Rainy Days

bynightsearcher©

In truth, there wasn't a particular moment in which Samantha decided death was overhyped.

She'd lived an unexciting life; twelve years of school, three of college. A new apartment, built the year prior, lease freshly signed. She was studying engineering, had dreams about designing music equipment.

And she died, unnoticed, in her bath. An errant blowdryer too close to the tub. Even now, so much later, she still felt a burning shame about that one. Wasn't it just so abrupt? She'd had dreams, plans, hopes. Maybe a nice winter fling, now that she wasn't rooming with three other girls anymore.

But now she had an empty apartment that refused to stay that way. Her landlady, the devil take her, had had the place cleaned and stripped bare. She hadn't been gone a week before the showings began. Or was it longer? Time didn't seem to have that much meaning after you died.

Sam didn't know why she was haunting the place, honestly. It certainly wasn't as thought she had any particular attachment to the apartment itself- it was brand new, not even a month lived-in. She simply didn't seem to be able to leave the place. Any time she drifted beyond the walls, her perception faded and she'd find herself back in the tub. It always seemed to pass time, which is why the first showing scared her halfway out of death.

She was back in the tub again when suddenly a man burst in through the door, staring into the tub as if he could see her. On instinct she tried to cover herself, and cheap toiletries scattered all around the bathroom, and with a yell he practically threw himself backwards out the door. Her awareness blanked out again; when she came back, there was no sign of him. The bathroom was back in order, however.

Soon after, she found the living room had been furnished with cheap furniture. She was inside the couch counting the springs when the front door lock rattled open. Another strange man, followed by her old landlady. She was telling him something about the neighborhood, but the sound of her voice irritated Sam to no end and she dove through the floor to get some reprieve.

When next she returned, it appeared the landlady had made the sale; moving boxes were piled up against the wall, and loud music thumped from the other side. Her bedroom, now occupied. Was this what she was supposed to look forward to?

A sudden rage filled her, and reaching out with hands she could neither see or feel she tried to shove the boxes over.

They wiggled, slightly.

She tried again.

A gentle sway.

She snarled in anger and threw herself at them, and finally the top box started to shift slowly and toppled over with a crash.

The music in the next room cut off, and the man from before came stomping out, looking around in consternation. Samantha dove for cover in the kitchen, and the dishes in the sink rattled loudly as she passed, but despite his fearful stare it didn't appear he had any capacity to see her.

And so she settled into a pattern; testing her strength knocking things over and pushing them aside, unplugging his stereo and generally making a nuisance of herself. It made sense in a way she couldn't exactly define. This was her apartment; she'd paid for it, she'd died in it. She saw them take her body out. It wasn't right that some strange man who didn't even know her name was living here, sleeping where she'd slept. Shaving where she'd died. She pushed all his razors into the trash can. She unscrewed the cap on his milk. She dragged a sharpie across his desk and wrote curses on his books.

Eventually, he must have had enough, because after a particularly bad stretch of him playing his obnoxious music and her throwing herself out of the apartment into oblivion, she came back to find the apartment vacant once more.

She exulted briefly.

The front door opened.

The landlady, followed by another man.

Samantha knocked over the lamp and fled screaming silently.

Samantha lost count of the renters after a while. She'd grown more adept at moving things; she not only could she throw things, she could carry them. She didn't seem to tire; after a certain weight, she simply couldn't seem to produce enough power. So she got creative. The last tenant seemed to understand she was there, and tried to placate her with some kind of stupid incense offering.

She'd nearly managed to burn the place down when she launched it into his room. There were still scorch marks on the carpet when the new tenant was being shown in.

This time, she was ready. She'd hid a lighter in the couch before what's-his-face had moved out; she figured that setting it on fire while the landlady was here would probably be enough to stop her bringing any more people to disturb her rest.

And then, she saw her.

Not the landlady, though she was pretty enough for a lady of her age. It was the tenant. A gorgeous blonde; her smile was like a sunbeam blasting through the clouds. Samantha dropped the lighter with a silent thump.

