The Woman Who Forgot Her Life

When I closed my lips around her nipple, Cindy shuddered again, and I felt her hips rock. My cock was rigid by then, and when her hips did that, it slipped between her soft lips.

I felt her wetness as she stroked my cock between those full soft lips. She moaned again, then put her open mouth on mine and kissed me, except it wasn't really a kiss. It was more a prelude to what was to follow. Her small tongue slipped into my mouth and found mine. The tingles that raced down my spine made my cock twitch. Cindy felt that, and moaned again.

I'm not sure how long that went on, but I didn't really care. I was lost in the feeling of her soft breasts in my hands and the little moans she made when I touched her nipples and nipple beds. I was lost in the way her wet lips got wetter as she rubbed them over my cock. I was just lost in the woman who gave all of herself into pleasuring us both.

Cindy was breathing faster when she moved forward a little. My cock popped up then, and she sighed as she eased back. I felt her moving her body to get the position right, and groaned when she started backing over my cock. It pushed though her full lips, found her entrance, and then started slipping inside her as she pushed back a little harder.

Cindy was pretty tight, and when my cock stopped going in, she moved back up a little and then pushed back down again. She groaned when it slipped through the tight ring just inside her entrance.

It was taking everything I had to not ram my cock in the rest of the way. I wanted to do that. I wanted to feel her warm depths around my cock, but I understood she needed to go just as slowly as she was going. It was an exquisite torture to feel my cock slipping inside her a fraction of an inch at a time, each little slip causing Cindy to catch her breath or moan into my mouth as she teased my tongue with hers. It was more erotic than anything I'd ever felt in my life.

Once my cock was all the way in, Cindy didn't speed up. She just began stroking her body over my cock. At the end of each stroke, she pushed down hard, and my cock slipped into some place very wet that sucked at the head when she pulled away again.

It's hard to describe how that felt except to say that after a few minutes, I could feel the end coming, but it seemed to be happening really slowly. Cindy kept me almost ready, but not quite, and the tension I felt building was incredible.

I felt the same tension in Cindy. She still wasn't going any faster, but I kept feeling little contractions around my cock, and she was starting to gasp when my cock sank into her clasping depths. Her gasps soon became panting breaths interspersed with little moans.

Cindy's body jerked then and my cock slipped out. She ground her mound down on top of it and started to shake. She cried out as she stroked her clit over my shaft, then lifted her body and pushed back until she was impaled again. Her cry as she started to stroke rapidly took away all my self-control. I thrust my cock into her stroke and groaned. Cindy cried out "Oh God, now". After that, I lost track of what was happening. All I remember is the shaking of her body as she rocked her hips up and down over my cock, her little cries as the waves swept through her, and the feeling of my seed racing up my shaft and splattering deep inside her.

When Cindy stopped panting and rocking her hips, she eased her breasts down on my chest and put her cheek against mine.

"Mmm...I needed that."

I stroked her hip and she shuddered.

"Oh God, it's still happening."

I could feel that it was. When I stroked her hip again, I felt her passage tighten around my cock and heard her moan. That tightening feeling and her moans gradually tapered off until all I felt was her heart beating against my chest. She nibbled my earlobe.

"Can we just stay like this? I don't want to go back there."

I stroked Cindy's back.

"I don't want you to leave either."

"Then I won't...ever."

I did take her back to New Beginnings that afternoon and lied that I needed her for the next couple days as part of the purse snatching investigation. I knew Dr. Rice would have to release her before she could actually leave. I took her to see him at four on Monday. After their talk, he came out of the room by himself.

"She remembers that her name is Cindy, and she told me what happened with the trial and on Friday night. That's a sign she's on her way to remembering some if not all of her life. I think it was a combination of the bump on the head and the emotional trauma of the trial that triggered her amnesia. She'd probably been carrying the memories of the trial with her all these years, and the bump on the head was an excuse, if you will, for her brain to forget.

"Now that she remembers some of her past, she's going to need help for a while. As things come back to her, she'll need someone to help her make sense of those things. She says she wants you to be that someone. It may be just that she trusts you or it may be something deeper than that. I can't tell right now. Can you be that someone for her, at least until she remembers who she really is and where she wants to go from here? I'll still see her once a week to keep tabs on how she's doing, but she really needs someone there for her more often than that."

