Page 6 of Ghost

4

Ghost

I’d never feared anything in my life, dying included. Yet, I stood in front of the door and dreaded pushing it open. According to the doctor, my means of accepting death was on the other side.

Filled with nervous apprehension, I pushed it open and peered inside.

An oil painting centered on the opposite wall captured my attention. It was a simple rendering – a lone cedar tree positioned at the base of a grassy hill. I wondered if the piece of artwork was chosen for a reason, or if someone simply selected it randomly. After a moment, I decided it was intentional.

The tree stood as a reminder that when my clock stopped ticking, I would be alone. Frustrated upon realizing the painting’s symbolism, I dropped my gaze to the floor and let out a silent sigh.

I chose the seat closest to me and sat down. A quick glance around the room revealed that it was decorated with various pieces of furniture, no differently than if it were a living room in a conventional home. Four complete strangers were seated across from me. Despite having never met, I knew we had one thing in common. We were either dying at an accelerated rate, or we’d somehow managed to cheat death.

Across the room to my right, two women who I guessed to be in their mid-sixties were sitting side by side in a loveseat, smiling and laughing quietly. Their resemblance caused me to wonder if they were twins. I studied them long enough that the one closest to me noticed. Our eyes locked. She smiled.

I forced a crooked grin.

In a rust-colored chair on the left side of the room, a man chewed his fingernails. His knee bounced up and down anxiously. His pale cheeks were gaunt. The width of his shoulders told me he was once much larger. Dressed in a powder blue suit and a white button-down shirt, he looked the part of an insurance salesman or a financial advisor. The cap he wore was in complete contrast to his outfit and didn’t completely conceal his bare scalp.

In the matching chair next to him, a beautiful young woman was seated. Her pale legs were crossed and the floral print dress she wore was wadded between her athletic thighs. On her feet was a worn pair of dingy white Converse sneakers.

Her attention danced around the room, pausing at each object of significance for just long enough to snap a mental picture. Her straight brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, coming to a stop just above her perky little tits.

Energy radiated from her like sunshine.

I studied her for a moment, wondering if the insurance company would deny my coverage if I got caught fucking one of the patients in the broom closet. In mere seconds, I was lost in a daydream about her pouty lips being wrapped around my stiff cock.

Halfway through an imaginary blowjob, the pain from my erection caused me to snap out of my dreamlike state. Aroused beyond comprehension – but fearing the elderly twins might notice the mile of dick that had risen to attention – I laid my hands in my lap and faked boredom.

I glanced in the sneaker-wearing beauty’s direction. Her eyes darted past me, and then quickly returned, meeting mine before I could look away. One side of her mouth sprouted upward.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

With her eyes still locked on mine, she draped her shoulder-length hair over her left ear. She playfully wagged her index finger toward the empty seat beside me and raised her eyebrows. I glanced to my side. Upon realizing I was seated in one half of a two-person loveseat, I looked at her and mentally objected.

Despite my desire to hike her dress over her hips and shove her full of dick, sitting next to a stranger would make an already awkward situation much worse.

Before I could blurt out my rejection, she rose from her seat. As she sauntered toward me, I filled with regret for failing to verbally oppose her offer to sit with me. I shifted my eyes to the elderly twins and wondered why I didn’t say something. Sarcastic one-liners were my specialty and being rude was second nature. When she sat down at my left side I was staring off in the distance and planning my departure.

“Hi, I’m Abby,” she said. “This must be your first meeting.”

I gazed out the far window, into the courtyard. After deciding I would simply tell her I preferred to be alone, I glanced over my left shoulder. The regret that had built within me for allowing her to sit down promptly vanished.

She had the most amazing eyes.

They weren’t one color. A combination of blues and grays and silver, all merged together as if they’d been painted by an extremely creative artist. The color seemed to change as I studied them. No matter where I looked, however, they provided reassurance.

A fog of innocence surrounded her. Normally, I would have wanted to pin her hands behind her back, bury her face deep into the cushions of the loveseat, and shove her full of three pounds of dick. Instead, I wanted to pin her against the wall and kiss her until she became putty in my arms.

I hadn’t made out with anyone since I was in high school but kissing her became the only thing that seemed to matter. The pressure on my brain was obviously creating far more problems than headaches. The tumor was reducing me to a hopeless romantic.

Hoping to disguise my desires, I pursed my lips and offered my hand. “Ghost. Porter,” I stammered. “Porter.”

She squinted. “Did you say Ghost Porter-Porter?”

“Ghost’s a nickname,” I said dismissively. “Call me Porter.”

She set her purse between us. “That’s a pretty awesome nickname.”