Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Man in the Dark

   The letter came in the mail one Monday.  She stopped and stared at the
handwriting, wondering where she had seen it before.  There was no return
address.

   On opening it she had a chill up her spine.  Morgan had resurfaced;
after 10 years he had come back.  Where had he been?  The letter was
inigmatic and mysterious, asking her to meet him at his home the evening of
her choice, any time after 10.  She shook a little as she finished reading
it, seeing his scrawled signature.  It went into her purse, where it seemed
to burn and smolder for a day, when she reread it in the bathrom.  Should
she go?

   Her husband was in a bad mood that night and she cried as he slammed the
bedroom door and left her alone.  It had been over nothing.  He had not
held her or touched her in a month and she was unsure how to handle it. 
The thought of Morgan entered her mind again.  Washing her face, slipped
into a dress, neglecting most of her underwear, and grabbing her purse she
walked out without telling him where she was going or why.

   The address was in an old part of town and the house hidden behind a
fence and gate.  It opened slowly and silently to her touch and closed the
same.  She stood there in the darkness, staring at the large house.  Only a
single, pale light provided a guide up to the door.  She stumbled a little
on the steps before finding herself before the door, a large, wooden one
with a large brass knocker in the center.

   She shivered in the night as she looked at the door and nearly screamed
as a voice spoke beside her.

   "I was hoping you would come," Morgan said in his deep, melodic voice.

   She turned to look at him there in the darkness, seeing his face clearly
despite the darkness.  She stared at him without a sound.

   "Oh, I scared you," he said, worry in his voice.  "I did not mean to do
that."

   "It's, it's Ok," she stammered.

   "Come in, please, I have managed to fix the old place up pretty nicely,"
Morgan said.

   He stepped around her and opened the door then, standing aside for her
to enter.  She stepped around him and found herself in a dimly lit hall
with stairs going up one side and large double doors at the end.  It was
sparsely decorated, but tasteful, though it was too dark to see very well.
The door closed and she turned to him.

   "Where have you been?" she asked.

   He looked at her, pain apparent in his eyes.

   "I, well, it would be very hard to explain," he said, "but I had to come
back and see you."

   "But, it's been ten years," she said, looking more closely.  He had not
changed a bit in those years, or so it seemed, except for the strange
luminescence of his skin.

   `I know, but I had something to take care of," he said.  "Now I am back.
And you are married."

   "It, it was a mistake," she said, whispering it now, afraid to say out
loud what she had felt for some time, that she no longer loved her husband.

   "You can come and live with me," he said.  "We, we can be together here,
just the two of us, like it used to be."

   "Morgan, we were together only once," she said, not sure how to take
this new Morgan.

   "I know, but I have thought about you all these years." He walked up to
her and took her in his arms, drawing her close.  She felt a strange chill
run through her.  His dark, deep eyes were hypnotic, with a power she did
not recognize.  He kissed her with cool, firm lips, his strong arms
crushing her breasts against his chest.  She moaned through his kiss, her
breath catching in her throat.  She was overwhelmed by feelings, fear and
guilt as she felt his hardness against her.

   She tried to pull back, but he was too strong, holding her against him,
his passion consuming her will.

   Finally he broke the kiss and looked down into her face.  She was
petrified, unable to move as his strong arms picked her up and carried her
up the stairs, around a corner and into a large, candle-lit bedroom.  A
huge, four-poster bed filled much of the room.  Effortlessly he placed her
on the bed and then she watched, as if she were someone else, as he
undressed her, stripping her of her clothing and her will with it.  His
hands were cool on her skin; not uncomfortably so, but cool nonetheless.

   He kissed her breasts and belly, caressed her legs and body, smelling
her like a rare flower, her hands moving like a sculptor over her, as
though he were making her anew.  With a fluid motion he stripped and was
naked, his body hairless and white, except for the dark patch at his
crotch, where she found him to be more than she remembered.  Frozen with
fear and passion in equal measure she watched him mount her, spreading her
legs as he loomed above her.

   "Morgan, I, I don't..."

   "You are here now, my love..." he said, pressing himself against her wet
opening.  He kissed her then, his mouth cool, his arms lifting her, his
cock pressing for entry.  She spread her legs wider, almost against her
will, letting him enter her.  His large, hard cock spread her lips,
penetrating her in a way she had not been in so long, making her cry out as
he did so.  He was not gentle, but she did not mind; she wanted him in her,
wanted to be possessed but at the same time, afraid of what it meant to her
and her life.

   "Oh, god, Morgan, oh, Morgan..." she cried as he pushed into her,
hurting her as he spread her wider and wider, penetrating her fully,
stopping and holding his cock in her.  She moaned as he began to slowly
fuck her, his cock moving in and out with long, sure strokes, her body
meeting him, beckoning him deeper and deeper into her.  Her need for
contact, for passion overwhelmed her guilt and fear, activating a heat in
her she had not felt in months or years.  Soon she was fucking back just as
he was fucking her, meeting each stroke with one of her own, her breasts
rubbing against his chest, his lips on hers as he groaned and shook.

   "Lydia, oh, my god, I have dreamt of this do long..." he said, looking
down as her now, his strokes speeding up, her hips meeting his strokes,
nearing her climax, her body responding to his attentions.  Her breath came
short now, her eyes half closed, her legs wrapped around his.  With a rush
it came, her body going ridged as she reached her peak, his back arching
and his cock pounding into her as he began to release himself into her,
gasping and groaning.  She cried out then, screaming his name as she
finished.

   She lay there in his arms, her breath coming in gasps as he looked down
at her.

   "I, I don't know what to say," she gasped out.  "We, we, shouldn't
have..."

   He grinned at her and slowly withdrew, still erect.

   "You are mine now," he said.

   "No, no, I, I'm married..."

   "No, it does not matter.  You will have to come back to me and you know
it.  You have no choice."

   "Why?  What have you done?  What have you become?"

   "You would never understand, but I will tell you that you are mine.  All
mine.  Surrender yourself to the passion and stay with me."

   "But, I can't.  I have a job, a life."

   He sighed and shook his head.

   "Go, if you must, but you will be back, my dear," he said.

   To be Continued



   Darkness



   She went home; he had fallen asleep on their bed and didn't mention
anything in the morning.  For her part she was sore and had a headache.  It
seemed as though she was bothered by the brightness of the sun and lights.
She wore her sunglasses to work, though she really did not have to.