I said I could and asked if that meant he'd release her from New Beginnings. He frowned.

"She told me about you and her on Saturday morning as well. You need to understand that she's pretty vulnerable to anything that makes her feel safe now. I'm assuming if I release her, she'll be staying with you. I'm not sure that's a good idea, but it's what she wants.

You need to understand that as she remembers, she might decide she needs to move on. I'll release her, but you need to be prepared for her to leave you someday. That sounds cold, but you need to know the truth."

Cindy came home with me that afternoon after we went shopping so she'd have some clean clothes to wear. After six months, she's still with me, and she hasn't shown any signs of wanting to change that. I hope she doesn't. I can't imagine life without her again.

She started remembering, slowly at first, but as she did, things started coming back faster and faster. It seemed to help things along after I called the DA in Biloxi and explained her situation. The former DA had already closed the case because she'd been declared dead, and the current one didn't see any benefits to anyone by re-opening it. Cindy was overjoyed to hear that. It was two weeks later she remembered some more of what happened in Biloxi.

She'd testified at the trial and Don had indeed threatened her. Her parents wouldn't let her leave the house after that. They were afraid Don would somehow make good on his threat.

When the Katrina warnings started, her father and mother made the decision to weather the storm in their home. Her father boarded the windows and moved everything to the second floor of the house. He'd done the same thing before and had always come through the storm.

Cindy doesn't remember very much about Katrina other than hearing the wind screeching around their house and later being pulled off some floating wreckage by two men in a boat. They took her to a temporary shelter. From there, she went to a shelter in Jackson where she got something to eat and some dry clothes.

Doctor Rice says she may never remember what happened then, but that would probably be for the best. He said the Katrina survivors who remember often have PTSD as a result. Not remembering is her brain's way of protecting Cindy from something too traumatic for her to live with.

It was strange to me how her memories came back. I thought they'd be sequential, like what happened in Biloxi first, then Katrina, then the last nine years, and finally the purse snatching. It didn't happen that way. Cindy remembered Don that night, but it took her two more weeks to piece together the memory of what happened to her when Katrina hit. Cindy remembered the address of her apartment a week after she moved in with me.

I drove her over. She didn't still have her key. Willard had lost that when he dumped her purse, but the super recognized her.

"Hi, Corrine. You been on vacation or something?"

Cindy looked a little odd at first, but then she blinked and then smiled.

"Yes, I have Walt, and I lost my keys. Can I get another one?"

He grinned.

"Anything for a pretty woman. I'll add it to your rent. It's due next week. Don't forget now."

Cindy looked at me and squeezed my hand.

"Walt, I found another place to live. I just came over to pick up my things."

Walt looked disappointed when he handed her a new key. I could understand that. The building was in an up-scale part of town. Apartments there went for a thousand a month and up. Walt might have to wait a while before he found someone else who'd pay that much.

Cindy opened the door, walked inside, and then stopped and stared around the living room.

"How did I afford all this?"

I saw what she meant. The couch and chair were leather. The coffee table looked like solid wood, not just a picture of wood over particleboard like mine. The lamps on the end tables looked expensive as well, and there were several paintings in expensive looking frames hanging on the walls.

"I think you're the only one who can answer that."

She sighed.

"Maybe I was an escort like that man said."

I hugged her because she looked like she needed a hug.

"You aren't now, and that's all that's important to me."

Her bedroom was the same. The bed was more a work of art than a bed, and the two dressers matched it. The closet made her stop and stare again.

Dresses of velvet and material that glittered when it moved hung from hangers on the rod. On the floor were around thirty pairs of shoes, stilletto heels in several colors, lower, but still expensive looking heels in as many colors, running shoes, hiking boots, and simple loafers.

There was no way I was going to carry that much stuff to my car unless it was in boxes. While Cindy emptied the dresser drawers onto the bed, I went to buy some. When I came back, she was sitting on the floor crying. I asked her why.

"I found this in one of the dresser drawers. Look."

I was just a shoe box, but inside were stacks of bills. There were several hundreds. Most were twenties and tens. That explained why she didn't have any credit cards in her purse. With that much cash, she wouldn't have needed any.