The landlady was gabbling on about how all the prior residents insisted the place was haunted, and how the complex would be looking closely into claims of property damage. The girl nodded absently, her lip bitten absently as she followed through the apartment. Samantha trailed along after, like a sunflower tracking the sky. Was this it? Love at first sight?

And just like that, the girl was gone, ushered out the door. Samantha shook herself as she realized she hadn't even heard the girl's name, and then again as she realized it didn't matter. She was a fucking ghost- what the hell did it matter?

The door banged open, and Samantha swooped out from the bathroom.

It was-

The landlady?

The woman looked around the apartment briefly, and took a breath.

"Whatever you are, stop bothering my tenants. This is annoying as fuck."

She turned and left; the door locked. Samantha threw herself through the floor in despair.

Every time the door opened, what felt like her heart leapt. A repairman. An electrician. The landlady again, staring balefully as she directed someone to drop off boxes. The girl. The movers again. Wait, the girl?

Samantha plunged out the front door, looking around frantically despite the misty haze that always awaited her past the walls. Was that her, walking down the hall? The mists took her.

Back in the bathroom, she raced out. Someone was definitely moving in- there was a whole mess of boxes and bags and crates. She dove into the bedroom, but the girl didn't seem to be home. Sam fluttered around the apartment, searching for clues. The girl must have left the lease somewhere, right? Or a wallet, or, or, some kind of identification? She wasn't sure she could handle another grody-ass dude clogging up her final resting place anymore. Plus she was just so cute!

Sam caught herself, and her spirits sank. What was she even thinking? She didn't have any way to interact with the girl other than knocking her shit over. This was probably just going to be even more miserable. She probably had a boyfriend anyways, meaning she'd have to deal with yet another messy guy leaving dishes in the sink for days.

She swished listlessly, considering the merits of just throwing herself through the walls until the girl's lease was over, when the front lock rattled again and the door swept open.

The girl bounced in, a quietly satisfied smile on her face, and as she passed by it was as though Sam's bad mood was pulled away in the undertow. She had carried some bags in with her into the room, setting them carefully on the bed before whipping her hair up into a messy bun and heading back out to the living room with a what looked like a small stereo speaker in hand.

She fiddled with it and an odd metal and glass box for a second, and it began pumping out a steady bassline. Despite herself, Samantha felt as though she'd tap her foot to the song; she watched bemusedly as the girl started unpacking and dancing. She almost felt like a voyeur intruding on something special, despite her prior assertion that this was Her Home. She was about to throw herself through the floor to give the girl privacy when her eyes were drawn to something odd.

On the coffee table, the girl was setting up some kind of... candle set? It was two large candles with flowers wrapped around the sides, and what looked almost like an miniature altar between them. The girl went to her room and came back with what looked like an incredibly fancy chocolate box. She slipped it open and pulled out a tiny, bow-wrapped piece, and with a pang Samantha realized how much she missed little things like chocolates and fruit snacks. The girl was saying something.

"So, I just hope we can get along, is all. The landlady said you were a ghost and a bitch, but if you can hear me, I hope this shows how I want to get along."

She lit the candles, and placed the candy down on the little altar. She knelt there for a minute, and then went back to her speaker and turned the music back on before continuing to unpack.

Gingerly, Sam reached out to the candy. It was quite small, so surely she'd be able to li-

The candy remained immobile. Instead, a ghostly, translucent version of it lifted up in what should have been her hand if it were visible. Sam boggled at it, not sure what to make of this, and finally she pulled it to where her mouth should have been and imagined eating it.

Flavor exploded across her perception. Sweetness, so potent she thought she was seeing stars. More delicious than any memory, an instant of satisfaction and delight so vivid that her awareness of anything else swept away in the torrent.

When she came back to herself, the candy was gone. A twisted-open wrapper lay beside the altar, the real chocolate obviously eaten by the adorable girl now napping under a thin sheet on the couch. Samantha reached out to pull the sheet up gently, but froze before making contact.

