A Ghost Story

  A Ghost Story (Jet style)

  ©2005 Jet Mykles

  Humming softly, I walked straight through the unlocked doorway. It was rather easy, since the door itself had fallen from deteriorated hinges and lay rotting on the threshold. The moment I got through the opening, the howling started. Strange, unearthly moans that rattled the shattered windowpanes. A chill wind agitated dust motes in the moonlit air.

  “Hello to you too,” I murmured, continuing, undeterred through the hallway toward the main room at the back of the house. I studiously ignored the waving cobwebs that dangled above and I refused to hear the scrabbling of what had to be rats—or worse—from the shadowed corners.

  The living room was populated with the desiccated remains of what had probably once been very fine furniture. I’m pretty sure I recognized the Chippendale design on the feet of some of the tables and seats, but I didn’t bother lifting the dust cloths. The furniture wasn’t my problem. That would be the task of the owner who had hired me. Most of the inside of the house would have to be refurbished to make it livable again.

  “Be gone!”

  Oh, yeah. And the ghost had to go.

  Stopping in the empty middle of the room, I glanced over my shoulder. Good. He’d chosen to appear to me again rather than just talking in the ether. It was a good sign that he was interested.

  He must have been one hell of a good looking man in his day. Not especially tall, but well built. His chest and shoulders were broad and the 19th century waistcoat tailored in on a perfectly trim waist. Hips and muscular legs were tightly encased in trousers. Stockings lovingly hugged his shins. Light, long hair was pulled back in a queue, although the ghostly wind that surrounded him mussed it to let tendrils writhe about his head. His face was long and sharp, with scowling black eyes. Because of his ghostly state, he was all monochrome. Mostly whites with light and dark grays for contrast and outlines.

  He pointed an imperious finger at me. “Be gone!”

  “I will, I will.” Unruffled, I kicked aside the tattered remains of what had probably once been a fine rug, exposing the wood beneath. Happily, the floor didn’t seem to be in such bad shape. Dusty, but solid, without rot. I thanked the Goddess for that small favor.

  “You will go now!” He reared up, swelling to twice his size. Cobwebs disintegrated from the high ceiling above him and dust kicked up into miniature tornadoes beneath the shoes that didn’t need to touch the floor. His hands clawed and his face turned into the perfect ghostly caricature. Complete with ragged, oversized mouth and deep empty pits for eyes.

  “Oh, quit that,” I scoffed, snorting dust from my nose. “We both know you can’t touch me.”

  He shrank back to his original size, the size I was pretty sure was normal. He came to stand, glaring, at me as I knelt on the cleared floor. I busied myself with pulling items out of my satchel. Angry, he let his wind howl, but I’d come prepared. Everything I had was too heavy for him to move. I’d even weighted down the bottles by taping rocks to them. The rocks also had ghost wards on them.

  I sat on the floor and arranged my few items calmly, my long red hair securely fastened in a braid down my back. Once I had everything out, I took a few seconds to collect myself and say a silent prayer to the Goddess. Then I picked up the chalk and started to draw.

  He was instantly intrigued. “What are you doing?”

  “A spell.”

  He laughed. “You cannot banish me! Priests and even a bishop have tried. No one could oust me from my ancestral home.”

  “I know that.”

  I paused when he knelt before me. Then, without looking at his eyes, I pushed right on through him to continue my sketching. There was a cold thrill in my veins, but nothing more. He had no substance. Not without help.

  “I have told you to be gone! Leave this place at once. Leave me to my eternal misery!”

  He went on but I tuned him out. He’d done this in our previous meetings. Bitch, bitch, bitch. That’s all he did. He may have been a looker, but if he was this constantly on the rag when he’d been alive, forget it!

  I finished my circle and sketched the appropriate runes. I picked up the salt and re-traced my circle with it, staying well inside. Once the circle was complete, I felt it snap into place. It also took on what I’ve always thought was a rather pretty glow. It illuminated the dark room with a warm glow not unlike candlelight.

