Last 2 versions of deadwringer

As for my mother-in-law Louise, well, she was crippled by arthritis. The good news in that was it kept her from wandering off with her advanced state of Alzheimer's.

Alfred was admitted directly to a "special care unit" for his infection and I was there to provide support for his admission. My wife was keeping an eye on her mother.

It seems funnier afterwards, but I saw a woman, obviously not staff, walking past the cubicle looking closely at me and even smiling. She was appreciably younger than me but was cute, with very short chestnut-colored hair and a pretty face. Her eyes were very alive, looking into mine. I almost felt an shock run through me.

Her second pass had her looking over me a lot more closely than I'd believe possible. It was obvious I was being sized up, but why? It's not like I'm all that well endowed in brains or looks, after all. I'm an "everyman".

On her third pass I smiled back and even waved, which seemed to make her smile broader. Given that the nurse was ready to start an IV on my father-in-law, it was a good time for me to step away, and, perhaps, find an audience for my puns.

One reason I had to step away, of course, is that I really didn't want to faint: I can't handle seeing needles. I've always had a fear of "sharps". Even watching someone else get punctured was enough for me to feel faint. Consider me squeamish. So I got up and stepped out.

Closing the screen behind me, I stepped across to the other side of the hall we were on, and the woman walked up closer to me.

"Good afternoon," she said with a smile, and held out a hand, "I'm May Donovan."

I took her hand and shook it, "I'm Jack Lipton, nice to meet you, May. I assume you're not a patient, are you?"

She smiled and shook her head, "No, I'm here with my mother-in-law, she's not well. Can I show you to her?"

That was the strangest phrasing of a question I had ever heard. I shrugged, a little passive. There was not a broad list of opportunities for entertainment here, after all.

Three cubicles down was a woman only slightly younger than my 75 year-old father-in-law who looked up and her face reflected shock and blanched instantly. "Jerry? Are you here for me?"

I looked around, wondering what was going on, but replied to her, trying to calm down this obviously frightened woman. It was like she had seen a ghost.

"No, my name is Jack, not Jerry, and May here wanted you to meet me."

"Jack, this is my mother-in-law Beth, Beth Donovan."

I reached out to shake her hand. "I hope you'll be feeling better, ma'am."

Her color had returned but she kept looking at me intensely. She looked past me to May, saying "He's... identical."

Now I was wondering what was going on, so I asked May, "What does she mean by that? Identical to who?"

"My husband, her only child, died three months ago. You are as close to being his identical twin as I've ever seen. You not only look like him, you even walk and talk like him. I know you're not him; I'd been there when he died in an auto accident, but when I heard a voice so much like my dead husband's, I looked around and saw you."

Oh. That was very different.

Beth's reaction made more sense now: figuring that I was her dead son, she figured she was dying. I wasn't surprised though that I looked like someone else.

I've known for some time now that I am apparently one of the "standard people", apparently the result of God's own mass production. I have actually joked that when "God gets it right" he stamps as many out of the mold as he can. I've even met myself in various places, including as a toll collector.

This "Jerry" was apparently just another man who must have "looked more like me than I do". Or I looked more like him than he did. Or ... something like that.

By now my father-in-law's IV should be running, so the "icky" part that got me upset was over, so I nodded to both of these women and stepped back into the hall, ready to go back to my father-in-law's cubicle ... and I stopped.

I came back and wrote down my e-mail address and full name for May, saying, "If there's anything I can help you with, let me know. By the way, how old was he?"

"Jerry was 51," May replied with a sad smile.

Wow, he was my age.

On top of that, my mind reeled at the age difference. He really had raided the cradle, this young woman couldn't have been over 30.

Lucky bastard.

Instead of a handshake she opened her arms, so I gave her a hug... and, on impulse, kissed her forehead.

I looked back and saw Beth beaming at me, as if I was really her son; given a look that I'd missed since moving away from my own folks, it seemed right to give her a hug, too.

It was almost a relief to return to Alfred's cubicle; as much as the attention had been flattering I felt spooked.

