Alone Again ... Supernaturally

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Working late leads to a long-time coming encounter.
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This is my entry for the 2007 Halloween Story Contest, the winner of which is solely decided by the votes of the readers. So please, enjoy this entry and then, please, take the time to vote and leave a comment on what you thought.

Thank you, in advance, for taking the time to vote and thank you to OneLustyWench for her editing input.

* * *

Another night working late, something that was almost becoming second nature for Charlie. He knew there would be some of this when he took the promotion to managing editor, he just never imagined how much.

Still, he didn't really mind that much. The entire office was empty except for him and he could actually get some work done with no one asking for this or that or the phone ringing with another project to get started on. Co-workers often asked how he could stand being in the big, old office building by himself. He joked the ghost kept him company.

Everyone usually laughed at that comment, as the stories of an office ghost had been going around for years. The building was constructed in the early 1890s and was a beautiful art nouveau design that you rarely see anymore, with graceful curves replacing the sharp corners of the other buildings in the area.

The ghost stories sprang from a story that during the building's construction, the foreman's young wife brought down the lunch he had forgotten on his way to work and, in the days before hard hats, was hit on the head by a bucket falling off one of the steel beams being put in for the roof and killed her instantly. The story says she continued to roam the building, looking for her husband to deliver the lunch she never had the chance to in life.

In fact, the actual story was on one of many of the newspaper's previous front pages that were on display around the office, headlined "Mrs. Charlton Ellerson killed in construction mishap". It quoted the distraught husband on how he had no idea his wife was coming to the site after they had been fighting and how he would never have the chance again to "tell Linda how much he loved her." The story hung on the wall not so much because of the ghostly legend, but because the photo of Mrs. Ellerson was one of the first halftone photos printed in the newspaper.

Still, this was the farthest thought from Charlie's mind right now as he kept crunching numbers to make sure he didn't go over budget as he worked out the staff schedule for the next two weeks. Who would be traveling where, who would be covering which shifts in the office. How was this all going to fit together? He still wasn't sure, but knew it had to happen in the next hour or two before he nodded off to sleep at his desk.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps over his head ... the same kind you hear in an apartment when somebody upstairs starts to move around a little too actively. But this was a one-story building and the only upstairs was a roof that there was no outside access to. He just chalked it up to being tired and windy weather outside as he tried to focus again on his work.

The sound caught his ear again, only this time it wasn't overhead -- instead coming from a back room. There shouldn't be anyone but him in the building, so curiosity got the better of him and he decided to investigate. Just in case though, he took the souvenir baseball bat he kept in the corner of his office.

When he got to the back room though, there was nothing there he could see ... just a cold, drafty feeling as he walked inside. That struck him as kind of strange, as this was almost like a big closet in the middle of the building with no outside doors or windows. Still, he was going to turn and go back to work when he heard something.

"Charlie ..." called out a voice that almost sounded like the wind. "Charlie, I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?"

He looked around, but was still alone in the room. Suddenly the door slammed, taking what limited light that had been coming into the room with it. He was in the dark, but somehow he knew he wasn't alone any more.

"Charlie, have you been trying to avoid me," the voice called again. "I'm sorry about this morning. I've come to say I'm sorry and brought your lunch."

"Who are you," Charlie screamed out into the darkness. "Who are you and how do you know who I am?"

"It's Linda, your wife silly," the voice responded, still barely louder than a whisper in the wind. "I've come with your lunch and to let you know just how sorry I am about this morning."

"I'm not married and I don't know any Linda," Charlie answered. "I'm confused."

The voice paused for a minute, before answering in an almost disappointed voice.

"I didn't realize you were so upset with me Charlie that you won't even acknowledge who I am or our life together," the voice answered. "Please forgive me. You were right, I had no business telling you that you needed to leave this job and start working for my father. You are the man and I am your wife ... please forgive me."

"OK, OK, I forgive you," Charlie said, hoping this would make this nightmare come to an end, quietly looking to find the door as he spoke. "Maybe you had a point too. Can we discuss this later though, as I have to get back to work?"

"Don't you have time for a little lunch break," the voice responded. "I brought your lunch and a little dessert too."

"Really, I have a lot of work to do," Charlie answered before catching a glimpse of something moving toward him -- almost a shadow in the darkness.

"Please," the voice pleaded. "I really wanted to show you how sorry I am..."

And as the voice trailed off, he felt a cool presence almost wrap around his body and, if he didn't know better, kiss him.

"Please," the voice continued. "Let me show you how sorry I am..."

Another kiss sensation, only this one began to trail down his body -- lingering on his neck, his chest and on downward. Before long, a sensation other than fear was beginning to grow within him.

"I shouldn't be doing this ... we shouldn't be doing this," Charlie said. "Something about this is wrong. But for some reason, it also feels so right."

"I agree," the voice responded.

The next thing Charlie knew, the cool sensation was engulfing his cock -- almost as if it had already been released from the trousers that contained its hardness. At this point, he decided he might as well enjoy whatever was happening to it and unzipped his pants to free his now rock-hard cock.

As he looked down to see his cock pop out of his pants, he swore he saw someone looking back at him. Looking back with a face he had seen hundreds of times before as he walked into his office. It was the same face of a woman that had been dead for over 100 years.

"Are you Linda Ellerson?" he heard himself ask, almost becoming disassociated with everything that was going on.

"Of course I am silly," the voice responded. "At least I have been since the day you married me ... October 31, 1887."

The face then turned back toward his cock and the coolness engulfed it again in what was perhaps the best blow job he had ever gotten in his life.

He could feel it surround his cock with the sensation of a swirling breeze as it lightly seemed to bob up and down with a rhythm drawn from the deepest desires of his soul. It just seemed to inherently know when to speed up and when to slow down, when to work on just sucking and licking the head or plunging down to the base. Somehow, Linda just seemed to know what he wanted even before he could realize it himself.

As the urge to erupt grew, the face looked up at him one more time.

"Really Charlie, let me know that you forgive me for our fight this morning," the voice said.

But before he could respond, the coolness took over his cock one more time and took him over the edge as he cried out in a pleasure he had never known before.

The next thing Charlie knew, Mike -- the building a janitor -- was nudging him at his desk.

"Hey buddy, looks like you fell asleep in here again," Mike said. "You need to be careful with all these late nights or the ghost is gonna get you."

Charlie kind of chuckled at that.

He really wasn't quite sure if this whole experience had been a dream or not. Still, Charlie knew he was almost looking forward to the next time he would be alone and working late -- just in case Linda wanted to bring him lunch.

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6 Comments
DarkniciadDarkniciadover 16 years ago
They don't call it graveyard shift for nuthin'

I'd have rather seen a little touch of "it was real" as opposed to a dream without doubt at the end, but an enjoyable read anyway. Good luck in the contest.

glynndahglynndahover 16 years ago
A good little story

Thank you for sharing it with us.

TE999TE999over 16 years ago
Nicely done!

Makes one want to work the night shift. Clever and imaginative. Good luck in the contest.

SweetWitchSweetWitchover 16 years ago
Tasty

Wonderful little tale, Nero. Very expressive. Fits the mood of the season completely.

AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
Good story

Story is a little short but good to my opinion and every man dream i guess

Francis

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