  And he felt it too. He stood outside the circle, fuming.

  Smiling, I finally met his eyes. He scowled. I reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it up and off. His scowl melted away to astonishment. I didn’t have anything on underneath.

  “What…?”

  Still smiling at him, I toed off my shoes, then unbuttoned my jeans. He was positively aghast when I let them drop.

  Naked, I bent to retrieve the bottle of oil. I unstoppered it and languorously oiled myself up.

  “What are you doing?” he rasped. If he’d been alive, I’d say his throat was dry.

  Without answering, I crouched, careful that my nicely trimmed mound and barely hidden sex were visible to him. Humming, I spread out the huge, comfy towel I’d brought with me and sat on it. The circle was large enough that I could lay flat on the towel. Which I did. My sweatshirt supplied a rather serviceable pillow for my head.

  Flabbergasted, he could only watch as I drew out the last item, the one I’d kept hidden from him.

  “That’s my…”

  “Ring,” I finished for him. It was a fine piece of jewelry too. Heavy gold with intricate vines and flowers engraved about it. A large emerald was embedded in the setting. I’d found it in one of the dressers upstairs. The lady at the antique shop had instantly recognized the signet of the Florin family. The family who had owned this estate.

  “What are you doing with it?”

  “Watch.”

  I had the ring on a chain, like I was going to wear it about my neck. Except I wasn’t. Using the chain, I let the ring dangle over my face. The light from the full moon cast plenty of light into the room but I think he would have seen me even if it were pitch dark.

  I lowered the ring until it touched my lips. As though I were kissing a lover, I tasted it, nipping with my lips. I kept it dangling as I played, letting my tongue peep out to lap at it.

  “What are you…?”

  Ignoring him, I lowered the ring from my lips to my chin. It fell from the edge to land heavily on my throat. Lifting with the chain, I skipped it down to the hollow of my neck.

  I lowered the chain all the way to my chest and drew my finger down my sternum, dragging the ring down and through my open cleavage. Using my free hand, I plumped my breast and pulled the chain up to tease my nipple with the ring.

  He groaned.

  The ring and chain were now slippery with the oil I’d rubbed into my skin. I plucked at my nipple with my free hand as I gathered the chain with my fingers until the ring was mostly trapped in the L-shape between my index finger and thumb. Securely fastened, I used that hand to squeeze my other breast, rasping that nipple with the ring.

  Sneaking a peak, I saw that he was now on his knees at the edge of the circle, eyes rapt on my hands as I pleasured myself.

  Stifling a laugh, I slid the hand with the ring down my abdomen, circling my navel and grazing my mound before I sank it between my thighs. His gasp echoed mine as I sank the ring and two fingers between my drenched folds. I arched my back, starting my chant with my pleasure outburst.

  I don’t think he even realized when the circle opened to allow him in. I think the ring actually pulled him. Unfortunately for my professional curiosity, I was a tad distracted and didn’t watch. By the time I finished my chant, he was on his knees and naked between my splayed thighs, watching hungrily as I climaxed around my own fingers and his ring.

  I subsided with a sigh, filling my gaze with him. Color. Pale skin encased those muscles. His hair was a rich, chocolate brown that had fallen from its queue and gently caressed his shoulders. His eyes were vivid blue—how nice!—and outlined with thick black lashes. Down below, his impressive cock jutted forth from a nest of sable curls. I was quite pleased that my spell had divested him of any clothing.

  I withdrew wet fingers from my sex and held them out to him. Fingers, ring and chain all glistened with the juice of my sex. “Taste.”

  He came back to himself for a moment. Frowned at me. “I can’t…”

  “What do you think the spell was for?”

