Same Time Next Year

By Eden Winters

Published by

JMS Books LLC

Visit

jms-books.com

for more information.

Copyright 2012

Eden Winters

ISBN 9781611522754

Cover Photo Credit:

Jussi Pernaa

,

Frenk and Danielle Kaufmann

Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design:

Written Ink Designs

All Rights Reserved

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your

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infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be
prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced

in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from
the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the
purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains

substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which
may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your
files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination
and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to
actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.
NOTE: This story was previously published by Torquere

Press.

* * * *

1

Same Time Next Year

By Eden Winters

“I still can’t believe that your folks sprang for a brand new

Mustang convertible for graduation and all I have to drive is my
sister’s hand-me-down clunker. It must be nice.” Jerome ran a
hand down one sleek fender, watching his reflection in the shiny
black surface. Far from jealous, he was thrilled that at least one
of them had a nice ride.

His best friend since childhood came up from behind and

they appeared together in the car’s tinted window, a matched
set, height-wise, at six-foot each. Greg’s dark hair and light eyes
contrasted with Jerome’s dark eyes and light brown hair.

After a brief glance over his shoulder to ensure no one

was watching, Greg leaned in for a kiss, balancing a loaded
duffle between them. “And you look so good in it,” he murmured.
His mouth tasted of breath mints.

Jerome took the kiss and the bag, placing it in the trunk

when Greg pulled away. “Is that everything?”

“I think so. Maybe we’d better check one more time.” A

suggestive smile and winking green eye hinted at mischief.

Jerome took Greg’s hand and laced their fingers together,

leading the way back up two flights of stairs to their apartment.
The cramped, one bedroom shoebox was tiny, yet special—it
was their first home together. “Okay, but if we’re late, I’m gonna
let my sister know who to blame.”

Greg jumped away, eyes wide in feigned terror. “Dude!

Anything but that!” They shared a laugh. Shelby was sweet if
somewhat bossy, and liked to pick on her brother’s boyfriend.
Greg humored her, pretending to fear the petite brunette.

“Okay. Let’s do a quick check and then get on the road.”

Jerome disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Greg to inspect
the living area. He returned a moment later, holding a piece of
dark fabric. “I’m glad we checked. You forgot this.”

“My cape!” Greg grabbed the proffered garment, clutching

it to his chest. “I can’t be Dracula without a cape.”

2

Jerome grinned. He opened his fist to reveal a set of

plastic teeth with long, pointed canines. “Or without these. Come
on, let’s go. The party starts at eight.”

Now ready, they returned to the car and Greg started it

up. The engine purred like a contented cat. “Can we?” Jerome
asked, putting on a hopeful face.

Greg cocked one eyebrow and attempted a glare. “It’s

October. It’s cold.” He appeared to be fighting a smile.

“Please.” Jerome fought dirty, giving Greg big brown

puppy dog eyes. Greg could never resist “the eyes.”

The restrained smile broke free, revealing a chipped front

tooth. “Oh, all right. If it means that much to you.” Greg flipped
the switch that retracted the roof and turned on the heater while
it folded back. “The things I do for you.”

“Because you love me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“And because you look out for me.”
“Always have, Jer, always will.” Yes, he had, ever since

grade school when they’d first met on the playground.

Their fingers interlocked over the gearshift, they chatted,

sang along with the radio, and took turns grinning at each other.
The tassel from a college graduation cap swung back and forth
from the rearview mirror. Jerome had one just like it in his car.
Had graduation really been just four months ago?

“Sure you won’t change your mind and spend the night

with me?” Greg asked when they passed the sign that read,
“Murphy Town Limit.” Wide spot in the road was more like it.

Jerome sighed. He’d love to spend the night together, but

wasn’t ready to push it with Greg’s parents yet. They weren’t
nearly as accepting as his own. Besides, it was only for one
night. “I’d love to, you know that, but…”

“My dad?”
“Yeah, your dad.”
The next few minutes were uncomfortably quiet before

Greg spoke again. “Things would be so much easier if my
parents could just accept us. You think they’d be happy that I’m
not out cruising and getting girls pregnant like my brother. I

3

mean, he’s twenty-eight, still living at home, and has two kids by
two different women.”

Jerome gave Greg’s hand a gentle squeeze. “They

accepted me well enough in your life before they walked in and
caught us kissing,” he pointed out.

“It doesn’t bother them to catch my sister kissing her

boyfriends, and she brings home a new guy every week.” Greg’s
face twisted into a scowl. “They should be darned impressed that
we’ve been together so long. All it’s ever been is you and me.”

“That’s all it ever will be if I have anything to say about it.”

Jerome narrowed his eyes and gave a possessive growl.

Greg stopped the car at a four-way stop. He looked right,

left, and in the rearview mirror before leaning in and delivering a
brief, sweet kiss. “That’s all it will ever be. Now, think that will tide
you over for a few hours?”

“Shelby won’t care if we make out at her place.” Jerome’s

sister was pretty open-minded and understanding, even if she
did like to tease.

“It’s not Shelby I’m worried about; other people will be

there and it’s not worth the grief. This is our Po-dunk home town,
not the big city.” Greg nuzzled his nose against Jerome’s. “We
can behave for a night, right?” Poor, shy Greg. Would he ever be
comfortable enough to kiss openly in public?

Jerome poked out his lower lip. “Not all night, I hope.”
A wide grin was his answer.
“I know! Why don’t you stay with me, Greg? My folks love

you and call you their son-in-law.”

Oddly, Greg’s face flushed and his attention turned back

to the road. “You know my dad wouldn’t forgive me for not
staying with him and Mom. Besides, I have some things I need to
discuss with them.”

