Haunting Lovers

Haunting

Halloween was the tenth anniversary of Tippi's death. Charles woke near two o'clock in the morning with the feeling of being watched. What was that high in the corner of the room? A long, thin, female leg? It was undraped to the waist at least, showing narrow hips and a tiny butt. She was back. He lay down again when his attention was caught by her long, lithe leg near the far upper corner of his bedroom. He would recognize that lovely leg anywhere. He had stripped that leg many times, and dressed it in everything from gowns to thong bikinis. There was no doubt in his mind.

Tippi was back.

And in the adjoining corner, what was that? A tightly wrapped cherub with red hair and bountiful curves gazed down at Charles.

"You're back," Charles said to them. "What do you want now? Tippi, where's your celestial robe? And Bunny, do you really have to wear your robe so tightly it reveals every curve on your body?"

They both laughed and bounced around the ceiling until Charles got dizzy trying to watch them. Tippi said, "The robe they gave me was too big; it keeps slipping off." And Bunny said, "It's not my fault that the robe I have seems to shrink every time I wash it. What can I do?"

"Maybe you two should just switch robes. What do you think?"

"I'm happy with the robe I have," said Tippi, "or used to have. I'm sure that someone will return it to me eventually. You should really talk with Bunny. She's the one who's having trouble."

Charles looked at Bunny, who looked ready to burst out of her silky drape. "Are the other saints complaining about the way you dress?"

Bunny adjusted her gown which had slipped into the crack in her butt. "No, the saints aren't complaining. They don't seem to even notice me. But the devil's outside the gate! They notice! They keep challenging me to play a game with them, any game. What do you think?"

"I think you should have learned your lesson by now. But really, tell me. What are you two doing here now?"

Tippi spoke up. "You know we leave you alone. Usually. But we're concerned about you."

"Yeah," Bunny said. "You've changed. You've made your fortune and now you're retired to go fishing. What's that about? You're a young man! You've never been married. It's about time."

"You both turned me down," Charles retorted. "I've learned my lesson well from you two. I enjoy spending my time alone, in a small boat, catching fish and releasing them. It's very zen."

"Fuck zen!" Bunny burst out. "You need some hot poontang!"

"Leave me alone, can't you? I'm going back to sleep."

Charles pulled the covers over his head to block them out, hoping they would leave. Instead, he felt the warmth of a body next to him on the bed. He reached out and traced the narrow limbs of Tippi next to him. On the other side of his bed, he felt the weight of another body. He reached out and initially, his hand passed through where a form should be. Bunny was still in spirit form. He heard a sigh, and the next time he reached out, he felt the heft of her thigh against his leg.

"Don't touch me," Bunny said.

"I know, I know." He settled in and thought about both women for a moment.

Tippi

Even after ten years, he still remembered Tippi. She had been only 20 years old when she died, his first true love, and the first woman to break his young heart. She was slim as a young tree and as free as a Spring breeze. She loved him, she told him so, but she also loved other men as well. He had used her to learn about women and sex and she was more than willing to teach him. He though of her as his own private Barbie doll. She enjoyed being stripped for his pleasure and redressed in outlandish outfits of his choosing. Nothing was out of bounds for her. He thought she would have made a wonderful stripper and frequently told her so.

Tippi laughed off his suggestion. "Look at me. I have no curves, no hips, no ass. My tits are so tiny I never need a bra unless it's to build them up. You're sweet for thinking I could earn any money as a dancer, but I have to look at things more realistically."

He wanted to marry her, and asked her several times, but she was as impossible to pin down as chalk dust on a blackboard. Instead, she dated other men. She was open about her affairs, even telling him when she went out with others. It drove him mad with possessiveness, but he knew better than to try and corral her. Stories got back to him about her exploits from his best friends, hoping to help him break away from her.

"Yeah, Tippi went skinny-dipping with a group of six people at the lake, men and women. Probably her idea. Somebody stole their clothes while they were swimming. So she paraded to the cabin naked as a lie, along with the others. She eventually got some clothes to wear, but not right away."

He was filled with jealous fury. He told her so then ended by saying, "I wish I had been there."

"Why? You've seen me naked before. You can see me naked right now."

