鬼

”   “Each time I“ve taken a material form for any length of time, I“vetaken a new name. You chose my form, you may as well name me too.”   “But what name were you born with?

”   “Beryl.”   “It“s a pretty enough name, do you mind if I call you that?

”   “OK.” She smiled. “I“m glad I chose you, you know?

”   “Why?

”   “Because you“re a gentleman.”   “Thanks,” I said, looking at her beautiful body as she stood in frontof me. “Look, what are we going to do. What am I going to do withyou?

”   “I don“t know.”   “That“s crazy. I“ve got to go to work today, what will you do?

”   “Whatever you want me to do.”   “No!

What do you want to do?

I“m sure as hell not having you hangaround my apartment all the time as some kind of love slave.”   “Mabe I“ll go out and look around the town.”   “What“ll you wear?

”   “To go out?

I don“t see much point in wearing clothes around thehouse. We“re the same size, you know. I“m not used to wearing men“sclothes, but these days, I guess I could. Do you mind if I borrow someof your clothes?

”   “What about money and identification?

Nowdays, you can“t very wellrun around town without money. Don“t get me wrong, you“re very pretty,and so far, you“ve been lots of fun, but you“re a legal non-person, andthat poses problems.”   “Don“t worry,” she said. “I have a few letters to write and that“llbe all taken care of. Let“s get dressed.”I backed into my bedroom and pulled out a pair of jeans for her, thenhesitated. “I don“t have any girls underwear.”   “That“s OK. Last time I had a body, they hadn“t invented modernunderwear yet. Quite frankly, I don“t see much point to wearing itanyway.” She stepped into my jeans and pulled them up.   “What about a shirt,” I asked, admiring the way my jeans looked onher.   “With my dark skin?

” she asked, and then paused. “Here, I“ll showyou,” she said, stepping into my closet and pulling out a whiteshort-sleeved shirt. It was a knit shirt, pullover style, with threebuttons at the neckline. “How about this?

”   “OK,” I said, and then it struck me how odd it was that she knew whatclothing I had in the closet. She really had been watching me for along time.As she pulled the shirt on over her head, I began to have secondthoughts. “Beryl, are you sure you want to wear that?

”   “Why?

” she asked, adjusting the collar.   “Well, it“s not very modest.”   “What do you mean?

”   “With your dark skin, your nipples show, look at yourself.”She looked at herself in my bedroom mirror, and then turned to me andgrinned. “Don“t you like the effect?

”   “Well,” I said, looking at her. Her dark areolas were visiblethrough the thin fabric, and the lumps of her nipples stood out clearly.”I won“t say I don“t like looking at you.”   “Then OK. You should have seen the dresses I wore two centuries agoduring the Greek revival craze. Come on, as you said, you“re in a hurryto get to work.”Before I left for work Monday morning, I left the spare key to theapartment with Beryl along with forty dollars. I half expected her todisappear with both before I got home from work, but as I walked up thesteps to my apartment, I heard music coming from my sterio.   “How was work?

” Beryl called as I opened the door.   “OK,” I said, closing the door behind me. Actually, my day hadn“tbeen very productive; I“d spent too much time thinking about Beryl.   “Sit down,” Beryl said as she came out of the bedroom. “When was thelast time you went out to dinner?

”   “It“s been a long time,” I said, looking at her. She wasn“t wearingthe clothes she“d been wearing when I left her in the morning; instead,she wore a short white skirt, perhaps fingertip length, with a silvercamisole top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore arow of four rings in each ear.   “Like it?

”   “I“m not sure,” I said, staring. “You“re awfully sexy lookingdressed like that.” The colors set off her brown skin nicely, and thefabric of the camisole draped gently over her small breasts, hinting attheir shape instead of frankly revealing them the way my knit shirt had.”Did I give you enough money to buy all that?

”   “I spent a few of the dollars you gave me on fabric, then spent a bitof time sewing. The earrings only cost four bucks a pair at that Indianimport outlet in the mall.”   “But ear piercing, they don“t do that for four bucks a pair.”   “I did that myself with a sewing needle.”I must have blanched a bit at that, because she walked up to me andgave me a gentle hug. “Don“t worry, I“ve got enough magic left that itwasn“t any problem.”   “Sounds like you went to quite a bit of effort,” I said, trying tocollect my feelings. “Where“d you get a sewing machine.”   “I did it by hand,” she said, looking down at herself as she steppedback to pose for me. “I“ve never used a sewing machine, and I grew upsewing my own clothes. Anyway, these modern styles are pretty easy.”She smiled. “Come on, let“s go out to dinner. I know you haven“tbeen out socially in the year I“ve been following you, and you need it.”   “OK,” I said. “Where?

”She had a place in mind, and I didn“t seem to have much choice. Idrove there, and it turned out to be a bar, not a dive, but a place withfood that looked decent and a dance floor. There was evidence that aband would be playing later, but as we walked to a table, the only musicwas canned, and that wasn“t too loud to prevent conversation.We sat at a small table, and after we“d ordered, Beryl leaned forwardon her elbows to look at me. I enjoyed the way her camisole hung,almost but not quite exposing her nipples as she faced me. “I guesswe“ve got some talking to do,” she said.   “You“re not kidding. Where do you want to start.”She took a deep breath. “I don“t know. I“ve never done it like thisbefore. I always either completely hid my true nature or played it upall the way, you know, appearing from a burning bush and making like I“msome kind of angel.”   “So?

I“m glad you want to be honest, but is that the problem?

”   “Not really.”   “What is?

”   “In a way, I guess it“s modern times.”   “What“s the problem?

”   “Freedom. I guess you can see that I like the idea of being able toexpress my sexuality, and I like the idea that a girl who likes a guycan just move in with him, but, well, there are some things you can“ttake for granted these days.”   “Like?

”   “In the old days, a girl could expect men to support her without muchtrouble. She“d keep house and keep the bed warm, and her man would earnthe money and deal with the world. It“s not like that now.”   “Right, and it“s worse. To get a job, you need a social securitynumber, and to get a number, you need proof of legal residence andemployability in the United States.”She grinned at me. “I know, I haven“t been asleep all these years.The first thing I did this morning was buy a postal money order andwrite for a copy of my birth certificate.”   “What?

I thought …”She shushed me, then continued in a low voice. “I was born inWyoming 22 years ago and I“m half American Indian. My folks named meJenny Smith, but I“ve gone by the name Beryl since I ran away fromhome.”   “What about school records, things like that.”   “I“m self-educated, and damn proud of it!

”   “Do you have relatives?

” I asked as I realized what she was implying.”And what about friends?