Zombie Sex (Zombie Apocalypse)

Zombie
Sex

Decimus
Black, Kindle 2013

This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions
thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews

“You’ve
got red on you.”

--Shaun
of the Dead

-1-

Some salt, some pepper, and.
You know what, I dipped my finger into the simmering pot, tasted like carrots
and potatoes – perfect. I wiped my fingers on my jeans and that’s when the doorbell
rang.

He had a black leather jacket
on, white trainers, a bouquet of red flowers, and a smile that said: I’m here
to read you the seven o’clock news I’m that hot. Before I could tell him how
handsome he looked, he came in, threw the flowers on the floor, and scooped me
up. His mouth tasted of cold mint.

‘Want one?’ He asked. I
blushed; he must’ve noticed my eyes locked onto his lips. I pushed him away.

‘Not when dinner’s almost
ready.’ I picked up the flowers. ‘What’s the point of getting me these if you
just throw them on the floor?’ He took them from my hand.

And threw them back down. ‘Just
a distraction for–’ I chortled as he scooped me up again ‘–you like my
distraction?’ Our lips touched. This time I didn’t just get a hint of his minty
lips but swallowed him whole. The hairs on my neck tingled. My chest warmed. I
felt like pushing him away but couldn’t. He squeezed my hips, whispering how
much he likes it, and clasped both hands under my behind. I don’t like where
he’s taking me. The staircase cracked. I grabbed hold of the beam.

‘And where you think you’re
going mister?’ What was it about his hair that made my legs go numb? Maybe it’s
the color, an autumn red; maybe it’s the way it’s slicked back. I’ll go for the
last one.

‘Want me to stop?’ I hated that
question. It was like giving a toddler a chocolate and taking it away and then
asking, “Hey, want me to take it away?” He knew what he was doing. And it was
working. Dammit, I told my body to calm down. It did the opposite. We kissed.

‘Gu-ess tha-t a no.’ He said in
my mouth. While he kissed the funnel of my breasts, I thought of the soup. Was
the stove off? Think it was. Would I care if it burned? Not really. It was on a
low heat – not like the house was going to burn down.

‘Your breasts smell of lavender.’
I raised my eyebrows. He hit the spot head on.

‘I had a shower before you–’

‘Shut up and kiss me.’ Fine
with me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and dug my nails into the back
of his neck.

He kicked the door open. We
laughed into my bedroom. I was waiting for him to throw me on the bed – like he
always did. But instead, he held me in front of it and kissed me. Each time our
tongues twirled and sucked, my heart grew lighter. I asked him to bite my neck.
He said
no
. I asked him to bite my lips. He said
no
. I asked him
to meet me halfway and suck on my lower lip. He said
no
. Each
no
made
me want to slide my hands down his body toward the only place where I know I
can turn that
no
into a
yes
. And I think that’s where he wanted
me to go. It was the way he stared at me, a look he usually gave me at work
while I’m busy taking calls and writing notes. I bit the tip of my tongue and
asked him to lower me. He didn’t say no.

I’m feeling dangerous. Why
satisfy his craving when he declined mine? And he didn’t even ask. I gritted my
teeth.

‘And that look?’

‘You know,’ I ran my finger
down his chest, ‘maybe you should ask me again.’ He smiled. Was he
contemplating it? How dare he? So he wants to play it hard. Fine with me. I
opened my mouth wide enough for him to see my tongue playing with my insides,
and then I ran my finger down his chest; until I grabbed hold of his ever
expanding bulge. I’m going to enjoy teasing him.

‘Get on the bed.’ Before he
could do it himself I pushed him. He fell with a grin. I looked at his lips
with a hunger that was impossible to sate; four days of sucking that minty
flesh wouldn’t suffice. I stretched my neck and felt a bead of sweat trickle.
Think my breasts needed fresh air. I looked at my shirt and felt my legs wet. I
was either turning myself on or it was his bulge in my peripheral that did the
trick. I looked at my gleaming arms and felt hot; could even smell the lavender
squeezing through the pores. I cocked my chin up, stretched my lips, and kept
my mouth slightly open. My hands felt clammy; I liked it wet. I reached for the
buttons on my shirt – starting at the middle. I clicked one open, my shirt felt
lighter; I clicked another, my shirt slid; I clicked the third, a black lace
became visible. Now do I keep my shirt on? Or do I–

His hand grabbed for my
breasts. I pushed him away. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘This isn’t fair.’

