Fifth Anniversary
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First Anniversary free porn video
FIRST ANNIVERSARY
By BobH.
(c) 2003
"I love you, and I can't live without you."
It's hard to believe it was a year ago today, twelve long months since
you pressed your slender body against mine and kissed me goodbye at the
door as you always did before I set off for work. As usual, I grumbled
about how unfair it was that you got to work at home while I had to
drag my ass downtown. This was a little ritual we had, and you took my
complaints no more seriously than I did. It was bright and crisp that
day and I could easily make out the towers of Manhattan as I set off
down the hill from our Park Slope apartment, heading for Fourth Avenue
and the N-train as I had almost every morning for the past four years.
But today wasn't like those other days. It was our first wedding
anniversary, and all was right with the world. I could hardly wait for
the day to be over so I could get back home to you. Twelve months since
our wedding, and I was more in love with you than ever.
As I rode the N-train, I paused in my reading of the 'New York Times'
to reach into my shirt and smile as I fingered the charm you had given
me as an anniversary present the previous night. We were making love as
midnight struck, in the throes of passion as our anniversary dawned,
just as you'd wanted. When we woke this morning, you presented me with
my gift; a piece of amber on a chain, a small, ancient insect preserved
within. You had its twin, and I do mean twin. In terms of shape, flaws,
insect, and translucency it was absolutely identical. Such a thing
should have been impossible unless they were fakes, but you assured me
they were genuine. You also said they were much more than mere
jewellery, adding that I'd find out exactly what they could do that
night. All very intriguing. I had no idea what you had planned, but
knowing you it was going to be something very special.
I got off the subway at the Cortlandt Street station, walked past the
Warner store, The Gap, and several others before buying a cappuccino at
the coffee place. As ever, I wondered at the stuffed bears in the
window, whose significance had always escaped me. I could have asked, I
suppose, but where's the fun in that? Now I'll never know.
I took the elevator up to my floor from the big white marble lobby of
the World Trade Center, sipping my coffee all the while. I nodded to my
fellow passengers, most of whom I knew by sight if not by name, and
glanced at my watch. It was 8.44am, which meant I'd made good time. I
was pleased by this because though I expected it to be a fairly
uneventful day, I had a major financial report to write. With luck, I
should finish it before the end of the afternoon.
My office was a few floors from the top of the South Tower and gave a
great view out over the upper bay, particularly on a morning like this.
I never tired of the view, and usually started my day by smiling down
at Lady Liberty, so far below. Today was different. As soon as I
stepped out of the elevator, I knew something was wrong. No one was at
their desks; every single person was at the windows, looking out at the
North Tower. Even before I got to the windows, I could see the thick,
black smoke billowing out of our sister tower.
"There's been an accident!" said my colleague, Moshe, breathlessly. "A
passenger jet crashed into the other tower while you were on your way
up!"
"Holy shit." I said, staring in disbelief at the sight before me.
"Unbelievable."
Eventually Ruth, our supervisor ordered us back to our desks.
"I know it's going to be difficult to concentrate today with that going
on across the way," she said, "but we've still got work to do. The
emergency and rescue services will do what they can for those poor
people."
She was right about it being difficult to concentrate. How could anyone
be expected to in those circumstances? I suppose I must've been in
shock, because I'd been at work at least ten minutes before it occurred
to me to phone you. If you'd heard about the accident you might not
know which tower had been hit. You could be going frantic with worry.
I'd just picked up the receiver to call you when the whole building
suddenly shook and I was thrown from my chair. A blast wave from
somewhere below blew open the doors to the emergency stairs and
everything turned momentarily black as the lights went out and a huge
plume of black smoke rose up past the windows, blotting out the sun.
"What the fuck..." I whispered, as that first plume passed and the sun
returned. People started screaming. Others with more self-possession or
with better reflexes rushed over to push shut the doors to the
staircase, doors through which black smoke was billowing. Shutting them
also helped block out the already intense heat we could feel rising up
the stairs.
"Was that a bomb?" someone said, voice filled with fear.
"Another plane," said someone else, calmly. "We've been hit by another
plane."
"Don't be stupid," said a third voice, angrily, "two planes are not
going to fly into the towers on the same day. The chances against that
are astronomical."
"How are we going to get out?" asked a woman in a small, frightened
voice.
No one had an answer. Whatever had happened had happened below us. The
building was obviously on fire down there, the stairs filled with
smoke. They and the elevators were unusable. We were trapped.
I picked up my phone from where it had fallen. The line was dead. I
fished my cell phone out of my pocket, hoping against hope it was still
working. Unfortunately, when I'd been thrown from my chair I'd landed
on that side, smashing it.
"Shit!" I shouted, throwing the useless device to the floor.
"Ohmigod! No, no!" gasped a woman.
"They're throwing themselves out the windows!" yelled a man. Across the
way, we could see bodies falling past the North Tower.
"Those poor bastards." I said. "How bad must it be over there?"
And would it get that bad over here? I didn't know. What I did know was
I was desperate to speak with you. I knew now there was a good chance
I'd never see you again. I had to tell you I loved you, one last time.
I had to say goodbye. Everyone else was doing the same. I needed to
borrow a phone, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. Listening to them
tore my heart out.
"Here," said Ruth, passing me her cell phone. "My husband isn't back
from taking the girls to school. Got the answer phone."
I thanked her and she just shrugged, a haunted look in her eyes.
"Honey?" I said, as you picked up the receiver.
"Oh, thank God!" you said, "I tried to ring you but I couldn't get
through. All the lines were dead. Are you alright?"
"For now. I just needed to ring to tell you to never forget that,
whatever happens, I've always loved you and I always will."
