Page 11 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t say anything further. “And?”

“I have no memory of any time before you. I was alive, living in this house in nineteen fifteen, and then when I was next here, I was like this,dead. I know there’s more to it. When I start to go each night, I feel…” She shakes her head. “I can’t even tell you what I feel because it’s as if every time I go to examine the feeling it slips out of my grasp. I know there’s something there but I can’t explain it. Have you ever looked at the stars, when they’re fading just before dawn? They’re there in your periphery, but when you look at them directly, sometimes you can’t see them because they’re too faint, and then they’re gone. It feels like that, like something is stealing half my mind, andit terrifies me.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I don’t have any more answers for you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need to apologise. You’re the one that’s in this situation. I just want to help you, Rose. I’m not a religious man at all butfuck, I’m praying for a miracle here.”

She nods. “I am too.”

“I thought I saw something out my window, that evening when I moved in.”

“When I first appeared here like this, I appeared in the backyard,” she points. “I don’t know how I knew, but I knew instantly that I was not alive in the usual sense. And everything was so different. I saw you in your room and panicked and hid.”

So itwasher. I smile, imagining it. “I guess the sight of an orc would have been pretty frightening, the first time.”

She shakes her head, eyes wide. “No! It was a surprise for sure, butno, look atme,” she gestures to herself. “I am a ghost! The panic was over my own appearance, not yours. I was fascinated by you. You’re very handsome, and you have the kindest eyes.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “You were unpacking things from boxes long into the night, and you seemed so incredibly…I don’t know,”she adds in a rushed whisper, “you seemed lost in the same way that I felt.”

There’s a lump in my throat, and my eyes are burning. I nod. “I was.”

“I don’t think you are now. What you’re doing, it’s good. You’re so very good at it, and when you tell me how it is for women — that they can go to your show and enjoy this, and be happy — I just think, it’s a gift. You are gifted at this, butyouare the gift…you are doing a good thing. I wish women had this freedom when I was alive.”

“I’m not… I’m still pretty lost, Rose.” My mouth works, but I can’t seem to put what I need to say into words, and I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I’m not lost when I’m with you.”

She nods vehemently. “You found me. You foundme, Zak. I’m still afraid, but I would be so much more of a mess without you.”

“Ditto,” I croak. Two syllables is all I can manage right now.

After a breakfor some water and a snack — my excuse to allow me to calm the fuck down before I go and have a cry in front of Rose because she means more to me than anyone else ever has before and I don’t know what to do about it — I’m ready to start practising again. I’ve run through the solo part of the track without mistakes, so it’s time to add on the final part, pulling up a member of the audience, sitting them on a chair, and giving them a lap dance worth remembering.

I watched it through with Rose earlier, and now grab an old chair from the dining set, sitting it in the centre of the room. I mime to an audience member that isn’t there, rolling my hips over an empty chair in time to the music, going through the motions but not really vibing with it the way I was earlier.

What Rose said about not knowing where she goes freaks me out. That she has no memory, that there is nothing between her mysterious death and now. It terrifies me that she doesn’t knowwhat she is species-wise, and that there is so much uncertainty. I hate it when she fades away every night. It scares me that I’m falling in love with a ghost.

“Zak.”

Rose’s feet are soundless on the wooden floor. She walks over to me, pausing for a moment as she stares up into my eyes. “May I sit?” she asks quietly.

“Of course.” I gesture to the chair I’ve been using as a prop. “Go ahead.”

I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I suddenly am.It’s because it’s her. “Do you want me to dance for you?”

“Yes. With that thing on, too,” she adds with a smile, pointing to the helmet. “And your shirt off. I want the full experience.”

I think back to what she said, about women having freedom in this time. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re certainly an improvement on the limitations Rose would have dealt with. The fact that Rose is here, demanding what she wants, makes me happy. She’s right; it is a gift to share it with her.

“Alright then.”

I pull off my shirt, leaving it atop my discarded jeans, and tie my hair back completely so I can slip the helmet over my head easily. There’s something about putting on a costume that I’ve always found helps me properly immerse myself in a character, and this is no different. With the helmet on, I’m not Zak here, just a dancer for my audience, here to give her the best fucking time of her life.

I move to the beat of the music with ease. I’ve always loved dancing, loved how alive it makes me feel, my body speaking in ways I could never articulate with words.

There are so many things I want to tell Rose.

She chews on her lip again, big eyes scanning over my body, as if she doesn’t quite know where to look to take it all in. I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of how tiny she is as I am now with her perched on the chair, her fingers gripped tight in the fabric of her skirt. I grab the back of the chair with both hands, caging her in, rolling my hips in time to the music, my crotch in her face and that cool feeling I always get around her even more intense against the bare skin of my stomach. It’s all part of the act, but it quickly feels likemorewhen I hold out my hands and she places hers in mine. We’re not really touching as I guide them to my chest, but I swear I feel the icy brush of her fingers as she drags them down my body, and my cock — forever betraying me around her — hardens to a stiff bar that’s unmistakeable beneath the fabric of my underwear.

I’m meant to catch hands that get too grabby, but when her translucent fingers glide over the outline off my cock, all I can do is swear softly under my breath. I’m too hot beneath this stupid helmet so I tear it off, tossing it to the side with a thunk, the music forgotten.

“Zak… I…”

I swear I can feel the pressure of those fingers, just a little. I cover her hands with mine, grinding into my own palm, exhaling at the sensation. “Yeah, baby?”

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