  Shock, then suspicion then curiosity got the better of him. He leaned forward and grasped my wrist, astounded when he could. Seconds later, warm lips eagerly suckled on my fingers. His hum of pleasure was rusty but oh-so-sexy. He closed his eyes, blissful. Whether at the taste of me or the fact that he could taste, I had no idea and didn’t particularly care.

  Not taking my fingers from his mouth, I braced with my other hand and sat up. Our positions meant that I had to drape my splayed thighs over his. He saw my movement and reached out with his free hand to snatch me against his chest.

  Eagerly, he transferred his mouth from my fingers to my lips. His kiss was heady and devouring and I happily succumbed to it. His tongue sought and mastered mine. I’m sure he bruised my lips, but I pulled back before he drew blood.

  “Take me,” I commanded, using my still-wet hand with the ring to encircle his cock.

  He froze at the sensation, simply breathing at my neck while I slowly worked his sex. Then his entire body trembled. He opened his mouth. I think he would have spoken, but I stole the words from him.

  “Fuck me
.”

  His neck straightened, twisting so he could fasten too-wide eyes on me. Once sure I was serious, he practically dropped me on my back and took hold of my thighs. More careful than he, I’d managed to keep hold of his cock and I guided him to my opening. He buried himself in one shuddering thrust of slim hips.

  I wonder if he realized that I managed to wrap the chain with the ring loosely about the base of his cock. He didn’t seem to. Eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth in a snarl and brows low, he slammed into me in a state of orgiastic bliss. Too long denied, he could no longer be contained. I had a gasp and shut-eye moment myself, having to enjoy what was being pounded into me. He was big and he was rock solid. He felt good.

  “More,” I goaded him, falling back. I put my hands back to my breasts, working my nipples as he fucked me.

  I doubt he’d been such an animal back when he was alive. But after hundreds of years of death to have feeling suddenly given back, it must be a heady feeling.

  He had no words, only grunts and desperate cries. Almost whimpering, he released my thighs and fell forward, bracing himself on his elbows above me. I think he liked that angle better.

  “That feels so good.”. I reached around to grab his trim little butt, loving the feeling of working muscles. “Fuck me hard.”

  He growled and fingers dug into my hair. He yanked my head, positioning it for the assault of his lips and tongue on my mouth. Not once did he stop the punishing rhythm of his cock in my pussy.

  I felt it coming. I fancy his power gathered around us, whatever it was that kept him earthbound coalescing around our straining bodies. The ghostly wind filled my circle. His skin took on an odd temperature, almost as though it were so cold that it felt hot, or perhaps so hot it felt cold. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, that feeling to his cock, buried deep inside me, detonated my orgasm. I came with a scream, thrashing beneath him and tearing at the skin of his back.

  He tore back from me, braced on straight arms as he thrust once more and came. Dazed, I looked up and saw brilliant white light stream from his back, piercing the ceiling. No, piercing the sky. But that wasn’t the sky that I saw.

  He screamed and came still, his body locking as the ghostly wind picked up.

  With a last groan, he slumped. Almost instantly, his eyes opened. Shocked, he gazed at me from where he was suspended, two feet above me.

  “What…?”

  I gave him a tired smile. “What did you think the spell was for?”

  “No!”

  I reached down and caught the chain that was still wound loosely about his cock. It was snagged in his hair. Not too gently, I yanked. Both chain and ring fell into my hand, wet with my juices. As soon as they were free of him, he started to rise toward the sky that wasn’t the sky.

  “How did you…?”

  “You needed to be satisfied,” I explained, having nothing to lose now. I lay back, catching my breath as I watched him slowly levitate toward the white light. “It was dissatisfaction that kept you here. That kind of exorcism is my specialty.”

  He probably didn’t want to believe me, but it had worked. He didn’t even curse me. The eyes that watched me as he slowly rose were dumbfounded. Until, at the very last moment, a wry smile took his face. A smile. I hadn’t seen one of those on his face before.

  “Thank you,” he said, just before he disappeared.

 

 

  Jet Mykles, A Ghost Story

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