The Witching Hour

"Happy Halloween, Derek." Ashley murmured, touching the flaming match to the candlewick.

The dry string flared to life and set the carved eyes and mouth of the jack-o'-lantern flickering with a golden glow. Setting the pumpkin on the dresser, Ashley padded across the bedroom to the window and stared outside. The streets were all but empty now, void of all but the late-starting trick-or-treaters who were finishing up their rounds. She took a long, unsteady breath and wrapped the old flannel shirt around her body. God, Derek had loved Halloween. It'd been his favorite holiday; he didn't even look forward to Christmas with as much excitement.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she stared out over the barren front lawn, remembering how they used to spend at least a month just planning what the yard would look like. They'd been the house all the kids used to look forward to visiting, because the little ones never knew what kind of fright they'd dream up for Halloween, but they could always be sure it would be better than the one before. Why, Derek used to spend a fortune on lifelike models of the horror movie "greats", guaranteed to wring a scream from even the bravest treat-seeker when placed in strategic locations throughout their "haunted" house. But it had all been worth it for her then, just to watch the grin on Derek's face as he waited on the other end of the yard to reward the children with candy when they made it through. "Only the best for my brave visitors," he'd announce in a deep voice, before dropping a few Hershey bars or the like in their open bags or Halloween-themed buckets.

But there were no decorations, no grand celebration this time. It had only been a little less than a year since the accident. Ashley had tried to think up some grand scheme for the neighborhood kids, but it all seemed so pointless with Derek gone. In the end, she simply decided that the children would have to find another home to visit for their "spooky" night, and left the porch light off for the first time in the ten years that they'd lived in the house.

She simply didn't have the heart for celebrating, and her only contribution to the night's fun was the jack-o'-lantern she'd carved for the bedroom, a shrine of memory for her dead husband's favorite holiday. And as the night progressed, the pain of losing him just got worse. It was almost midnight now, judging by the numbers that glowed on their alarm clock's face. The "witching hour", Derek had called it. It had been at this time that they would have shut down their grand haunted house, stopped handing candy to the last of the straggling trick-or-treating children. When the big Grandfather clock downstairs began the chiming the last remaining minutes of Halloween, it had been tradition that Derek sweep Ashley off her feet and carry her up to the bedroom.

Abandoning their costumes, tossing their masks to the ground, they would fall into each other's arms to culminate the excitement of the night. It had been Ashley's favorite part of the holiday, when she was pressed beneath the weight of Derek's body, sinking back into the bed while his mouth and hands did incredible things to her body, their skin turned to liquid amber hues by the glow of the candles spread about the room. She'd asked him once, what the saying meant, in between passionate kisses as they struggled out of their attire. He'd looked at her with the devilish twinkle in his eye that he could get sometimes, and tossed her naked body onto the mattress.

"It's the witching hour," he explained, punctuating his meanings with little love bites on her bare breasts. "It's when all the magic happens."

She wasn't even aware that her memories had caused her to start crying, until the first salty tear tickled its way down her cheek. Abandoning the window, Ashley stretched across her bed, her body numb and her heart in pain. She buried her face in Derek's pillow, unable to stop the flow of tears. Even after nearly a year of no use, the downy cushion still smelled like him, a mixture of Brut cologne and male skin. Downstairs, the Grandfather clock started its chords, letting her know the "witching hour" had officially begun. Clutching the pillow to her body as if it was Derek himself, Ashley gave in to the wave of sadness and sobbed herself to sleep.

She was awakened by the most delicious tingle in her body, one that she remembered quite well. It was the sensation of a mouth suckling her nipple, catching it hard between lips and rolling it, coaxing the center to rise for more devious torture.