“Looks like we’re stuck, then.” Hmmm…something was on

Greg’s mind. Too bad there wasn’t time to find out what.

The conversation ended when they pulled up in Shelby’s

yard. Greg squeezed the car into the only space available on the
front lawn. It looked like the party was going full swing already. He
flipped open the lighted visor mirror and began applying makeup.

4

“Hey, Greg? I have an idea,” Jerome said, reaching into

the back seat for his werewolf costume.

Count Dracula leered at him, one eye outlined in black. “I

wuff yo ifears,” the count said around a mouthful of plastic teeth.

Jerome pulled a rubber mask over his face. The tiny mouth

opening muffled his words. “Remember our old parking road?”

“Yeffff.” That one word was full of hope.
“What say we put in our appearances and go relive old

times?”

“Owff!” Greg yelled, jabbing himself in the eye with an

eyeliner pen.

“Sorry!”
Greg removed the plastic teeth. “No you’re not, you just

love teasing me.”

“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, Wolfman; I’d say it’s a date.”

* * * *

Two hours later found them parked on a lonely dirt road

exactly halfway between their parents’ houses. When they were
ten they’d built log forts here, at twelve they tried out new
mountain bikes. At sixteen it was the site of their first kiss, and
shortly thereafter they fumbled their way through do-it-yourself
sex education.

Greg parked the car out of sight of the main road. “This is

one time when I wish we’d have brought your car instead of
mine. We could have an orgy in the back seat of the Buick. We
have to be very, very creative in here.”

“Thankfully, we’re both engineering grads. I’d say we’re

pretty creative.”

They started by kissing until the gear shift dug painfully

into Jerome’s belly, then they gave up and climbed into the
miniscule back seat. “I think I now know the real reason your
parents bought this car,” Jerome griped when they resorted to
getting out of the car to strip. “It’s the modern equivalent of the
chastity belt.” The temperature had dropped since the sun went

5

down, and they shed their clothing in record time, racing to see
who could get back into the car first. No mention was made of
lowering the roof.

“We’ll just have to persevere then, won’t we?” Dracula

said. Even without the plastic teeth he did an impressive job of
neck nibbling, one cool hand sliding up Jerome’s side.

“You know how much I like it when you touch me, don’t

you, Greg?” Jerome ran his own hands over Greg’s nearly
hairless chest. One headed north to tease a cold-stiffened
nipple, the other headed south to grasp a hardening cock that
seemed none the worse for the chill.

Greg answered with a breathy sigh, head falling against

the back of the seat. He idly stroked Jerome’s ribs, surrendering
control. A gentle push against one shoulder sent him sliding over
leather upholstery to the far side of the seat.

Jerome crawled onto the floorboard, taking Greg’s slender,

uncut cock between his lips. The first time he’d tried this, he’d
gagged repeatedly, but years of practice had paid off. He knew
exactly what Greg liked, the pressure, the speed, when to be
forceful, and when to take it easy. Some of their college buddies
had liked to fuck around, but how could that possibly be any fun?
Wasn’t it better to be with one person, knowing what they liked
and how to please them? And getting pleased in return.

Strong fingers rhythmically kneaded his neck as Halloween

themed music from the radio blended with moans, gasps, and soft
cries. Jerome brought Greg to the edge, only to back off,
prolonging the ecstasy. Denial turned Greg into a wild man.

Jerome alternated between sucking Greg’s cock and balls

and gently biting the insides of his thighs.

“Please.” The word was more whimpered than spoken.
The dark and Greg’s thigh hid Jerome’s grin. “Please what?”
“You know.”
His grin widened. Greg was so responsive, and it turned

Jerome on no end to hear his normally shy boyfriend beg and
make demands. Greg wouldn’t even hold hands at the party,
being a “gentleman in the living room, unbridled hellcat in bed”
type. Jerome urged again, “I want you to say it.”

6

“Do I have to?” Greg’s hips thrust up, seeking contact. Oh,

but Jerome knew the effect he was having, and played the game
well. He wrapped his hand around Greg’s cock and gave it a few
tentative strokes before stopping.

“Tease!” Greg whined.
“Say it!”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Jerome could easily imagine that pretty pout, even if he

couldn’t see it. “You want me to…” he prodded.

“Fuckmelikeyoumeanit!” Greg blurted.
Jerome took a deep breath and shuddered. How he loved to

hear his man talk dirty! He rose up between Greg’s spread thighs,
hand diving into the ashtray where he’d stashed a tube of lube.

He wet his fingers and slowly, slowly pushed one finger

into the now-panting Greg, the full moon providing just enough
light to watch the questing digit slide inside. Whenever Greg tried
to deepen the penetration Jerome pulled his finger back. “Uh, uh,
uh. Patience.”

“Fuck patience!” Greg huffed, but he held still.
One finger became two. Jerome knew from experience

that Greg was fighting hard not to ride those fingers. Greg loved
fingers almost as much as cock.

It had a remarkable effect on Jerome, who was rubbing

his hard flesh against the edge of the seat. When he thought
Greg had been tormented enough, he removed his fingers just
long enough to lube himself. This was another thing his non-
monogamous friends missed out on—no barrier. He nudged in
just the smallest bit, retreating and advancing, but never going
any deeper.

When Greg was ready for more he pushed back, body

opening to allow Jerome access. He bowed up from the seat,
locking their mouths together as Jerome slid all the way in. They
remained merged at lips and groin, rocking gently against each
other.

That position trapped Greg’s cock between their bodies,

and he bucked into the contact, moans lost in their play of lips,
tongues, and teeth. “I’m close,” he breathed into Jerome’s mouth.

