Adam knew exactly what hit him. A cardboard box full of metal hardware—wall brackets, t-stand arms, and pegs for hurdle fixtures. The dumb box weighed a hundred pounds. And it fell on top of his head.
One thing to die at work, another to die in an elevator while listening to Christmas music.
A sexy encounter from beyond the grave at a department store. If you enjoy strange fantasy erotica, be sure to read Death of a Retail Associate.
DEATH OF A RETAIL ASSOCIATE
Adam knew exactly what hit him. A cardboard box full of metal hardware—wall brackets, t-stand arms, and pegs for hurdle fixtures. The dumb box must’ve weighed a hundred pounds. And it fell on top of his head.
What he didn’t realize right away, was that he died.
He looked down on his body as if in a really weird dream. His head was broken open pretty good and bleeding all over the place. But that wasn’t what killed him.
It was just another Tuesday before Christmas, moving merchandise from the dock to the floor while navigating a thousand health and safety violations.
Adam opened the freight elevator that morning to find it jammed packed with all kinds of random crap. Carts full of boxes and half de-trashed merchandise. Z-racks of more yet-to-be de-trashed stuff. Boxes on the floor stacked to the top. There was barely enough space to step on to the elevator, turn around, and punch the button to close the door.
Hell, there was supposed to be an empty lane on one side of the elevator for emergencies. A sign posted next to the buttons even said so. Not like anybody at Mimble’s cared about safety apparently.
Adam floated above his body in the dimly lit elevator, listening to Christmas music and wondering why he hadn’t bothered moving the z-racks out of the way before trying to move the triple decker cart with the box of metal crap on top.
It took him two renditions of “Silver Bells” and “The Grinch” and three back-to-back versions of “Jingle Bells” to realize he wasn’t getting up from that accident.
One thing to have a hundred pound box fall on your head.
But what killed him was falling on the z-rack behind him and snapping his neck. But even that wasn’t so bad.
The coup-de-grace was Adam died in a freight elevator in a department store he hated while listening to Christmas music.
“God fucking dammit,” he said.
And then he laughed, because he remembered his last thoughts while dying. Not about his excitement for starting back to college in the spring. Or about his first (and unfortunately his last) time having sex. Not even any thoughts about his mother.
His final thoughts within his mortal body regarded the twenty-four ounce cup of coffee he left at the cash register that he never got to drink. Dark roast from the gas station, with a French vanilla creamer in it.
Now it was getting cold and nobody would ever drink it.
Adam knew that was a petty thing to think about while dying. But already he missed coffee. Sure he missed college, and his ex-girlfriend, and his mother. Right now though, he really wanted coffee.
He didn’t want to be around to witness somebody find his body. Especially if it happened to be Tricia, the one manager he liked and respected. Whoever found him, that would certainly be a shitty way to spend the holiday. Besides having to work at Mimble’s, of course.
Adam maneuvered his way around pallets full of boxes and carts jammed packed with sweaters and jeans. It was a trick to squeeze through all the junk. Usually he got his feet caught on something. Adam was a bit surprised he hadn’t yet.
“Hold on a minute,” he said to himself. He glanced down at his feet. And then slowly lifted his leg up. His brain—or consciousness, or spirit, or whatever—told him he was about to kick a cardboard box, and that would stop his foot from any further progress. His foot kept going, right through the box. “Cool,” he said.
His leg tingled being half in and half out of the box. As an experiment, he stuck his head inside another box, and got the same tingly feeling. The world went dark and he couldn’t see. He removed his head from the box and the world came back into focus. And then he moved forward, keeping his head and eyes out of obstacles while the rest of his body moved through objects. He took the shortest possible route out of the dock.
At least he wasn’t bound to the scene of his death. So maybe he could leave the store? That would be a blessing.
The store wasn’t open yet, so all the doors were locked except for the employee entrance on the other side of the building. That wouldn’t matter if he could pass through objects. Adam walked down the escalator, through the dark store, and to the south doors. He got through the first set of doors.
Then bam! He hit his nose hard on the cold glass of the outside doors. He tried placing his hand through the door, but couldn’t. It was like touching real glass in the winter—cold, slightly wet with frost, and impossible to walk through.