"No," he said, "I've seen you naked. I wanted to see the other girls' tits."

She laughed, punched his arm playfully, and said, "I love you." Then, she fell into his arms.

Other stories made their way to him, too. Had she really pulled a train at the university? Had she blown the bartender for a night of free Cosmopolitans? Had she streaked the anti-war protest?

When Tippi died, she had been at the Grand Canyon with a group of friends. They were descending the canyon on donkeys in single file. Someone dared her to make love while going down the canyon trail, on the back of the mule. She was never one to shrink from a dare. He imagined it could not have been comfortable fucking on the back of a mule, but perhaps she was just blowing the guy. In any event, the park rangers found her crumpled, nude body at the bottom of the canyon, together with the young man and the mule. It took seven hours to get their remains to the top of the canyon.

He grieved and yet he was relieved. He wanted to claim Tippi as his own, but had learned that he could never control her completely. He would have to be satisfied with wearing cuckold horns during their marriage, and wonder whether every child they conceived was really his offspring. So, maybe he had dodged a bullet. One thing he took to heart from her—she advised him to combine his law degree with his internet passion. He had done that, and advised several new gamers, new app builders, and new business startups. Thanks to his randy girlfriend, he had become quite rich.

Bunny

After Tippi's death, Charles was unconsolable. Then, he noticed a court reporter who had shown up to transcribe several of his depositions in a row. Usually the court reporters rotated so as not to be overwhelmed by the demands of one law office. But this one reporter kept showing up. She had soft red hair, freckles, a pert nose, and never smiled. Her skirt extended just past her knees and her blouse was always buttoned to the top. Her waist was narrow, but her hips and breasts were fully rounded. She crossed her legs at the ankles, but still showed lovely calves. After one dep had ended, he introduced himself and asked her name.

"I know you," she said. "I'm Brenda."

"Your friends call you Bunny, though. Right?"

She smiled with her eyes lowered. That move stirred Charles' interest. He had asked about her after she intrigued him earlier.

"Do you mind if I request you on all my depositions, Bunny?"

She shook her head. "I'll let my boss know your request." Then without another word, she finished packing her equipment and left Charles' office.

Charles did request her, and she did continue to transcribe his depositions. During the depositions, she kept her eyes focused on a spot on the wall, and did not look at him, the deponent, or the other attorneys. Her fingers never stopped their clever dance on the keys. At the next dep, Charles noticed that her collar button was open. She was not so tightly wrapped as she once appeared.

Each subsequent dep, Bunny's buttons kept opening lower and lower. Her skirt seemed to rise just a little higher. Her clothes seemed a little bit tighter. Her bosom seemed ready to burst from its silky covering. Her ass couldn't get much more compact. She must not have been wearing a very heavy bra, because he saw that her nipples would harden and press out from the blouse that barely contained her. Still she looked at the spot on the wall. A long pencil extended from her red hair, used to mark notations on her tape.

They finished the dep. The attorneys and the deponent left the conference room, leaving only Charles and Bunny. Bunny put her materials away efficiently. At one point though, from a standing position, she bent over her machine, her legs straight, her ass straining against her tight skirt. She did this in front of Charles, less than an arm's length away. He reached out and slid his hand over her rounded butt.

Bunny stopped for a moment, letting the hand enjoy her mounds. She said nothing until she stood up and turned to face him. He was keenly aware of her breasts, heaving beneath her silken blouse, gathering strength to be free.

"Never touch me," she said. She spun on her heel and strutted out of the room with her equipment, before Charles had the time to even say he was sorry.

Of course, he was not sorry. He had enjoyed the contact with her immensely. He wanted to engage her more fully. He went to his office window and saw her putting her equipment into the trunk of her red Corolla, her legs still straight as she leaned over the trunk of her car, her ass still straining against her tight skirt as though it might split the garment in half. Charles hoped for that eventuality.

Suddenly, Bunny unloosened her front button and unzipped the skirt. She pulled it and her red thong down to just below her butt. Then she waggled her butt back and forth. She quickly pulled up her thong and skirt, sucked in her stomach as she rebuttoned her skirt and without looking back at Charles' window, got into the driver's side door and drove away.

