Ghost in the Darkness

Note: I do have a website where all my other works can be read complete with accompanying playlists but I'm not sure it's allowable to post links here. If you happen to stumble across it...well, these things happen on the world wide web don't they?

She was a day late. I wasn't worried. That's what I was telling myself. Just a little concerned, mixed in with feelings of curiosity. There was no need to check my records, which I keep meticulously and have done for over twelve years. I knew she was overdue because Tabitha is an enigma. She stands out to me more than any other client in my career. She got my attention from the start.

I have had my fair share of the unusual alongside the stereotypical. The clients who need a plus one for an important event. The ones that want to experience their first orgasm. More than a few want to make their exes who dumped them for a younger model jealous by being seen out and about with the likes of me. That process is greatly assisted by the fact I resemble Travis Fimmel of the Viking TV series fame. I actually enjoy those gigs a lot. Watching the look on their lousy exes faces is priceless. Sometimes for good measure I'll make a show of letting him see me grab her ass or whisper something dirty in her ear, like how I'm going to fuck her six ways till Sunday when I get her home; which I often do, for extra of course. The effect of that is usually plain for all to see -- the client usually practically orgasms on the spot.

Yep. My job is amazing.

But yeah...back to the unusual ones. I've had a few lesbian couples ask me to join them. Only to watch usually. Nothing else. Can't complain about that. It's the stuff many guys dream of isn't it? Then there was that woman who asked me to fuck her at work after hours -- she worked in an observatory. Apparently we caused serious damage to a very expensive telescope. It actually made national news.

Oops!

Meat woman was a bit of a problem. She didn't want full sex. Not all of them do. What was going on with her I've no idea. She was a strict middle aged vegan who got off on me covering her naked body in various meats or sushi. She would then lie there while I ate her pussy till she came repeatedly, feeding me meat from her bare skin every time as a reward. The issue with that was the sheer volume of food I consumed. I train my body and monitor my nutrition religiously and her request somewhat fucked that up. But it was worth the money in the end. No question.

Tabitha is something else though. I recall the first day we met -- July 9th 2004. That was a bit of an eye opener. I already knew before I got there that she must be absolutely minted. I'd driven past the house many times. Palace would be a more fitting word. In the email (she only consented to communicate via email), she stipulated two things. I must not speak to her. Silence at all times. And that she required pampering -- specifically a foot massage and pedicure. I didn't find this too strange that she wanted the pedicure and massage but the silence thing was a sign of things to come...

When I arrived at the house, the weather was vile. Lashing rain that felt like knives attacked every bit of exposed flesh as I ran from my car carrying my pampering kit to the colossal front door. A bland little maid with mousy coloured braids let me in and led me to a vast room, sparsely furnished and dimly lit. The most shocking thing of all though was the ghost standing in the centre of the room arms held wide as if in greeting or preparation for crucifixion.

It wasn't really a ghost of course. After almost forgetting my orders to be silent, I realised it must be Tabitha underneath the pure white bed sheet draped from her head to her toes. As she slowly took a seat on the elegant yet comfortable looking couch behind her, the maid looked at me with slightly fearful eyes and raised a finger to her lips before scurrying away, leaving me to it.

My shoulders flinched as the door slammed shut. A little dust rose from the couch. The floor was hardwood, so I gingerly took a cushion from beside her and placed it at her feet. A few delicately scented candles took the desolation of the room away once lit. These were an essential part of my kit. Whether or not she could see their glow through the sheet, I don't know, but as I started to cleanse and then massage her feet, I thought I sensed a reduction in the rigidity of her posture.

I spent two hours in all, never a word passing between us but I felt fully assured I'd done an excellent job. Her feet looked beautiful. This was confirmed by an email I received the next day.

Thank you very much for your services yesterday Mr Khan. You did an excellent job. Payment has been completed. If you could forward a receipt I would be grateful.

Tabitha

And that was that. Until the same time the following year. Once again I was summoned on July the 9th but the orders were different this time. This time she wanted bathed, washed and soaped on every part of her body except her head and face. In the dark. In silence.

