Cynthia's Many Lovers - Wildbylatinplayer©
(This is the wild version of the previous story by the same name. Please leave any comments in the Latin Player Is Back thread in the Author's Hangout forums, and tell me which version you like best!)
Cynthia Sotero's father had always been overprotective of her. Ever since she could remember, her father had kept a watchful eye over how she dressed, and who she spoke to, and she supposed that a lot of it had to do with the way her mother had run off with her father's best friend while she was still in junior high.
High school was especially tough for Cynthia, as she had all of these changing hormones and fascinations with boys, and her father was always there, cutting her off from communicating with the opposite sex and even prohibiting her from having a boyfriend. Even though her body was filling out nicely, Cynthia's father insisted that she keep it covered, and the truth was, what father wouldn't be upset upon seeing random perverts ogling her wherever she went? She was a young lady now, he'd sometimes remind her, and young ladies did not walk around half-naked like some of the pop singers she watched on TV.
Of course, Cynthia eventually rebelled, and one afternoon after classes, the recently turned eighteen year-old had fooled around with one of the more handsome of the high school's football players. Imagine the poor girl's shock when she went to school the next day, and all of the jocks were leering at her and commenting about her behind her back. Judging from the quantity of people spreading rumors, the boy she'd messed around with had probably started bragging about his latest conquest as soon as he'd finished zipping his pants back up, she imagined.
Cynthia was crushed. Everyone around her knew what she'd done, down to the minute details, and since she had very few close friends that she could confide to, she ended up breaking down and confessing her sin to her father. The man was upset, but forgiving, and he embraced his daughter and held her for what seemed like an eternity.
"I will always be here to protect you." Her father swore, as he kissed Cynthia's forehead and tried to explain to her that some boys would be like that, and that as men, they might be even worse. Incidents like that were why he'd always watched out for her, he explained, and for the first time, Cynthia really understood what he meant.
He ruffled her hair, and sent her off to her room. "Besides, I don't think there's a boy on this planet worthy of my little princess."
She'd smiled at that statement, and her father's beaming face at that moment was one of the fondest memories she had left of him.
Shortly after she graduated from high school, Cynthia's father died in a car wreck while he'd been driving home from work. She'd been hired on as a cashier at a retail store, and although she tried to brave through the loss, for the next several weeks, Cynthia would abruptly start crying whenever she saw someone who looked like her dad, or whenever one of his favorite songs filtered out over the store's loudspeakers. Her manager felt dearly for her, but the choice was made clear to Cynthia that either she resigned from her position, or she would soon be dismissed, because of the intolerable scenes she'd been causing with the customers.
She resigned, and as she continued to live in her father's house, she felt that she could sometimes sense him walking about the home, from the master bedroom over to the kitchen, and sometimes even in the garage, where he used to tinker with his car on his days off.
Being a man of considerable forethought, Cynthia's father had gone to some lengths to ensure that his daughter would be taken care of in the case of some unexpected calamity. After the man's untimely death, his insurance policies paid off the mortgage of the home, as well as providing for funeral expenses, and through his will, he'd passed all of his financial assets over to Cynthia. She wasn't left with a ton of money, but if she budgeted herself competently, she knew she could make her inheritance last for the next several years.
And then, Cynthia made the mistake of telling her mother how much money this was. To her surprise, the woman not only moved back into the state, with her new suitor in tow, but after professing overwhelming anxiety for her daughter's health and welfare, her mother also bullied her way back into the house. She took the master bedroom, of course, and within a week or two, she began hounding Cynthia for spending cash for her so-called expenses.
Cynthia gave her a small sum, only to watch her mother squander it within a few short days, and sure enough, her mother was figuratively standing before her with her hand held out and asking for more the following week. Cynthia refused, and fighting started up between them.