7

Taking that as his cue, Jerome broke the kiss and began

pumping in long, smooth strokes, taking Greg’s cock in his hand.
When the exquisite feeling began low in his belly, he locked their
mouths again, moans harmonizing with the ghostly wails from
the radio as they both came.

“I love you,” Jerome murmured against Greg’s chest, at

the exact same time that Greg whispered it into his hair.

They laughed for a moment before Greg cleared his

throat. He only did that when he had something important to say.
Unfortunately, the radio announcer interrupted. “It’s eleven
o’clock; time for all good little ghouls and goblins to be home in
bed.”

Greg sighed, whatever was on his mind still unspoken. “It

can wait, I suppose. As much as I’d love to stay here, I really
need to get you home. My parents will be waiting up to see me.”

They cleaned up with wipes that smelled like they might

have been for glass cleaning instead of body cleaning (who
could tell the difference in the dark?) and got dressed, laughing
again when they realized they’d put on each other’s shirts. The
giddy afterglow lasted until they reached Jerome’s parents’
house, where they spent a few moments cuddling in the
driveway. “Sure you don’t want to come in and say hello?”

“I’d love to, but I really need to get to my folks’. I’ll be here

to pick you up at noon; I’ll visit with your family then, before we
head back home. I’d like to talk to them.”

Jerome got out and stood by the car, staring at Greg one

long moment. That devilish smile, complete with smeared
makeup, etched itself into his mind. He watched the car drive
away and could barely make out the tail lights when it stopped at
the crossroads. It must have been near their parking spot when
the sound of the engine faded, and he’d just turned to go inside
when he heard the crash.

He took off running, but by the time he reached the

twisted wreckage it was too late. Greg was gone. The
paramedics found a pair of silver rings in his pocket.

8

One Year Later

“I’ll see you guys later.” Jerome waved over his shoulder,

staggering just a tiny bit down the front steps. What was left of
his pirate costume hung precariously off his lean frame.

“Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum,” he sang off key, grabbing

a lamp pole and spinning around it.

A few of his friends standing on the porch sniggered, one

calling out, “Are you sure you can make it back all right?”

“I’ll be just fine,” he replied, toning down the slur in his

words to prevent an intervention, or Shelby running out of the
house and demanding he stay the night. She’d mentioned not
having her annual Halloween party so as not to upset Jerome,
but he didn’t want to be the reason others suffered and had held
his chin up and begged her to proceed as usual. He’d even
agreed to attend to prove he was okay, lying through his teeth
the whole time. He was a long way from okay.

He ambled down the road, straightening his clothes and

back. Both slouched again a moment later. By most people’s
reckoning, he’d drunk way too much tonight; by his own he
hadn’t drunk nearly enough, for he could still think—and feel.
He’d never really been much of a drinker until lately. Greg had
never touched the stuff.

One year. One whole year had come and gone and still

the pain lingered. With no particular destination in mind, he
ambled down the road. His fellow partiers thought he was going
to his parents’ house, where he was staying the weekend, but
what he really needed was a place where the memories couldn’t
find him. Did such a place exist?

He found himself at the familiar crossroads. Go straight

and wind up at his parents’, or turn left and go downtown, maybe
find a bar and a bit of company. He could always turn around, go
back to the party and just crash at Shelby’s, which probably
wouldn’t be a bad idea. Or he could turn right. Three roads offered
safety, comfort, and hope. The fourth? Nothing but despair.

Drawn by some unseen force, he turned right. One foot

followed the other down a lonely road—the road that used to lead

9

to Greg’s house. Leaving the street lights behind, Jerome
squinted into the darkness, barely making out the shapes of trees.
The wind, quiet until now, played a mournful tune through the
topmost branches, and a light drizzle began to fall. Jerome looked
back over his shoulder. The rain didn’t reach the well-lit
intersection, just this road. Were the fates trying to turn him back?

Cool mist brushed his face but he wouldn’t be deterred.

Next, the heavens sent fog, thick and heavy, nearly blinding. He
followed the white line at the edge of the road, the only thing
visible in the gloom. The sound of an engine gearing down
caused him to turn, jumping away from the asphalt in case the
driver couldn’t see him. How odd that in the black of night there
were no headlights shining. The motor revved, closer this time.
The mist parted and the shadowy shape of a sports car appeared.

A fist clenched Jerome’s heart and he shook his head,

willing himself sober. It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t! The car
purred like some sleek, black predator waiting for him to run so it
could give chase. The passenger door swung open.

A joke. That’s what it had to be. A cruel, sick joke.
Jerome stared at the door for what felt like an eternity.

The rain fell harder. When it began to trickle under his collar,
curiosity got the better of him. One slow step at a time he
approached, gazing into the darkened interior. Just like outside
the vehicle, inside there were no lights, not even on the
instrument panel. When he placed his hand on the car’s canvas
top, a jolt traveled up his arm, and he swore the damned thing
leaned into his touch.

No words were said, none were needed. The invitation was

clear. He sucked in a cool, deep breath and exhaled slowly,
fogged breath mingling with the chilly mist. He stooped and slid
into the car. The door closed without his help. The Mustang
accelerated, barely crawling down a side road. Something swung
from the rearview mirror. Even without seeing it clearly Jerome
knew it was the tassel from a graduation cap. There was no other
explanation; he must be hallucinating. How much had he drunk?

When the car came to a full stop, Jerome spoke. This was

their spot, where they’d come every Saturday night throughout

10

high school to make out, and where they’d spent their last night
together. “I’d like to see you.” The instrument lights began to
glow, creating a surreal landscape of shadows and light on the
driver’s face. Dear Lord. There was no way it could be who it
looked like. Could there?