Alfred's stay in the hospital lasted almost two weeks and I didn't run across May or Beth in that time, so the memory of meeting them both faded quickly.

The first e-mail I got from May a month later brought the memory back quickly and completely.

{ Jack, Can we meet? Call me 555-6210. - May }

Getting a message from her did take me by surprise.

So I called her the next day and was asked to bring my family to meet her and Beth, and, if I had any pictures of myself while I was growing up, to bring them as well.

Now Helen and I had a, well, difficult relationship. Even though I'd never strayed, she feared it greatly, her sensitivity obviously a product of her first marriage. Getting her there without her going ballistic was not easy, but I did it, along with my daughter Courtney. I even hauled along some of our photo albums, including some of the pictures my parents had given me of my childhood.

Both Beth and May did their best to calm things down and I was startled when I heard Helen's sudden gasp of horror when she saw May's wedding picture on a bookshelf... so I stepped over to take a closer look at it.

If I didn't know better I would have sworn that was me. The same kind of smile, the same kind of hair, so I said "Wow, he really *did* look like me, huh?"

May answered "Or you look like him."

I think Helen was stunned.

Courtney, curious as always, walked over to me and looked closely at the picture before looking at May, and said in a breathlessly innocent voice, "Wow! Daddy, are you married to her too?"

"No, Courtney, I'm not, that was her husband who just looks a lot like me."

Courtney looked disappointed, so I put my foot in it, adding "What's wrong, why are you upset? Mommy's right here!"

Courtney looked startled... "But, Daddy, if you were married to Miss May, I could have two mommies. When mommy is sick or hurting I wish I had another one to take me places."

Helen didn't seem too comfortable with this subject matter so I sat next to her on the couch. Courtney walked over to May, who seemed pleased with our daughter's attention.

I also wondered why they'd have some candles lit, but, hey, they did smell nice to me.

We talked for a bit, Courtney floating around and I could tell that May was watching her and I could see her look sad now and then... and my daughter pounced on her, giving her a hug and asking "Why are you so sad?"

May hugged her back, saying "Because I don't have a little girl like you of my own to hold."

My daughter is often sweet enough to kill diabetics for miles around. "But you can hold me, right?" as we watched her tighten her grip on May.

While May was being hugged by Courtney I finally learned why they wanted my older photos, from my youth. I'd even brought my High School year-book.

Wow. Jerry and I grew up over a thousand miles apart. If either Beth or my parents had twins, it would have looked as if we'd been separated at birth.

It was, well, uncomfortable, looking at the childhood of a dead man. A dead man who was functionally my twin. His year-book photo was as unflattering as my own, wearing the same ugly kind of black frame glasses so common in the late 1960s.

As the parade of picture comparisons were made, I could see Beth smiling more and more. It seemed a happy kind of smile. I was getting pretty relaxed so I smiled back at her.

We looked over at Courtney and May, cuddling together across the room from the couch.

Beth spoke to me directly, with "You can help us, you know. I'd like grandchildren, and, from your looks, it'd be as close to having my son's as I can get now."

I shook my head, "I'm sorry, but, no, I can't, I'm married to Helen, here, and not available."

Helen went from seeming pretty mellow and passive (a whole new "look" for her) to looking decidedly upset (which wasn't). This was probably pushing more than one of her panic buttons.

It was Beth who turned to Helen and asked, "Can you please let May borrow your husband?"

The sudden stress had me anxious and I had to take a piss, so I took the path of discretion and snuck off to the bathroom to deal with the call of nature. I didn't want to be in the loop. I was afraid to be around Helen just then; I didn't want to get scalded by the steam as it came out of her ears.

Returning to the living room was anticlimactic; everyone was a lot more relaxed. I sat down next to Helen, who reached for my hand.

For some time now I've gotten uncomfortable when she's reached for my hand, usually expecting her to try to find a way to get work out of me with no cost to her.

"Uh, Jack," Helen started, "I agreed with them, yes, you can impregnate May."

