by Joe Murphy

Winston lay back, groaning as Annette reached down between them and rubbed his dwindling penis up and down her hot, wet snatch. He thought he was too spent to enter her again, but the way she squeezed him saved what was left of his erection, amazingly tightening it until she eased it back inside. For forty-six years he'd dreamed of a woman this fine, this sophisticated -- this horny. He looked up into her dark eyes, framed by sweat-matted black curls, and whispered, "My life has become a fantasy."

"No, it's a resurrection." Annette arched her back, eyes closing. Winston felt her pussy tighten like a velvet fist. She squeezed him harder, growling deep in her throat and damned if he didn't come again. His body rigid, a heavy tingling spread through him until he almost passed out.

"Oh God, Jesus H. Christ on a crutch, you're fantastic!" he said through clenched teeth. Annette stiffened, eyes rolling up in her sockets as she spasmed through another orgasm. Winston watched the soft morning light from his apartment window shadow her breasts and abs with crisscrossed outlines from the bare shrubs outside. She collapsed on top of him then, a salty strand of fine, soft hair flipping into his mouth. Her breasts lay heavy on his chest as she nuzzled his neck and he ran his fingers over the crack of her ass while his penis oozed out.

"I want to see it again." Annette lifted her head and smiled at him.

"Oh, why?" He grinned back, watching her breath steam and for the first time noticing goose bumps rise on her well-tanned skin.

"Oh, I don't know. It's what I came to see...among other things." She flowed off him to snuggle beneath his right arm. "I just want to is all."

"Not right now, babe." Imagine a tubby, bald guy like him, a forty-six year old accountant for Spartan Slacks, calling this sophisticated, libertine beauty a babe. Few moments in Winston's life compared to this. He'd carry the musky scent of her sex all the way to Judgment Day.

"Come on now. I'll make it worth your while." Annette rolled from his arm, out of bed in a single voluptuous movement. She stretched, arms overhead, breasts jiggling slightly, the damp triangle between her legs still within his reach.

"That I can believe." Winston finally untangled himself from the sheets and stood up. "Allow me." He picked up the brown and tan bedspread and draped it over her shoulders.

"How thoughtful," Annette giggled and wrapped it around her with a delightful shiver. "Kind of chilly in here. Trying to save on the heating bills?"

"I think it causes the chill." He picked up his short blue robe and took her hand. "That's how I first noticed." A cold breeze hit when he opened the bedroom door, drying their skin by the time they crossed the living room and reached the darkened kitchen.

"Leave the lights off. That heightens the effect." Annette drew the bedspread tighter; it hid nothing, Winston observed. The kitchen air snapped with clear, crisp cold, clouding their breath. The slap of bare feet upon dark blue tiles echoed.

"It must have come in during the blizzard last week." He moved past the cluttered table, pushing a dining chair out of his way. "I remember when the power came back on, I just couldn't get the place warmed up. I was about to call my landlady, when I noticed the open freezer." He drew Annette with him to the avocado-colored Hotpoint refrigerator. It wasn't a new fridge; dents and scratches marred the surface. He'd liked it from the moment he moved in, however; plenty of room in the big freezer for ice trays. He'd be sure of having enough ice for a party -- if he ever gave one.

"That's all there was to it?" Annette padded up next to him. "Why didn't you ask someone about it?"

"Who you gonna ask about something like this?" Winston grinned, opened the freezer door, and stepped back. A soft azure light filtered out of the frosted cubicle. It glimmered off the stack of ice trays, illuminating two Marie Callender's spaghetti dinners and a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. Back in the corner behind the ice trays, the light coalesced into a blurred physical shape somewhat resembling a butterfly. Winston couldn't tell exactly what the shape was; it seemed just solid enough for him to be sure it was real.

"Beautiful," Annette murmured, moving closer until the bluish glow glimmered in her eyes and formed a sheen upon her cheeks. Winston pulled his robe tighter; the kitchen's temperature grew colder the longer the freezer stayed open. Yet, as he gazed past Annette's curls, he decided it wasn't an unpleasant cold. Cleansing might describe it better, and not just physically. The blue glow filled him up with a sense of...reverence. He'd been touched by something special here, something beyond the norm. A hundred crazy explanations had filled his head. An alien perhaps? A ghost?