Adam despaired. Was he stuck in Mimble’s forever? Doomed to listen to the same damn Christmas music 24/7 with no one to socialize with? This sounded like the seventh circle of Hell. Adam wondered what he’d done to deserve this fate.
He walked back upstairs to the men’s department, where his coffee was. Along the way, he passed by his coworkers getting ready to open the store. All of them were oblivious to him, despite his efforts to say hi and get their attention.
And then somebody tapped him on the shoulder.
Adam spun on his heels, heart thumping in his chest. A woman was behind him. Long red hair, freckles on her nose, and horn-rimmed glasses. She wore black tights with knee-high brown boots, a dark red sweater dress, and a purple scarf around her neck. He’d never seen her. Must’ve been someone new.
She smiled at him. She clearly saw him.
“Hi,” she said. “My name’s Sylvia.”
He looked behind him. Then back to her. “You can see me?”
“Of course, dork,” she said. “We’re both dead.”
He smiled back. Adam didn’t really believe in love at first sight. And maybe dying had something to do with being attracted to her. But he already liked Sylvia.
And he was just glad to have someone to talk about. “Hello,” he said, and introduced himself.
“I saw your body on the freight elevator,” Sylvia frowned. “Shitty way to go. I’m so sorry.”
“It didn’t hurt,” he said. “At least I don’t think so, I don’t remember.” He glanced from his coffee cup to her and back again. Hell wasn’t so bad, he supposed. No coffee, but he got a redhead companion it seemed.
And then Sylvia did something amazing.
She reached for his coffee, picked it up, and brought it to her lips. Oddly, the cup remained where it was, next to the cash register, while it was also in her hand. She took a sip.
“Oh yuck,” she made a sour face. “French vanilla?”
“How did you do that?” he said.
“Just grab hold of it,” said Sylvia. “Don’t think about it too hard. You’ve done this millions of times in your life.”
Adam tried. His hand passed right through the foam cup. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he tried again. And a few more times.
“Calm down,” Sylvia said. “You’ll get it.”
And then he got it. He picked up the foam cup. Just like when Sylvia did it, the original cup remained next to the register, and a new cup was in his hands. Now they both had identical cups of coffee.
It felt heavy in his hand, and warm. He took a sip. Tasted hot and fresh, the way God intended.
“Tastes better than it did half an hour ago,” he said.
“Lesson one complete,” Sylvia said. “You can take food and drink. Nobody will ever notice. It doesn’t seem to effect the way it tastes for the living.”
He drank more coffee, enjoying it as if it were the first time he’d ever drank any. “This is amazing.”
“You’ll never get hungry or thirsty,” she said. “But you can still enjoy all the bodily pleasures you remember.”
He wondered if she meant sexual pleasures too, but he was too afraid to ask. Sylvia remained silent for a bit, letting it sink in for him. Or waiting for him to ask about sex.
Instead, he asked another question.
“Have you ever tried leaving the store?” he said.
“Yes,” said Sylvia. “A bunch of times. I haven’t found a way.”
“Damn,” he said.
“Yeah, sucks. But like I say you won’t need anything. Unfortunately, now you have to depend on coworkers bringing in good food and making coffee.”
“Hope they don’t get rid of the coffee machine from the break room,” Adam said. “They’ve talked about doing that for awhile now.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Sylvia winked. “We might be dead. Doesn’t mean we can’t influence the living.”
“Wait? So you’re the reason we still have the coffee machine?”
Adam smiled. If this was Hell, it wasn’t all bad. The cons: Can’t leave and depend on coworkers bringing in something other than PB and J.
The pros: free coffee and food, and a cute redhead.
He especially liked the redhead part.
Adam spent an hour just talking to and getting to know Sylvia. They watched the paramedics and police come into the store to retrieve his body. Sylvia wisely tugged on his sleeve, pulling him to the shoe department stockroom before they could wheel his body out.
They stole somebody’s fresh blueberry muffin and a caramel latte from the stockroom, then wandered the back hallway, eating their snack.
Turned out, Sylvia had died in Mimble’s too, about five years ago. Adam remembered a story about a young woman dying underneath a collapsed shelf in the men’s stockroom, which had been damaged from a leaking roof. He never would’ve believed that Mimble’s was haunted though.
They ended up in the break-room, sitting in the massage chairs in the corner. It’d be another couple hours before anyone decided to take a break, so they had some privacy for now.