I'd been *so* sure that she'd reject this out of hand and never back off of that position, especially given her fears of losing me, but... this sudden change seemed impossible. With Helen's stance I'd been sure I could cover the problems I'd been reluctant to expose to anyone, even my shrink.

What had happened to my wife? Why was she so cooperative with them? And why was this whole thing dropping on me?

"Uh, Helen, I was so sure that you'd say no."

Helen smiled at me before she answered. "Well, I realize that you wanted more children, I'm unable to give them to you, and May is willing help us, too. As is Beth."

I sighed. This was not going well for me. I didn't want to have to tell her why this was such an unworkable plan. I couldn't come right out and tell her, so I tried to work up to it, asking "Helen, when was the last time we fooled around?"

I could see her getting angry for mentioning "fooling around", referencing her, in front of others. She has some serious problems in accepting sex as a normal part of a marital relationship.

I interrupted her anger with "It's germane to this issue, you know."

She calmed down and stared at me.

I answered my own question, "It's been almost a year and a half now, right?"

She nodded, the most concession I could get from her.

"Well, if you'd have tried in the last 10 months, well..." and found myself too uncomfortable to go on and explain it. So I weaseled out with "I can't any more."

Helen's face turned white. "What? You're..."

"Impotent, yes, no response. Inoperative, dead below the waist, it's dead Jim, it's resting in peace..."

"But... But..."

"No, it's not lying there all shagged out, it's not just resting. Hon, you were always so uncomfortable whenever I tried to pursue you that I decided to wait for you to get interested. I kept waiting for you. Within six months of waiting, well, it started to give up. Shortly after that it went good and dead."

I looked around. May looked devastated. Beth looked pissed off... at Helen. Courtney was holding on to May, not really understanding what we were talking about since we were avoiding words an 8 year old would most easily connect.

Beth opened up the next phase with "Helen, is he _really_ your husband?"

Now Beth was old enough that even given our ages we still would respond to her as an authority figure, so Helen did respond with "Of course!"

"So ... why isn't he fully functional any more? What is a husband to you?"

Helen was irritated, being placed on the defensive like that.

Beth jumped in again, adding "Look, I miss my husband, both in bed and elsewhere. The bed part was important to him, which made it important to me. I learned early on that if I didn't take an interest in his wants and needs, well, I could not count on him to do the same for *my* interests. So... have you been unhappy with your husband's attentions lately?"

I knew enough of the truth of this... my sympathy for her aches and pains was limited, my energy to deal with cleaning the house for her showed a marked lack of enthusiasm. I hadn't felt much like exerting myself in her interests for quite some time.

The one thing I had never thought to ask her was if she'd noticed any shortfall. I watched Helen's face as various emotions flashed across it as she sorted through memories.

Few of the things I saw in her face reflected pleasant memories.

Heck, Few of the expressions were reassuring to me, and reminded me of how I'd always felt she was judging me as "unfit"... even when she claimed she wasn't.

Now I'm not a particularly secure man and finding Helen had seemed a miracle. Amongst the reasons I'd stayed with her despite her wanting to avoid sex more recently was that she'd been my first and only. That's a very privileged place for her, since, given her first marriage, she was more experienced, and so I looked up to her for encouragement and approval.

So I'm whipped. Despite seldom actually _feeling_ much in the way of approval (much less encouragement) for the sexual side of our relationship. She'd been there to elevate me to manhood but not much beyond that.

And, if I'd chosen to walk away, I would have lost the one little bit of affirmation I had and was dependant on to prop up my sense of self.

I wanted to avoid this scene. Desperately. So I stood and told them "I need to take a walk, I'll take Courtney with me. I've got my cell-phone." and, taking my daughter's hand, stepped out of the house, with very little in the way of disagreement. If the upshot of all of this was to get Helen more interested in me I wasn't about to complain. If it got any worse I was ready to file, anyway.

I wandered the neighborhood with my daughter at my side and, after at least half an hour of walking, finally settled on a park bench, three blocks from Beth's house. Finally relaxing, my daughter jumping onto the swings and slides, mixing with other children playing here.