Winston couldn't say. Beyond the norm had been the best he'd come up with. But he'd mentioned it, almost haphazardly, during a coffee break at Spartan. Annette, the company's top sales rep, had been moving past him in her usual way, not purposely ignoring him, he guessed, simply intent on the coffee maker that occupied a more important place in her world. Whatever it was, it made for a damn good pick up line.

Were women always intrigued by a mystery in the kitchen? He of all people couldn't say. Pressed hard, he'd have to admit he didn't know jack shit about the opposite sex. They were beings whose behavior could be observed yet never understood.

Annette was his first date in five years, his first score in nine. His eyes followed the bedspread slipping from her shoulders to the floor. She gazed into the freezer, the blue glow still highlighting her eyes and cheeks. Her nipples hardened, crinkling up even as he watched. The glow reached out with the thinnest mist imaginable, caressing her skin, swirling around taut breasts, coiling down between her legs.

Winston sucked in his breath. The mist darkened ever so slightly with a tawny undertone of flesh. Almost as if it drew something out of Annette, though she didn't seem to notice.

"It needs something," Annette whispered at last, a slender hand reaching down to touch her pubes. "More ice maybe...a place for it to live." She reached into the freezer.

"What are you doing?" Winston touched her arm. He wasn't sure he wanted her to touch it. He'd lacked the nerve to do so. But Annette only drew out the stack of plastic ice trays.

"We'll build it a house." She smiled at him, the blue haze still in her eyes. She started dumping the trays out on the dining table. "Fill them up again; it needs more ice."

"Well, okay." Winston moved to the sink, but kept his eyes on her. As he filled the trays, he watched her place single ice cubes, like building blocks. Annette quickly formed a squared-off row of cubes just inside the freezer, leaving enough room that the door would seal when closed. Her movements were marvelous to watch: the swing of her breasts, the tightening of her calf muscles. She constructed the facade of a miniature house, door in the middle, windows on each side, leaving room on the right for Winston's food. As she worked, the bluish mist slowly left her skin and filled the ice with a frosty sheen.

"There." She turned to him with a broad smile. "Just one more thing." Closing the freezer door, she reached down and parted his robe. Her fingers chilled his penis and testicles as she stroked him. Just like last night, he thought as her hand closed around him. The blue glow cooled the room yet had the opposite effect upon Annette.

"Oh boy!" Winston croaked as she led him out of the kitchen by his rapidly growing member. She kept him in bed for another six hours, draining every drop of cum out of him, fucking him again and again, sucking and masturbating him until things exploded inside them both.

He wasn't sure how long she stayed; only that he woke up to find his bed soaked but empty, a Post-It note stuck to his bare chest with "I'll call you."

The next day, Sunday, he woke too sluggish and sore to do much of anything but thank the powers that be (and of course, the blue glow in the freezer) for his new life. Perhaps Annette was right about his life being a resurrection instead of a fantasy. At least his masculinity was reborn; he felt more a man than he had in years.

Monday dawned with the cold grayness of a Seattle winter's day, but it seemed like spring to him -- until he reached the office.

"Have you heard about Annette McMurty?" old Mrs. Gilliam, the accounting clerk, asked as he was taking off his coat.

"No, but I saw her this weekend."

"Must have been Saturday, eh?" Mrs. Gilliam started for her desk, not giving him a second look. "She called in from Mexico City this morning. Called in and quit, without even giving notice. I always thought she was a wanton one."

"Don't you ever wash dishes?" Tiffany Burk asked him that night as they entered the kitchen.

"Sorry, the pipes are frozen." Winston grinned, a slight warmth coming into his cheeks. He stepped hesitantly to her side, blocking her view of the mountain of dishes with its rolling hills of cups and empty glasses. Tiffany accepted his hand into hers when he dared reach for it and he nodded towards the frost-marred fridge. "It's in there, in the freezer just like I said."

"Let's see then." Tiffany brushed her blonde mane over one shoulder, and started forward with Winston trailing behind. She released his hand, reached up, and pulled the freezer door open. "Some joke. You made those, didn't you, carved them your..."