Adam made a few false starts asking the question he wanted to know the answer to. Finally he just spat it out. “So when you say we can still enjoy all the bodily pleasures…”
Sylvia perked up and leaned closer to him. She smelled lovely—like a fragrance he’d smelled from the perfume counter before.
“You mean to ask, can we have sex?” she said. “I haven’t decided.” She winked.
Adam liked her winks. If Hell was being tortured by a cute redhead for eternity in a department store, he figured that was acceptable, even with the seasonal non-stop Christmas music.
“You haven’t decided?” he said, leaning closer to her. “Or you haven’t experimented yet?”
She fanned herself. “Oh I see now. Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Truth be told, I don’t know,” she said. “So far I’ve been the only ghost in Mimble’s. And it’s not like having sex with a living person is an option.” She paused, scratching her chin. “I don’t think so at least. Besides, that seems kind of wrong. Like reverse necrophilia or something.”
He laughed at her joke, for which he got a slap on the shoulder.
“There’s some coworkers I wouldn’t mind having sex with,” he said. “But yeah, seems wrong. Especially if we can influence the living. I don’t know… make them undress and do our bidding just sounds icky.”
“Agreed.” She bit her lip. “But I suppose if the right boy ghost came along.”
He touched her hand. She was warm and smooth, just like a real woman’s hand should feel like. He held her for a moment, and then broke away.
“No pressure or anything,” he said. “I like you.”
“I like you too.”
“If we feel like it, and it feels right, and…”
And then Sylvia shut him up with a kiss on his lips. Her mouth tasted like a mixture of coffee and a gumball from the gumball machine at the bottom of the escalator. He touched her waist, bringing her close as comfortably possible in the massage chairs. She poked the tip of her tongue into his mouth. He rewarded her with his tongue. Locking lips with her felt wonderful, like they completed each other.
If it weren’t for the fact that he just died, he’d have sworn that today was the best day of his life.
When he broke the kiss, he held her close, stroking her cheek with one finger. Her eyes were slit. She fluttered her lashes.
“And the answer is yes,” she said. “I have experimented. With myself. I’ve achieved my goal of masturbating in every department and stockroom at least ten times.”
“Oh?” he said. “Have a favorite place?”
“As a matter of fact…” Sylvia stood up and lifted him to his feet by the hands. She motioned him to follow.
She led him down one of the back hallways where they kept spare four-way fixtures and the extra stock for the juniors department. Then up an emergency staircase to the third floor. Adam wasn’t entirely sure where in the store they were, he hadn’t even been back in this area before. He didn’t care. Wherever Sylvia wanted to go was peachy fine for him. He trusted her.
She opened a steel door with her hips. And they came out to the mattress department.
The department was an L-shape, with some of the floor open to the bed and bath areas. But most of mattresses were hidden around a corner and had a massive blindspot. And lucky for the two of them, the king size mattresses were in the hidden corner.
Along the way to the farthest bed, Sylvia grabbed a couple Ralph Lauren pillows out of a cage bin. Just like with the coffee and the blueberry muffin, the real pillows stayed in the bin, while ghostly pillows that looked like the real thing came out. Adam grabbed a couple more pillows.
He tossed his pillows on the bed, and then held up a finger. “Wait a minute here.”
“I’m not exactly going anywhere,” Sylvia said.
Adam wandered over to the area where they sold sheets and blankets, and picked out the fluffiest blanket in a king size, and then returned to where Sylvia waited. She smiled.
“Perfect,” she said. She tore off the plastic wrap around the pillows. He did the same with the blanket. They silently agreed they didn’t need sheets.
Sylvia took off her scarf and playfully threw it at him. He removed his shirt, returning the favor right back at her. She giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders while he took her into his arms.
And then he kissed her. This time he pressed his body up to hers, feeling the curve of her hips with his hands and the curve of her breasts with his torso. Again, this felt right. Like she was made for him. He lifted her sweater dress, cupping her ass with both hands.
And then he pushed her onto the bed. She bounced on the mattress, hair flying every which way.
Adam admired her for a moment. Long hair spread out around her. Arms above her head. Glasses crooked on her nose.
She was a dream. Too bad he had to die to meet her. In the back of his mind, he knew the shock of dying would have to sink in at some point.