She never knew if her mother had initially plotted with her boyfriend to do this, but shortly after their arguments became an ongoing routine, her mom's boyfriend started making blatant sexual advances to her. He'd taken to walking into her bedroom with his shirt off for no good reason, or to placing his hand on the nape of Cynthia's neck while she was preparing food in the kitchen. These actions made her feel uncomfortable at first, and later so dirty that she had to take extra hot showers to make the creepy sensation go away.
And once, her mother's boyfriend even exposed himself to her, while she was in the backyard watering her small patch of flowers. She turned the water hose on him, but all he did was laugh and go back inside to change, and Cynthia was so distraught that she went into the only place the intrusive man hadn't infiltrated and soiled yet, and that was her dad's garage. She was sitting in her father's old car, crying her eyes out, when just for a moment, she thought she could smell her father's favorite cologne in the air. Cynthia looked around, but she didn't see anybody else in the garage, and she dismissed the incident as being brought up by her imagination.
Unexplainably, her mother's boyfriend woke up late into the night, screaming and cussing up a storm, and he stormed out of the house as if he'd seen the Devil, and never came back.
Once Cynthia's mother had gotten over the shock the next morning, she began pointing the blame finger at her own daughter. It was Cynthia's fault that her boyfriend had run off, she proclaimed, because Cynthia had been making sexual advances at him, and had been doing so ever since her mother had moved back into the house. And then, of course, the issue came back to money. Who was going to keep them living in comfort? Her mother asked. Who was going to pay the bills from now on?
Angrily, Cynthia retaliated by reminding her mother that her boyfriend hadn't paid for a single thing yet, and that Cynthia alone had been taking care of everything, as all of the checks for the utilities were being made out with Cynthia's signature on them. She called her mother a greedy sponge, only to get a sharp and humiliating slap across the face. Cynthia ran off to her bedroom, locking the door behind her, and again, she bawled her eyes out.
As she lay on her bed, still crying, she distinctively felt someone standing next to her. Cynthia turned around quickly, wondering if maybe her mother, or her mother's boyfriend had somehow gotten into the room, but she was alone. Still, that feeling of being watched persisted, and Cynthia sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out where it was coming from.
A moment later, she felt a presence stirring nearer to her, and although she was afraid, she still thought it might have been some kind of trick her mother had come up with, and she was unwilling and defiant to let her mother's tactic bear fruition. She held her ground, and remained firmly seated there, on the edge of her bed, even as the presence moved in closer, and took a seat next to her.
It was a warm and comforting feeling that she got from this unseen phantom, and unexpectedly, the presence reached up and placed an arm around her shoulders, just as her father had sometimes done when he was still alive. Could this be a trick of her mother's? She wondered. Or was this really the ghost of her father, protecting her just as he said he always would?
"If you're my dad, prove it." Cynthia challenged.
In reply, the ghost gently turned her head, and kissed Cynthia on the forehead.
Suddenly terrified, Cynthia ran out of the bedroom, and out of the house, just as her mother's boyfriend had done. She was pacing back and forth across the front yard, with her arms crossed defensively, when her mother poked her head out the front door to ridicule her.
"Don't tell me you're seeing things now, too?" Her mother rolled her eyes, before she lit up a cigarette and went back inside. Referring to Cynthia, and her newly absent boyfriend, she added, "I think you've both gone batty."
It had to be some kind of plan her mother and her boyfriend had cooked up, Cynthia decided. They were trying to scare her out of the house, so they could have it all to themselves. Her mother was probably calling her boyfriend right at that moment, to tell him that the plan was working, and that Cynthia was standing out in the yard scared out of her wits.
Well, she wasn't going to be intimidated so easily, Cynthia thought to herself. With growing resolve, she marched back into her house, and right into her bedroom. Again, she locked the door, and this time, she made sure nobody was hiding in her room, and that there were no hidden devices anywhere to make her see or hear things, and as far as she could tell, there weren't any.
Cynthia was at a loss for words, and thoughts. She was certain she'd find some kind of incriminating evidence in her room, because that was the only rational explanation that she could think of. Unless... unless the ghost of her father was really haunting the house.
