Body Parts

by Adrianna Dane

  It wasn’t until much later that I realized what it had truly accomplished. I should have told Cornelius, but I don’t think he would have believed me. Athan has not aged one day from that moment, nor has he at any time taken ill with the usual mortal diseases. Any injuries sustained heal at an amazingly rapid rate. My elixir was true.

  Sadly, I have been unable to duplicate it. And thus lies the crux of the problem. Cornelius seeks to create a perfect mate for Athan. But without the elixir of life, I fear that we cannot accomplish what he would wish to do. Each attempt has met with tragedy and if it continues, there will be questions from the outside world. The existence of the graveyard on the hill at the back of the estate, and those who lie there, makes me shudder every time I think of it. There are more spirits that remain with us than I care to consider. At night there are times when I seem to hear their cries of anguish. The price of our success remains heavy.

  This is why I have come again to my laboratory ‑‑ to attempt to combine what I should not. All in an effort to halt more experimentation. By altering Athan’s pheromones and drawing the right eligible woman to him, perhaps, at least for a time, Cornelius will stop attempting to create the perfect mate.

  Is this how Frankenstein’s monster was created? Because the doctor refused to see the truth, to stop his experiments before it was too late? Will the spirits of those we used in the end come back to destroy us as retribution for our experiments in God play?

  If I think too long on these unhappy thoughts I will make myself insane.

  In creating the secret to immortality one time in my life, I have surpassed what I would have expected to achieve in this world. It is too much to expect that the conditions would be repeated and that such a miraculous elixir could be duplicated. Like Athan, it is one of a kind, obviously created for one special purpose ‑‑ one special man.

  On that one night I felt the harmony of the earth; the vibrations were in sync with my own, and with the elements I combined in that mystical darkness, a full, yellow moon high in the spring night sky, and the elements of new life forming beneath the moist earth, our vision was given life. No night has ever been more perfect than that. And when I looked at the flask and saw golden sunlight gleaming back, the excitement that bled through me most assuredly would equal and surpass the heights of sexual orgasm. It was the culmination of my life’s work.

  Yet I could not share my secret, not even with my husband. He’d always had difficulty in understanding my science ‑‑ the science of the elements of the earth.

  It was this magical element that had given Athan his immortality and his soul ‑‑ I am certain of it. I went back to my lab, to my instruments, to the elements of the earth, to find a way to draw a perfect woman to his side.

  This was a difficult task for me because I wasn’t certain I wanted to be usurped in his affections. And it was quite possible that would occur.

  I am no longer a young woman, and this comes difficult to me. She will become a part of our unusual household, but will she understand? Or will feminine jealousy destroy what we have already attained? Am I overly protective of our creation?

  I do not wish to see Athan hurt and maybe that is my flaw. I try to hide my concern from Athan and from my husband. How can a man understand the workings of a woman’s mind, of her emotions? Cornelius’s concern is about the science, the awe of life created by combining and infusing immortality through his science.

  My awe rests in the beauty of life, in the expression of life force through intimacy and connections, through the primal vibrations of the earth. I cannot begin to express my pleasure in watching Athan tonight and enjoying the touch of my husband as we observed from this very window.

  Cornelius has a way of holding a part of himself from me ‑‑ his scientific mind, separate from the passion of intimacy. A part of him remains clinical and observant, even in the throes of climax. Perhaps that is why I enjoy the raw intimacy with Athan so very much. He is so fully engaged in the sex act, in the pleasure of bodies and emotions connecting in passion. We observe him now as he draws upon that glorious primal nature.

  Cornelius and I watched from the window as a young woman entered the moonlit garden, drawn to Athan out of the night. It was not an unusual event; the women from the town often wander into our garden to find him. I remember that this one was particularly entrancing.

  “Do you think she might be the one?” my husband asked as he cupped my breasts. We both witnessed as Athan bowed his head to press a kiss to the woman’s eager lips. With her own hands, she reached to unbutton her blouse.