A husky, well-remembered voice drawled, “How have you

been?”

Jerome leaned back in the seat, dragging one hand

through his already disheveled hair. He exhaled a shaky breath.
That’s it! I’ve lost my mind completely. “Oh, you know. Same
‘ole, same ‘ole,” he said as calmly as he could. I will not freak
out, I will not freak out…

“Nice costume.”
“How can you…”
“I can see you.”
Heart thundering in his chest, Jerome replied, “But I still

can’t see you very well.” It’s just a dream, just a dream. It can’t
be real!

The visor lights came on and Jerome’s heart skipped a

beat. The man sitting behind the wheel had dark brown hair and
light green eyes. Smeared makeup covered his face. A grin
would reveal a chipped front tooth, and his long thin nose was
slightly crooked from an impact with a baseball in sixth grade.
Sadly, Jerome had been the one to hit that ball.

Tall and lanky, Greg probably wasn’t most folks’ idea of

handsome. To Jerome he was perfection. Or had been. “You!
How?” Jerome pulled back when a finger approached his lips, half
expecting it to pass through. It was surprisingly solid and warm.

“Shh…Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“But…but…look at you! You look just the same as…”
“I know. That night.” Before Jerome’s eyes the face that

had once been as familiar as his own changed. It was subtle at
first, a little darkening of the hair, more chiseling of the jaw, light
stubble on a cleft chin, until Greg appeared about a year older
than he had on their last night together. He was dressed in
Jerome’s college jersey and a pair of faded blue jeans, the same
outfit he’d been wearing when…

11

Still disbelieving his eyes, Jerome stammered, “Is it really

you?”

“It’s really me.”
Stress, alcohol; it no longer mattered what caused Jerome

to see his dead lover. Greg being here was an answered prayer.
If it was a hallucination, it was a good one. Jerome leaned in for
a kiss and was met halfway. He moaned when a warm, minty-
tasting tongue pushed into his mouth. Greg’s breath mint
addiction transcended death?

Jerome brought a hand up, cupping a stubbly cheek and

pulling away to see more clearly. The day-old growth of beard (or
was that a year old?) prickled against his palm. “I missed you,”
he whispered, as if he’d wake up if he spoke too loudly. He didn’t
want to wake up. Not now, maybe not ever.

“I missed you, too.”
“Really? You can miss me where you are?”
Full, dark lips pulled back, revealing the chipped front

tooth. “Sure I can. I’m watching over you all the time, just like I
said I would.”

“What…what happened that night?” Jerome swallowed

hard, needing to know, yet not wanting to all at the same time.
What had Greg felt during those last moments? What had he
thought?

“A deer ran out in front of me, I swerved to keep from

hitting it and got a tree instead.”

Jerome closed his eyes, the pain just as intense as it had

been a year ago when he’d first seen Greg’s lifeless body.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t feel a thing.”
That still wasn’t much comfort.
Greg murmured, “My last thoughts were of you, and how I

never got to tell you how much you mean to me.” His fingers
reached into the collar of Jerome’s shirt, pulling out two silver
bands hanging from a chain. “I see you found them.”

Jerome covered Greg’s hand with his own. “Yes.”
“I was going to ask you that night. That’s why I needed to

go to my folks’; to tell them. I was going to talk to your family the
next day.”

12

“I know.” Jerome had long ago figured out what Greg had

been trying to say.

“What would you have said?”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
When Greg dropped the chain it was empty, and a silver

band appeared on his hand.

Jerome looked down to see that he was wearing the

other. Gentle fingers twined through his hair. “We don’t have
much time; let’s not waste a single minute.” The words seemed
spoken into his mind rather than his ears. Their lips met again.

Jerome moaned agreement into the kiss. If this was a

dream, he’d enjoy it while it lasted. The little Mustang was
cramped, and the gear shift was in the way, but he managed to
unzip Greg and maneuver his mouth over that familiar,
uncircumcised cock. He nearly choked when Greg slid the seat
back unexpectedly.

“Sorry.”
Jerome moaned, “Okay” around his mouthful, gently

sucking the extra skin and running his tongue underneath. How
he’d longed for this! To be with the love of his life just one more
time! Greg panted and thrust into Jerome’s mouth. Every touch,
every sharp inhalation said, “I’m here! I’m alive!” Jerome didn’t
have much room to get fancy, but that didn’t seem to matter. If
Greg said they didn’t have much time, he’d make the most of
whatever was available.

That brought guilt. He’d promised to be faithful, but in his

grief he’d strayed.

Greg said, “I don’t expect you to be alone. It’s me that left

you, remember?” Could ghosts read minds?

Jerome started to pull off and reply, “Not because you

wanted to,” but a hand on the back of his head stilled him.

“No, I didn’t want to.” Maybe ghosts could read minds.
Jerome worked Greg with tongue, teeth, and lips, rhythm

matching the sweet moans that filled the car. It was as if no time
had passed at all, but there would be no games played tonight.
Tonight was a gift not to be wasted. A year’s worth of pent-up
longing cried for release.

13

A second hand joined the first in Jerome’s hair, and Greg

arched his back in the seat, body going stiff. “I’m gonna come!”

Jerome moved faster, sucking, licking, and silently

cheering Greg on.

Greg’s fingers spasmed rhythmically against his scalp.

Jerome sank down further, taking all that was offered.