"Dad, if you're in here, do something." She challenged.
On her nightstand, her father's picture fell over on its face.
Cynthia shuddered as she went over and scrutinized the picture. She checked it all around, looking for some kind of spring or device that might have knocked it over, but she found none. On a hunch, she took the picture over to the dresser, and cleared off a good portion of it's top with a sweep of her arm.
After setting the picture on the top center of the dresser, she retreated a few steps back, and said, "Do that again."
The picture fell over on its face a second time.
Cynthia gasped, and right after this, she heard a sharp splinter of glass. She turned back to her nightstand, where the noise had come from, and discovered that the picture of her mother now had a web of cracks on it.
While Cynthia wasn't ready to admit that the spirit of her father was roaming around the house, she did acknowledge that something strange was going on, and it was with some nervousness that she eventually went to bed, and much later, fell asleep.
The next morning, Cynthia found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, with half a pot of coffee and a full mug sitting beside her. Apparently, she hadn't gotten much sleep, because her eyes had deep bags under them, and as she lit up a cigarette, she started complaining about having had nightmares.
"What kind of nightmares?" Cynthia asked, as she started up breakfast for herself.
Her mother laughed. "All kinds. I dreamt that the ghost of your father was trying to strangle me, for one."
"Oh." Cynthia said, hoping to hear more, but that was the extent of her mother's revelations.
That night, Cynthia slept soundly, but her mother didn't. This same thing happened during the night that followed as well.
The next morning, Cynthia found her mother sprawled out and sleeping on the living room couch. The woman's hair was a mess, and there were several cigarette butts sitting in the ashtray on the coffee table, along with yet another half-empty pot and full cup of coffee.
Cynthia went on with her business, and as she felt ready to give another try to being employed, she went back to visit her old manager and asked for her old job back. The manager was dubious at first, but decided to give Cynthia a shot anyway, since cashiers were always in high demand at the store, and Cynthia had been a more or less model employee while she'd been working there.
Feeling good about herself after her interview, Cynthia splurged on the biggest hamburger meal on a fast food joint's menu, although she only ended up eating about three quarters of it, and only about half the fries. As she was finishing up her lunch, she got a call on her phone, and she recognized her home phone number on the phone's small screen.
"I'm leaving." Her mother's bitter voice said. "I can't take this place anymore. I've already packed up my things, and I'm going back to live with my boyfriend. I'd just like to get some money for a bus ticket."
"Oh, it's these damned nightmares." Her mother revealed. "Every night, I keep dreaming that your father's still in this house, and that he's trying to kill me. Call me a loon if you like, but I haven't slept well for three nights now, and I'm pretty sick and tired of it. If I don't get out of here, I'm going to end up setting this place on fire."
Cynthia agreed to help, and the next day, she drove her mother to the bus depot and saw her off. Cynthia waved, but her mother merely looked back at her from the window, with something like undisguised regret, as if Cynthia was a big pile of money that she was voluntarily walking away from.
A small part of Cynthia was disappointed to see the woman go, as it meant she'd now be living alone with a ghost in the house. Her worries were in vain, however, as no new and supernatural events announced themselves, and once she started working steadily again, a lot of things returned to a normal routine.
It all changed, however, when Cynthia met a young man at work. His name was Robert, and he worked in the back of the store, where he inventoried merchandise and brought it out to the floor when the stock on the shelves was running low. Robert asked Cynthia out, and she agreed, and they ended up having such a good time that they went on several dates after that. Cynthia was starting to like Robert, and one night after they'd been to the movies together, she didn't turn him away at the door, but invited him inside. They made love, right there on the living room couch, and since Cynthia was starting to have fond feelings for this young man, she was looking forward to his next call.
But Robert didn't call. Instead, he'd moved on and left the lovelorn Cynthia without so much as a wham, bam, and thank you, ma'am. And poor Cynthia was reminded of the incident back in high school, when she'd been spurned in a similar way.