This request actually made me uneasy. Since the last time I'd seen her, I'd done some ill-advised poking about online and had come across some probably baseless but still unsettling rumours; that people had supposedly gone to the house over the last few years to deliver things and had simply vanished, that there was a coven of witches living there and that there was a dynasty of vampires who had lived at the property and maybe their descendants still did.

Ridiculous right? I hoped so.

The sum of $4000 made me dismiss these tall tales though and I arrived as usual and did my thing as expected in rather awkward silence. Finding things in the dark was a nightmare. I'd organised my kit as best I could to assist the process but still the darkness made things difficult. I was terrified of touching her face by accident. On a few occasions when cleaning her silky shoulders, I felt a few tendrils of hair brush my hands which both electrified me and unnerved me. Still she made no sound. I wasn't even convinced she was breathing. She definitely wasn't a ghost though. I'm no expert but I don't think ghosts have hot slippery throbbing pussies and she certainly had as I discovered to my delight when tenderly washing her bare vagina.

As before, an email arrived the next day commending me for my work and confirming payment. Every year was the same. Always different tasks. But always silence and always concealing her identity.

Except this year. Maybe she had tired of me. I suppose it's possible. I had felt that year by year she was building up to something. Each year was a little more intimate than the last. More exciting. I guess I'd been looking forward to it.

Then, as I was driving home from seeing a very tedious and whiny client, my phone sitting in the dash holder pinged and lit up with an email. It was Tabitha.

My heart jolted slightly and I pulled in at the first opportunity so I could read it.

Dear Mr Khan. Your services are required on July 10th. As usual, you will be silent -- as much as possible at any rate. Full intercourse is required for two hours, inclusive of foreplay on this occasion. If you would be so kind as to confirm at your earliest convenience, stating your fee.

Tabitha

Shit, I thought. She wants sex. I'm not sure how I feel about that...

Then I looked down at the massive bulge in my Gucci jeans and sighed.

Who was I kidding? I was elated.

As always, when the pre-arranged time came I didn't really know what to expect, despite the fact I've sort of seen her (if we can call it that) numerous times before and we've exchanged a few sparse emails. These disclosed only the bare minimum, as is her style. The bare bones as the saying goes. What lay in between, my imagination was filling in as my semi-consciously clenched hands manipulated the steering wheel and gearshift.

I'd freed up my schedule for the entire day and night. Had only exercised lightly and had eaten a healthy lunch of steamed vegetables with salmon and a dinner of plain rice, chicken and mushrooms. I'd drank only water and green tea. I wanted no odours of spice or garlic lingering whether we kissed or not. So no seasoning either. My body was a different matter though. That needed spiced up to the max.

A turkish shave, a haircut, manscaping of my down belows, using only the finest, most expensive grooming products on the market put me slap bang on a par with some of the most photogenic models in the country when paired with my chic, casual yet smart attire; or so the tailor told me. But that's their job, right, to feed you bullshit and make you spend?

Between the two of us, we definitely put a lot of thought into my outfit. He always does a good job, does Lawrence. And so do I in my own particular field. But this is not one of my weeklys. This is Tabitha, a woman who only indulges in me once a year for reasons known only to her. Hence it is my duty to make it outstanding. And so the soft wheat coloured cotton slacks fitted to perfection, showing off my toned physique and slim waist. That black obscenely overpriced shirt that Lawrence talked me into buying, had been left teasingly open to the tune of three buttons at the neck, with sleeves rolled intentionally high enough to make a show of my forearms, in such a way that it looked like a casual thing done just so I could do 'man stuff' like change a tire or locate a cold beer in the fridge.

Oh I knew she might not see me at all. I did get that. She may insist on darkness again. Or wear a bag over her head. Or wear a blindfold. God knows what she had planned. Maybe she was a witch. But I simply had to know I'd given her my best. I felt sure she must know this is how I operate by now. Secrecy or not. Else she would not summon me annually, year after year. But, the question was...did she know she had me intrigued I wonder? Was that her intent? To bewitch me? I needed to be careful.

I'd dreamt about her. That scared me. Dreaming about clients is a no no.