Charles blinked. He rubbed his eyes. Had Brenda/Bunny just mooned him? Had she shot him an intimate view of her ass? Maybe she was just itchy, he tried to rationalize. But he knew that was not the case. He didn't know what game she was playing, but he liked it.

Charles didn't wait for the next dep before calling Bunny on the phone. He asked her to drinks and dinner. She accepted without emotion. However, when she showed up, she was wearing a green dress that could pass for a gown. It, she, looked elegant. He took her to the best restaurant he knew, bribed the head waiter to let them in without a reservation, and enjoyed looking at her the entire meal. Her gown moved like water over her figure. It allowed her ample bosom to breath, rising up to cover her nipples, but just barely. Each time she raised her wine glasse to sip, each time she took a breath, each time she laughed, her breasts were in danger of being exposed. Yet they never did spring free. Charles felt the pressure of his cock against his suit pants.

He walked her to her door like a gentleman. She leaned forward so he could brush her cheek with his lips, like a gentleman. He raised his arms to her waist to pull her closer, but she back away, saying, "No touching." She let him hold the door for her while she found her key. She agreed they should date again. She did not invite him in. She waited behind the glass storm door while he returned to his Lexus and sat in the driver's seat. He started the engine, but before he drove away, Bunny let her gown slide down to her ankles. She stood in the dim light of doorway, completely exposed. In the light, she looked like a gray, perfectly proportioned Greek statue, with her gown pooling at her feet. She posed without moving, as though she were in a museum.

Charles slammed on his brakes. Although he had just begun to move, the tires screeched with the sudden pressure. He stood beside the Lexus, wondering whether he should sprint to her door, when she stepped back and closed the door. However the shadowy image of her perfect body was etched in his mind. He whistled a low tone and wondered to himself, "What game is she playing?"

He tried to keep calm during the next few depositions. But Bunny's clothes kept getting tighter, and her décolletage kept getting exposing more curvature. He made sure there was plenty of water on the conference table, because his throat tightened and became dry frequently. She watched a spot on the far wall, oblivious to the stares of the others who could scarcely keep their eyes off her.

After three weeks, Charles called her again.

"Well, I wondered if you would call. I've been bothered by some of your colleagues and adversaries who want to date me and take me out. One gentleman claims to have seen me mooning the office from my car. Ridiculous, don't you think? I've fended them off so far, but if I hadn't heard from you by tonight, I promised myself I would be nicer to them. If you know what I mean."

"Don't do that!" Charles said. "I'm sorry for not calling earlier. I just don't understand how I'm to deal with you."

"Oh, I think you're doing fine. Aren't you jealous of my dating other men?"

Charles huffed a short laugh. "Not at all. My first girlfriend burned jealousy out of me. I realized I can't control what a woman does. All I can do is show her I care deeply."

Bunny paused and the line was quiet for a while. Eventually, she spoke. "Are you willing to play a game with me?"

Charles swallowed hard. "Of course. Anything. It seems that's all we've been doing."

Bunny laughed, a sound that he'd come to crave since their last date. "We can play backgammon. I'll come to your house."

"I've never played backgammon," he said.

"It's not hard. I'll teach you. Okay?"

"Okay."

"By the way, it will be strip backgammon." She ended the call then, before Charles could object or question or catch his breath. He raised his arms and stretched. He walked around his desk, a few times clockwise, then a few times counter-clockwise. He saw the stack of unanswered phone messages and correspondence that needed to be responded to, but he was in no condition to work. His mind had surrendered to the idea of seeing Bunny at his home that evening, playing games, and maybe even seeing her red-headed, buxom body completely naked.

He canceled all appointments for the rest of the day and headed for the barbershop and a massage. He couldn't escape the images that Bunny's call had conjured for him.

Backgammon

She arrived at six with her backgammon board. He fixed them both a drink while she began explaining the way the game worked and how the game could be won. She proposed that after each game, the loser would remove an article of clothing. Charles shrugged and agreed, trying not to show his eagerness.

"There is a betting die as well, but I think we'll leave that for a later time. For now, we'll just play the game for its own sake." She shook the cup and spilled out the dice.

"Wait," Charles said. "Shouldn't we be sure we both have the same amount of clothing?"

