She pulled back for a moment and asked, “You don’t do any… different kinds of things do you? No weird alien things?”
Paul laughed. “Our bodies should be perfectly compatible. Aside from muscle density, oxygen intake, skin pigmentation and subtle things like that; we are developed almost identically as a species. Don’t worry, I did my research about this too.”
“That’s good to know,” Laura said as she leaned in for another kiss.
The kisses escalated as they held each other tight and began to explore one another’s bodies. They briefly broke apart for a moment as they each pulled their shirts off before their mouths crashed together again.
His tongue slid into her mouth and she moaned at the sweet taste combined with the excitement of his hands exploring the exposed skin of her back. Down they traveled, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans to grasp her firmly by her buttocks and press her hips against his.
Aspen let out a short bark that brought the two of them back to the moment. Both of them laughed and Laura suggested, “How about we take this up to the bedroom?”
“Only if you can make it up there,” Paul said playfully with a wicked gleam in his deep brown eyes that she had never seen before.
Laura smiled back and took off, darting across the room towards the stairs. She made it halfway up before she was scooped off of her feet and into Paul’s arms while she let out a shriek of laughter. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he turned her around in his arms so that she was facing him. Laura took his face in her hands and their eyes locked for a moment before she kissed him, hard, while he carried her into the bedroom.
The bed was softer than she remembered as he laid her down on top of the crisp white sheets. Laura stretched out on the bed while Paul explored her body with his hands and mouth.
His hands trailed across her skin, fingertips as light as butterfly kisses, leaving goose pimples in their wake. And then he suddenly grabbed her, his hands warm and firm and strong holding her on either side, assuring her that he had no intentions of ever letting her go.
Slowly his lips discovered every inch of her body, making sure that every single piece of exposed flesh was getting the attention it deserved. Laura was already trembling with anticipation and she still had most of her clothes on.
As he kissed around her bra, Laura’s heavy breathing filled his ears. She was breathless, like a winded runner, but did not want him to stop by any means.
Paul reached around her, where her back was already arched, and unhooked the bra. She felt the release of the material, but he didn’t remove it right away. Instead, he teased her nipples through the sheer fabric, first with his fingers, and then with his warm breath and lightly kissing them.
Laura let out a small whimper as her breasts began to ache. Paul heard it as if it were a cue and pulled away the bra. The sudden exposure of her nipples made them ache, her arousal was so intense. He covered her breasts with his hands and pulled each one individually towards his mouth.
His warm and wet tongue circled lazily around her areola before flickering back and forth across her nipple. The sensation was driving Laura out of her mind. He had clearly done plenty of research on the subject.
While he was sucking on her breasts, his hands were busy unbuttoning the front of her jeans. When they were released, he began to tug them down, revealing her panties. His hands stroked her thighs, coming up from her knees and stopping at her panty line while his mouth still teased her breasts.
Her hitched breath was becoming ragged. She wanted him so badly she ached and trembled with her need. She let out a soft moan when his fingers finally hooked around her panties and yanked them down. His fingers teased her, trailing across her mound but never going past the labia to find what was inside.
Suddenly, he removed himself from her completely. He stood over her splayed form and began to remove his remaining clothing. Even just his eyes roaming over her naked body left a tingling trail of sensation that made Laura quiver.
As he stood over her in his own nakedness, Laura was overcome with her lust. She reached out towards him and his hand met hers. She pulled him towards her. His erect manhood was pressed against her and she could feel the wetness practically dripping for him.
“I need you,” she whispered breathlessly, “now.”
Paul pulled back to angle himself for her while she held her breath in anticipation.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, quaking with her need as he lifted her legs up into the air.
Her world exploded as he thrust inside of her. Slowly, he began by sliding out and back into her. It was exquisite pleasure to feel him inside of her, their hips meeting, pressing hard, and releasing.
Slowly the pace increased and the tension of impending release built between them. Laura’s eyes searched Paul’s face for an indication of where he was. His brows were furrowed, breathing heavy, and a bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline while he pumped in a hard and steady rhythm.
Laura’s moans increased in pitch as she climbed higher and higher into her ecstasy. She held onto to him tightly, pulling him closer and forcing him to release her legs. Her nails were digging slightly into his shoulders as she pressed herself harder and harder against him, willing their bodies to become one, until she peaked and the world seemed to drop out from beneath her.
Her breath halted completely for a second as she whispered in his ear, “Now.”
Paul understood and in a few quick thrusts his body tensed in her embrace and she knew he had found release. He collapsed into her arms and she held him tightly as they lay there on the bed entwined and gasping for breath.
Laura brushed his loose strands of hair back from his face and dabbed the beads of sweat from his forehead. His arms were locked around her waist and Laura could feel the combined fluids of their bodies dripping out around his still erect penis inside of her.
Gradually their breathing returned to normal and they untangled their bodies from one another. Laura looked around the room and noted the clothes strewn about and the wet mess that they were laying in. She noted that this was the most disarray she had ever seen in his house and she looked forward to creating more messes with him.