Winston peered over her shoulder, inhaling the fragrance of melons and musk from her perfume. The ice cubes had moved. A squat tower stood in place of Annette's efforts. Not exactly castle-shaped, something almost like Frank Lloyd Wright might have fashioned out of gothic inspiration. A blue glow suffused the ice, strong enough to make him blink and casting elongated shadows of the would-be lovers over the kitchen table.

The cold seeped through him, pulling his eyes to the tiny structure. "Carved what?" he asked, then saw them. Each of the ice cubes bore a tiny face, the most delicate he'd ever seen. Neither male nor female yet something erotically reminding him of both, the faces bore a variety of expressions, from the sublime gaze of a Madonna to the joyous grin of a clown.

Tiffany drew in a deep breath that tightened her white blouse until Winston thought the buttons would pop. "Beautiful," she whispered as the azure mist flowed out of the fridge to her lips and coiled its way down. Winston watched it worm beneath her short black skirt and licked his lips. He wanted to try cunnilingus tonight, having never dared before.

Abruptly the eyes of the ice cubes opened, each exquisitely detailed eye upon him. Winston couldn't help meeting their gaze; their blue sheen drew him closer, until he stood at Tiffany's side. Such looks of peace and benevolent satisfaction as no mortal face could hold; their expressions never changed as they regarded him. Perhaps the same smile as Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, the unconditional love of a Rockwell mother, the sadness of Jesus upon the cross. Winston's knees weakened; he wanted to sink down, whether from awe or adoration he wasn't sure.

"What's it doing to you?" Tiffany's arm encircled his waist. She gazed at him, painted eyebrows upturned, a fond smile upon her full lips.

Winston shook his head, forcing his eyes to hers. "Doing to me?"

"I saw some kind of mist come out and move over your body." She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering upon the down part. "A beautiful shade of blue but it's gone now."

"I don't know." He put his arm around her, the firmness beneath her clothing drawing his thoughts from the freezer. "I'm not sure I even care."

"I'm not sure I do, either." Tiffany smirked at him, her eyes full of the blue glow. With exaggerated meticulousness, she reached up and undid the top button of her blouse. "You know what they say about kitchen tables?"

"What?" Winston managed a dry swallow.

"Great places to eat." She lifted her leg, setting a black high heel upon the nearest chair. Simultaneously she took his hand and guided it under her skirt. Winston couldn't help himself, not that he wanted to. Her panties felt hot and wet, the elastic crotch slipped easily aside and he pushed his index finger up into her until his palm lay flat.

"I've died and gone to heaven," he murmured.

"Then we'd better make your last supper a good one." Tiffany reached for his crotch. Dizzy, perhaps, as the blood hustled double time from one head to another, he leaned back until the kitchen table creased his butt. His head lolled and he glanced at the faces in the freezer.

The ice cubes regarded him intently, unsmiling yet without disapproval. It broke the moment for him, so much so he almost forgot where his fingers were. Being watched by fifty or so faces, even icy ones, didn't embarrass him exactly. But he had the feeling something was out of place here, just not quite right -- as if he'd pulled down his pants, well, ...in church or something.

"Not in here." He closed the door with his free hand just as Tiffany leaned into him, beginning to grind her pelvis on his fingers.

"What?" Her blue eyes fluttered open and she looked at him anxiously.

"It's too cold," he whispered, easing his fingers out of her, steadying her with his other hand. "Let me show you the bedroom."

"Where you can taste the sweetest pussy you'll ever meet." She brought his well-lubricated fingers to his mouth. Winston dared a lick and had to agree.

Down on the bed between her legs, Winston gently spread her pussy lips, sighted in on the delicious darkness and kissed her for all he was worth. Never felt more alive, he decided, as his tongue strained into her. Never imagined ever finding a woman who'd let me do this -- and love it.

Tiffany clasped her legs against his ears then. Winston closed his eyes and pushed his mouth deeper. Faces peered at him from beneath his eyelids, ice cube faces. Neither condemning nor encouraging, they simply observed.