‘But.’ Can’t be pushing him
away all the time; need to give him some hope. ‘Do you want to open my last,
top, button?’ He nodded.

‘Then you’ll have to say–’

‘Please,’ he leaned forward,
‘Velvet.’ He clicked the last button. The shirt slipped from my body. He smiled
not at my face but at my stomach. He rubbed his palm across the surface and
licked his lips. He grabbed my back with both hands and gently pulled me closer.
He brushed his tongue around my navel and then kissed the wet saliva he’d left
behind. Each warm print from his mouth made my legs want to faint. A surge of
animalistic love rushed through my body and into my head. I don’t think it’s
possible to keep it all in – I want him inside of me. I ran my hands around his
shoulders (I like) and felt like taking his shirt off. He was two steps ahead
of me; his hand reached for my bra. He was about to snap it off when his phone
buzzed.

I thought he was going to
ignore it but then his hands slipped down my back and away. ‘Did you leave
something at work?’ He smiled and looked at his pocket. The thing kept buzzing.
‘Is it her?’ The buzz stopped.

‘Might actually
be
work,’ he laughed, ‘we’re in the middle of–’ his pocket buzzed. Why do things
like this always have to happen when you’re in the middle of something good? He
looked away as if it didn’t bother him but I could tell that it did.

‘Do you want to answer it?’

He grunted and pulled it out. I
could see her name flashing on the screen. Great. I walked backward.

‘Hey don’t go I can just–’

‘Answer it.’ He did. I picked
up my shirt and slipped it on. He sounded so calm over the phone; as if he was
in an aisle at Toys R Us picking a toy for their newborn. I shook my head and
went downstairs.

While swirling the soup, I could
hear him blabber. He was telling her that he was still at work – and that,
“Things got a little hectic,” and “Don’t worry we can have dinner together.” The
glittery liquid didn’t look so appetizing all of a sudden. So what does that
mean? Was he leaving? Did I make this soup for nothing? A part of me wants him
to leave her. The only reason I haven’t said anything is because they just had
a child. I’m not that cruel. I swirled the soup with rapid strokes. If he was
happy with her then why did he always complain about her? I shook my head and
heard him call for me. I don’t think I feel that horny anymore. Think I’m going
to tip this soup down the drain. He called again – this time I frowned.

I looked up at the ceiling. ‘James?’
I thought it was nothing, but then he yelled again. Was he crying? I walked out
of the kitchen and gazed up the staircase. He was – sobbing like a child –
trying to catch breath. I looked at the walls as if it could answer my
confusion. I think I knew why he was crying. Did she just find out about us?
Or, maybe a family member died, or worse, maybe his child. I rushed up.

I walked in while closing my
buttons. He was in the bathroom. ‘James you ok?’ I knocked on the door.
‘James?’ I heard him sit on the toilet seat. He didn’t answer me back. I
knocked again.

He blew his nose. ‘J-give a
minute.’

I wasn’t going to wait a
minute. I needed to know what was going on. I leaned my face against the door.
‘Why are you crying?’

‘Velvet please just give me a–’

I closed my eyes. ‘No.’ I felt
angry for some reason. A headache jumped out of nowhere. A few minutes ago we
were making love on the bed now he was sitting on the toilet crying. ‘Can I
come in?’ I winced away as he screamed at me saying
no
. And then he
continued sobbing. I looked at my shirt to make sure all the buttons were
closed. I was going to walk inside so that I could calm him. His phone buzzed –
he answered it as if he was holding his finger on the button.

I’m so sorry Angeline so sorry.
He whispered. I scratched my forehead.

Are you all right?
He
gasped for air.
Is the child all right? Angeline? Why aren’t you speaking to
me what’re you doing?

I think this had to be one of
the weirdest moments of my life. I reached for the door handle and then
stopped. I could hear him lower his tone even more – to devilish whispers.