"I counted it. There's a little over thirty thousand dollars in there."

I had to chuckle.

"Why are you crying? I'd think you'd be happy."

"I'm crying because of what I probably did to get it. You won't want me now that you know that I...that I let other men...What if one of them recognizes me?"

She started to sob again then. I pulled her to her feet and held her until she stopped, then lifted her chin.

"Cindy, nobody's perfect, and everybody has done a few things they're not proud of. I don't know if you did that or not, but if you did, you had to do it to survive. I can't fault you for that, and I already told you it doesn't make a difference to me.

"As for being recognized, yes, that might happen, but it won't go anywhere. If you were an escort, everything in this apartment tells me you were a pretty expensive date. Any man who could afford you would probably rather no one knew. He wouldn't take the risk of making contact."

I grinned.

"Besides, if he did, well, that's what I'm here for."

It took three hours to box up everything and carry it down to my SUV. I can haul a lot of stuff, but all the boxes pretty much filled it up. It took another hour to carry them into my house and stash them in the spare bedroom.

The next morning while I was working, Cindy called a moving company to pick up her furniture and put it in storage. She wanted to bring it to my house too, but I remembered Doctor Rice's caution that some day she might want to leave. If that ever happens, I don't want it to turn into a hassle.

Her memories are still coming back. Yesterday, she remembered how she disappeared.

She was in the shelter in Jackson, and heard the newscaster on the radio say there were already several people who'd been found dead and that more were expected. He also said there would probably be some people classed as missing because their bodies would never be found.

She thought about Don's threat and she knew his reputation. The word on the street was that he'd killed a few people who'd gotten in his way. I'd seen that in his file as well. Nothing was ever proven, but she believed he'd kill her or have her killed if he could. The only way she could escape was to disappear.

In all the chaos to get people to shelters, no one had asked her name, age, or where she'd lived. When they finally did, she told them she was Corrine Draves, that she was nineteen, and she'd lived in Gulfport. Corrine was the name of her great aunt, and Draves was her mother's maiden name. As far as anyone knew, Cindy Davis had been washed out to sea, and would be listed as missing.

Cindy still hasn't remembered being an escort, but like Katrina, that's probably something her brain would rather not remember. I believe she was, but I haven't pushed her to try to remember that. I think it might have been that more than the trial that triggered her amnesia. It doesn't really matter to me. She's Cindy now and not Corrine.

As far as I'm concerned, the money in the shoe box was a gift from Corrine to Cindy. No one but Cindy and I know about it. She opened a bank account and deposited it in small amounts every month like she would a paycheck or tips, so the bank didn't have to file anything other than an annual interest statement to Cindy. She'll pay taxes on the interest, but the money should be pretty safe from the IRS.

That's not strictly legal, but I think Cindy has been through enough for one lifetime. I doubt the IRS would ever come looking for her anyway. Corrine never had a social security card and never paid taxes. They won't have any record of her.

Cindy remembered her sister, Katy, a few weeks ago. She found her on one of the social media sites and sent her a message. That message and the next one weren't answered, but after Cindy included some information only she and Katy would know, she got a response. They've talked on the phone several times, so Katy knows how and why Cindy disappeared and that Cindy isn't going to claim anything from their father's estate. We're going to drive to Indiana when I take my vacation so they can see each other.

I'm happy with our life like it is. We're about like any married couple, I suppose, though we're not married. We both know it's too early to talk about that, so we haven't. Cindy takes care of the house while I go to work. Most weekends we eat out on Saturday night and then go to a club she likes.

Those Saturdays are really special to me. I knew Cindy was a pretty woman when I first saw her. When she does her hair and makeup, and then puts on one of those velvet or sparkly dresses, stockings and heels, she's absolutely beautiful. She seems to like the stares we get when we walk into a restaurant or club, and I do too. I really like it that she just grins and tightens her arm in mine or squeezes my hand.

During the week, things are pretty quiet around the house. Usually we watch TV after dinner and then go to bed about ten. Some nights, Cindy will snuggle up to me and whisper, "I think my amnesia is coming back. I've forgotten what it feels like. Would you show me again."

I'm more than happy to do just that.