Right now, he flat didn’t care. He had a gorgeous woman demanding his attention. By the feeling in his body, or whatever physical manifestation his spirit had, he wasn’t all dead. He never felt more alive oddly.
Adam unknotted his necktie and slipped open the top button of his dress shirt. Sylvia ripped open the rest of his shirt, popping the buttons clean off. He wasn’t entirely sure, but if he could use food and pillows, he guessed he could replace his clothing too, given they haunted a department store.
Assuming that, then Sylvia’s clothes probably weren’t the ones she died in. Would seem odd to go five years wearing the same clothes, even for a dead person. At least a dead person who seemed just as alive as he felt.
He grabbed her sweater dress with both fists, pulling at the fabric until threads broke. He kissed her roughly. Sylvia was equally as rough, pulling his shirt over his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. His lips throbbed in ecstatic pain. Even if somebody could’ve seen or heard him make love to Sylvia, he wouldn’t have cared. Nothing could stop or slow him down.
She lifted her knee between his legs and applied just enough pressure to make him squirm. Before he knew it, she ripped his shirt off. And then his belt somehow came off. Her greedy fingers touched every part of him.
Adam tugged her dress above her waist. Then he found her breasts, and squeezed them with both hands. The air, normally so cold in the store, seemed extra warm. He didn’t know if it was because this corner actually had heat, or if they were making their own heat.
He wrestled with her. It was like trying to control a wild animal who didn’t want to be controlled. After some heavy kissing and much struggling, Adam managed to pin her wrists above her head.
And then he went down between her legs. He kissed her upper thigh through her tights. Then kissed upward to her pussy. He lifted her legs up in the air. And then rolled her tights down her ass, revealing a pair of lacy black panties. She smelled wet and girly.
Adam pressed his nose into her panties, kissing her and taking her in. It was everything he imagined. The one time with his ex-girlfriend was no comparison at all. With Sylvia everything was more intense. More real.
She gripped his hair, pressing him closer to her pussy. Adam pushed aside her panties with his fingers. Her pussy was shaved mostly clean with a few pricklies near the lips. He focused on her clit, rubbing circles with his tongue.
Then he slid a finger inside Sylvia. She was tight, warm, and smooth. She became more wet with each lick and stroke. She begged him to not stop, to give it to her, to put it inside her. He wanted to. Very badly.
But instead he took his time. Licking her labia, spreading her lips open slowly, flicking his tongue across her hood. He slipped one finger in while licking, stroking her slowly and rhythmically. She squirmed, squeezing her legs tight around his head. Adam breathed in her scent.
She unzipped her boots. They fell to the floor. Her tights and panties followed.
Her skin was hot to the touch like a blazing fire. Adam felt hot too. Sweat collected on the back of his neck. He kicked off his shoes. Then managed to kick his pants off while still giving Sylvia oral.
And then she came. A fast squirt that hit him above the eyes. After that, a trickle that made a puddle on the bed. He wondered if any living people could smell the wet pussy too. If they noticed it, would they even realize where it came from?
Adam didn’t have much time to consider such things. Sylvia grabbed him by the back of the hair. With her other hand around his cock in an iron grip, she strong armed him onto his back. He put up some fight. But she had him by the cock after all.
Once Sylvia was on top, pinning his legs down, she looking up at him with a cute smile and a wink. She slowly stroked him with her thumb and index finger, staring at him, making it hard for him to breath. He expected her to stroke him fast and be done with it, like the ex used to do, maybe a little bit of sucking action if he were lucky.
But all she did was lick his shaft with the tip of her tongue while stroking him and keeping eye contact. He was aroused through the roof.
And then she tasted his balls. First taking one into her mouth, then sucking in the other, alternating on them.
Finally she kissed her way up and, once at the tip, swallowed him. She used every part of her mouth. Lips, tongue, teeth. She was gentle, slow, methodical. Adam felt the come in his balls, building pressure, but he was a long ways from blowing a load. And it seemed like she knew it. She’d tease him with a quick burst of action, then slow back down again.
And then she spat him out. “Can I put my finger in your ass?” she said.
Adam hesitated. He was curious. He’d read about prostate massage. But he’d never been asked that before.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Being dead has its perks. Seems we ghosts can be sexy without some of the embarrassing crap, literally.”
“Really?” he said.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she said. “And I’ll stop if you say so.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’d like to try. But stop if I say the words puckered pickle.”