I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on relaxation when the bench moved; someone had sat down. My eyes popped open.

Several someones. Five women. One of them told me "It's been a while, Jerry, how are you doing?"

Not again.

I just stared at them, then went "Huh?"

The oldest woman, about my age, suddenly looked uncertain.

"Jerry?"

I shook my head. "Jack. Jack Lipton."

"Oh" she replied, looking over my face very closely.

One woman, who'd sat to my left, took my hand and looked at it, and I faced her when I felt her playing with my wedding band, going "What are you doing?"

She turned to the others, "No, it ain't Jerry, this one's been married for quite a while."

I could swear they were all disappointed.

"Uh, as flattering as all this attention is, but, didn't you know that Jerry's dead? I first met May and Beth a month ago and they told me about it."

The spokeswoman for the group looked surprised. "He's... gone?"

"That's what I was told. When Beth first saw me she turned white, like she'd seen a ghost."

I saw nods. All of them were nodding, now.

"So, what's the story here? You know my name, but..."

The spokeswoman said "I'm Joanie, this is Norma, on your left is Pam, and Vickie, here, and Beth. We all went to school with Jerry, over thirty years ago."

"Now... I'm wondering. I met his wife, she's so young, he musta raided the nursery. What's the story?"

These women looked amongst each other, like in a huddle, and that's when I noticed they all had wedding bands. Norma, looking anxious, answered my question: "Jerry was a nice enough guy, never hitting on us, but... he was gay. He was a good buddy to have around, y'know? And we got along with his mom... and she didn't want her line ending like this. So we klatched and a cousin of mine who had her own issues in life was willing to marry him to have children. Since then, given that I'd set them up, my brother and his wife have been on the outs with me ever since... and even May was avoiding me, I guess to keep from getting in the middle between me and her parents. Why, though, are you here?"

"Well, Beth seemed to think that I'd make a good surrogate for her son, and that I can provide the necessary ingredient to make a child."

I could see the nods. Joanie added "And you're not still with them all because..."

"They got my wife to bend, which must have been a miracle, but I bend a little too easily these days, which makes my own participation problematic." Somehow it felt reassuring to admit to my inability to perform to these women.

I wished I could take it back. The various expressions of shock were not reassuring to see... until I saw some actual tenderness in Joanie's face.

"So... what's the problem?"

I didn't need this. I really didn't need this. It was a lot easier when I believed that nobody cared. But, like a sucker, I spoke, expecting to be laughed at.

"Uh... my wife does not seem to find me exciting. She lost most, if not all, of her interest in sex over a year and a half ago, not that it had been all that strong before. After eight months I figured it was something wrong with _me_, that I wasn't good enough for her, so I went into a bit of a decline, and couldn't get it up. I tried quite a bit... and not a twitch." I shrugged again. My eyes hurt where I had not yet shed tears.

Norma said "So... what about others?"

I was still feeling down despite the antidepressants in my blood, but I answered anyway "What others? It's not like I am all that handsome. You guys got along with my clone because he was harmless, not because you were interested in him sexually."

Pam spoke up, "Hey, we got together once, sure, we were drunk, but he did talk to me even if he didn't get off."

My cellphone chose that moment to go off. "Ah, the master's voice!" I said before turning on the phone. My wife's phone number and the name I gave it was in the little window, so I answered "Yesssss, Baahhhsss! What can I do for you?"

All five of the women I'd been talking to giggled on hearing that.

"Hon, c'mon back, we need to talk."

"OK, hon, once I get Courtney off the swings I'll head back. I'm about three blocks away."

"Good, just come to the front door, Beth says you can just walk right in."

"Sure thing, hon. I'll be there in a few minutes" I finished and hit the "END" button on the phone. I looked around, and it suddenly hit me: "How did you five end up here all at once? This seems quite a coincidence, doesn't it?"

Vickie, a tall amazon, told me "Well, I spotted you wandering past my house and called them; we were glad we caught you here."

I shrugged. "Well, thank you ladies..."

"Uh, Jack, could you give us your phone number?"