  My breath stuttered as Athan lowered his head to suckle at her milky white breasts highlighted by the moonlight. Cornelius pulled my sweater up over my head, then released the catch on my bra, baring me to his attentions. I felt the cool night air sifting in through the open window, fluttering across my bosom.

  Cornelius’s hands were at my breasts, tugging at my nipples, drawing them into tight beads as we watched the tableau unfolding in the garden below us.

  The woman was now naked; her skin glowed almost like she was bathed in fluorescence beneath the moonlight. Her arms were stretched above her head as though in supplication to the moon goddess as she arched and pressed against my beautiful Athan.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out the searing scene playing out in the garden. It was Athan’s hands I suddenly felt on my body. I could smell his strong, masculine scent as it wafted up from the garden. It overpowered me, making me hot and needy as my husband’s hands played across my body. I could only imagine how it acted upon the woman he held in his arms.

  Opening my eyes, I saw her reach down to unfasten Athan’s trousers, saw the length of rigid flesh spill out into her hand, watched her grip him and slide her hands along its length.

  The wind carried their passion-filled voices to us as we stood there and witnessed their coupling. She spread her legs and pressed his penis to the shadowy opening of her vagina.

  I felt Cornelius’s finger slash across my slit and then his cock entered me from behind.

  “Grab onto the window sill,” he growled in my ear. “Arch your back.”

  He entered me swiftly and completely, and I gasped at his penetration, even as I witnessed the acts of the lovers below.

  Athan lifted the woman and carried her to the stone bench resting near the fragrant white lavender bush near the path to the gardener’s shed. I knew that bench ‑‑ he had fucked me there on more than one occasion. I knew the feel of it beneath me, and the press of him inside me. I felt my liquid gush, coating my husband’s cock thoroughly as he slid in and out of my pussy.

  I watched Athan fold her back, split her, and enter her. I heard her scream ‑‑ not the sound of fear, but of blinding pleasure as he penetrated. I watched him work his way inside her, saw the gleaming muscles of his ass clench and release. I saw the flash of electrical surges as he spent inside her.

  She stiffened beneath him and I knew full well the jolt of orgasm he gave her. I felt Cornelius shudder, heard his grunt of completion. I reached down with one hand to finger my clit and came within moments, my gaze still enviously locked on the lovers below.

  Cornelius pulled from inside me, and Athan left the woman, rising to stand beside her, to help her up from the bench.

  “I need to get back to the lab to finish my notes,” Cornelius said from behind me. I heard him dress, and then I heard the door open and close, as his sperm dripped from my vagina.

  I straightened away from the window. I watched as Athan picked up the woman’s clothing and led her away down the path. I knew he had not spent completely and he would fuck until long into the early hours of the morning. It was his need, the drive built into his creation.

  I turned away and headed toward the bathroom. Athan would not come to us tonight and I felt bereft. I had become accustomed to the jolt of expended energy that passed into my body from his.

  As I was about to pass by my dresser, I stopped, knowing what I needed. Reachin
g into the top draw, hidden beneath my lingerie was what I was looking for. It wasn’t the same as having Athan expend inside me, but it had become a necessary substitute.

  It was something I had designed myself from bits and pieces of electrical parts. I walked over to the wall near the bed and plugged the device in. There it was ‑‑ the vibrations of life that I held in my hand. Violet sparks arced and diffused between the electrodes. There wasn’t a sufficient current to harm anyone, but it was enough to take the edge off my craving.

  I brought it close to my needy body, felt the static heat moving across my breasts and I inhaled sharply at the connection. Slowly, I drew it down my naked body, and folding my lips back I touched it to my sensitive vulva. I lay back on the bed and spread my legs wider. I pressed two fingers into my slippery center and flicked the violet staff over my stiff clit. The combination of my fingers thrusting deeply, and the mellow, static jolts to my clit, sent me over the edge.