"Don't talk like that!" you shouted, surprising me with the anger in
your voice. "You're not going to die, you're not!"
"I don't want to," I said, "but I...."
"I need you to hold the charm I gave you as tightly as you can," you
interrupted, "and to concentrate on me as strongly as possible."
"Of course," I said, non-plussed, "but why...?"
"Please, darling," you said, an edge of hysteria in your voice, "please
just do as I ask. It's really, really important. Do it for me."
"OK, I'm doing it now," I said, closing my fist around the charm and
picturing you in my mind. I didn't know why this was so important to
you, but it was and that was all that mattered. Closing my eyes, I
remembered our lovemaking the previous night, tracing the contours of
your body in my mind as I had with my fingers. I summoned up the smell
of you, the taste of you, the feel of your legs wrapped around me as I
thrust deep into you, filling you with my seed. I remembered my orgasm
and it suddenly seemed as if I was falling, a chilling, vertiginous
feeling that momentarily caused me to lose all sensation in my body.
The moment passed, feeling returned, and I knew at once that something
was terribly wrong. I opened my eyes. I was no longer in the World
Trade Center but back in our apartment. A glance downwards and I knew,
even as some part of me screamed such things were impossible, that I
was no longer in my own body but in yours. Somehow, you had switched
us.
"Goodbye, my darling," said a voice on the phone that I recognized as
my own, "I love you and I can't live without you."
Then the line went dead. Whether it was due to a lost connection or
because you didn't want me to try and talk you out of doing this thing
I'll never know. The TV was on and I rushed over to it, frantically
punching out Ruth's number on the phone as I tried to reestablish our
connection. I was in your body, but after the initial shock I ignored
this; it just wasn't important compared to what was happening in front
of my eyes. All my thought, all my attention was focussed on the
tragedy unfolding on the screen before me. I sat there willing the
rescue effort to succeed while knowing it almost certainly wouldn't.
For the first time in years I prayed, calling on God to save you. My
prayers were in vain. About forty minutes after you pulled the switch,
I stared in horror, unable to breathe, as the South Tower, the building
you were in, crumbled and collapsed.
I watched you die. I felt you die.
I don't know how much time passed before there was a banging on the
front door, followed by a key being turned in the lock and people
hurrying over and hugging me. It was your parents, come to comfort
their daughter. That's when I started to sob uncontrollably. I knew in
that moment that I could never, must never tell them you were dead. I
couldn't do that to them. And so I cried for you, for their loss and
for mine, cried like I never had before. I was inconsolable.
The days and weeks that followed were almost unbearable. I don't know
how you can be in such pain and still carry on, but you do. After a
fashion. The world seemed grey and tasteless with you gone, as if all
the joy had been sucked out of it, and I moved through it like a
phantom. People were sympathetic, but anything more than a simple "I'm
sorry for your loss" was too much for me to cope with. Everything just
hurt too much. At first, I couldn't bear to look at my reflection,
knowing that every time I did I'd see you there, the ghost in the
mirror, reminding me what I'd lost. Later, I swung to the opposite
extreme. They say your body is a temple; well, mine became a shrine. I
would spend hours at the dressing table meticulously doing my hair,
make-up, and clothing in as precise a copy of how you did it as I could
manage. I got very good at it. It was as if, in my pain and sorrow, I
was somehow trying to recreate you with skirts, heels, lipstick, and
powder, unconsciously trying through some crude form of sympathetic
magic to bring you back to me.
Ah, yes, magic.
I realize now that the charms were magic, and that you used them to
switch our souls, and though I don't know where you could have acquired
such things I do know why. We were always very open with each other
about our sexual fantasies, and our willingness to try new things had
kept our sex life fresh and exciting. We learned early on that we were
both curious about what sex was like for the other, that we shared the
fantasy of having sex as a member of the other gender. It wasn't
something we ever expected to get the chance to experience, but it was
fun to fantasize about. Only somehow you found a way of making that
fantasy a reality, didn't you? That was the surprise you had planned
for me that night. Impossible as it seems, I now believe the reason
those two charms appeared identical is because they weren't two but
one, the same object in two places at the same time. When I held it in
my fist and concentrated on you, you were holding it in yours and
concentrating on me. Whatever magic enabled it to be in two places also
allowed it to be used to switch souls.
"I love you, and I can't live without you."
Those were the last words you ever spoke to me. Why didn't it occur to
you that they would have been mine to you? You did what you did to save
me, but what made you think I'd want to go on living without you?
They say it takes a year, and they're right. Today marks a year since
you were taken from me, but I can't face attending the event at Ground
Zero or taking part in other remembrance ceremonies. Because today
would have been another anniversary. The pain of losing a loved one
never goes away, but time dulls it to the point where going on becomes
possible. For much of that year, I was just going through the motions,
like a robot. Following routine was so much easier than thinking.
Thinking meant feeling, and feeling just hurt too much. At my lowest
points - and there were many - I thought about ending it all. What
stopped me in the early weeks was knowing what that would do to your
parents. What stopped me later was something else.
"I love you, and I can't live without you."
Well, I love you, too, and I always will, but now, one year on, I know
that I can live without you. I can because I have to, because I'm
needed. There's someone new in my life now, someone I love as deeply as
I loved you, and I'll go on living for her. Her name is Emily, and she
was born three months ago. It seems that on our final night, you and I
made more than just love together.
When Emily is old enough to understand, I'll tell her about your
sacrifice and what a wonderful person you were. And I'll try to be as a
good a mother to her as you would have been.
So goodbye, my love. I will miss you all the days of my life.
THE END
Nadine
- 21.12.2021
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