Ghost Lover

Here is my latest submission to Literotica. It's something entirely new for me - a ghost story of sorts. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.

E

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Don't ask me why I went, because I don't really know. I suppose it was just because a lot of my old friends were there. I hadn't really believed in any of that hocus-pocus garbage for a long time. The truth is, I had become jaded and cynical. I'm embarrassed to remember that we used to think we could call forth the Old Ones, using the spells from The Necronomicon. Shit, we knew even then it was just a ripoff of Lovecraft, a way to capitalize on the mythology he built, but it didn't stop us from trying. So when Ray asked if I wanted to go to the séance (and attendant party), I only said yes out of fond memories and a desire to see some old friends. (And for the party, of course. I always did like a party.) I was kind of sad that they still dabbled in that supernatural crap, but I figured it wouldn't hurt anything.

I sure didn't expect this to happen.

For the longest time, I didn't know what "this" was. I think I've finally figured it out, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. I'll just try to describe things as they unfolded. Let me start with the séance...

Like I said, I hadn't believed in anything supernatural in years. I think WANTING so much to believe, only to be disappointed over and over, contributed to how much I DIDN'T believe in the end, especially when I learned how many of the so-called psychics, mediums, and new-age-type authors where nothing but blatant charlatans preying on the gullible. I was worse than an ex-smoker or born-again Christian if you got me started! So, when I ran into Ray and he told me about the party and séance, it was a real struggle deciding whether to go. In the end, I missed my friends, and that's what won out.

Looking back, it's kind of miraculous that I ran into Ray when I did, and now it seems eerily coincidental that the party was happening while I was in town. I hadn't lived there for over ten years, and I hadn't really kept in touch with anyone, either. I was only visiting my sister for a couple of days while her husband was having surgery, so the odds seem rather long, thinking back on it now. Ray happened to see me at the gas station, and invited me. I wouldn't even have known him if he hadn't recognized me and spoken up. I know everyone has to be somewhere, but of all the hundreds of gas stations in the city, it seems odd. I'm reminded of Bogart in "Casablanca" - "Of all the gin joints..."

So anyway, the party was fun, and it was cool to catch up with the old crowd. Thankfully the conversation didn't really dwell on ghosts and such, so I had a pretty good time. It wasn't 'til late in the evening, when only a handful of people remained, that the conversation turned to the séance. I knew four of the five other guests that were attending -- Ray, of course; Janey, an old girlfriend of mine who had grown big as a house but still had a little-girl giggle; Charles, the clown in our group, who always lifted everyone's spirits (pun NOT intended) when yet another supernatural quest turned up empty; and Jeannie, who, by default, led our little band of misfits back in the old days. We weren't really an organized club or anything. We were just a bunch of fans of the the darker literature who somehow got the idea that even the fiction we read must be grounded in some truth. We wanted to find that truth.

The fifth guest, I did not know. He was named Emmit, or some other vaguely English-sounding name I can't quite remember, and was dressed in a waistcoat, of all things, complete with tight white trousers and a pair of tooled leather dress shoes with low heels and pointed toes.. He was nice enough, but very, shall we say, pretentious.

The woman who led the séance was Sasha. I was never really clear where she came from. It didn't seem any of my friends knew her personally. She just seemed to be there to conduct the rituals. I had trouble not treating her with open disdain, to be honest. She dressed like a gypsy, with flowing black hair under a yellow silk scarf, big gold hoop earrings, and a skirt with more colors than I can name. She looked like some Hollywood spoof of a fortune teller, and sounded like she were trying to fit every movie cliché she knew into her spiel. I was laughing inside at the absurdity of it all, and she seemed to pick up on my skepticism. She kept mentioning that it was more difficult to communicate with the spirit world when there were "Nonbelievers" in the party, but she was a powerful medium and would do her best. I swear, every time she said "Nonbeliever," I could see the capital letter in my mind, as if it were a title or a name rather than a description.