  It wasn’t the deeply embedded surge I received when fucking Athan, but it was better than nothing at all. I unplugged the unit and set it aside as I lay there, gazing out the window, thinking about refinements to the new sex toy I had designed for my solitary pleasure.

  There had been more than one time that I had been tempted to bind myself to the electrophasm machine, just as we bound Athan for his treatments. Even though I wasn’t that foolish, I was still intrigued by the idea.

  Athan was more than a man; he needed the surges of electricity to survive ‑‑ they were a mainstay to his existence. But for me, it would be suicide.

  I realized in that moment that I didn’t want to share Athan. Not with anyone. Even my husband. And my thoughts frightened me.

  * * * * *

  Korrie’s lids snapped up and she was met with the dense blackness of night. She had no idea what had roused her from a deep sleep. The journal lay next to her, having apparently fallen from her hands when she fell asleep.

  The cottage. Leave now if you seek the truth.

  Not again. She trembled at the whispered words that seemed to be coming from inside her head. Ghosts.

  She shoved back the blankets and slipped out of the warm bed. The air in the room was chill. Glancing over, she saw the time registered two o’clock in glowing, florescent numbers. Whatever it was that had awoken her had obviously done so for some specific reason.

  She had tried to forget the incident in the master bedroom earlier. For the remainder of the day she’d kept away from that particular room, as well as circuiting the attractive, magnetic caretaker. How she had almost let him make love to her she had no idea. But she trembled at the remembered feel of his penis against her wet slit as he’d been about to penetrate her. If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Grippen, who knows what would have happened.

  The words from the journal came back to her and shock coursed through her with a flavor of understanding. Sheba’s Athan had higher levels of pheromones to draw women to him. Sheba’s Athan did not age. She shut the door on where her thoughts were leading her. It couldn’t be possible. Could it?

  She slipped into the robe at the end of the bed and then donned a pair of slippers.

  The cottage. She’d seen it in the distance. Was she really crazy enough to go there alone at this time of night? She had to be if she was even considering it, especially at the behest of some voice inside her head.

  She knew how to get to the cottage, but why she would learn anything from that location at this time of night she couldn’t imagine. At this point she was almost inclined to call a friend of hers who was a parapsychologist and ask her to come out to the Ransom estate, but the thought that the trustees might take some issue with bringing someone in from a different organization stopped her. She didn’t want to take the chance on losing the opportunity to gain access to the Ransoms’ research, and any action such as that could lock the door forever. It just wasn’t worth the risk right now. Not when someone at the estate had already produced the journal and apparently trusted her with the information. She was too close to discovering the whole truth.

  She reached into her top drawer and pulled out a flashlight. Always come prepared on these assignments. It was a directive her father had instilled in her. The batteries were fresh as she’d changed them just before leaving for the estate, so she wouldn’t have to worry about the light fizzling out on her.

  Switching it on, she left her room. She hesitated in the silent corridor, listening. What she expected to hear she had no idea. There was a hiss of sound, whispering of hushed voices echoing through the air, and goose bumps raced over her skin. This was not the time of night to be wandering about in a strange place all by herself. This was the oddest experience she’d ever had while on assignment. But she was a scientist and it was her job to investigate.

  The cottage. Go there now!

  She couldn’t ignore the directive. If nothing else, her curiosity was piqued. She had to see if this was all her imagination or if there truly was something she could discover. Possibly related to the Ransom research. Carefully, she made her way down the steps, circled the foyer, and headed toward the back of the house. On second thought, she swerved to the living room and grabbed up a poker from near the fireplace. Just in case.

  She made her way through the kitchen and out the back door, past the kitchen herb garden, through a small white picket gate, and into the main garden grounds. It was silent except for the night music of the chirping crickets, the croak of a bullfrog, an owl’s hoot from the trees above her. The fragrance of mint and pine meld in the air. She looked around, squinted to see if anyone else lurked there, but everything seemed silent and asleep ‑‑ just like she should be.

