Copyright Oggbashan October 2010
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
I had been helping out at a rural branch of my uncle's Estate Agent business during the summer vacation before I started on my MBA. I was on a year's sabbatical from the investment banker that had employed me for five years since I had graduated with an Economics first. The sabbatical hadn't been wholly voluntary. My employers were reducing their UK staff. I could have an unpaid sabbatical that might end with re-employment, or be made redundant now.
I chose the sabbatical because I could finance myself for the MBA course, if I was careful. The few weeks' pay for helping my uncle would be helpful.
Unfortunately his local manager thought that I should learn the business by trying to sell the difficult properties. I had managed to sell a couple of houses in poor repair. My share of the commission on their low value hadn't helped my finances much. The assistant manager, Sonia, had just given me two intractable sales to attempt.
One was a parcel of land beside a main road, with no vehicle access. Except for a small mound most of it flooded each winter. Even if I sold it, my cut would be enough for a meal for two in a decent restaurant, no more.
The other was nearby, a fire damaged listed building on the "at risk" register. Called The Nunnery, it was an extensive early Victorian building that had been unoccupied for thirty years since one wing had been destroyed by fire. The owner, a great-granddaughter of the original owner, had moved out after the fire to a lodge cottage. She had died two years ago leaving the ruin to her three granddaughters. The three were stolid farmers' wives. All they wanted was to share the money from the sale and forget their ancestors' status symbol.
My uncle's business had tried several times to sell The Nunnery, even offering it at auction with no reserve. No one had bid. Any new owner would be pressurised by the heritage lobby to restore it. That would cost millions to produce a building that might not be worth the money spent.
The only prospect, a year ago, had been a newly-rich woman with poor taste who thought that The Nunnery might be a cute weekend cottage. She teetered into our office on impossibly high heels with a tight leopardskin miniskirt. She thought she was God's gift to men but her orange tan and fake breasts repulsed me.
Her interest in The Nunnery hadn't survived a visit escorted by Sonia. Both of them complained of being pinched and slapped by unseen hands. I hadn't be around to see them but Sonia said her bruises were impressive. She nearly showed them to me, but I think my too-obvious excitement stopped her. I appreciate Sonia and I would have enjoyed seeing the sites of the bruises in places normally covered by her formal office wear.
But Sonia wouldn't give up on a client. She sold her a dreadful Victorian pastiche manor house with battlements, spires and even a moat. Only someone who was rich enough to buy it on a whim could have considered such a high-maintenance building.
I wouldn't try to sell a property without seeing it first. The piece of land was easy. I passed it every day driving to and from the office but I hadn't stopped. I would park and look at it closely tomorrow morning and then drive to The Nunnery. I booked out The Nunnery's keys.
"Watch out for pinching fingers!" warned Sonia as I was leaving. I turned back.
"What was it really like?" I asked.
"It was weird, Ralph. I haven't been pinched like that since fights in the schoolyard. They were vicious, really hard and vindictive. We couldn't stay in the house for more than a few seconds. We had no defence against invisible fingers."
"Have you thought of exorcism or ghost hunters?"
"No. The publicity would deter any potential buyers. We really need to sell it, if only for demolition and rebuild but the heritage lobby wouldn't allow that. Apart from the fire damaged wing it is an attractive building on a good site with extensive grounds. It could be a really great conference centre or, if anyone could afford it, a fantastic family home."
"Come on, Sonia" I said, "that's you in estate agent mode. What do you really think?"
"I mean it, Ralph. Honestly. I like The Nunnery... Or rather I did before I was bruised so extensively. It seems like a place to enjoy oneself. See for yourself but be prepared to run for it if the ghosts start pinching. They hurt."
"I'll be careful and be prepared to leave quickly if I am attacked."
"Do, Ralph. My bruises lasted for weeks but the client was pinched more than I was. Whatever it was didn't like her."
"Neither did I. She was too full of herself."
"Careful, Ralph. We can't afford to dislike clients. We sell property. We don't make judgements. But I privately I might agree. She was a twenty-four carat bitch."
"But you still sold her a property."
