August: A Ghost Story

With a flick of his wrist the bike's engine revs and I feel the guttural rumble all the way from the bottom of my soles to the pit of my stomach. The vibrations pulse up from underneath me, my pussy leaks a small amount of its own juice out onto the leather cushion of the bitch seat.

With a roar of the engine he peels away from the curb, leaving the town's people in a cloud of road-grit, dirt, and exhaust.

Pressing my cheek to his back I inhale his smell, a combination of motor oil, sweat and something else, sweet and heavy. A scent below the others, a secret scent of shaving soap, used to keep his face cleanly shaven and smooth to the touch of my fingers.

The countryside blurs by, the wind whips through our hair. I can feel the breeze over every inch of my body as we pass cars, semi-trucks, and a police cruiser.

The cop does not even attempt to give chase. He can't catch us.

Then the deceleration comes. We turn off into a thicket. He knocks the kick-stand into place and helps me off the bike.

My legs are weak from the vibrations and burning warmth from the engine. In a flash he is on me, his gloved hands running down my back, pulling me to him.

Those eyes and that smile, so frightening.

I feel his gloved hand move down the slope of my backside and underneath.

I let my fingers slip inside me, imagining they were the biker's clad in dark leather gloves.

"You've been a rotten girl, Lillian," his voice is just as harsh and guttural as the motorcycle he rides and shocking in the silence of the thicket.

"I... I didn't mean to be... so... bad." My breathing erratic, I held on.

Focusing on my eyes, he quickens his pace with his hand. "Bend over the bike," he commands. "Now."

His hand moves away and he shoves me over to the motorcycle, its engine still alive with clicks and sputters. I bend; I know better than to disobey.

And then, a new sensation, not that of the rough leather, but softer, the feeling of his bare hands on my back. He is feeling me. Feeling the heat from my skin brush gently against his fingertips. He withdraws his hand and soon the familiar warmth as he pushes into me.

The sloppy wet sounds, my panting turning into soft groaning, building into screams.

His hands clutching, groping, clawing at my exposed breasts. And then...

I rode it for ten seconds, my eyes closed and my breath short. I came hard against my own fingers, the images in my imagination flickering and then dying to black.

Opening my eyes I saw the tiles of the ceiling above me and felt the tepid water of the bathtub. I closed my eyes once more to try and picture the face again. Whose face had I put on the mystery-man's body?

I drifted for a moment back to some half-forgotten image. A boy perched on the edge of a small feather mattress, naked, eating cold Chinese food, and smiling at me.

The connection was almost made in my mind when suddenly, I smelled something funny coming from the hall.

I sniffed and sat upright in the tub. It was heavy, sweet, and musky.

Pipe tobacco?

I stood and stepped out of the bathtub, walking quickly over to my bag. From the bottom I pulled a towel and wrapped myself in it. I went out onto the gallery and sniffed. "Is someone here?"

It was quiet.

I walked down toward the stairs but stopped when I saw that the second door was ajar. Was I going crazy? I thought I'd rushed out of the room and heard the door latch behind me. But here it was, unlocked and ajar.

I pushed it open and, through the one window at the far end of the room, I could see the last rays of the sun kiss the hilltops on the distant horizon. Though the room was empty the smell of smoke was dense.

I took a tentative step toward the door, working up the courage to go inside.

I looked about the room and then at the floor. I had dropped the ledger on the floor in my rush to get to the bathroom and shut off the water. I hadn't had time to pick it up. I looked at the spot where the ledger had lain and sucked in a breath. It wasn't there. Instead it lay open on the desk. My arms went limp and my jaw slack. My foot was less than an inch from the threshold when I let out a small noise. In an instant the door swung violently shut right in my face with a loud bang.

I reeled back and suddenly felt cold all over my body.

I looked down and saw that I had lost my towel. I quickly bent to pick it up and I rushed back into the bathroom and locked the door from the inside. I sat watching the candles when suddenly there was a loud thump. I jumped and then sighed as the light over the sink flickered on.