Without really knowing how it happened, he found himself

back in the passenger seat, costume pushed aside and pants
down. Greg faced him, gripping the headrest. Tight heat
enveloped Jerome’s cock, so slick and so hot. “I don’t know how
you did that, but I love it!” he groaned. A soft chuckle vibrated
against his neck.

Laws of gravity and physics didn’t seem to apply to Greg,

for even in such cramped space he rode Jerome hard. Worry that
it would soon be over made Jerome fight against the inevitable.
When he came, would Greg leave? His nails dug into his palms
and he gritted his teeth, trying to make himself last. It was no use.
He grabbed Greg’s face between his hands, smashing their
mouths together as his hips surged. Buried completely inside
Greg, he gave up the battle. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed
over him, more than anyone else had ever given.

When it was over, he held tight, hoping to keep Greg

pinned to the earth.

“Jerome?”
“Yes?” No, I won’t let you go!
“You have to let go sometime.”
“Don’t wanna.” Don’t ever wanna let you go!
Greg heaved a sigh. “I know. Neither do I. But we have to.”
Jerome squeezed tighter. “Will you come back?”
“Once every year is all I can manage. Will you be here?”
“Of course I’ll be here.” What kind of question was that?
One more deep, soul-searing kiss and then Jerome felt it,

his lover’s body growing less and less solid. He kept his eyes
tightly closed, refusing to watch Greg leave.

“I love you!” he shouted at an armful of nothing.
“I love you, too,” echoed on the wind.
When Jerome opened his eyes, he was standing beside

14

the road, fully dressed. The eerie mist blanketed the ground. His
heart ached, and the moisture on his cheeks wasn’t all due to the
rain. Huge, racking sobs shook his body and he collapsed onto
the roadside.

“Don’t go!” he screamed into the night, pouring all his pain

into the words. They echoed through the trees, fading away like
Greg had. In a miserable, huddled mass, he sat on the side of
the road, arms wrapped around his knees. Rain dripped from his
hair and nose, mingling with his tears. The steady downpour
slowed to a drizzle and eventually stopped. The fog lifted; the
pain stayed. Shoulders slumped and feet dragging, Jerome rose
and returned to the sad world of reality.

The next morning he believed it all a dream—until he saw

the shiny silver band wrapped around his finger.

15

Seven Years Later

“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?” Sympathetic

eyes studied Jerome while Shelby applied last minute touches to
her daughter’s angel costume, preparing for some trick-or-
treating. Becoming a single mom had put an end to her
Halloween partying.

“I’ll be all right,” he said, waving a hand in a shooing

motion. “Got myself a monster movie marathon planned.” He
held up several DVD cases to prove the point.

His sister still appeared doubtful. “You didn’t drive two

hundred miles to visit with my TV. Too bad Mom and Dad are out
of town.”

His face radiated mock horror. “How could I possible miss

my favorite niece acting like an angel for once?” The hand
resting in his jeans pocket toyed with a plain silver band that he
could never let Shelby see. She’d only deliver another lecture
about living in the past.

Said angel giggled and stuck her tongue out.
“She’s your only niece,” Shelby reminded him. Her eyes

darted back and forth between her daughter and Jerome. “Are
you sure you wouldn’t like to come along? I feel so bad leaving
you here. You could go hang out with your friends or something.
You used to look forward to Halloween before…” her voice
trailed off. “Sorry, that was callous of me.”

Jerome made a big production of rolling his eyes. “It’s

okay. Really. Just go already! I promise you, I’ll be fine!”
Besides, all his friends were married with children. The last thing
they needed was mopey old Jerome. They’d long since stopped
being supportive. Now they just wished he’d get over Greg and
move on. As if that could ever truly happen.

“If you’re absolutely sure.”
Thank heavens! Jerome shot to his feet, crossing the floor

in a few long strides. He kissed his sister on the forehead and
then bent to kiss his niece. “Have a nice time, Munchkin. Bring
back lots of candy.”

“I will, Uncle Jerry.” The six-year-old lifted chubby arms

16

around his neck, planting her lips against his cheek with a loud,
“Muwaahh!”

He watched from the door as they climbed into his sister’s

Jeep, Shelby looking back with worried eyes. Not that he could
blame her. No matter where he was living, he always returned to
Murphy around October thirty-first, usually staying at his parents’
place. And he always insisted on disappearing for some alone
time on Halloween night. Shelby had suggested counseling the
year the family had been gone and he’d come to town anyway to
stay at a motel, thinking his folks wouldn’t know. Unfortunately,
small towns kept no secrets. But Greg only came back one night
each year; Jerome wasn’t about to waste a single opportunity.

“No matter what you say, I don’t think you’re truly healed,”

Shelby had said. “It’s been years, Jerome, years! Yet you still
come here on the anniversary of Greg’s death. You need to
move on! Find a boyfriend.”

Jerome had been quick to reassure her, “I do have a

boyfriend, sis. I just don’t bring him around because it’s kind of a
long distance thing. We don’t get to see each other very often.”

Her frown softened. “Oh. But he makes you happy, right?

And it works for you?”

His smile was genuine. “Yes, it works for us.”
“Well, then…I’d still like to meet him sometime.” Just like

that, she’d quit worrying. Well, she’d quit pestering him, anyway.

Once her Jeep was out of the drive, Jerome dashed to the

bathroom, stopping in the guest room long enough to grab his
overnight bag. Slouchy sweats hit the floor, and after a fast but
thorough shower, he shaved and dressed very carefully. Lastly,
he applied the cologne he’d had to special order just because it
was Greg’s favorite—the company had stopped making the
scent five years earlier.