I sighed my surrender and wrote out my cell phone number and my e-mail address and handed it to Joanie, who thanked me.

Courtney didn't resist leaving the playground as much as she normally would have and she was happy as we walked back to Beth's house, where we found Helen sitting on the porch.

"Hey, hon, so what's the story?" I asked, noticing that she looked pretty mellow.

"I'll take Courtney to the playground, you go on in. Be nice to May, OK?" Her voice was far more relaxed than it had been in months, recapturing the sound that had been so seductive all those years before.

I told her how to find the park I'd stopped at.

Before stepping away Helen blew away all of my knowledge of her, saying "Oh, and hon... if you can... go for it."

For a moment I stood rooted to that spot, staring at her.

This was a different Helen.

A very different Helen.

She giggled at my expression. I hadn't heard her giggle in too many years.

Following Helen's encouragement, waving for me to proceed, I went inside and rejoined Beth and Mae in the living room.

May walked up to me and hugged me, out of the blue, so I wrapped my arms around her, squeezed her, and started to rub and scratch her back.

I heard a happy noise coming from this woman and the next thing I knew I felt my own back being rubbed, probed and even scratched.

So the sudden rotation and her lips meeting mine startled me-- Helen didn't like to kiss too much, so we'd gotten out of the habit of giving each other more than a quick peck.

This kiss started out very gentle but soon went beyond anything Helen and I had ever done, I was learning all kinds of new things from May as I did my best to keep up with her.

I also heard Beth talking to us... to me, telling me that May had me, would take care of me, as the kiss continued.

I kept up my attentions to her shoulders and back and soon felt her hands pursuing the same spots on me, a feeling that was wonderful. I noted when she scratched other spots so I sought out the same location on her back and scratched her there too.

I'd NEVER kissed like this. I'd never felt this good. I'd seldom felt this wanted.

And I didn't want it to end.

The thought that this was not the woman I was married to returned...

...and I broke the embrace, sat on the couch, and started crying, my hands on my face.

I soon had both Beth and May at my sides, doing their best to soothe me, asking me why I was so upset.

Such a question, with an answer I didn't like, torn between my duty as a husband and my desire to _be_ desired. For so long I'd felt so useless ... and now I felt so much more useful. I was wanted, not needed.

I was wanted for who I was, not for the work I did.

When your sense of identity is so tied up in one person who has a limited amount of enthusiasm for you as _you_ and has a list of "things for Jack to do to today" it is so easy to suffer deep depression. The meds I was on didn't help me too much given that they could not substitute for what I really believed myself not to have. The meds helped me to survive my life.

But ... surviving is not living.

Sure, the meds shaved the depths of depression but I feared I'd lose some of the "highs" from this new woman in my life.

How to answer their concerns? How to answer without wanting to die from dishonor? How to admit to myself that I didn't want to go home with Helen any more? How to tell anyone that it hurt to think that my marriage was over? How to handle the pain this would inflict on Helen?

I never wanted to hurt anyone... and now I couldn't _help_ but hurt the woman I'd cared for over the last quarter century. Either that, or I'd be hurting this woman, May, who I suddenly felt so close to.

It was easier to lay my head in May's lap and cry as I let the emotional pain I was feeling reach the point of expression. Beth was still talking to me, I was listening, not always making out her words. Her voice came to me as if from a distance. Unexpectedly, I felt myself fading towards sleep.

Sleep came so easily, even though it wasn't likely to be permanent. Oh, to die now to avoid hurting anyone else...

Waking up again... I felt better. I couldn't explain it, but I didn't feel so hopeless any more. I was on a bed, between the sheets, naked... with a woman's head on my right shoulder.

The first question of 'how did I get here' couldn't be so easily answered. The second question of 'who is this next to me?' could be.

The light reddish-brown hair on the head identified my cuddler as May and I listened for her breathing, which was slow and regular. She was still asleep.

I felt warm, I felt comfortable ... and I realized that I was soon breathing in synchronization with her, just before I fell back to sleep.

