Waiting

This very short story was written for a contest in ASSD. It was inspired by a painting by Hopper.

Elizabeth had to admit to herself, that she did drink just a little too much wine at dinner, but eating alone could sometimes make her do that. The emptiness she felt sometimes was too much for her. Her husband William has been off to that awful war for more than two months now. She tried not to let herself worry about him, knowing that if she did, that she would go mad. She could pass through the days thinking about him, having faith that somehow he would come home alive, but at night, alone in bed, she knew that she would never see him again.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe just the months without William, but that night, as she changed into her simple white nightgown, Elizabeth felt a longing build up inside of her. She laid back on her bed, and felt her hand move, almost as if somebody was moving it for her. Lifting up her gown, she softly ran her hand on her bare stomach. Closing her eyes, she imagined that it was William touching her. Her hand moved higher, and she moaned softly as her fingers traced little circles on her breasts. To Elizabeth, it almost felt as if it were William's hand gently caressing her soft white skin.

Her hand moved down, and she giggled in surprise, finding that as her fingers traced lines along her stomach, she felt like somebody else was tickling her. Her hand moved lower, and she felt the fingers softly brush her between her thighs. Even though her eyes were closed, she could see her beloved William laying next to her.

She arched her back as one of the fingers gently started to graze her labia. With a suddenness, it entered her, and she let out a soft moan. The now moist finger then pulled out, and started to gently caress her clitoris. Elizabeth heard a gasp escape from her lips, as the moist finger felt like her dear husbands tongue. It gently circled her clitoris, and Elizabeth felt herself start to orgasm.

Trembling, she heard soft moans of pleasure escape her lips, and she was sure that her husband was somehow with her. As her orgasm reached a crescendo, she screamed William's name, telling him how much she loved him, how much she needed him. Once her orgasm had drifted away, she opened her eyes, to look at her beloved William, and realized that she had been imagining him. She fell to the floor and cried for him, longing to see him, to touch him. She sat there for hours, softly calling his name.

She awoke the next morning hearing to a knock on the door. Quickly wrapping herself in a robe, she smiled as she opened the door. She saw two uniformed soldiers, and she knew that her sweet William somehow was with her last night. She started to weep, and the officers offered their condolences to her, and told her that William had died a hero early last night. As he succumbed to his wounds, he died softly whispering her name.

END