I lay her out the way I did the others, before rigor mortis sets in: naked, on her back, right leg bent, so the inside of the right foot rests against the left thigh. Her right arm is across her flat belly; left hand resting on the left thigh.
This one is so fresh, so fragrant -- only minutes since her grateful last sigh. I lie down beside her in that same position -- the position I've slept in since childhood. We look like we were meant to be together.
In a few hours the spell will work and she'll speak to me. She would never have spoken to me when she was alive, but when I wake her she will howl my name, shriek and curse, filling me with passion.
Sometimes the others come back -- seven girls berating me. Those are the best nights, when the pleasure is almost too great. And when they and I are spent, I lie down by my latest love; the others fade away.
From the college campus, sounds of innocent, girlish laughter float through my basement window, lulling me asleep; to dream of next time.