Ashley moaned with her eyes still closed, feeling each tug of the glorious exploration sending a straight jolt of pleasure to her loins. Derek always did know that her breasts were her weak point, and he had been so good about seeing the attention they deserved. How many times had she reached her first climax from him just toying with her breasts, giving them equal time and making her squirm beneath him as the pleasure exploded over her? But the sensual sensations weren't enough to make her forget that Derek was gone. If Derek wasn't here, then who was caressing her body? As if she'd been dunked into a tub of ice-cold water, her ardor was forgotten, and Ashley snapped her eyes open in shock. She'd been out for a few hours, for the candle in the carved pumpkin's hollows had all but burned itself out. But although the room was bathed in shadows, the being on top of her could be seen clearly, as it gave off some ethereal aura of its own.

She almost screamed, but the sound caught in her throat as she gaped at it. It was a man, or rather, the spirit of a man. Although they were transparent, those were definitely the limbs of a human, glowing with that strange silver light. It was like looking at a body made of mist; for one minute, the body would seem solid, so solid she could tell details of the fingers and the delicate ghostly curls of hair on the top of its head. And then, before she could blink, the features would blur, and all she would see was a great cloud of silver light, and her own body stretched out beneath it. She should have been scared, but for some reason she was more surprised than fearful. There was something familiar about the way the shape crouched over her, something comforting in the warmth it was radiating on her body. And then the being raised its head, and she knew, she knew in one moment when the features came clear for a split second what unearthly spirit was pleasuring her body.

"Oh my god," Ashley whimpered, reaching out a hand to caress the face of the ghost. "Derek?? Is it really you?" Her hand passed right through the cheek of its face, dipping inside the silver body as though it was air. Where her fingers entered the spectral visitor, she felt a great heat and a tingling, as though she was touching a live wire of energy.

Derek looked up at her and smiled, his eyes a little sad. He didn't open his mouth to speak, but his words suddenly echoed in her mind, as if he were sending them through telepathy. "It's really me, Ash. I had to come back, to let you know I'm really okay." The words bubbled over her wounded heart like a soothing balm, and suddenly she began to cry again. The ghost leaned forward to where the wet tracks were tracing down her cheeks, and pressed its transparent lips to them. Her face tingled, and the heat of the kiss dried the moisture seeping from her eyes.

"How, Derek? How are you here?" She whispered. "I don't understand."

"The witching hour," The voice told her, and a rich chuckle echoed in her mind. "I told you, it's when all the magic happens." Derek pressed a ghostly hand to her chest, and even though she felt the tingle, he somehow made it solid enough to press her back down to the bed. "Close your eyes," he told her. "I don't have much time here, and I have to do this. I have to touch you one more time."

"Derek…" She closed her eyes, and her breath left her body in a ragged sigh, as she felt once more his body cover hers. Without seeing his shimmering body, it was almost as if he'd never left her. The silkiness of his skin pressed against hers sent a shudder through her body she couldn't control. He sealed off any more protests she would have given with a soft press of his mouth to hers. Her lips tingled with the crackling energy of his spectral kiss, and she flung her arms about his semi-solid body. It seemed like it had been centuries since she'd felt his touch, and her body was begging for more. Derek gave it to her in abundance, raining kisses on her closed eyelids, her cheeks, her neck.

His scent surrounded her, enveloped her like a bubble, and she gave a ragged gasp as he returned his attentions to her breasts. Tugging, licking, biting……Derek knew what she needed, what her body craved. He'd been so proud of her body, so possessive of the perfection of her curves. He molded one globe in his hand while he sampled the pleasures of the puckered bud crowning it, and then used his other hand to mime his mouth's antics over the other breast. Each little motion over her flesh was a combination of bursts of pleasure and tiny tingling jolts. Each pass of his fingers and tongue shoved her ever closer to that freefall of desire that she wanted. Her first orgasm slammed into her like a fist, the first wave of pleasure she'd seen since the night he died.

Ashley screamed his name, riding the crest of ecstasy, her sex shuddering in violent sucking gulps. Derek didn't even give her a chance to come down from the high of her first climax before turning his attention towards giving her a second. They were riding on borrowed time, and when he brought his mouth down to the leaking folds of her flower, he wasn't gentle and passionate. Her hips lifted from the bed as he plundered her, lapping at her. In life, Derek had never been so bold, but now his tongue and lips seized the crest of her clit, urging her with long sucks and strong, frequent strokes. She'd barely gotten her senses back from the first time she came when he coaxed her over the edge again.