Paul stood up and Laura got a moment to admire his full figure and just how perfectly he was sculpted. Paul caught her gaze and asked, “What is it? Is my alien-ness showing?”
Laura laughed, “No. I’m just enjoying the view is all.”
Paul smirked and remarked, “I bet you would never have guessed that up until now I was a virgin.”
*****
Laura awoke the next morning, her legs a bit sore but entirely pleased with herself. She looked over across the pillow and there was Paul, his brown eyes were soft in the morning light.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
“Good morning,” she whispered back.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Well, when you finally let me sleep,” she laughed.
Paul tightened his arm around her. “I thought it was you who was keeping me up.”
They wrestled around in bed for a bit, their laughter filling the room, until Aspen got concerned enough to bark at them.
“Guess that means we should get up,” Paul suggested as he scooped her up in his arms.
A thought struck Laura and she asked, “Paul, of all the kinds of pets, why did you decide to get a dog?”
He paused for a second. “Well he’s actually… it’s called an accessory unit.” Before Laura’s gasp could turn into anything further, Paul quickly cut her off. “Not him personally, he’s not an alien. But I have this accessory system that I implanted in him. It’s mostly just for gathering data.”
Laura swallowed her comments about how horrible that was realizing that what he did never hurt Aspen. It was no different than the animals that researchers would tag in the wild. They had a symbiotic relationship, and since neither were harmed she supposed there was no reason to object to it.
&
nbsp; “So,” Paul asked, changing the subject, “what would you like for breakfast?”
Laura smiled and pulled herself close against his chest. “Can I just have you?”
THE END
Bonus Story 22 of 50
Darkness Falls
The deep dusky blue of the late autumn sky was filled with bright fluffy clouds moving slowly across the sun. The air was mellowed by the late morning sunshine, which fell copiously on the lawn where Inga Larson lay. Her arms and legs were spread out, and a smile was on her red lips. Her flaxen hair shone and her azure eyes sparkled as she squinted up into the stratosphere. The air was brisk, and she was dressed in a white wool sweater with red designs, and a pair of faded blue jeans. The first frost of the year had already fallen softly on the green places of Uppsala, but the earth and the sun were warm. It was the perfect morning to relax by the canal and sip coffee while she studied for the first exams of the semester.
Inga Larson was a senior in forensic science at the local university. Her cheerful exterior belied the darkness of her chosen field. She was in a sense an all-Swedish girl. She had grown up outside of the town of Mora, on a small farm-cum-bed and breakfast run by her parents, a farmer and an artist. When she was studying in Uppsala she missed those sprawling fields and dark conifer forests of her upbringing. As she lay on the banks of the canal today, she could almost imagine that she was in a field, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, where the only sounds were the fluttering of birds’ wings, and the faint sound of ants making their way across the landscape, and the buzzing of bees. She liked aquavit and lingonberry jam and pancakes. She was the kind of girl who would strip naked and jump into the canal on Midsummer’s Eve regardless of who was watching. Her early rustic life had given her an underlying edginess that her classmates envied, but would never be able to replicate. She was rarely ever afraid.
Now she lay on the banks of the canal in the Uppsala Common, a sprawling park, and read about rates of decay. She preferred the delicacy of blood spatter analysis to the gruesome details of bodily rotting. In any case, she supposed all this would be necessary when she left school for the police force.
A shadow fell across her, and she craned her neck to see two oxford-clad feet. She looked up to see a figure silhouetted in the bright sun.
“Hello beautiful,” came a deep voice out the shadow. It was Kalle, her most-of-the-time boyfriend. He was tall and lean, with ruggedly handsome features and a thick mess of straw-blonde hair. He wasn’t a student, but a bartender at one of the local lounges. He had just gotten out of work when he found her. “I brought you these,” he said, as he set down a bag of pastries next to her and joined her on the grass. She lay her head in his lap comfortably, and he stroked her hair.
“Spoiled girl,” he chided jokingly, opening the bag and pulling off a piece of cinnamon roll, which he placed gently between her lips. She licked his finger suggestively and laughed.
“Delicious,” she murmured. “Have anything else for me?”
“Perhaps…” he said. He smiled down at her, tracing the line of her lip with his thumb. She was perfect, but he knew she wasn’t completely his. At least, he always felt a certain distance between them, like she was never really fully there in the moment. Perhaps it was just that she was a free spirit from the country. He could forgive her because he had never met anyone quite like her.
“Class today?” he asked, stroking her hair with one hand, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes with the other.
“Mmm,” she replied, “Yeah, we have a practical.” She pushed her head into his hip joint, hiding her face in the dark fabric of his jeans. “Mmmgonna come to the bar tonight though,” she mumbled, “Me and Astrid.”
“Okay,” he smiled, “You want to come home with me until your class?”
She nodded, jamming her face deeper into his thigh before reluctantly sitting up and gathering her notes.