Be cool Nassa Khan. This is work. So fucking work it.

My Feragammo Oxford clad feet brought my freshly valeted Mercedes to a halt and I glanced up into the mirror.

Tis time to tango.

I was certainly ready. I hoped she was. Because I was rock hard.

After greeting the maid in the required silence, we navigated the vast maze of halls till we arrived at a surprisingly insignificant looking door. She tapped lightly upon it. No sound ensued. Perhaps this was the wrong room. It would be easy to get confused in the monstrous building.

As I stood wondering, Little Miss Mousy Maid did something that she had never done before. She looked up at me and gave me the sweetest, most timid smile, then her little white hand opened the door and there before me was a room of shadows with what looked like an apparition seated at a slight angle towards a heavily draped window. I saw all only for an instant; brief mind etchings of a bedroom, a bed -- a grand one, nightstand, maybe a mirror, I wasn't sure. The second I stepped in the door slammed shut. Only black remained.

And my thudding stupid heart. Cue a noisy swallow.

The tiniest of glows, orange and sunset bright pierced the dark, setting a candle's flame jigging like a tiny Michael Flattley. It was only small but as my eyes adjusted, I saw her in more clarity than I ever had before.

And. Oh. God.

I didn't feel so suave anymore. She was literally built like the goddess Venus. She was still tilted away, possibly lighting another candle; exhibiting a completely naked buttock of divine creation sweeping up to a body that only Michael Angelo himself could surely have carved from marble, which it goes without saying beseeched me mercilessly, telling me to say something, to tell her she was beautiful. But I couldn't. I was supposed to be silent.

So I waited -- held my tongue.

Another candle was lit. Then she stood and held out her hand to me, the other indicating the bed. And then I swear, I do swear...I have never hated myself for being a man more in my entire life as I did then. I saw her stunning beauty, her full breasts, the feminine curves of her stomach, hips, so ripe and ready to be held and worshiped but no. My eyes diverted immediately to the right side of her body which I could now see and then up to her throat.

Her arm was scarred and eaten away in places. Her shoulder laced with what could only be remnants of horrific burns. At her beautiful throat there was a hole with a plastic thing in it. One of those things which means you have no proper voice. My thoughts were a riot. A quick look at the eyes beneath the beautiful venetian mask covering her face and I knew. This woman had taken one day out of every year to be brave enough to trust someone to be near her -- that person she chose was me. Each year her faith had grown a little. Her bravery. Her courage. Her need. And here she stood before me, a mighty, beautiful yet damaged sequoia tree grown from the tiniest of all seeds, a testament of hope that someone might want her again. That someone might desire her. A ghost in the darkness of times past.

I forgot my shame. I buried it as the pile of rotting cow guts and shit it was. All that mattered was her. I took her hand and kissed it more passionately and tenderly than I've kissed anything or anyone ever before. And I fucking mean it too. Placing my hand gently at the base of her back, I lead her towards the bed. Her eyes shuttered tight as I lowered her onto her back. Since we could not communicate in words, I heard and watched her body. Intently. I pressed my hand to her chest over her heart, stroking what appeared to be very dark long soft hair, soothing. Promising to care. In time when she had calmed a little, I anointed her little rose bud nipples with light kisses.

Just two.

One each.

Her chest began to rise a little quicker now. By the candle light I could guess her thoughts from the darting of her eyes. She thought this was difficult for me. She was doubting. She thought she repulsed me.

So I reached down, lowered my zipper, making sure she watched and revealed my dripping wet turgid cock to her gaze.

Her entire body almost jolted off the bed because she knew it was all for her. Her eyes twinkled like supernovas. Then she did a very unexpected thing.

She waggled a thumb at me, mockingly, round and round; there was humour in the action. Then slowly she reached out and swirled the droolings of my cock in similar circles around my engorged glans, as if she was soothing him somehow but we both knew she was only inflaming him to outrageous levels. And then my little sequoia became braver still and removed her mask in one smooth fluid motion before placing the very thumb that had just touched my cock in her beautiful sensuous delicious filthy mouth. And sucked all my precum away.

Fuck.