Chapter Seven:

With the lights on it was easy work to finish up in the bathroom. After running a cloth over my face to remove what little makeup remained after the bath. I took out my hairbrush and picked my jacket from the hook and went into the bedroom. Making sure to lock both the doors behind me, I hung my jacket up on a hook beside the bedroom door. I didn't know what had just happened but I was pretty sure what I was thinking was stupid. Nobody was in the house. I was alone. And if nobody was in the house and I was alone I was just imagining that an invisible man who probably died in 1900 was smoking a pipe and slamming doors in my face.

Old house, I told myself. Funky smells, drafts...

Even though I now had electricity, and several brass wall fixtures glowed brightly in the master bedroom, I kept the scented candles close. They smelled of honey and cinnamon. The bed was furnished with a mattress and box spring covered with a comforter, but I couldn't find much else in the way of bed clothes. I was still barefoot and wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms and a sports bra. I had a bunch of things in the fastback parked in the barn. I shook my head. It was a warm enough night and I really didn't want to go back out into the hall again tonight.

You're being paranoid and childish.

Had this been a normal night, I would have flipped on the tube and watched the late-night talk shows. However, my new house was devoid of television at the moment. First thing we fix tomorrow, I told myself.

To do: Buy Television set.

I suddenly had a bad memory though. Hadn't the ghost come into the house through the television in Poltergeist?

To do: Rent Poltergeist. If proves true that ghost came through TV, return both TV and video.

I sighed realizing there was little for me to do except sleep. I checked my Timex portable alarm clock. It was barely 8:30. For some reason it felt much later. It was then that it occurred to me that I'd probably crossed into a different time zone. I was just trying to figure out whether I'd gained or lost one or two hours driving east out of the mountains when I heard a distant sound. It was a soft whine at first but as it drew near it became a slight rumble. I moved to the edge of the bed and then to the French doors. I looked out over the lip of the portico railing. A single light was coming down the gravel drive through the oak grove. I watched it for only a second before there was a loud thump.

I spun around and surveyed the room. I was alone but when the thump recurred I saw my leather jacket fall from the hook onto the bedroom floor.

"Who is that?"

THUMP.

"Go away. I'll call the police if you're not out of my house in five..."

THUMP! It was an angry thump and in a few seconds it came again and again. The door rattled against its hinges as the thumping increased in volume and rhythm. Finally it reached a point of sheer frenzy. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it really wanted in. In the back of my mind I was aware of the motorcycle roaring into the turnaround in front of the house and then shutting off, but I was too distracted by the pounding on my door to pay much attention to anything.

Then with two loud bangs on the door, the thumping suddenly stopped. It was quiet again. I slowly walked over to the door and put my hand against it. I felt the cool, white, painted wood and pressed my ear to it. Was there someone breathing on the other side? I looked down at the key, still secure in the lock of the door. I turned it gently to the right and, with a soft click, the door unlocked and I opened it quickly.

There was no one there. The dark hall was empty. I took a step into the hall, my arms moving up and around my torso. It was very cold in the hallway. Probably another draft.

It was then I heard the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. I jumped at the sound but regained my composure as I heard the key work in the lock and the front door swing open. Someone was humming as they walked into the main entry hall of the house. I leaned over the railing and looked down on the scene.

A light switch was flipped downstairs next to the door, revealing the biker from earlier that afternoon. His helmet was off but he was turned away from me, humming a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He walked out of the hall and into one of the front rooms. Another light clicked on and I heard the sound of running water. I had an impulse to call out to him but I paused. He had a key! How the hell did a complete stranger have a key to my house?

I quietly went back into my room and rummaged in my overnight bag for my cell phone. I took it out and began dialing 9-1-1 only to hear the annoying beeping that signified that my battery needed charging. Shit!

I could hear him moving around downstairs. Who was he? What did he want? How the hell did he have keys?

Quickly I crossed over to the bedside table where a small but sturdy lamp stood. I unplugged it, leaving only the ceiling fixture as a source of illumination. I removed the lampshade and the bulb and gave it a practice swing. Realizing that I was wearing only a bra I draped my jacket over my shoulders, took a deep breath and moved back out into the hall, shutting the door to the bedroom quietly.

As I padded quietly down the stairs, trying to keep the boards from squeaking under my feet, I watched the long shadow cast across the entrance hall. Finally, at the base of the stairs I paused and listened. I could hear him humming and singing the words to song by the Rolling Stones.

