We gathered up our things and ran upstairs. No kidding. We held hands and ran. She got a call when we made it to the kitchen.
"Wait," she said, pulling her phone out of her shoe and taking a look. "It's Mom." She looked up at me, and there was a beat.
"Go ahead," I said.
"Hey, Mom!" They spoke for just a few seconds, and there were several yeahs and okays before, irritated, she said, "Alright!" She hung up.
I looked at her expectantly.
"She wanted to know if I was still here and that everything was okay."
I nodded.
"She says I can go home now, but only if I go now."
I nodded.
"Do you want me to go?" she asked.
I shook my head. She jumped into my arms and we kissed. I held her ass and she wrapped her legs around me. Our tongues met and mingled.
She broke the kiss, saying, "I'm starving. Let's eat."
She fixed a few sandwiches with chips. I poured her a drink and recharged mine. We drank and ate and kind of half watched the weather reporting. She was getting pretty lit.
We saw footage of an area just a few miles north if us where the tornado touched down. One of the reporters was interviewing a woman who was looking for her sister. "I just hope she's okay. I love her," the woman said.
Initially pretty chatty, Dena grew somber after watching this.
After several minutes of silence, she muttered, "I shouldn't have done what I did."
"You mean in the shelter?" I asked.
She nodded. "Do you hate me now?"
"No, Dena, of course not."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I offered.
"She saw me."
"What?"
Dena muttered, "She's looking down on us."
My dead wife? Oh, boy. I thought fast. "She loved to see us comfort each other, Dena."
Dena started crying. Shit.
"I miss her so much," she said, and then she looked at me, catching herself, "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
Still searching for some way to calm her, I said, "Dena, I may be sad that she's gone, but I love that we can think about her and remember her." Geez, I thought, I sounded like some soap opera therapist.
She sobbed, "I'm so fucking stupid. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's fine."
She kept crying, but the second wave of the storm hit hard. It was the wind that struck first, and it shook the house. Something smashed against the siding, and Dena gasped.
Power lines failed. We were in complete darkness again. A few seconds later, the sirens began.
"Here we go again, " I said
Dena groaned, sniffling.
"Come on," I said. I took her hand and led her downstairs, back to the shelter. The house continued to buffet and creek against the racing wind when we first heard the downpour. A few seconds after the deluge commenced, the first crack of thunder rumbled through the house.
Back in the shelter room, I found the flashlight and flicked it on. I put it on the floor pointing up at the ceiling to give the entire room some illumination. Then, I turned on the battery-operated radio, and the station had a live feed of one of the local news channels. I left it on at a low volume.
The strikes of lightning hit with increasing frequency, and I couldn't remember a more intense thunderstorm. Dena laid on her side on the mattress; I curled into her from behind and draped the blanket over the both of us. I put my hand on her hip. She grasped it and brought it down to her belly, just under her breasts.
Her sniffling and weeping gradually vanished. I pulled her tight against me, and nuzzled into her hair.
She whispered, "It feels so good being held. Thank you."
I didn't say a thing, but I gave her a light peck on the back of her neck. I felt a new erection grow against Dena's big, perfect ass.
Each big thunder strike made Dena flinch, squeezing our bodies together. My penis quickly became completely hard, but had grown at an uncomfortable angle. I reached into my pants and repositioned myself, but it didn't help with my pants on.
I sat up, and Dena whispered, "Stay."
"Dena," I started, "I want you."