"Take off your shoes and socks." She removed her own footwear but was not wearing stockings. "Now we should be even. I assume you're wearing underwear? You have a shirt and undershirt, pants and underpants."

"Right. And you?"

"Slacks, a blouse, a bra—though not much of one—and a thong. Good enough?"

Charles nodded. "First, another drink?"

Bunny nodded and he fetched the both another cocktail.

The game moved fast. Charles caught on quickly, but Bunny was lucky. He lost the first two games and started the third game wearing only his pants and undies. Then, he began to make the right moves and the dice fell his way. He won the third game.

Bunny stood up. He expected her to remove her blouse but instead, she removed her slacks, folding them neatly as she put them on a nearby chair. Her thighs and calves were freckled. Her thong rose high on her hips and displayed nearly all of her ass. She didn't seem to mind that Charles stared. She stretched out her legs to their full length and advantage.

The fourth game was hard fought and Charles was surprised when he won. Would she now remove her blouse or would he shed the small slip of a thong that didn't conceal much of anything? She stood and looked at herself in the mirror by the door, admiring the fine shape of her legs and the plumpness of her ass.

"Oh, well," she said. She unbuttoned her blouse, leaving the blouse halves hang. Underneath was a transparent black bra. It clearly gave little support so it was obvious that Bunny's bodacious bosom needed little support. She removed the blouse, adjusted the bra a bit, and sat back down. Charles was satisfied with his view so far. He had seen nearly all of the bottom half of Bunny, and despite the presence of a bra, its contents were on full display. The bra was no more than a shadow over her breasts. Charles' penis began to tremble with excitement.

"Would you like another drink?" he asked, his throat dry again.

Bunny nodded. "Don't be stingy," she said. Her voice was slightly furred, too. They moved the game from the kitchen table to an end table, low enough to reach while she was lying on her side. She reminded Charles of portraits of women stretched out on couches or love seats, voluptuously inviting.

He made the drinks and brought them back. She sat up to clink glasses with him, then lay back down. Her red hair slipped away from her neck revealing more freckles. He noticed that she had a spray of them across the tops of her breasts as well.

He lost the next game, together with his trousers. She lost the next game and removed the wisp of a bra. Now those magnificent mounds were exposed and seemed to be calling to him. Her nipples were taut and little bumps surfaced on her areolae. He wanted to run his thumb over those bumps and to tweak those nipples. She sat up and approached the board. Her breasts were suspended over the playing area. He had a hard time concentrating. He emitted an admiring "Wow!"

Then the last throw. Bunny won! That meant that Charles had to lose his underwear. His penis was engorged, but he wasn't embarrassed. He stood up and slipped his underwear to his ankles and then off. His dick bobbed a bit as she looked at it. He blamed it on her exposed tits—no man could remain flaccid when he had a view of that perfection!

"Chance to tie?" he asked. What did he have to lose by asking?

"What's in it for me?" Bunny asked. "If you lose again, you have nothing else to offer."

Charles smiled. "I'll let you decide the forfeit. Deal?"

Bunny had her arms crossed as she considered, then extended her right hand. "Deal." Her breasts bounced a little when they shook hands, but not much.

To Charles, it seemed the game was played more slowly than the others. Perhaps it was just because he was naked to her appraisal. She wore a smile the whole last game, a sly, enticing smile, as if she were contemplating what the final forfeit might be. She used the same trick as last time, approaching the board so her breasts were floating over the playing area. But Charles was luckier this time. He won the game, and grinned as she removed her thong. To his surprise, she was not completely shaved down there. A fiery strip of red pubic hair gave evidence that she was a true red head.

Charles stood up, and extended his hand to help Bunny rise up, too. "Another drink?"

"Please," she said and followed him into the kitchen where he made pulled out two new glasses and the supplies for the cocktail. He made hers first, and offered it to her. "Hold this, please."

She took the glass and held it close to her chest. Little beads of moisture transferred from the glass to her rounded breasts. He finished his drink and stood behind her. "Hold this," he said.

He was close to her, but not touching her. There was probably only an each separating the front of his body from the back of hers. He could feel warmth radiating from her body. She raised her hand to hold the glass. But no glass was forthcoming.