"Of course. Money talks even if you don't like its owner. While I remember, another thing. Watch yourself on that roadside bog. Apart from the mound the rest is very sticky mud."
"I'll be careful, Sonia. I'll be wearing wellingtons and I'm a country boy at heart. I've been stomping around in mud since I could walk."
"OK, but take your mobile."
"Never go anywhere without it."
Sonia patted me on a shoulder. I liked that. Over the past few weeks Sonia had become more tactile. She touched me two or three times a day. Every time my instinctive reaction strained at my trousers. Did she know what effect she was having?
The next morning was damp and misty. I pulled my car off the roadside beside the piece of land, changed into my wellington boots, and as an afterthought took my walking stick. I forced my way through the hedge and squelched along the other side, thinking of possibilities. Unless some of the ditches were bridged or filled in, there was no real access to raised mound. I prodded with my stick before carefully picking my way across the driest part of the ditch. Even so I had to choose my footing carefully. An embedded supermarket trolley helped at the deepest part.
Once on the mound there was some evidence of old masonry. There must have been a building here once. There hadn't been a house within living memory but planning permission might be feasible because it was within the village boundaries. There would need to be a dry causeway if only for the construction. A few tons of hardcore would do.
The mound was larger than I had thought. I had left my long tape measure in the car so I paced it roughly. I worked it out as forty yards by fifty, more than enough for a house, garage and garden. The whole piece of land was probably three hundred yards along the road by one hundred yards deep but most of it was too wet for anything.
The last time we had tried to sell it at auction the reserve price had been seven thousand pounds. There had been no interest at any price.
I walked to the edge of the mound furthest from the road. There appeared to be a drier part in the ditch that was confirmed by old tracks of bicycles and trainers heading in the direction of the nearby housing estate. It couldn't have been a popular place for the local youths or there would have been more litter.
I squelched back to the road. I didn't have any new ideas about how to market a mound in a swamp but now I knew exactly what was, or rather wasn't, there. I changed out of my muddy wellingtons and drove to The Nunnery.
I had to drag the carriage gates open before I could get into the estate. Weeds were encroaching on the metalled drive and the parkland was neglected but the design was still visible. The statuary at the ends of the vistas was too massive, large and heavy to have been stolen. I stopped the car and walked up to one statue. As I had thought from a distant glimpse, the statue was erotic, showing a naked couple enjoying copulation while standing. The smile on the man's face and the ecstasy shown by the woman gave me an erection as I studied them.
I was still erect when I unlocked the back door. Sonia had told me that the front doors were very heavy and stiff. The front door leading to the formal entrance hall was the way to bring in a potential client but I didn't care about making a good first impression.
I had just left the back hall into the servants' quarters when I felt an invisible hand press against my crotch.
"Nice..." a disembodied voice said in my ear.
"Who are you?" I asked as the hand pushed harder against me.
"One of the ghosts, of course. Didn't Sonia warn you?"
"Yes, but you treated her differently, didn't you?"
"Actually we didn't. We pinched that dreadful woman who wanted to buy The Nunnery but told Sonia to pretend she was being pinched. She did, didn't she?"
"Very convincingly," I said ruefully.
"She convinced you, didn't she?"
I jumped as the invisible hand curled around my erection and squeezed gently.
"Careful, please," I implored. "You're holding something precious to me."
"I know, Ralph. I'll be careful -- for now. Why are you here?"
"We've been instructed to sell The Nunnery and I've been told to do it."
"Why don't you buy it? We could make you very happy."
"We? How many of you are there?"
"The resident ghosts are four women. The men visit from time to time but they've become bored because there have been no humans around for years. Mrs Owens didn't count. She had no imagination and didn't know we were here. Her granddaughters are just as bad. They only get excited by crop yields and produce prices. Sexually? They were all boring. Not like Sonia, or you."
"I know that you dream about Sonia. Such revealing dreams. You're even thinking about her now, wishing my hand was hers. It could be, if you bought The Nunnery."
"I can't afford The Nunnery. I can only just afford to live for my year of studying. The Nunnery would need so much money spent on it..."
"But I can show you where to get the money."
"If you go through to The Chapel I'll tell you. I can do more there than here in the servants' quarters that I rarely saw. Will you trust me that far?"