"...Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name. Ah, what's puzzlin' you is the nature of my game..."

My heart was pounding as I tried to keep control of my breathing. I was going to have to be quick if I wanted to use the element of surprise to its full effect. I silently counted down from three and then leapt into the room. It was a dining room. It was also empty. The shadow was cast by an empty vase set as the centerpiece of the table. The humming continued from behind the door on my left. He was in the kitchen. And he was moving pots and pans around from the sound of it.

Again, I psyched myself up and held the lamp poised. I began the countdown from three again.

Three. Okay Lily, you can do this. Two. He's not that big. And he doesn't know you're coming. One.

The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open and I jumped back, dropping the lamp to the floor with a loud bang. I screamed and stumbled backward until my butt bounced against the dining room table, my jacket slipping off and falling onto the table. The plate the man had been carrying fell to the floor and smashed, as he was equally startled by me. And that was when we both paused, the terror replaced by instant recognition and confusion.

"I..." I said.

"How..." he began.

And we just stared at one another for a time; his arms slack at his sides, my arms and legs frozen in the act of trying to scramble over the table to get away from him.

"Frank?"

"Lily?"

And then simultaneously we shouted at one another... "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

THE PAST

Chapter Eight:

In 1995, I was nineteen and, I'm sure you'll be shocked to know, quite timid. I'd grown up in Chicago and never traveled more than a few miles outside the city. I suppose that may have been my reason for applying to a university so far away from home. I wanted so badly to experience something new and unfamiliar.

My freshman year had been tragically uneventful. I joined a sorority, went to class, went to parties with large groups of friends from my house and went home with them before any of us could get too drunk or too carried away with the college boys we met.

And then, in the fall of my sophomore year, something happened. Eight of us went to a party off-campus at a house supposedly rented by a friend of a friend of one of the girls in our group. We were there for a few hours, chatting up tons of drunk and horny frat boys when suddenly it was time for us to leave. We gathered at the door and Sabrina, the girl who had drawn the unattractive task of DD did a rapid head count.

"Lily, Hanna, Veronica, Fern, Joanna, Penelope..." Sabrina's eyes went slightly wide as she looked around the room. "Where's Summer?"

Hanna piped up. "She said we could go on home without her. She met someone who's agreed to give her a lift home."

Sabrina's face morphed into a look of mild consternation. "We came here together we leave together. She knows that!"

Before any of us could say a word in response, Sabrina had cut through our little group at the door and had begun calling for Summer. We somewhat doggedly followed suit and began asking if anybody had seen our friend.

"She's about this high with blonde hair and freckles," I said to a scrawny punk-rocker type leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

He tipped his plastic cup to his lips and drank. When the cup came down again he was smiling. "I saw her talking to my buddy, Frank, a little while ago. I think they're out back in the yard."

I looked around for some of the other girls but all of them were apparently off in other parts of the house checking rooms for Summer. I thanked my informant and began squeezing my way through the maze of bodies toward the back door.

Once outside, I found a group of smokers talking quietly together, but Summer was not among them. I cut through and ambled toward the far end of the yard where a gate led into an alley behind the house. It was kind of a chilly night for early October and I desperately wished I'd worn my parka. I hugged my arms close around me as my heels sank slightly in the soft grass. A few yards away from the gate I became aware of a scuffling sound.

"Hello?" I called sheepishly. I continued on, my steps slowing as I neared the wooden gate. The fence was tall, built for privacy and as my hand fell on the latch I became aware of heavy breathing and soft lyrical squeaks coming from the other side. I was suddenly very aware of what I was hearing. The rhythmic popping noise, the slipping of heals against asphalt. My impulse was to go back immediately; to go inside and tell the girls I hadn't found our friend. But something held me there, my hand on the gate latch, my ears cocked and alert.

"Oh, yes!" Summer panted in a soft whine. "Oh. Oh. Eh."

Her little mutterings were in sync with the shallow, soft popping noises.

"Please, faster," she begged.

The popping increased in intensity and so did the guttural masculine grunts.

I couldn't bear it. My curiosity and sense of adventure forced my hand to pull up on the gate latch and peek out in the alleyway.