My next awakening was a lot slower and, well, erotic. My balls were being manipulated and I felt some gentle finger- strokes on my dick, running up and down the flaccid organ.

There was no doubt that I was awake and enjoying this very personal attention, so I had my right hand run up and down May's back as she worked on me, rubbing and scratching her along her spine. She made a sound that I recognized as an expression of pleasure and approval of my attentions.

She repeated that sound and I felt a thrill run through me.

The third time she made an incredibly pleasurable sound from my back-scratching and squeezing of her shoulders I realized that the parrot was *not* dead, that it had only been pining for the fjords after all... and there was a deep fjord right next to me.

I quickly pulled her face to mine, we started kissing in earnest and I rolled her onto her back and, with very little further preparation, we slid together.

Her sound of delight ignited all of my nerve endings and, before I could stop it, screamed out my climax.

Now I'd been warned that the antidepressants did have the side defect of anorgasmia in quite a few people, but that possibility hadn't bothered me much, since the thought that I could ever get another erection in my life seemed a total fantasy.

Well, the Zoloft didn't keep me from slamming and spraying this young woman full of my seed, trying to impregnate her. It took so much out of me that I was worried about hurting her... and that she hadn't gotten off.

I just barely managed to keep from falling on top of her as my body finished trying to impregnate her with her arms *and* legs wrapped around me. I apologized for climaxing so quickly.

"Hey, it's been a long time for you, Jack. I would really hope that you'd have a short fuse by now." She kissed me.

Without losing this intimate connection I rolled us over so I'd be on the bottom and this delectable woman laid out on top of me, as I panted during recovery from our exertions. I finally re-opened my eyes to find her clear green eyes meeting mine.

My arms wrapped around her, holding her to me, seeking out her itches to scratch and I said "I love you, May."

She didn't show any surprise at all as she smiled warmly at me with her whole face and I heard "I love you too, Jack. And... you're still nice and hard, so, if you don't mind..."

I felt a squeeze. And another. She started moving and all of my attention was focused on the organ that connected us together as she pulled up and then slid back down.

Given the stimulation I had little real choice but to moan. She moaned back at me, which was, to me, more stimulating than her stroking of my dick. I thought it would not take much of her moaning to bring me off again, but it took long enough for her to extract a reward from our mating. We went over the crest together, eye to eye, noisy and shattering.

I was left feeling as limp as a dishrag; May, on top of me, had climaxed very hard and lay on top of me, now, as limp as I was.

This idyllic moment lingered, our breathing slowly falling again into synchronization as we held each other... until I remembered Helen.

And I didn't hurt. I paused for a moment... and then placed my attention back on May.

She had seen my mind leave and return and asked me "Are you OK?"

"What did you do to me? Why doesn't thinking about Helen hurt me right now? I've always felt that my loyalty to her was holding me back..."

I could tell she was thinking over what she could say to me.

So I ran my nails up and down her spine as my still hard erection remained seated in her. I wondered why, but I did want to hear her answer.

Instead of a direct answer, though, she started to stroke me again, which pulled my attention away from thinking and back to my penis, which was getting quite a massage.

"Jack, roll me back over and fuck me, please. I want you to fuck my brains out again, I want you to come in me, I need to feel your need..."

Wow. I was quite cooperative. Once we'd rolled over I was slamming into her as hard as I could and she started to shake and spasm early on, wailing "Oh, Jack, I'mmmmmm YES, that's IT!" as I continued to hammer her with my dick.

My continued assault didn't give her much of a chance to come down far from her climax and she came multiple times before I planted even more seed within her.

This time I had no strength left and could feel myself finally softening as I did my best to avoid crushing her. We soon found ourselves on our sides, facing each other, eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth... and kissing.

It had been a very long time since I'd last seen Helen look this happy after a sexual episode. I felt happy, I was relaxed, and the look on her face, that sleepy and happy look, went straight to my heart and I felt like I'd actually done something right. I knew that the Zoloft was limiting any lift I was getting, but enough of it came through.

With this woman in my arms who needs an antidepressant?

Her eyes finally drifted shut, and mine followed suit.

We slept.