Her body jerked and writhed on the sheets of the bed, her hands falling to the sheets to make fistfuls of them, yanking the fitted sheet from the corners of the bed in her throes of passion. In the midst of the mind-fog of pleasure, she heard Derek tell her, "Don't be frightened. I want you to feel this. I want to show you all the things I didn't have the ability to in life."

Ashley gasped, as slowly Derek's ethereal body grew very hot against her skin, like a surge of power against her flesh. And then they were floating, rising off the bed where they had made love a thousand times before. Her eyes opened, to find herself rising into the air, clasped in Derek's ghostly embrace. His arms were like bands of iron, clutching her body as she squeezed her eyes closed again. And suddenly, she knew it wasn't the levitation he'd been talking about, that he'd wanted to show her. It was the most incredible thing she'd ever felt; she doubted even the greatest sexual master could ever show her more intense sensations than she was feeling at that moment. It was as if the cloud of light that was Derek possessed her in every way that he could have her at once.

Every sexual act she'd ever experienced was happening all at once: at the same time she felt the thickness of a man's organ slide into her quivering sex, she was impaled anally in the same fashion. Her mouth, her sex, and her anus were being taken in the same urgent way, in long strokes that provided the most pleasure. And yet at the same time, the licking of phantom tongues was stimulating her breasts, her neck, and her clit, while a barrage of hands massaged and rubbed every part of her body from her forehead to her toes. Her voice was raw from sobbing Derek's name again and again. It was all one long orgasm now, one stretching wave of pleasure after another. Ashley's body was close to falling unconsciousness under the strength of the ecstasy when Derek spoke to her one final time.

"Don't ever forget me, Ashley. And don't ever forget the witching hour. You have to be there for the kids, Ashley, they need to enjoy things as much as I did when I was alive."

"No," Ashley whined, trying to yank herself up from the depths of grogginess. "No, you have to stay with me, Derek. I can't lose you again, no, please..."

Her body was still being plundered in more ways than she thought possible, and yet she felt the fear building in her. She knew, she knew that Derek was leaving her again, and that after this she'd never see him again. Ever.

"You won't lose me, Ash," He said, the telepathic voice sounding just as sad as the feelings starting to well up in her chest. "I'll always be here for you, be with you. And I'm leaving you with a gift to remember me by. Always remember, Ashley. I love you."

"Derek," She sobbed, but she felt him go tense against her. She was awash in his release, his climax pouring into her like a hot rush of molten silver. It spread through her entire body, filling every inch of her with a burning warmth, and the sensation was too much for her over stimulated body. As wave after wave of heat passed over her, Ashley clung to Derek's body for all she was worth... and began to slip into the dark depths of unconsciousness. The last thing she felt were the hot lips of the ghost, pressing against her forehead in a farewell kiss.

When she awoke, Ashley discovered she'd been asleep for most of the day. It was late afternoon when she finally roused herself enough to sit up in the bed. Her body protested with that twang of muscles that always followed a bout of good sex. Reaching for the flannel shirt that Derek had stripped her of the night before, she went over to the bedroom window. The children ran below on the neighborhood streets, comparing candy they'd gotten the night before. As she watched the little ones play, she felt a quick jolt of sensation in her lower abdomen, a feeling of kinship. Ashley's eyes widened with surprise, and she felt happy tears flood her eyes. Could it be? Derek had said that he was going to leave her with a gift to remember him by.

And as sure as she knew it sounded insane, she also knew then that she was pregnant. It was officially November now, time to give thanks for all the things in her life. And give thanks she would this year. She had a new reason to live; a new life blossoming inside her that was as much a part of Derek as it was of her.

And Derek's memory would be with her, a happy one this time, next year when she rang in the "witching hour" with a newborn cradled in her arms. After all, it's when the magic happens, and she wanted their child to know every minute of it.