Slipping a spare house key into his pocket and the band

onto his ring finger, he set off on foot. As usual, he paused at the
crossroads. The same choices loomed ahead, except for his
parents’ house. They were currently in Florida, looking for
retirement property. He turned toward the dark and forbidding
lane that, even after all these years, sported no street lights.

17

He’d no sooner started down the dark, lonely road than

cool mist washed over his skin and a haze of fog coalesced over
the asphalt. Now that he was used to it, he longed to visit this
otherworldly tableau, anticipating rather than fearing it.

His heart beat faster with each step, and his hands grew

sweaty. Was he too early? Too late? Nearly desperate, he finally
heard an engine’s low rumble. He’d know that sound anywhere,
and visualized the sleek black car it belonged to. When the
familiar Mustang stopped and the door opened, he slipped
inside. Greg’s mouth met his in the darkness.

“I missed you so much!” Jerome exclaimed, trying to pull

his ghostly paramour into his lap. “Why can we only see each
other once a year?”

Greg laughed. “I missed you, too. And sadly, that’s the

rules.” His smile was bright even in the darkness. “I’m not
complaining; I’ll take what I can get.”

The car inched forward with no help from the preoccupied

driver.

“We can’t go to our usual parking spot,” Jerome said. “It’s

a housing development now.”

“They can’t see us, Jer. Only you can see me or the car.

And as long as you’re with me, they can’t see you, either.”

“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Then can I see you?”
The lights came on, and Jerome saw an image of how he

assumed Greg would have looked at age thirty. “Show off,” he
said, reaching out to stroke the full moustache and goatee that
Greg had tried, and failed, to grow in high school.

A look of doubt appeared in those familiar green eyes.

“You don’t like it.” The facial hair disappeared.

Cupping a now-smooth cheek in one hand, Jerome

replied, “I like you however I can get you.”

That brought a smile. “Oh, before we get distracted; that

guy you’re seeing—Brad?”

“Brent.” Jerome turned away. He didn’t want to talk about

other men right now, ashamed of being weak and cheating. Greg

18

was the only man he wanted.

“It’s okay,” Greg mumbled, lips brushing against Jerome’s

temple. “I can’t be with you all the time and I don’t want you to be
alone.”

“I want to be with you.” Jerome fought back tears.
“Shh…I know. But we can’t be yet. I just need to tell you that

the guy you’re seeing is bad news. He’ll hurt you if you let him.”

Jerome nodded. He’d been suspecting the same thing

lately. “Thanks.”

A flash of teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness, inches

from his nose. “I told you I’d watch over you, didn’t I?”

Greg placed his fingers over Jerome’s, the two silver rings

connecting with a click. “Now, where were we?” he asked.

Jerome wasn’t quite as flexible as he’d been when they’d

first made love in this car, and it took several moments of lost
time before a comfortable position was found. “Can you change
the car like you can change your appearance?”

“No.”
“Then we’ll just have to make do.”
Laying the seat down as far as it would go, Jerome helped

Greg into position, knees on the seat, leaning over the back. It
was so convenient to have a boyfriend who could make his
clothes vanish with just a thought. Jerome kneeled behind him
on the floorboard. “Is that your tongue?” Greg cried. “Damn!”

Only then did Jerome recall that he’d been Greg’s only

lover, and as they’d never tried rimming before…

“I think I like it,” Greg panted.
Inspiration hit. “You said no one could see us, right?”
“Right.”
“Let the top down.”
Though a house loomed before them, dark and

foreboding, Jerome trusted Greg’s word and rose up from the
floorboard. “This is gonna be so good,” he whispered against his
lover’s back. The sense of exhibitionism added to the thrill.

Jerome pressed in, reaching around to fondle Greg’s

cock. The Mustang creaked and rocked, Jerome and Greg
grunted, panted, and moaned. Wet heat spilled over Jerome’s

19

hand a moment before he cried out, burying himself in a body
that was already fading to mist. He closed his eyes and heard, “I
love you.” The words faded into the night.

“I love you, too,” he told the emptiness. Through a blur of

tears, he followed the road’s white line back to Shelby’s house.

20

Five Years Later

“Mr. Quarles? Mr. Quarles.”
Jerome opened bleary eyes, snapping them shut on the

double image of a concerned face topped by a nurse’s cap.

“Mr. Quarles?” Apparently, ignoring the vision wasn’t going

to make it go away. He tried again with a bit more success, opening
his eyes halfway. The world spun and he felt a bit queasy.

“Mr. Quarles, can you hear me?”
Jerome tried to nod, and then scrunched his eyes closed

again as blinding pain flashed through his brain.

He opened his eyes more slowly this time. “Hurts,” he

managed to squeak.

“Open your mouth.”
When he did, a pill hit his tongue, followed by soothing

drops of moisture. He closed his lips and eagerly took the
contents of a proffered straw. Opening his mouth again and
again like a baby bird, he took the cold, fresh offering until his
mouth no longer felt like something had died inside. He never
knew water could be so sweet.

“What happened? Where am I?” he croaked.
A cool hand momentarily rested on his forehead. “What

do you remember, sir?”

He tried to focus, but all that came to mind were bright

lights and blaring horns, something huge and white hitting him in
the chest. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You were in an accident. A drunk driver crossed the road

into your lane.” The woman snorted. “He walked away without a
scratch.” She fussed about the room, keeping up a steady
stream of conversation. Jerome listened with half an ear until he
heard, “Your sister and niece are here, in the cafeteria having
dinner. They’ll be glad you’re awake. They’ve both been so
worried about you.”

“Shelby’s here?” That tickled a memory. A chill ran

through his veins. He remembered being on his way to Shelby’s.
Despite the pain, he struggled to sit up. “What day is it!” he
demanded, heart clenching. No! Please say it’s not so.