Sylvia laughed. “Puckered pickle. If that’s the safe word.”
And then she massaged his butthole. She licked her finger a few times, spat onto his ass, and then slowly pressed her finger in.
At first it felt strange. Violating. He didn’t know if he liked it. He wasn’t comfortable. But he wanted to try for Sylvia.
And after some careful wiggling, Sylvia found his prostate. For a moment he wasn’t sure. Then it felt right. She tapped on his prostate, massaging it and varying the rhythm. Felt amazing, like nothing Adam had ever experienced.
And then it was like he needed to pee. He told her that. Sylvia just kept massaging, relentless and unmerciful. Faster. Harder. Then slow and gentle. Fast again. She kept him panting and squirming and begging for release. Closer he got, the more she denied him.
Adam squeezed his eyes shut. And then he popped the most wonderful load ever. He’d never felt it like that, except maybe the first time he learned to make himself come, and even that paled in comparison.
He kept coming. Sticky load after load, until he was certain he was drained.
Sylvia climbed on top of him, laying flat with her head on his shoulder. She kissed his neck.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” he said. “Thank you.”
She sat up, leaning on one elbow while still straddling him, a serious expression on her face. “I can’t thank you for dying. I’m sorry you lost everything.”
He stroked her hair. “It was a horrible accident. I still don’t entirely believe it, really. But perhaps you can repay me by just being a friend when it finally hits me that I’m dead.”
“Deal. Friends,” she said. “And so much more. I’ve been lonely.”
“Oddly, so have I. Just didn’t realize it, I guess.”
She laid back down on his chest. Customers came into the mattress department, moseyed about, but didn’t come near the bed they were on. Nor did they stay long. Whether it was because of lack of customer service, or because they sensed something sexy and private was going on, Adam couldn’t tell.
But he was still feeling frisky.
And he was surprised by this. Not since he was a teenage did he manage to come twice in a row. And that had hurt. But sure enough, he was getting hard again, and wanting it all over again.
He held her waist, keeping Sylvia still while he pressed the tip of his cock into her still soaking wet pussy.
“Oh my,” she said in his ear.
Adam pushed it in further. He teased her, exactly like she teased him. Giving her a little, then drawing back. Starting slow and gentle. Then pumping her. Slowing down, almost stopping, not quite, then fast and hard.
He flipped her onto her back. Then lifted her up in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist.
Their hot sweaty ghostly bodies pressed together. Adam had never imagined doing this position while alive. Seems being a ghost gave him more core strength. Sylvia didn’t seem to mind at all.
And then he felt weightless. Literally. At first he thought it was just his head spinning. But walls seemed to slide downwards and the ceiling seemed to get closer. Adam looked down.
They were levitating a few feet above the bed!
Noticing broke his concentration. Adam fell back to the mattress. Sylvia followed shortly after, like in a Scooby Doo cartoon where the law of gravity gets defied. She yelped and collapsed on top of him.
She laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Just relax,” she said.
“But how did we do that?” he said.
“We’re ghosts, remember? You did it because you were in the moment and not thinking too much. Until you noticed.”
Adam stroked her hair away from her face. “Perhaps we can try again.”
She held out her arms. “I’d like that.”
He lifted her back on his lap. Same position. The problem with not thinking about levitating, was now he kept thinking about it.
She cupped his face with both hands, holding his gaze. He breathed with her, slowly fucking her, allowing his heartbeat to slow down too. Just easy going, enjoyable sex. As let go of his control, giving in to the emotions again, he felt the lightheaded sensation again.
His body lifted up, bringing her with him. He kept eye contact with her, not wanting to look down again and break the rhythm. He’d never felt like this ever. Totally engrossed in someone else, as if they were different halves of the same person.
And then like magic, he came at the same exact time she came. Her warm juices dripped down his balls to the bed below, while he shot the remainder of his come straight up into her. He never wanted to come back down again.
The afterglow brought him down. He cuddled with Sylvia while she snored softly. Perhaps she was used to being a ghost. He was certainly drowsy, but far too excited to sleep now.
He couldn’t wait for her to wake back up so they could do it again.
Being trapped in a department store with endless Christmas music wasn’t all bad. He could endure the torture with Sylvia.
Copyright © 2020 Hermit Muse Publishing
Cover image ©
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