Tiffany rolled him onto his back with a move that would have done a wrestler proud. "Want some of you too, love." Her muffled voice came to him as she swiveled around. Winston gasped for air, gasped again as her wet lips oozed down on his cock. There is a heaven and its address is 69 Tiffany Street.

With the word Heaven, the faces appeared in his mind. Winston arched his back, ground his mouth into Tiffany's sweetness, and realized something was different. The faces smiled benevolently; they didn't care, why should he...especially now for God's sake? God? Perhaps the thing in his icebox was really God, manifesting for its own mysterious reasons. The entity's actions could be known but not completely comprehended. Deity or not, it certainly found a way to reach him.

Winston came, spurting semen with delightful depravity into Tiffany's eager mouth. She ground against him all the harder then and he doubled his efforts until her juices flowed over his chin and cheeks. Never, should he live to Methuselah's age, would he forget the taste, the moment, and even, he realized, the feeling that something was inexplicably just not quite right.

The night came and went in a copious series of orgasms. Tiffany proved herself his master, not only in endurance but creativity. Never had Winston guessed any woman really wanted to be fucked doggy style or even standing up. She woke him early the next morning, in time for breakfast between her thighs and a quick shower. He thought she'd want a look in the freezer again but instead she hugged herself and asked him to drop her at her apartment.

Winston agreed, doing all he was asked, and mentioned lunch. She nodded as she got out of his Ford Escort and hurried through the cold drizzle into her place. Winston went on to work; he'd see her again since she was his boss's secretary.

"You're running late, Mr. Stotz," his boss, Bruford Jenson, growled as he hurried into the office.

"Sorry, sir." Somehow, Winston didn't feel comfortable meeting the man's eyes. It's not as if he's her father, Winston thought as Jenson muttered and stamped into his office.

"Oh don't mind him," Mrs. Gilliam said as Winston flopped behind his desk. "He's all put out over losing his secretary."

"What?" He gaped at the blue-haired woman as her jowls tightened into a smile.

"Called him from the airport not ten minutes ago." Mrs. Gilliam put a hand to her mouth as if hiding her whisper. "Lands sake, the girl's up and left her mother too, said she was just about to board a plane to Ecuador. Well she's twenty-eight, I suppose that's old enough to know her own mind. Guess the cold doesn't agree with her."

Winston forced his eyes from the older woman to his terminal, gazing at a blank screen with the intensity of a lost soul staring up from the first ring of Hell. His fault, it must be. First Annette and now Tiffany, it had to be him -- or that which dwelt in his freezer.

I'm not a bad person, he told himself. He'd even tried to reach Annette, but hadn't been able to find a forwarding address. Sexual fantasies were fine, wonderful, and heavenly in fact, but he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Had he hurt them? He wasn't sure. A spontaneous vacation wasn't exactly the worst fate in the world. He'd enjoy one himself -- if he could take his freezer along. Annette had been in great shape financially, more than able to take the rest of the year off. The woman was single and lived alone so no harm done.

Tiffany, he thought, had been doing all right, taking college courses at night and living with her mother over in Fremont. But she'd left her mother alone and the semester had just started. Perhaps she'd return in a week or so, with a tan and well rested, ready to catch up on her studies. No harm done, not really. Yet perhaps this was some kind of sign meant for him alone. Perhaps he'd been presented with a miracle or something; surely the blue entity was worthy of such a title. Had he cheapened it with his own fantasies? Maybe it was time to stop and think for a while, at least while his juices recharged. This could be meant to show him some higher truth.

"Excuse me," A mellow, golden voice pried him out of his thoughts. Winston looked up into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen, framed by an auburn pageboy cut.

"Huh?" he managed, blinking back to reality.

"I'm Mary Sawyers, the temp. Could you tell me where I can find Mr. Jenson's office?" Her smile looked about eighteen, the rest of her no more than twenty. Winston's mouth dried up. He didn't dare speak, not to this young goddess incarnate. Instead he pointed to his boss's door.

"Thanks," she said, starting to turn away.

"If you're new, I could show you around during lunch," he blurted, absolutely unable to help himself.