Though the gate was only opened a crack I could see the two of them. Summer with her skirt pulled up to her waist, her panties in a tangle around her knees, and her light sweater hanging like a saggy scarf around her neck. Her bra was off and lying forgotten on the ground at her feet while two large hands fondled her breasts, pinching her nipples gently. The hands were those of a tall and muscular looking guy who, with his fly open and his pants resting on his hips was slipping his rather intimidating cock in and out of Summer's hole with measured abandon.

"Oh, God!" Summer moaned, her body shaking. The tall guy pushed all the way into her and held her close, kissing the back of her ear. I'd never seen anybody orgasm before but it was obvious that she had hit one hard like a brick wall.

Though it was dark I took in the features of the stranger unabashedly fucking my friend. I would have placed him at around 6' 3", a daunting height for someone more than a half-foot shorter in heels, and his hair was long and fell over his ears and out of the collar of his almond brown leather jacket. Though he was only naked about the hips for the mechanics of love making, I could see by the state of his hips, thighs and exposed buttocks that he was a pillar of taught sinew, lean and toned with muscles that came from labor and extreme physical exertion.

As Summer's breathing slowed and she recovered. Her mystery man slowly pulled his member out of her until all that was left inside was the tip. He ran one of his hands up from her dangling breasts to the small of her back where he rubbed her gently as she twitched with the last waves of her climax.

I was about to close the gate and return to the party when to my horror and secret amazement I saw the guy strain his hips and plow deep inside my friend's opening again. Summer's face went from one of spent bliss to one of sudden shock.

"No," she said, fighting to right herself and pull away. "Let me have a mi..." but she didn't finish the sentence as the tall guy pulled her upright and increased his speed and force two-fold.

Summer's eyes widened and she let out a heavy gasp. Her hands went back behind her to grip on to her paramour, trying to keep her balance as a violent screaming orgasm enveloped her. I saw all the strength go out of her knees, she buckled but her mystery man held her up, keeping her from fainting and falling to the hard asphalt covered ground. In a split second he strained and grunted, his own dark eyes rolling back slightly under his heavy long-lashed lids; his pants slipping down from his sculpted hips to his ankles. He was coming inside her and it was the most glorious thing I'd seen.

"Lily?"

I jumped and turned to face the person who had called my name. It was Sabrina, calling from the back door of the house.

"Have you found, Summer yet?"

"No," I called, trying to keep my voice from traveling over the fence. "I think she's already left with whomever it was."

I felt a hand touch mine and I started. Summer was beside me, her face all red and her hair in wild tendrils. "I'm here," she called up to the house. "Lily and I are just saying good-bye to someone. We'll be inside in a minute."

Sabrina gave us a wave of dismissal and went back into the house. I turned to Summer, a look of shock on my face.

She bowed her head, ashamed; she knew I had seen her with that guy.

"Are you ready to go?" I said, my voice breathless but still a little harsh sounding.

"Yes." She refused to meet my gaze. "I just... can we wait a minute before we go in?"

I looked down at her clothes. Her sweater was pulled back over her breasts but it was obvious that she had left her bra on the ground where it had been flung. Her skirt was wrinkled and there was the distinct odor of her still excited womb.

Before I could say anything, the gate behind her swung slowly on its hinges and the mystery man stood before me, his pale thin face was still flushed but looked very much composed. His unruly hair fell into his dark blue eyes so that he had to brush the tendrils away from his forehead. His jeans were buttoned and zipped, although there was a tell-all smell of sweat and bodily secretions that gave away what he'd just been doing more than a guilty aversion of eye contact or a not-too-innocent smile ever could.

After coming into the yard and closing the gate behind him, Summer turned to acknowledge his presence but then quickly returned her gaze to the ground just in front of my shoes. He nodded to me and then put his hand on her shoulder turning her to face him. With her head downcast she could only look at his chest, clad in a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt that was just visible through the opening of his half-zipped leather biker's jacket. He lifted her face with his hand so that her eyes met his. He smiled at her and she, after a moment's exposure to his masculine radiance, smiled back. They kissed and despite my impulse to turn away, I watched with fascination.