"I don't have much choice while you are holding me..."
"Oh. That. OK. I'll take your arm instead. Hold it out."
I crooked my arm. I felt a hand slide into it. It exerted a gentle pressure to direct me. As I opened the double doors I saw that The Chapel was one of the best preserved parts of the house. It didn't feel quite right as a chapel. There was no altar, just a padded table where the altar should be. The stained glass? It was there but each pane looked like illustrations from the Kama Sutra, detailing various positions for intercourse. The pews had seats three times the width of normal, covered with red plush with red silk covered cushions.
"Please shut the curtains, Ralph," the ghost's voice asked.
I hadn't noticed that every stained window had red velvet curtains. I closed them. The chapel looked more like a chapel with the erotic glass pictures covered. Light still entered from a gallery around three sides.
"Now shut your eyes for a few seconds until I tell you to open them, please."
I shut my eyes.
"You can open them now."
Standing in front of me was a woman dressed as a nun. I thought "dressed as" because she wasn't wholly convincing as a genuine nun. Her habit's skirt was far too wide, her headdress didn't fully conceal her brunette hair and her expression was certainly not nun-like with slightly parted red lips. She dropped a curtsey.
"Hello, Ralph," she said, "I'm Cecily."
"Hello Cecily," I replied cautiously.
Cecily didn't look like a ghost but she didn't seem wholly human. There was a faint indistinctness about her outline and even her face, as if I was looking at her through a smeared window.
"If you turn around I'll introduce you to the others."
Behind me were three more women dressed as nuns. They curtseyed, but did it as if mocking me.
"The one on the left is Mabel."
Mabel curtseyed again, holding the skirt of her habit wide. I bowed to her.
"In the middle is Abigail, normally called Abbie."
"And on your right is Norma."
"And you are right. We're not really nuns."
Cecily stood next to Norma. All four of them made the headdresses vanish, shook their hair, and their nuns' habits dissolved. They stood revealed in mid-Victorian formal evening gowns, wide-skirted, bare-shouldered, with breasts bulging out of their dresses. My eyes dropped to the display of bare skin.
"He's a breast man," Cecily announced.
"Are you sure?" asked Norma. "That's all we've shown him so far."
"It might be fun to find out just what he likes," Abbie said.
"Or whether he likes what we like," Mabel added.
"I know he likes Sonia," said Cecily, "but he hasn't done anything about it nor told her."
"Well," Norma said, "he is quite young. Perhaps he hasn't learned to be more direct in his desires. How about this?"
Norma changed before my eyes. Instead of a petite, dark-haired lady with a heart-shaped face she grew to match my height. Her hair became short, layered, fair with blonde highlighting. Her breasts adapted, I presume to match Sonia's that I'd never seen. Norma had become Sonia wearing Victorian costume.
"That's good," Cecily said, "but is it good enough?"
Cecily, Mabel and Abbie also became replicas of Sonia. Mabel's version was different. She was wearing a modern maxi dress in grey jersey that emphasised Sonia's curves. My eyes swung to Mabel's take on Sonia. She laughed.
"See?" She wiggled her hips. "I knew a modern version would work better."
As she spoke the other three changed into matching portrayals.
Mabel came forward and rested a hand on my shoulder. The other three surrounded me and I couldn't tell who was whom among four Sonias. My erection was I insistent. If the real Sonia had been one of them I would have creamed my boxers.
"Enough!" I recognised Cecily's voice. "We need to talk to Ralph. Enjoyment comes later."
All four changed back to their crinolined gowns.
"Ralph. Come and sit down."
It was an order. I sat down on the edge of a pew. The four women perched on the pew in front of me, their breasts very obvious.
"We, that's all of us, want you to buy The Nunnery and move in with Sonia..." Cecily started.
I wanted to protest. Suddenly Mabel was beside me with her hand across my lips.
"Listen!" she whispered fiercely in my ear.
"We know you haven't got enough money," Cecily continued. "We have a way for you to finance the purchase. You have enough money in the bank for our plan to work. You looked at that piece of land on the way here. Buy it."
I lifted Mabel's hand from my mouth.