  Her footsteps were amplified against the quiet night. She winced as the loose gravel cut into the tender soles of her feet through the thin protection of her slippers. Suddenly, the scent of lavender was overpowering. She turned and flashed the light, catching the presence of a white lilac bush. Something made her veer toward it; reaching out, she touched a branch and then was almost overcome by the heavy, floral scent. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she drew it closer and inhaled deeply.

  Within a flash she smelled the scent of sex permeating the air, mixing with the floral aroma. Hot, searing sex intertwining man and woman. Her legs wouldn’t hold her and she dropped to the stone bench next to the bush.

  Some unseen force pressed her to lie on the bench, strong hands pushing up her gown, exposing her intimate parts to the rush of cool, moist air.

  It was happening again. The vibrations of this strange place took control of her body just as before. Hands on her body drove her into a frenzy of need she couldn’t seem to pull out of.

  “No…” She tried to draw away, but the pleasure caught hold of her and refused to let her go.

  Again, she heard the voices filling her mind, the groans and grunts of two lovers wrapped in primal passion. She arched up to meet hands that weren’t really there, a strong body pressed to hers. Her lids snapped up and she saw a light shining down from one of the windows. There was a silhouette of two people, obviously watching from above.

  Shock whisked through her and she shot up from the bench, the hem of her gown dropping to whip about her ankles. She pivoted back to look up at the house, but there was no light, no people. It had to have been another image from the past. A memory from the journal entry she had just read.

  Somehow she had dropped her flashlight and the poker. She saw the glow of the flashlight from beneath the stone bench where it had rolled. Reaching down, she picked it up. A bit further along she saw the poker and grabbed for it. What in the world was happening to her in this place?

  He’s waiting. Go to the cottage now. Before it’s too late.

  She whipped around, landing flat on her ass. Who was it that spoke to her? Whose voice was it that kept trying to draw her attention?

  She rose to her feet, flashlight and poker in hand, her body humming from the attentions of ghostly hands, her thighs damp with unrealized pleasure. Every step cau
sed searing friction to her engorged pussy and she wanted to reach down, to bring herself ease, but the voice kept pushing her forward across the flagstone, down the stone steps, across the garden, and toward a damp, dew-covered field, onto a forest path beyond.

  This was crazy, totally off the wall. She was not someone who threw caution to the wind and acted on instinct. But since her arrival at the estate, nothing had been as it should be. The ghostly whispers, the trances, her attraction to the caretaker ‑‑ none of it made any sense at all.

  Yet she continued on her solitary path, unknowing where it would lead or what she would find at the end of it. The sounds of the forest were all around her, the whispering of the swaying tree branches, the call of an owl, the crack of tiny branches breaking, the creak of larger branches bending to the will of the night wind. As she hurried along the path, her steps crushed needles, sending more woodsy fragrance into the air.

  Finally, she left the shelter of the forest and entered a clearing where she saw the cottage in the distance. There were odd lights flickering inside, flashes at regular intervals. She hurried across the clearing, uncaring that the hem of her gown and slippers were soaked from the dewy grass.

  Stepping onto the porch of the granite-faced English-styled cottage, she peered into the darkened window but could see nothing in the black abyss that met her gaze. Another flash of bright light and she fell back. It was like a surge of electricity that turned every light on in the house for a second and then quit. Was there a problem with the electricity? Should she call the power company?

  She reached for the door handle and pressed the latch. It was unlocked and carefully she pushed it inward and slipped inside. She looked to the left and saw the red coals of a burned out fire in a stone-faced fireplace in the front room.

  Korrie beamed her flashlight and caught the shadowy interior of what looked like a small kitchen ‑‑ the corner of a table and chairs, the white sink, a darkened counter. An open, wooden door hid the balance of the room from view.