21

“Day? It’s November seventh.”
“November seventh!” Panic set in. “No, no, no! It can’t be.”

If it was November seventh, then he’d lost his chance. Greg
would think he’d forgotten. “Please tell me it’s still October.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. You’ve been in and out of

consciousness for days.”

Hot tears sprang to his eyes. Why? Why? Then he saw it.

Lying on the table next to him was a dark blue graduation tassel.
“Whh…where did that come from?” he stammered, reaching out
and caressing the silken strands. An IV tube protruded from the
back of his hand.

“I don’t know, sir. We just found it there one morning and

assumed a visitor had left it.”

“Which morning?”
“Monday, last week, I believe.”
Even with a throbbing headache Jerome did the math.

Sunday was Halloween. Monday would have been November
first. A huge sigh of relief escaped him. He couldn’t go to Greg;
apparently Greg had somehow managed to come to him.

Then Jerome recalled having had the most interesting

dream.

22

Twelve Years Later

“Uncle Jerry? I think the last of the trick-or-treaters are

gone.”

Jerome sat on the front porch of his sister’s house,

watching his niece and her twin toddlers leave. A plastic
pumpkin, now almost empty of candy, sat beside him. There had
been a good many trick-or-treaters this year.

“I think I’ll just sit here a bit longer,” he said, pulling a

patch-work quilt tighter around his body. The night was cold even
for this time of year.

The screen door screeched open and Shelby stepped out

onto the porch. “Here, drink this,” she said, handing him a cup of
warm cocoa. He grunted in gratitude and sipped the sweet
beverage while Shelby kissed her daughter and sheet-shrouded
grandkids goodbye. They wailed “Oooohhh!!!!” and rattled pails
of candy. Jerome thought better of telling them how little like
ghosts they looked.

Once they were gone, leaving brother and sister alone,

Shelby settled into a chair next to Jerome. “Are you sure you’re
all right?”

“I’m sure.”
“Well, if you need anything.”
He patted the hand that grasped his shoulder. “I know,

Shelby. I know.”

Soft lips brushed his cheek. “Well, goodnight, then.” She

retreated into the house, door closing softly behind her.

It took about half an hour before the house grew quiet and

Jerome was sure Shelby was tucked in for the night. He placed
the cup on the porch and eased down the steps, carefully
avoiding the squeaking board that he’d been meaning to fix.

He walked fast, worried that he’d be late when every

precious moment counted. At the crossroads he stopped again.
Lights had been added long ago down that lonely stretch of road,
but they were strangely dark tonight. As they should be. Tonight
was the night when spirits walked the earth, or rather, drove
shiny black Mustangs.

23

He’d only gone a little way when the sound of a car

engine emerged from the otherwise quiet night. He turned to see
what would now be considered a valuable classic car, perfectly
preserved after over twenty-five years. He practically dove into
the vehicle, smashing the spectral driver against the far door in
his haste. “I missed you so bad.”

Warm arms welcomed him, pulling his head to rest against

a firm chest. No soothing heartbeat thrummed against his ear, a
savage reminder of the gulf that separated them. Greg never let
go as the car crept down the road to their usual trysting spot.

Once they’d parked, Jerome pulled away from the arms

he really wanted to hold him forever. “Greg, as much as I’d love
to be in you, we need to talk.”

“Talk about what?”
“I want to see you.”
The lights came on and Jerome saw the same crooked

nose, the same dark hair, only it was shot through with gray now,
like his own. “I love you; I’ll always love you, but…”

“But you have a partner now,” Greg finished for him
Jerome glanced away, avoiding the pain he expected to

see in Greg’s eyes.

A firm hand gripped his chin, forcing his head up. Against

better judgment he opened his eyes—to see Greg smiling. “It’s
okay.”

“It’s okay?” Jerome parroted.
That smile turned wistful. “I know that you love me. I also

know I can’t take the place of a flesh and blood man. Besides,
Stan’s a good guy.”

“It’s just that…I got lonely.”
“Shh…” Greg cradled Jerome to his chest once more. “I

love you and want you to be happy.”

Clinging tightly, Jerome opened the floodgates, deep,

heaving sobs wracking his body and rocking the Mustang. “Why
did you have to die?” he wailed.

After awhile Greg asked, “This is the first time you’ve cried

over my death, isn’t it?”

Too choked up to answer, Jerome nodded. When he’d

24

calmed enough, he said, “I’ve cried because I’ve missed you, I’ve
cried because it wasn’t fair that you were taken from me, and I’ve
cried because I wanted to be with you. I guess in my mind, as
long we were together once a year, you were still alive. So you’re
right; this is the first time I cried because of…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”
“Can I stay here, just like this for a bit?”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
Jerome fell asleep in Greg’s embrace. He didn’t

remember going home, only waking up in his sister’s guest room.

25

Eighteen Years Pass

“Shh…Don’t wake him up.” Shelby put a restraining hand

on her granddaughter’s shoulder, looking down at Jerome so still
and quiet on the rented hospital bed.

“He’s having trouble breathing,” the young woman

whispered.

The anguish on Shelby’s face nearly broke Jerome’s heart.

“The doctor said it wouldn’t be long. Come on, let’s let him rest.”

Through cracked eyelids Jerome watched the two women

leave, Shelby sighing heavily as she turned off the lights. Beside
the bed, a monitor chirped and beeped. Tonight was the night
he’d been waiting for, and it was only the second time that he’d
fail to meet Greg. A single tear rolled down his face. Shelby, the
doctor, and the Hospice nurse tried to keep it quiet, but he knew
that this was his last Halloween. How he longed to see Greg one
more time, even if his ailing body could no longer provide any
pleasure.