"Why? It's worthless."
"As land, perhaps, but there's a treasure on it and we know exactly where it is. As owner, you can find it, declare it as Treasure Trove, and get the money to buy The Nunnery."
"That much money?" I asked.
All four nodded.
"But why should I buy it? I don't need a massive house and estate."
"We want sympathetic owners," Cecily said, "who will accept us as we are. You and Sonia could be those owners. We know how you two think about sex..."
"I don't know how Sonia..."
"I know you don't. Take our word for it. You two have the same ideas."
Mabel's kiss silenced me. Her lips withdrew and her hand covered my mouth again, more firmly this time. Abbie sat beside me and held my hand.
"Ralph! It is taking considerable effort for us to appear like this. We haven't got much time before we must vanish again and just become voices in your head. You need to get closer to Sonia. She wants you. You want her. Stop being shy and get on with it. Ask her out. Tonight!"
Mabel's lips came close to my ear.
"We need you," Mabel said. "Sonia needs you. You can help us, her, and yourself. Buy that piece of soggy land. We'll direct you to the treasure. It will take months before you get any money for Treasure Trove but we can't afford to let anyone else buy The Nunnery. You and Sonia are the first sympathetic people who have visited The Nunnery in nearly one hundred years. It could be a wonderful family house."
Despite myself I blushed. Making a family house means children, with Sonia. Abbie squeezed my hand.
"You'll make a great father," Abbie said. "But now we'll show you some of the advantages of owning a haunted house. Sonia?"
Cecily climbed onto the wide pew and sat down behind me. Her bare arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me backwards. I slumped against her breasts as her skirt billowed either side of me. One of her hands covered my mouth.
"Just relax, Ralph, and enjoy," she whispered as Abbie's hands unfastened my trousers, pulled them and my boxers down exposing my erection."
"That's what I want," she announced.
She lifted her crinolined skirt and pushed herself forward. Cecily's free hand pulled Abbie's skirt hem up to my neck, covering all of me except my head which was cradled between her breasts.
Abbie's pussy brushed against my erection and then spread to engulf it. I gasped. Her vagina was ice-cold. Despite myself my erection slumped for a few seconds. As Abbie squeezed with her lower muscles warmth began to return and with it my erection.
Mabel and Norma knelt on the pew either side of me. They lifted their breasts out of the top of their dresses, turning towards me. Mabel's right breast and Norma's left breast replaced Cecily's hand, squashing against my face and pushing the back of my head deeper between Cecily's breasts. My head was the filling in a breast sandwich. All four of them moved together. I snatched a breath when the soft breasts let me.
I don't know for how long they continued. I was lost in their bodies, swamped between their breasts and buried deep inside Abbie. I was at the peak of ecstasy for much longer than I had ever managed before. Five times as long as my longest? Ten times? I had no idea that such protracted bliss was possible. Finally Mabel and Norma smothered me so effectively that I couldn't breathe at all and I came inside Abbie.
As soon as I had ejaculated, Mabel and Norma pulled their breasts away, letting me pant for breath like a landed fish. Cecily's hands gently stroked my head. After a few minutes Abbie eased herself off me leaving her skirt still covering my body.
"That's a sample, Ralph," Cecily said. "We can do better than that. So could Sonia with our help. We are, oops, we were, highly skilled professionals of the sexual arts and we've had years of time to improve our techniques. If you and Sonia owned The Nunnery you could have more pleasure than that every night."
"But," Norma said, "we need some human contact to produce an effect. We have used almost all our stored energy to appear as we have, and to do what we have done with you. It would take weeks to regenerate that energy unless we took it from you. But we can't take that much energy at once. It might kill you. We'll have to take some. You'll feel as if you have had a long night of sexual adventure instead of the hour or so. But you'll survive."
"If you lived here with Sonia," Mabel continued, "we could draw a little energy continuously, so little energy that you wouldn't notice the loss. We could help you to make love all night long for as many nights as you wanted and still start each day as if you had had a good night's sleep."
"But to do that, you need to buy The Nunnery," Cecily said, "and the first step is to buy that waste land with the treasure. Talk to Sonia about it, and about us."
"About you?" I asked.