Anyway, the séance itself was pretty much exactly what anyone who has seen a movie that included a séance would expect. All of our hands placed flat on a round table. The room was lit only by a guttering candle near the table's center. Thankfully, there were no crystal balls or pentagrams. The only accessories Sasha used were a vase-shaped brass incense burner and a small bone. It wasn't even a very fancy-looking bone, not a skull or anything cool like that, but what might have been a finger bone. Or a chicken bone, for all I know. The cake of incense she used didn't put out much of a fragrance at all, but the delicate smoke rising from the intricate holes in the burner's body seemed to shift in color like oil on water. She used incantations that seemed to be a mix of English and what I took to be some made-up gibberish, alternately running her fingertips over the tiny bone and then laying it in the circle of light cast by the candle, each time facing a different direction.

I have to give her this -- she was a hell of a show-woman. Without understanding much of what she said, we all seemed to be entranced by the cadence of her voice, the ebb and flow of energy created by her words and movements. Everyone focused on her intently, and the growing energy and excitement seemed to infuse each of us. I was able to understand enough of her monologue to gather that she was supposed to be sensing some spirit or other nearby, someone who wanted to be heard. Sasha implored us to listen, to seek out the voice of the spirit. Everyone strained to hear sounds from another world, and the tension became palpable.

The first thing out of the ordinary that I noticed was the table vibrating. Honestly, I almost laughed out loud and left at that old ruse, knowing how easy it was for a "medium" to cause movements or vibrations in the table like this. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book. I think the only reason I stayed was because I didn't want to ruin the fun for my friends.

I noticed the vibration became higher in frequency, until I could hear it as much as I could feel it. Soon it became an uncomfortable wailing in my ears, and I looked around the table to see how the others were handling it. Sasha mumbled quietly, incoherently, but with such intensity sweat was beaded on her face. Ray and Jeannie had their eyes closed, but showed no sign of feeling the same distress I was feeling. The others watched wide-eyed and intent, waiting like coiled springs for something to happen. For some reason I began to suspect that Emmit-of-the-waistcoat was in on the gag. He didn't really look like he was up to anything, and maybe it was just because he dressed too over-the-top to be quite legitimate, but I kept trying to catch him somehow causing the ululating wail I was hearing.

As the sound crescendoed, I saw the candle flare up brightly and the smoke from the incense burner took on a phosphorescent glow. It seemed to grow thicker and more solid, and changed colors rapidly. I couldn't believe no one else could hear the screeching, because it felt like nails were being driven into my eardrums. I felt sweat pouring from my body, and everyone seemed to take on a distorted, phantasmal appearance, like I was seeing them through old, half-melted glass. I tried to speak, but my consciousness seemed stuck in molasses and couldn't will my voice to action. I was terrified.

I realized there were words in the mournful wailing sound I was hearing, and I strained to hear them. The voice was high, ethereal, painful to hear. Finally, the words crystallized inside my head - "Take me! Please, save me! Take me now! Oh, please!!"

It was a woman's voice, filled with horrible, dreadful anguish. Each word was drenched in pain, drawn out in gut-wrenching cries. I didn't know what was happening to her, didn't know what she meant or where she needed to be taken from, but she was clearly in agony and needed help. I thought maybe I would see her in the churning, shifting smoke, but there was nothing, only her wretched cries.

I felt compelled to try and help her. I don't know why, exactly, but the urge to help felt as strong as her need to be saved. I couldn't speak, yet from somewhere I heard my voice, distant and almost unrecognizable.

"I'll help you! I'll take you! Come this way, I can help you!! I will take you!!" I heard myself beckoning to this disembodied voice, though it sounded like I was calling from miles away.

In response, the woman's voice grew louder, exploding in my brain, "Oh yes! Take me! Oh, yes, there you are!" With the explosion of sound came an explosion of light, white and hot, like fingers of fire reaching through my body, wrapping all around me. And then, darkness.

I awoke the next morning on the couch at Ray's place. I felt groggy and disoriented, like I was terribly hung over, though I had very little to drink. Bit by bit, memories of the séance floated into my mind like feathers settling on a dusty floor. I wondered vaguely if the incense that had no smell was actually some kind of drug. I sat up quickly, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to be at my sister's house helping take care of my brother-in-law. Bad mistake, because my head swam and I nearly puked.