Where before she simply guessed, now the outline of her hands was just barely visible to her. In fact, there was the faintest outline all the way up to her elbows. She raced across the apartment to stare into the mirror, but when she arrived she found no sign whatsoever of herself no matter how hard she looked. She glanced down, fearful, but her forearms were still visible to her own perception.

She floated thoughtfully back out to the living room, looked the girl up and down, and very gently, tenderly, she pulled the sheet up and over to tuck her in. She sank through the floor, not wanting to intrude.

The next day, the girl set out a small plate of spaghetti. Samantha decided she was in love with this little ray of sunshine.

So a new pattern took shape in Samantha's afterlife. The girl, the absolute darling, would briefly set out a small portion of each dinner she made. Sam would reverently take the ghostly image of it and devour it, and when she recovered from the blissful trance more and more of her would be visible. It was a couple of days before she realized in horror that she didn't appear to have any clothing, but thankfully the girl continued not to be able to actually perceive her. She resolved that she would do her best to repay the girl's kindness, and when the girl wasn't home or paying attention she would quietly clean up the apartment, floating spices back into place and dragging misplaced keys back the the keyring. One night the girl fell asleep holding her little glass box— Sam was amazed to realize it was a phone, and again wondered how long she'd been gone— and so she floated it to the end table and plugged it into the little dock. They were all very little things, but it was all she could think to do.

A little over a week later, another girl visited, and to her surprise she found the girl who had so illuminated her home had a name as sorrowful as Rainie. Her friend said it with such joy, though, that Sam couldn't help but think that it was fitting. The two girls chattered about school, family, and the idea of being haunted; Rainie had evidently told her friend about the landlady's warning, but reported that she was sort of disappointed to find no evidence of the allegedly-angry ghost. The girl, apparently, was the one who'd suggested the candy offerings, and Sam's non-existent heart skipped a beat when she started to suggest Rainie stop. Blessedly, Rainie strongly resisted the idea, insisting she liked doing it. Sam had to restrain herself from hugging the girl.

Eventually, they ordered a pizza and turned on a movie; the visitor— Alexandra, it turned out— setting out a slice for Sam as they settled into the couch. She pounced on it, accidentally rattling the table a bit, and both girls froze and stared for a moment before looking at each other and breaking into nervous giggles while Sam, unseen, shook in terror. Careless! And after they'd been talking about her.

The movie finished before she came back from eating, and she was met unexpectedly with Alex leaning against Rainie, very obviously massaging the girl's breasts and whispering in her ear. A trio of wine glasses were on the table, one still partially full next to the altar. Rainie was protesting gently, but it was patently obvious she wasn't actually opposed. Sam whirled, mortified to intrude, Alex's lustful words ringing through the house despite her whispers. The mists outside the walls took her.

When she came to herself in the bathroom, she sighed unhappily. It wasn't surprising that a girl as pretty as her would be dating, she supposed. And it wasn't as though she objected to that sort of thing either. And she was a ghost! She couldn't reasonably be upset with her for having someone in her life, not after that same someone was the reason she was being given gifts in the first place. But she-

Rainie walked into the bathroom, disrobing. Samantha's jaw dropped.

It wasn't just that the girl was beautiful, though she was. Her messy hair, her red-marked neck, attested loud and clear the results of Alex's attentions. Nor was it the casualness of her disrobing, as Samantha had found the girl marvelously cavalier about stripping down before. But always she'd swept out of the room, not wanting to intrude on something so private. And so while she'd seen those rosy, beautiful breasts on occasion, she'd never even considered the possibility of what hung before her now.

For Rainie had a beautiful, beautiful cock.

