even in college, when she had been pretty, and secretly gathered men's admiration, she had not drawn attention to herself. Now, she was past the age of flirtation. She was not yet to the age where she would be a sweet old lady. The checker at the super-market would probably recognize her, and even be able to remember what she purchased. Her co-workers thought she was a good actuary, and a nice, if quiet woman. Occasionally, in slow gossip weeks, some might quietly wonder whether she was single, or divorced, or a lesbian. But the topic was forgotten almost as soon as it came up.

Diane opened the front door of her house, an action that was only noticed by her two cats, Becca and Zophos. One of the few things that Diane's acquaintances had noticed about her was that her house was much nicer than they would have guessed. Not that it was more luxurious than she could afford: accountants are smart enough to even avoid the appearance of impropriety. But given Diane's plain, worklike appearance, the artistry with which her house was decorated came as a surprise. The inside was covered with wood paneling that made the house look much older than its recent suburban construction would suggest. On the walls were many tapestries and mosaics displaying scenes that were strangely abstract and yet seemed to bring images to the viewer's mind. Not, of course, that any of this was that far out of the ordinary. Collecting objects of art was, after all, what many single professionals did with their otherwise unused income. Diane herself glanced at her home, enjoying the art she had slowly put into it over the years. Some weekends, she would spend more time on the art. This weekend, however, she had other plans. She smiled to herself as she fed the cats, and then slowly changed from her work outfit to a simple, yet elegant silk robe.

Her backyard would have been even more of a surprise than her house. It was not much larger than an average lot in the neighborhood, yet something about the way it was landscaped made it seem like an entire world of its own. The trees and shrubs were layered in such a way that the paths between them seemed to lead off into the distance. The terraces that were cut into it seemed to turn the gentle slope of the back yard into a canyon leading off into another world. The little creek that ran through the neighborhood, little more than a drainage ditch, seemed to turn into a river whispering softly of wilder places. And, it might be the tropical plants (that local gardeners would be hard put to guess at the names of), but the backyard seemed warmer in some way, as if stepping out the back door had been a move from the temperate climate of mid-latitude America to some more tropical place.

Diane smiled to herself. She had done well here. She drank in the smells of the plants in the night, and felt the wind slowly roll over her, moving the silk against her body. Her mind moved away from her normal life, and entered even further into realms that would be unexpected of her. She walked slowly down to the water, seeing her way in the moonlight. An observer, if they saw her, would think her medium complexion had lightened, but perhaps that could be a trick of the moonlight. Her hair showed hints of going the other way, becoming more raven as her skin lightened.

She had dug a pool in the creek. She sat down on a stone bench next to the pool, letting just her bare toes touch the water. The moment they touched, she shuddered, and an air came over her that would have finally made her unrecognizable to the outside world. She had a gleam in her eye as her mind wandered. Wandered over events...of dancing with a man on the edge of the Grand Canyon, of hours spent dreamily intertwined with a lover on Caribbean beaches, of furtive hands traveling under her fancy clothing in the back alleys of Shanghai, and of ruining a fancy dress by falling, rolling with a woman, into Gardiner's Creek in Melbourne, Australia. These were just some of the memories that crossed through her mind. There were many others. Anyone catching a glimpse into her mind would have to guess which were true, and which were merely wishes. Perhaps she didn't even know. A smile crossed her face, and her cheeks blushed red against the rapid whitening of her flesh. Her eyes became heavily lidded, and her iris became dark, almost turning as black as her pupils. She stood up, threw her robe off and plunged into the water, which was now much deeper than it should have been. She fell down into it, until she was floating what seemed to be fathoms deep. And the water, which should have been so cold, was now warm, and seemed to move against her as if it was animate. She felt it is a pressure against her body, against her breasts, against her stomach, pulling at her hair, moving up and down her calves and thighs, and of course pulsating between her legs. The intensity became much greater, until she had her first climax of the night, screaming deep inside the water. The water rushed into her lungs, but it did her no damage. She came up, weak and shivering, holding herself against the grass.

Anyone who would have seen her would have been astonished, because her body was changed: her skin was now bright white, without pigment, looking and perhaps feeling like marble. She was also taller, almost too tall for a human woman. Her body had become slender though, and flexible. She was somewhat alien looking, but still with the features that would bring men, or women to lust. Her breasts were shapely and smooth, tipped with nipples the color and hardness of ebony. In between her legs, her bright red labia set off a contrast with the whiteness of her skin. As she lay panting on the ground, one of the exotic plants next to her stirred. What started as the swaying of a plant in the breeze became the purposeful movement of an animate object, as a tentacle lengthened and grew down towards her. It kissed her on her parted, panting lips, and moved down to test its folious fangs against the hardness of her nipples.

The harshness with which it bit her brought her eyes open briefly, and the gentle sap it extruded back made her close them, to again breathe peacefully. It trailed down her body, eliciting a further spreading of her legs. Finally, the tendril found what it was looking for, her blood red center, and moved in, its firm botanical pressure forcing apart her marble like hardness. Once it entered her, it grew as a plant does, sending out thousands of tiny tap roots , growing out from her vagina to lovingly caress her capillaries and nerves. In her dreams, she felt and thought of a union, and of an ecstasy, that many would think impossible. The waves of pleasure came from all over her body, as she imagined herself a rock being broken apart, a cloud being drinken, and sunlight being captured by this plant, over the long years that plants count their pleasure. But in only a few minutes, the plant stiffened and burst in her, leaving a thick trail of sap inside of her, and flowing down in honey drops over her perfect white thighs.

Diane, if that is still who she was, woke to feel the starlight caressing her face. She could feel the sweet sap between her legs. She knew what she could do, in her long, strong body...she slowly bent over, serpentlike, kissing her own breasts, her own belly, and finally ending between her legs, her ruby red lips caressing her blood infused labia, and savoring the taste of the honey sweet sap. She staggered to her feet, and fell once more into her hot pool, the hard, hot water rushing over her body, making her ever stronger, ever harder, and yet still making her feel soft and feminine, like a sprig of willow adrift on a rushing current. It was a long, lovely night in the warm, warm water.

Diane woke the next day, in her bed in the house. She looked up to see her old analog clock, saying it was just past 10 PM. She had overslept! She had important studying to do. She would make herself a nice breakfast of celery with peanut butter, and triscuits and cream cheese, and then sit down to review some of the recent advancements in Actuarial science. She had to get her work done, after all, she had plans for the night, she thought, as she looked over at the baby spider plant next to her clock.