Ray called from across the room, where he was perched at a little dinette table with a cup of coffee, "Morning, sleepy head. You had quite a night. You scared us, passing out like that!"

He told me how I had blacked out during the séance, and everyone assumed I had had a little too much to drink. It seems no one else had heard any of the wailing I heard, nor had they seen the weird colors in the smoke. So much for the incense being a drug. I guess the séance just broke up after I passed out. He said I started to stand up, kind of stiff-like, and I made a groaning sound, and then I just dropped to the floor. I was breathing OK and my heartbeat was fine, so they put me to bed on the couch to let me sleep it off.

Gathering my senses, I asked ,"Ray, what time is it? I need to call Susan!"

"No worries, man, relax. We called her to let her know you were, uh, indisposed." He grinned malevolently, "She was kind of ticked off, though. Said you were supposed to watch Jimmy today so she could go back to work."

"Yeah," I said, heaving to me feet, head pounding. "I have to get going."

That whole day, I felt off. I couldn't put my finger on it, exactly. The hung-over feeling didn't last long, but I kept having the oddest sensations. I would be sitting there with Jimmy, watching the tube or playing cards, and all of a sudden I would feel pressure, like something pressing against me. Sometimes it was just a tingling feeling. Sometimes, things in the room just looked wrong, somehow, though I couldn't begin to tell you what was wrong about them. I was pretty freaked out, to be honest. I wondered if someone had slipped me something, or if I'd had a stroke. I spent as much time looking in the mirror to check my pupils and make sure my face wasn't drooping as I did looking after Jimmy. His surgery had gone fine, but he still needed someone to help him out, and I felt guilty to be so self-absorbed. But it was eerie.

When Susan got home, she said she hadn't gotten in trouble for being late to work, so I was thankful for that. I explained to her about the séance, and that I wasn't really drunk, but she just dismissed it, saying not to worry about it. I don't really think she believed me, she just didn't want to hash it over. When I tried to tell her about the weird feelings I was having today, she finally got impatient with me and reminded me that Jimmy was the one who needed help. I wanted to get mad at her, but I realized that was only because I was frightened. It wasn't her fault.

I stayed with them a few days, as we had planned. Jimmy was getting around on his own, and there was no more risk of problems from the anesthesia or anything, so I headed back home.

Instead of getting better, the strange sensations just kept getting worse. At first they had been vague feelings of pressure, but by the time I left, it was as though I could feel something actually touching me on different parts of my body.

No, that's not exactly right.

Not someTHING. SomeONE.

Sometimes it felt exactly as though a hand was touching my leg, or my shoulder. Sometimes I could feel a thigh pressing along the length of my own as I sat on the couch. But it was only a feeling. There was never a wrinkle in my clothing where I was touched. There was never a depression in the couch cushion next to me. It was only my flesh that seemed to be effected. Although it felt like a warm hand resting on my shoulder, there was nothing at all there when I touched the spot with my own hand.

And then there were the tingling, electrical feelings. I can't even begin to describe these accurately. It was like a wave of sensation passing through random parts of my body, sort of like the pins and needles feeling you get when your arm goes to sleep. But not really. I just can't describe it. The closest I can come is to say that I felt like there was movement happening, if that makes any sense. Movement through me, somehow.

I can't tell you how many times I worried that I was going crazy, or had been slipped acid or something. There was nothing painful about it at all, but it was horrifying just the same.

Horrifying and... intriguing.

I went back to work, resumed life as normal in most every way, but the odd feelings never left. I thought about going to the doctor, but thought about how foolish I'd sound. I didn't decide not to go, exactly. I just kept putting it off.

I realize as I'm telling all this, that you don't really know much about me. There's not really that much to know. I'm just an ordinary guy, for the most part. You know, moved away after college for work. I'm a chemist by trade, working for a company that makes herbicides and such. I'm always looking for a safer weedkiller. Exciting, huh?

I date a little bit, but haven't really found anyone I want to get serious about. I'm a little bit of a loner, but I hang out with the guys and watch football on the weekends. Pretty boring, really. Like I said, I hadn't really thought about the supernatural in years. I'm a here-and-now kind of guy. A scientist. If I can't see it, touch it, smell it, it doesn't exist, you know what I mean?