From her seat in the tub, Sam just stared as the gorgeous blonde reached in to turn on the shower and jumped back to avoid the initial blast of cold water. It sheeted down, flashing through her only now visible legs without any noticeable effect, but Sam still reflexively yanked them to her chest. Rainie waited a moment for it to warm up, and then stepped in; Sam, confronted with her magnificent ass, tumbled out of the shower and accidentally knocked over the shampoo. Rainie jumped, looking back, but shrugged and picked it up.

"Creeping on me in the shower now, huh?" she said quietly. "It's okay, I guess, just as long as you aren't a boy." She giggled at that and started to wash her hair. Samantha was positive she'd be full-body blushing, but since the girl had said it was okay... She turned away, but didn't leave. Maybe she'd just. Hang out. Yeah. How big was that fucking cock?

"Pass me the conditioner, hm?"

She whirled. Rainie, eyes shut, was rinsing shampoo out of her hair, fumbling beside her for the other bottle. Sam glided over gently and, very slowly, pushed the correct bottle closer to her hand. Rainie finally settled on it with a jolt, and Sam yanked her arm back. God, it was just hanging there! Why couldn't she stop staring at it? How did she look so much like a girl everywhere else?

Rainie straightened, working the conditioner into her hair, and Sam took a moment to bask in the rest of her beauty. The water streaming along the sides of her breasts, the soft downy trail of hair leading down her belly, her firm thighs. She felt a spike of envy for Alex's ability to play with her, and then another, stronger spike of shame for staring like this. She turned away again, ashamed, when she heard Rainie gasp gently.

Turning back, she realized Rainie was starting to stroke her cock.

The girl was growing hard quickly, and soon settled down to sit exactly where Sam so often found herself. That shocking part of her now stood tall and proud in her little hands, easily towering half a foot and more from her waist. Sam found herself trying to lick her lips staring at it, imagining the feel of it, and before she knew what she was doing her face floated just inches from it. Rainie's gasps were deepening, one hand wrapped around the base, the other teasing at her nipples.

"Hope you like the show," she breathed lustily. "Because if you're real, I'm into it." The girl's talk coarsened, her strokes growing more frantic, and Sam found herself impossibly aroused. Now her little sunbeam was begging her to watch, to join in. To let her cum, to make her cum. Couldn't she see how hard she was?

In the tiny part of her mind that was still rational, Sam knew the girl was just hyping up a fantasy for herself.

The rest of her mind reached out and gripped that beautiful, pulsing cock and shoved it into her mouth.

Rainie arched suddenly with a cry, a blast of heat erupting from her cock through Sam, and in that same instant her cock throbbed and exploded in the ghost's mouth. The taste of her cum was vibrant and sweet and heady, and despite herself she tried to gulp it down. The long ropes of it flew straight through her, however, streaking across the tub. She continued to stroke Rainie's cock, milking it for smaller and smaller spurts, until finally the blonde's hips stopped thrusting. She realized belatedly that the girl had definitely stopped stroking herself a moment earlier, and that the only one who'd been involved in that frantic orgasm was herself. She recoiled, but Rainie just mumbled something about cuddles and sat up. The girl shook her head, as if to clear it, and stood up on wobbly legs to continue showering.

After what seemed like an entire second afterlife of silent scrubbing and rinsing, Rainie stepped out of the shower and began to towel off. Sam floated above her spot in the tub, wanting to knock something over to break the silence, but also being terrified to signal she was there.

"Thanks for that," Rainie finally whispered, and turned quickly to leave the bathroom. Sam dove through the floor in blushing shock.

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bynightsearcher© 10 comments/ 11134 views/ 26 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by mrsreader09/26/18

Well done

Great stoy line. Ending begs for more...

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by SKHP09/26/18

Please: more of this!

Excellent writing, original idea, interesting plot.
5*

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by Csucker6409/25/18

Very good

I enjoyed this , please write more 👌

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by KarenCDFL09/25/18

Wonderful Story!

I loved your story. It was well written and kept me surprised throughout!

Please write more!

Karen

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by griffin5709/25/18

What can I say?

Nicely written. Good detail without being too chatty. Would like to see more.

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