I’m going cut our child you
like don’t you Angeline
. My mouth dropped open – did I
just hear that right? He began giggling. My chest contracted. My lungs kicked
out air. I heard a baby scream. The cell went off. I shook my head and opened
the door.

He looked at me as if he had
been crying for five days straight. Eyes bloodshot. Lips raw. The sweat and gel
an intoxicating mix that made his face glisten. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I
asked.

‘I have to go.’ Go where? Do we
need to call the police? He couldn’t even push himself up from the toilet. I
don’t understand what was going on.

‘James please tell me what is
going on.’

‘I can’t not now.’ He used the
sink to pull himself up. ‘Need to get–’ He turned around and held the sink. He
coughed.

‘Are you, ok?’ He coughed again.
Liquid slurped. I walked in to help. But then I saw lines of sweat snake down
his neck – like his head was an open tap. I gasped. My heart didn’t feel light
anymore.

‘I don’t feel good.’ He gripped
the sink with both hands. His coughing turned into spitting. His neck now a
stream of sweat. I was too stunned – too dazed to compute what was happening in
front of me. I made my way around him so that I could see his face but I didn’t
get far. He waved his hand back.

‘Velvet go.’

‘I’ll call the ambul–’

He waved again. ‘No just go.’

‘Are you ok?’ Of course he
wasn’t. I swallowed and leaned. I couldn’t see his face. He had it tucked in
the sink – coughing. My knees felt weak. For some reason I just wanted to see
his face. I stepped closer. And then he swiped his hand back – his nails cut me
like a knife. A line of red slid down my forearm. I can’t believe it but I
think I was going to cry. ‘James please tell me what’s wrong.’

His head collapsed into the
sink. He began screaming down the pipe. His body convulsed. He gripped the sink
harder but it didn’t keep his body stable. And then his knees cracked against
the cupboard. I stepped closer but feared for another swipe. I had to do
something – I grabbed his shoulder. A tear slid down the bridge of my nose.
‘James look at–’

He did look, and what I saw, I
didn’t like. I let go of his shoulder and stepped backward. His lips were blown
up like a purple balloon, his right cheek hung off his face like a slab of meat,
lines of blood slid down his nose that occasionally spurted into bigger ones,
but it were his eyes that made me slap my hand onto my mouth. They reminded me
of marbles my brother used to play with; not the colorful ones, the black
glossy kind. He reached his hand out to me.

‘H-help please.’ A scream
slipped through my hand. My knees shook. I had to grab the wall for support. I
looked away and closed my eyes. This didn’t feel real. I need to count,
five-four-three-two–

A thump startled my eyes open.
He was halfway toward me, crawling, asking for help. The skin from his cheek
fell off. My heart fell into my stomach; think I was going to faint. I skid
along the wall and bumped into the corner. With his stomach flat on the floor,
he cocked his chin up.

‘Angeline me help please it
hurts.’ Why was he calling me his wife’s name? I shook my head. I gulped and
felt warm spit trickle down my throat. I tried walking backward through a brick
wall.

‘James stay where you are.’ He
slapped a hand forward – pulled. ‘James I-I’ll get some help–’ he slapped
another hand forward – pulled. He kept his chin up. His eyes, those ill-black
marbles, glinted as if the sun shone on them. He looked at me as if he was
looking at his terminally ill mother; saying his last words; not being able to
bare the pain. But beneath the sad look, I could see something else, a sneer. Every
muscle on his face, except his mouth, drooped in a way that seemed to say, “I’m
sorry.” His lips however, the way it hung askew, seemed to say, “Why did you do
this to me?”

While his arms slapped forward
I instinctively looked for a weapon. A weapon? What was I thinking? I’m not
going to hurt him am I? The hairs on my body pricked against my clothes. I swiped
sweat from neck and grabbed of the nearest thing – a hairdryer. He stopped a
few feet away and started to cry. I looked at the hairdryer shaking in my hands
and then at him. Air left my lungs. He was crying blood.

He gazed at the floor, coughed,
and craned his neck up toward my upper body. ‘Angeline it hurts oh God it
hurts.’