After all this time, Jerome still thought of Greg as his one

true love. There’d been a few other men over the years who had
stayed weeks, months, and one even stayed for years. They
weren’t Greg. With Greg he’d known the first bloom of love, and
in their special place they’d lost their virginity—to each other.
When alone late at night, it was Greg that Jerome thought of.

Now that was over. What would happen now? Was Greg

destined to travel that stretch of road every year with no one
waiting in the shadows to offer some measure of comfort?

That’s when he heard it: the rumbling engine that could

only belong to one car. What was it doing here? The meeting
place was well over a mile away.

He could barely make out the sound of female

conversation from the living room, intermingled with canned
laughter from a television show. No footsteps crossed the floor to
the front door, no young voice cried, “Grandmother, you have a
visitor!” Did they even know someone was here? Would they be
able to see their ghostly guest?

The bedroom door cracked open. Silhouetted in the

26

hallway light was a young man Jerome didn’t recognize at first.
His heart did, doing a little somersault of welcome.

“Greg?” Jerome hissed. “What are you doing here? How?

I thought…”

A wide smile, complete with chipped front tooth, loomed

over the bed. “I’ve come to break you out of here, Jer! The rules
just changed.”

“But…but…I can’t go!”
“Sure you can!’
The next thing Jerome knew, he was standing beside the

bed. For the first time in months, nothing hurt. He took a deep
breath, grinning at the absence of pain.

“Told you long ago that I was good for you, didn’t I?”

Instead of matching Jerome’s years like he normally did, Greg
appeared just like he had that fateful night—a tall, slim man in
his early twenties.

“Yes, you did.”
Hand in hand, Jerome strolled out of the room with Greg.

He paused at the living room door. “Shelby? I’m going out for
awhile.” She didn’t seem to hear him.

He was sitting in the Mustang when his great niece

shrieked, “Grandma! Uncle Jerry’s gone!” It sounded like she was
in his room. A moment later he heard his sister’s hysterical sobs.

“What?” he asked, shooting a puzzled look at Greg. “I’ll

only be gone a little while.”

Laughter danced in his lover’s eyes.
When they pulled away, Jerome felt better and happier

than he had in a long, long time. The car stopped at the
crossroads, and Greg leaned in for a kiss. Then, grinning like a
madman, he gunned the engine, shooting down their road of
destiny. This time, the road was flooded with light, and there was
no rain, no mist. The car’s headlights (headlights?) shone
brightly before them.

Instead of slowing at their usual destination, Greg kept on

going.

“Greg? Greg? Weren’t we supposed to turn?”
Still grinning, Greg gave a loud whoop, laughing and

27

happy as he’d been all those years ago. “Want me to let the top
down?” Without waiting for an answer, he hit the switch,
retracting the top. Surprisingly, the night wasn’t cold at all as they
shot down the road, approaching a sharp curve.

Jerome’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that…isn’t that?” He pointed

a finger at the section of road he’d carefully avoided for years.

“Not anymore,” Greg said. “You haven’t figured it out yet,

have you?”

“Figured out what?”
Greg reached over and flipped the passenger side visor

down. The car filled with light and Jerome gazed up into the
mirror. His formerly lined face was now smooth, his snow-white
hair brown. He looked just like he had in his college graduation
picture. “I’m young again! Just like you.” The hand lying on his
thigh once again sported the ring he hadn’t been able to get on
in years. A glance at the hand gripping the steering wheel found
its match.

“Yeah, just like me.”
“I’m dead?”
“You’re only as dead as you feel!” Greg laughed at his

own joke before lacing the fingers of their free hands together on
the gear shift. “Where to?”

I’m dead? I’m dead! After all the years of Jerome wanting

more than an annual encounter on a lonely road, the end of his
life was surprisingly anti-climatic. “Where can we go?”

“Anywhere we want to.”
“Anywhere? Can you leave the car now?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
Jerome grinned, removing his hand from the gearshift to

run it up Greg’s leg. He squeezed a nice handful of hard cock.
“How about we have sex in a bed?”

THE END

ABOUT EDEN WINTERS

Our heroine sits quietly in her cube, just one of many,

typing, filing, and breaking the occasional nail, hiding her true
identity beneath her clever disguise of nerdy glasses and
business suits (with sensible shoes!) Frantic eyes watch the
clock as she waits impatiently for the ruse to end and her true
calling to begin.

With eager anticipation she drives her average car to her

average home, and eats her average (vegetarian!) meal alone.
The minutes tick by, and when the sun finally sets she leaps tall
sofas in a single bound, shedding her disguise to take on her true
super heroine persona! Is she in such a rush to save the world?
Save the city? Save the neighbor’s kitten from a tree? No! She
liberates her laptop from the evil clutches of arch villain, Hall
Closet, and flings it open to free the worlds hiding within its
depths. There are lonely werewolves searching desperately for
mates, spoiled rich boys just waiting for her gentle caress of the
keyboard to create someone who’ll truly understand them, and
futuristic soldiers, gunning across the universe to save the men
they love…No scenario is too bizarre! A time traveling pirate? No
problem! Violin playing specter haunting a Scottish castle? You
betcha!

When she’d not busily creating happy-ever-afters for

fictional hotties, our heroine enjoys music, the great outdoors,
and cruising down the highway on the back of a Harley
Davidson.

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated

by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including
gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction.
Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and
compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story
over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats.
Visit us at

jms-books.com

for our latest releases and submission

guidelines!