She was so upset, and some would say her lamentations were so profound, that her state of mind caused the ghost of her father to recall a time when he was still alive, and when he'd made a prophetic promise to his daughter that he'd always protect her.
Afterwards, like an invisible judge and jury, the ghost would carefully scrutinize each and every suitor that came to Cynthia's door. And unfortunately, in her desperate search for love, Cynthia was willing to try on all sorts of hats while looking for the perfect one. When it became apparent, to the ghost at least, that Cynthia would never find what she was looking for unless she adjusted her line of thinking, the ghost decided to take on a more proactive role, and to discourage his daughter's would-be lovers before they got the chance to tear another gouge into her already scarred and tender heart.
Some suitors the ghost frightened even before they crossed the threshold, by embracing them with his cold arms and giving them such chills that they started spouting all over themselves and making excuses about something important they'd forgotten to do earlier. These left, and never came back.
A few were more insistent, such as the pervert who tried to install a battery operated, miniature camera inside the bathroom while he was pretending to use it. The next time this man came over, he again excused himself and went into the bathroom, to remove it from the low shelf he'd concealed it under. He was surprised to find it gone. A moment later, he was startled when the toilet flushed of its own accord, and he flipped the lid open just in time to see his expensive toy spin around in the water and disappear into the plumbing forever.
And the last one, the bad boy who was all chivalry and smiles out in public, but hateful and violent in private, especially angered the ghost. This one had pushed Cynthia around in the house, and called her names, and poor Cynthia had no way to defend herself against this kind of monster. The ghost used its usual tactics to get rid of him, but the bully was so self-absorbed that he failed to notice what was going on around him.
The final straw occurred when this scoundrel started punching Cynthia on the back and shoulders, and she fled into her bedroom and locked the door. The man was about to kick the door open, when the ghost's fury took over, and it was then that the phantom found out just how physical it could really become. The ghost tackled the bully onto the floor, and proceeded to give him such a thrashing that it left him not only too terrified to ever return to the house, but with the bruises and wounds a hoodlum might expect to receive when a bunch of rival gang members discover he's just crossed out their neighborhood with spray paint.
Inside her bedroom, Cynthia cowered against a back corner and listened as all of this took place. She heard her cruel lover crying out in pain, and begging for the ghost to stop striking him, and finally, she heard his heavy plods after he was allowed to get up, and he ran out of the house, and thankfully, he never again tried to make contact with her.
By this time, four lonely years had gone by since her father had passed away, and there was a realization growing steadily inside of Cynthia, that perhaps that elusive perfect man she'd been looking for wasn't so far away after all. Perhaps he'd been situated under the same roof as she was, all this time.
That night, Cynthia decided to model her sexiest lingerie in her full-length mirror, and she started trying on her most provocative outfits, which she was sure her father would reprimand her for, if he were still alive. She dressed up in sexy sundresses, tight blouses that gripped her full breasts like a second skin, skirts that hiked up almost to her panties, and shorts that she could barely get her ample butt into.
The ghost, of course, was curious as to what was going on, and suspected that yet another suitor was on his way to the front door, and would have to be dealt with soon. He was slightly confused when no date actually showed up, when the phone didn't even ring due to some unforeseen cancellation, and finally, when Cynthia went to sleep alone that night.
The following night, Cynthia tried on even more outfits, but without the hindrance of any underwear to hamper her from putting things on and taking them off. She even stood before her mirror and posed in semi-naughty, but otherwise innocent, ways. She cupped her C cup breasts in her hands, as a man would if he were standing directly behind her, twisted and gazed at her size twenty-six waist, and her size thirty-two posterior, and between her frequent changes of clothing, she sometimes even did this in the nude.
"It's okay, if you watch." She said out loud, but the ghost, understandably exasperated, fled the room and went into the garage.
The ghost was even more shocked when it later discovered that Cynthia had decided to sleep in the master bedroom that night, and that she was wearing only a skimpy and lacy, powder blue camisole and matching panties under the covers.