She nodded over her shoulder, smiling in an offhand way. "Sure."

Winston nodded, scrutinizing the way her hips moved beneath a swirl of red silk. He wondered what she'd say to someone proclaiming a cold elemental lived in his fridge. He knew he'd find out.

"Well, this is a surprise," Winston said that evening when he answered the knock at his front door.

"I changed my mind. Hope that's all right." Mary cocked her head to one side, a half smile upon bow-shaped lips. She'd turned him down flatly during lunch. Winston had been disappointed, yet in some indescribable way relieved. He'd joked it off politely and they'd both gone back to work.

"No, of course not." He waved his hand at the room. "Come on in; let me take your coat."

"I just decided...ooh!" Mary fell forward abruptly, tripping over the last step into the apartment. Winston just managed to catch hold of her elbow and shoulder, keeping her upright. Mary's free hand flailed out; her wide-mouthed black purse hit him in the waist, tipping its contents onto the floor.

"You all right?" Winston asked. They clutched each other awkwardly, Mary half standing, half lying against him. He clung to her a moment longer, enjoying the feel of her against him, until she brought her long legs beneath her and regained balance.

"Slippery out there." She straightened her long beige coat. "You might want to salt those steps."

"Didn't realize it was snowing again." He bent when she did. "Can I help you pick that up?" Lipstick, compact, a small black dayminder lay next to her purse, along with a checkbook-sized wallet. The wallet had flopped open, showing a checkbook on one side, a photo on the other.

Winston sucked in his breath, a family photo. Mary stood next to a young man about her age. Dark-haired and wearing glasses, the man grinned proudly as he looked towards her. Mary's arms were full of a beautiful, joyous bundle, a baby girl no doubt, bearing her mother's smile. Mary was married.

"Old friend, nobody important," Mary blurted, following his gaze to the photo she hurriedly snapped up with the rest of her things. She straightened and he saw her cheeks redden.

"Let me take your coat," he suggested. Married...he hadn't realized. No wonder she turned him down. But what about now? Why wasn't she home with her family? Winston shook his head, frowning slightly as he helped her with her coat. This isn't right, he realized. I'm not like that. I just wanted a little fun, not cause a divorce or something. What if she abandoned her kid, traipsed off to South America? That'd be his fault.

"Hope you don't mind me coming so late." She turned to him. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and no bra. Winston tried not to stare at the soft white nubs of her nipples. "I just needed some air," she continued, oblivious to his gaze. "Things were getting stuffy around my house. I simply had to get out. We...I only live a block away and I recognized your car. My, it's chilly in here."

"No, that's fine. I wasn't doing anything." He looked at her looking at him.

"You seem like someone who'd appreciate good company. Not like some people I know who just can't wait to get out with a bunch of guys and go bar hopping. Everybody needs..." She stopped in mid sentence, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. A hard kiss, almost clumsy in its urgency, and yet lacking something, Winston realized, sexual. She wasn't kissing him because she wanted to, but to prove something. He couldn't help kissing back, reaching around to knead her butt. Pushing her away would be rude. Wouldn't it?

He finished the kiss, forced his hands from her, and stepped back, breathing heavily. "Uh, I was going to show you the thing in my freezer."

"Oh that." Her cheeks reddened, her hands coming between them, twisting into a white knot. "You mean there really is something in there? That wasn't just a pick up line?"

"I gotta answer yes to both those." For lack of anything better, he stuck his own hands into his pockets, then realized he'd grown a hard on and jerked them out. "You're awfully attractive and well...I really wanted to meet you."

"How nice of you to say that." Her smile looked genuine. "It always makes a woman feel good to be appreciated."

"Nobody could fail to appreciate someone like you." He stepped back and she blushed, actually blushed.

"You'd be surprised..." A sudden scowl, then the smile returned. "Well, let's see it. The kitchen in there?" She started through on her own. Winston hurried after, catching the barest hint of her scent. "Oh wow," she exclaimed when he flicked the light switch.

The fridge glistened, completely coated with a thin film of ice. Frost glowed from the tables and chairs. The mountain of dishes lay crusted with rime. Winston hurried past her, felt her brush up against him, almost forcing him into the table. Reaching the fridge, he turned to her.