This night was supposed to be all about her. So I can only presume that what she did next was something she wished to do, for her own enjoyment. In the dim light of the two candles, I saw her gaze drop down to my thick shaft. Never have I felt so thoroughly examined visually. Without any apparent sense of self consciousness, she shifted herself into a better position on the bed to see what would shortly be inside her. The expressions on her face -- eyes a little wide, lips slightly parted, told me that she was probably thinking of this too.

She blinked slowly gazing up at me from beneath her long lashes, hands reaching out for my waist band, a little shakily. I canted my hips to assist her efforts and together we wordlessly completed the task of removing my shoes, socks, boxers and trousers. My shirt she unbuttoned but appeared to want left on.

I had not accounted for the way things were turning out, that she might find pleasure in doing things to me. In my world it is always me who does the giving, the creator of pleasure never the main focus of it. Her hands skimmed light as a feather across the body that I worked so hard to maintain. She seemed to particularly appreciate my thighs because when she got to them she looked directly at me and lowered her head to kiss the left one. A thrill ran through me at the feeling of her soft warm lips, her hair drifting ticklish over my bobbing penis. She spent quite some time kissing and admiring them, both left and right, holding firmly onto my hips as she did so, as if she was claiming me as hers -- which of course I was for the next two hours at least.

An acute awareness of being wide open for her to do as she wished washed over me causing not apprehension as one might expect but a dreamy sense of rapture. I felt in a cocoon of softness, everything soothing and warm. Eyes closed, I focused on the feelings more deeply and a sigh escaped me. Wondering if she heard, I opened them and saw her smile and that was when she did it. She bent down and wrapped her lips around my cock and drew me in. A gasp was unavoidable. Her mouth was like warm melted wax, her tongue velvety and dextrous as she used it to explore my length from root to tip.

Oh God did this woman know what she was doing...

She watched my face with great interest, still gripping my hips possessively. Her cheeks hollowed as she slowly rose up towards the sensitive helmet of my dick, causing another gush of precum which she swallowed. I saw. She sighed. Why, I don't know but this pleased me no end. I wanted so badly to tell her she was such a good girl doing this, that she was pleasing me so well and that I found her so beautiful. Instead I showed her with my hands. As she continued to suckle me, those limpid brown eyes smouldering into mine, I reached out and stroked her hair conveying, I hoped, my appreciation. My fingers massaged her scalp and traced the outline of her ears, brows and then with the back of my hand I tenderly smoothed her cheek.

Her spit was gathering at the base of my cock to such an extent it was trickling down my balls all the way to my ass crack. I needed to stop her before the inevitable happened. But when I took her gently by the shoulders she shook her head wildly. My dick popped out of her mouth and slapped comically against my belly. A slight frown creased her forehead then a look of understanding dawned upon her features. As she began to change position, there was that little smile again that I'd so quickly become dangerously fond of.

The mischievous minx settled herself down now into the sixty nine position with her clearly sopping wet pussy inches from my face and her mouth now busily returning to its previous work. Words were definitely not needed to understand her instructions in this instance. Holding her thigh almost as firmly as she was mine, I leaned forward and took my first glorious taste of her. I should have really taken more time over it, cherished it, kissing her inner thighs and tickling her with my breath but the sight of her there before me glistening with lust, her cute little pink opening wanting me so badly, meant there was no holding back.

Her taste was incredible. Tangy yet salty sweet. Warm and syrupy in consistency. Tongue running over her weeping slit, I lapped up the offered nectar with gusto taking care to keep my tongue flattened, especially when licking her sensitive bud. As she sucked and licked more eagerly, the cum in my balls began to surge. I also noticed her hole opening and closing rhythmically as if an orgasm were imminent too. Pointing my long tongue, I slowly ran it in circles around her pulsating entrance. She let out a slight moan, then when I pushed my tongue deep inside, her back arched and I knew she was cumming. I could feel it. Blinding ecstasy assailed me too and as I spurted hotly into her mouth, I panted and wildly massaged her clasping pussy walls with my tongue as they coated it and my lips in her cream. I swallowed it all like a starved man.