Mental Shrillness

"Dead Warmed Over"

Six hours later, with dawn rising like temperature in a fever-ridden thermometer, Jackie was still dead.

Ben's wife, his beloved, Jackie.

Jackie for rides on hot summer days and cold, snowy nights. Jackie in the park swinging next each other. Jackie at the bowling alley, laughing and crying on those lousy 7-10 splits. Jackie when the day was dim making it bright. Oh, Jackie.

Jackie in the bedroom always so hot, inviting, sweet; the hotel in Heaven. Jackie extending her long open arms, her sensuous fingernails clipped perfectly. "Come to bed, Ben. Take me, please." Ben obediently followed. He licked her tears clean, massaged her sore spots. Jackie made the world not better, but best.

But Jackie wanted more from their sex life.

Jackie wanted experimentation. She wanted the toys. The games. The hot porn movies. The things that made Ben quiver with delight. Jackie loved the computer and finding couples on-line. Yes, Jackie loved them all. The private one-on-ones, the hot phone sex, you name it, and Jackie would indulge. A man's ultimate fantasy.

But Jackie's flesh reeked now.

Grew colder.

Ben shed a tear as he ran her favorite bath. He soaped her paling flesh. He washed her long, blonde hair, lathering jussssst right. That's how she said it, "jussssst right, Ben. Love the feel of your hands through my hair." And Ben's face was wet, droplets skidding from his brown eyes.

Ben had tried everything to revive her: CPR, ice bath, thumping her chest. He'd done everything but 911. Couldn't do that. They'd take her away. Then him. He'd never see her again. They'd race him to trial, convict him of murder, not accidental death.

Just having sex! How could Jackie know the suffocation thing would become too wild. Ben knew the plastic bag was taking things beyond pleasurable and into danger. He should have put a stop to the sex games. But he loved it. He loved Jackie. He loved every breath she blew, every wink she gave, every dream she dreamt. Jackie and he were fused at the inception of their relationship. Nothing, and nobody would wrench them apart.

Jackie needed body heat.

Ben turned up the bath as hot as the tap would go. Her flesh took on a yellowy-white tint and her body had begun to stiffen. "Jackie, don't go." Ben whispered, and kissed her firm, cold lips. "Please don't leave me this way."

The water steamed the bathroom windows and beads of sweat coursed down his forehead to race against his tears. "You just need a little more heat, Jackie." He went to the kitchen and filled up saucepan of water and boiled it. If he raised the temperature of Jackie's body just enough then maybe...maybe she would tell him what to do. Jackie always knew what to do, where to go, who to see, when to go. Always, he followed.

The water bubbled and steamed and he could faintly smell Jackie's spaghetti. It was jusssst right. Tasted so good. The meaty, garlic aroma. He longed for it almost as much as her hands stirring and her smile, oh, JACKIE. He kept going back and forth from the kitchen. Filling the tub and draining. Raising the temperature on Jackie's cool body. He could warm her up. As he poured the boiling water over her, the flesh on her skin reddened and sizzled softly. Warming up!

Back. Forth. Hotter. Backforthhotterbackforthhotter--

(Read the twist ending conclusion of this story and five other horror short stories in Mental Shrillness)