The walk to his apartment in the city center was quick. He stripped off his clothes in the entryway, and enticed her to do the same, pulling her sweater over her head and taking her shoes and socks off for her, kissing the tops of her feet. He made love to her against the wall, and then again in the shower. He fell asleep soon after, sprawled spread-eagle in a tangle of dark grey blankets.
Inga brushed the hair from his eyes, her hand lingering in a moment of tenderness on his forehead. She felt something for him, it was true, but when she looked down at him, she saw no future.
She dressed and left the apartment. The sun was already waning, as it did so quickly in the early afternoon these days. Winter was on its way, creeping down from the north, wrapped in the darkness and cold that would soon enshroud the city. As Inga walked along the canal towards the building that her class met in, she thought about Kalle. She loved him, but she couldn’t be in love with him; he met her every expectation, and somehow she found it to be disappointing. He was terrifically and terribly predictable. Or perhaps, she reflected, it was because she had spent her childhood alone or in the company of the bohemian wanderers that would pass through her parents’ farm.
It was this perpetual boredom that had driven Inga to forensics. The boundless brutality of humanity intrigued her. For each reason for a crime there were an infinity of ways to commit it. She liked the company of her classmates. Some of them were fairly typical; hulking men attempting to curry favor with everyone and anyone for the sake of their placement at the Police Academy. But others were true scientists, obsessed with the minutiae of every crime scene.
The class was meeting in the morgue that day. As Inga walked down the stairs, she felt a growing sense of excitement mixed with a tingle of fear. It would only be the second real body she had ever seen.
“Welcome, welcome.” Professor Janson waved a gloved hand, encouraging her to hurry into the room. She was the last one there, and she quickly dressed in a lab coat and gloves. The morgue was lit with bright fluorescent lights that hung low over three metal tables. The white of the walls and the tile floor, combined with the chill that permeated the room from the huge steel mortuary refrigerator on one side, made Inga feel as if she were standing inside of a fridge herself.
“Today we’re examining a unique case,” the Professor intoned, opening one of the vault-like doors of the refrigerator, and drawing out a sheet-covered body onto one of the tables. The students gathered round, some of them with less enthusiasm, but Inga stood right beside the professor, where the head of the body lay. He delicately pulled the sheet off of it. Inga had to stifle a gasp. It was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Coal black hair splayed out around her face like a halo against the sheen of the steel table. Her face was pure porcelain white, a pure presentation of death, and yet there was something lively that lingered around her flawless features. Her eyes were closed, long ebony lashes splayed against the paleness of her cheeks. There was still a hint of ruby on her lips, which had stayed closed, even in death. “Any observations?” the professor asked, looking around the table.
Inga leaned closer, looking intensely at the woman’s face, and then down to the flawless skin of her neck where two ruby puncture wounds seemed to sit just on the surface of the skin.
“She’s been dead for just under 20 hours,” one of her female classmates guessed.
“Right, and we know this because?”
“Rigor mortis has already worn off,” Inga replied, looking up, “but just barely.”
“Very good. Cause of death?” Professor Janson asked.
Again, Inga jumped at the chance to answer. “Exsanguination…Puncture wound to the neck, and her blood’s been drained.” She felt a chill run up from the base of her spine as she said the words aloud.
The professor nodded, “Which means what…What can you now assume about the perpetrator?”
There was a flurry of murmurs among the assembled students. Some of those who were more interested in the profiling area leaned forward now. “I bet it’s a serial killer,” said a tall, brown-haired wannabe cop, “You k
now, like a real sicko.”
Professor Janson nodded, “Possible, but as this is the first body that’s turned up like this, what else could it be?”
“Vampire-obsessed goth crime of passion?” suggested another student, stifling laughter.
“Show some respect,” Professor Janson snapped sternly. The morgue fell silent and his words echoed over the assembled students, “Everyone was someone, do you understand? Even Jane Does.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” the student cleared his throat, “Anyway, it could be, right?”
“That’s right,” the professor confirmed, “Given the intimacy of the method, we can assume that the killer knew their victim, at least well enough to get close to her.”
Inga’s eyes flitted from the puncture wound back to the woman’s face. There was just something so perfect, so statuesque about her features, that she seemed almost unreal. The last body they had observed had seemed just simply to be dead. But this woman radiated a sense of what Inga could only describe as serenity, like a Grecian statue, or a Renaissance depiction of the Virgin Mary. She involuntarily reached out a hand and touched her neck, just above the puncture marks. The classroom fell silent.
“Ms. Larson?” Professor Janson asked. “An observation?”
“Oh, I…” Startled from her revere, Inga scrambled to justify her odd behavior. “I was just thinking that it was strange that there were no other marks on her neck, no contusion, just the two puncture wounds. Whatever they used must have been very sharp.”
“Excellent,” Professor Janson complemented her. “For example?”
Inga looked around at the class. Everyone’s eyes were on her now. “Well, something smooth, I think, based on the lack of tearing, maybe a large needle, or…Whatever it was it would have had to have been made of smooth metal, or ceramic, or possibly bone?”
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