So this weirdness was really throwing me for a loop.

Then, after a week or so, the dreams started. Well, I should say I had the first dream. It was a pretty simple dream. It was about a woman, lost in a fog that seemed to wrap all around her no matter where she moved. She was waif-thin, with blonde hair and dark, dark eyes. Her white dress was stained around the hem, as if she had been running through the mud, and it looked as if it were from another age. Someone seemed to be following her, because she kept looking behind her and starting with fright, then hurrying on. I seemed to be some kind of disembodied spirit or something, because she was always looking up at me, like I was floating in the air. I didn't seem to be in just one spot, because she would look in different directions, but her face always seemed to be turned towards me. You know how dreams don't make sense. And she kept calling to me.

"Take me! Please, save me! Take me now! Oh, please!!"

I awoke, sitting up straight in the bed, gasping for breath. I felt the shadow of a weight that had been pressed against me in my sleep, pressed against the full length of my body and crushing the wind from me, though there was nothing there now. I remembered the voice from the séance, speaking the same words. I trembled all over.

Even then, I made no connection between the woman in my dream and the physical sensations I had been feeling. At least, not consciously. I mean, I knew the dream was caused by the stuff I experienced at the séance, but I've also dreamed about game shows I just watched. It doesn't mean I'm haunted by the astral projection of Pat Sajak, right?

Though I didn't realize it right away, the physical experiences changed in nature after that dream. I no longer just felt a brush on the arm or a hand on my thigh. The touches seemed to take on a decidedly sexual nature. I was in traffic one morning, heading for work, and I damn near swerved into oncoming traffic when I felt a hand cup my balls and give a gentle squeeze. I was sitting in a meeting the next afternoon, trying not to let my eyes roll back into my head, when I felt my nipples being rubbed until they were hard, and then pinched and pulled! I was so alarmed I looked down to see if my shirt was moving. Unbelievably, my shirt just sat there like it didn't know a thing, although my nipples were clearly perky. I futzed with my tie and held my coffee in front of my face until the feeling went away, but my ears burned the rest of the meeting.

The weirdest sensation of that week -- a transition week, I've come to think of it -- was when I was at my buddy Kurt's house watching a game, and I had the distinct feeling of being kissed. Not just a little peck on the lips, either. Oh no. I felt a long, lithe, and slender tongue probing my mouth, teeth nibbling my lips and sucking on them, the whole deal. I had that same feeling of panic I had in the meeting, the thought that anyone could see what was happening to me. At one point Kurt looked over and asked if I wanted another beer, but if he noticed anything, he didn't say a word. And if you knew Kurt, you would know that I'd never hear the end of it, had he seen anything. Nice guy, but he still has the mentality of a high school jock sometimes. Any hint that I was puckering like a fish because I was kissing some ghostly lover would have brought down scorn and ridicule on my head like you wouldn't believe. Thank goodness, whatever I was feeling, wasn't showing.

It was a bit of a learning process, figuring out what other people could and couldn't see. But that comes later...

After a week or so of what could only be described as foreplay, I had another dream visitation. This dream was what finally made me realize that the girl in my dreams was, in fact, connected with the physical symptoms I had been having since the séance. What can I say? I'm a slow learner.

In this dream, she was no longer running, but she was still ethereal and fragile-looking. Her blonde hair floated about her face as if she was underwater. She spoke to me with urgency and passion, but not so much fear this time. I couldn't understand, or can't remember, most of what she was saying, but at least part of it had to do with thanking me, and telling me she knew I was the one, she knew. She kept saying that, and I got the feeling I was supposed to do something, help her in some way, but I couldn't understand how. And then, she kissed me. I knew right away this was the same person who had kissed me, unseen, while I watched the football game at Kurt's. She pushed me gently down on my back, where I seemed to float in a room with no defined features, only glowing light. As I lay there, she moved her hands over my body, my chest, and down to my groin. I felt the now-familiar cup of her hand around my balls, and then she took my cock in her hand and began to stroke me.