"It makes the room cold," he explained. "I still don't have any idea what it is either."

"So let's see." Mary wrapped her arms around herself, pushing her breasts up, the nipples firmly accenting her T-shirt. She shivered and Winston felt his erection growing.

"For a while I thought it might be some kind of alien," he went on, forcing his eyes up. "Then I thought, you know, a cold elemental, or a fairy of some kind."

"In your freezer, huh?" Her giggle was delightful.

"Now I'm beginning to think it might be God." He clasped his hands in front of him, hopefully hiding his bulge.

"Okay?" She stepped closer. "I'm not arguing, but you're gonna have to show me something if that's the case."

If I open that door, he thought, I'll be a home wrecker. She'll fuck my brains out and I'll never see her again. Would she take her baby with her? Will she file for divorce from Mexico City or somewhere? But I didn't force her to come over; she made the choice. She chose adultery...with me.

"Enough suspense, come on already." Mary stepped past him and opened the door. "Oh my..." The glow had grown into a glare. Blue white, like some alien sun, it filled the kitchen, reflecting from the frost and forcing him to blink as Mary shielded her eyes. A hundred ice cube faces gazed at them; the tower's shape had changed, broadening, taking on an almost pagoda-like aspect. Winston noticed the trays next to it were empty.

"Would you look at that," Mary muttered as the blue mist flowed over the sill, cascading down the fridge.

"Back!" Winston gripped her arm, pulling her so forcefully she stumbled into a kitchen chair. Ice cube faces turned to him, their expressions almost uniform with surprise and curiosity.

"What?" Mary cried out. "What's wrong?"

"The mist, see it?" Winston stepped in front of her.

"Yeah," Mary squinted into the glare. "What about it?"

"It'll make you want me, more than you've ever wanted anyone." Winston turned to her, ignoring the chill crawling up his back. You'll fuck and suck me; let me do anything I want. All because of it!"

"Why the hell do you think I'm here?" She stared at him hands on her hips.

"Then you'll leave; the next day you'll take a plane south. I don't know why but the others did."

"Others?" She stepped back.

"That's how you got your job. Tiffany was the last. You've got to realize this is God here. It really is." Conviction reverberated in Winston's voice. "It's a sign of some kind for me. I'm supposed to do something because God wants me to, and instead I've been using it to get fucked."

"That's pretty wild, but God?" Her face flashed from uncertainty to fear then back again. "You sure you're okay?"

"Don't wreck your marriage for a one-nighter. Don't give up that child. Find a way to work things out," he pleaded. "For the love of your family, for God's sake."

"I...I...shit." A sob burst out of her. She stamped a foot and glared at him, then sobbed again and ran out of the kitchen.

"Remember what truly counts in your life!" He shouted, starting after her. He reached the living room just as she grabbed her coat and fled. Winston halted, realizing what he'd given up as the door closed behind her perfect ass. Her purse still lay on the sofa. Would she come back for it? With her husband? His shoulders slumped and he returned to the kitchen.

Squinting into the blue glare, he studied the ice cube faces. "Was that what you wanted?"

As one they smiled, each perfect face, each benevolent gaze filling him until Winston discovered he no longer felt cold. Hot in fact, as if the clothes covering his body shrouded something that could be witnessed yet never ultimately fathomed. Without taking his eyes from them, he stripped to his skin and padded to the freezer door. When the trembling left his fingers he reached inside.

"I'm standing up for ice cubes," he told the glowing pagoda. "I'm going to show everyone, in the streets, in the malls, everywhere." The ice warmed his fingers as he drew the tower from the freezer. Carefully, so as not to harm the delicate faces, he placed the tower on a plate.

Smiles that could be no broader appeared upon each cube. Their glowing eyes touched on him a moment, then turned towards the door. The expressions mirrored his own look, Winston imagined, when Annette had first touched him.

"A miracle, something far beyond the norm," he murmured, then louder, "I'll bring it to the world." Some would still not believe, he knew as he picked up the plate. And more than a few would disdain a prophet with an obviously permanent erection. But a good many would come to enjoy it.