"Whorehouse on Haunted Hill" Bethany Taylor pulled up to the driveway and looked at old dilapidated house before her. The address matched the location given to her in her e-mail, but the place looked like it hadn't been used in years. As she watched, a shutter fell of the third story, twisting and flipping in the wind before hitting the ground. "Well, it's certainly a remote place to have a rendezvous," Bethany muttered. She stepped out of the car and reconsidered her clothing. The e-mail hadn't specified if she should be dressed for stealth, so Bethany threw on what she had available. Her darker clothing had rips and tears from her last mission, so she was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a white blouse. On the one hand, the white blouse did a great job of showcasing her impressive cleavage. On the other hand, it made Bethany almost glow in the dark. She read her print out of her e-mail again. The message was simple. "Go to 2369 Harlot Hill Street. Seek out Mr. Thompson and accept her mission. Go now." It was from the deployment address of her employers, Diligent enterprises, and was marked urgent. Bethany knew she was expected to act on the mission ASAP, so she locked up her hotel room and took the rental car to this odd address. Bethany had just completed a mission for her employers and was surprised to get another mission so soon. The blonde wished she knew more about what she needed to do, but then, handling surprises was why they paid industrial agents like Bethany the big paychecks. She had no idea of what she was going to buy after this mission, but she was sure she would think of something. The wind picked up as Bethany approached the building, whipping her hair around her face. The moon ducked behind the clouds and Bethany was plunged into darkness. She paused to allow her eyes to adjust and that was when she noticed the candle glowing beside the door. "Was that candle lit before?" Bethany asked herself. She couldn't be sure. She walked up to the door and knocked. The door creaked open, apparently already open. Bethany shrugged and walked in. Mr. Thompson must be expecting her. The inside was far more impressive than the outside led one to believe. The foyer was glowing with candles and was carpeted in lush red. Paintings of nude women covered the walls and a candelabra sparkled above her. From the hallway, laughter from several women could be heard as well as a piano playing. A sign hung above the doorway and it read "Welcome to Madame Flower's Brothel of Excellent repute." Bethany looked outside and didn't see any cars. "This is one well hidden whorehouse." she remarked. "Over here, Ms. Taylor," she heard from the winding staircase. Bethany looked, but she didn't see anybody. The staircase was pretty steep and Bethany assumed that she just didn't see the person in the candlelight. There was something soothing about the staircase, from the tastefully nude nymphs adorning the rail to the soft candles that illuminated the area. Bethany went up the stairs. ~~~ Amy Valentine brought her motorcycle to a halt a safe distance away from Bethany. It wasn't easy following someone on a dirt road on a motorcycle with your lights turned off, but then, that's why they paid industrial spies like Amy the big paychecks. She didn't know what her rival was doing here, but Amy was sure her employers, Paragon Industries would pay a lot to find out. Amy could already picture her residing in the Greek beach house she wanted to buy. "It certainly pays to tap your enemies' e-mail," Amy said to herself. If she hadn't of spied on Bethany's ColdMail account, Amy would have never of known about this secret rendezvous. The agent just hoped that Macrohard never upgraded their security to a high school level. Amy watched as Bethany walked towards the abandoned building in front of them. It was easy to see Bethany, her white blouse was like a torch in the darkness. She wasn't dressed as sensible as Amy was. The following agent was wearing black cotton from her long shapely legs to her delicate neck. Even her long brown hair was concealed, tucked under a black baseball cap. Amy didn't blend into the darkness, she was the darkness. She waited thirty seconds after Bethany entered the building before moving up there herself. Amy moved silently and swiftly to the porch. She could barely see the door because the clouds were hiding the moon. When she entered the building, Amy took out her special night vision sunglasses. The foyer was pitch black before Amy's glasses allowed her to make out some details. A thick layer of dust covered everything, but Amy could barely read the sign that hung above the doorway leading into a hall. "This Hole of Sin is Condemned by the Ladies of Proper Morals." "Proper morals?" Amy asked herself. "Sounds like a fun bunch." Her musings were interrupted by a sound from the stairs. It sounded like a taunting laugh. Amy pulled out her pistol and cursed silently. She must have been discovered! The brunette ascended the stairs cautiously, looking to salvage what she could from her blown cover. ~~~ Bethany reached the top of the stairs and found no one waiting for her. She almost went back down but she heard two women talking in a room next to the landing. The agent figured she could ask for directions and find Mr. Thompson quicker. As she approached the room, she realized it was talking she had overheard but moans. Slightly embarrassed, Bethany still looked in. The room was decorated with an underwater motif. The walls were sea green, and the large bad was shaped like a clamshell. Two women were sitting on a bed. They were wearing old-fashioned gowns, full of lace, ruffles and cleavage. Their skirts were pulled up to reveal elegant garter belts, white hose and naked sexes. A man was kneeling in front of them. He had his hands between both their legs and was creating their moans the old fashioned way; he earned them. "Excuse me," Bethany said when the women looked up at her. The women smiled. The man never turned around, as he was too intent on the beauty before him. Bethany closed the door and turned around. None of the doors were closed in the hallway. As Bethany walked past them, she could see acts of debauchery out of the corners of her eyes. Although she saw dozens of women and all of them engaged in sex, none of them were nude. All of them wore the same exquisite style of gowns; appearing as if they were extras from a 'Gone with The Wind' revival. "Up here," Bethany heard behind her. A staircase she hadn't noticed before was visible in soft candlelight. Eager to escape the endless moans of the hallway, she climbed the stairs. ~~~ Amy's glasses glowed as they tried to compensate for the complete darkness of the second floor. The carpet was old and crackled under her shoes, which made it hard for the agent to sneak quietly. Several doors were fallen in the hallway, adding to the decrepit feel of the place. She looked in one doorway for Amy, and saw a collapsed clamshell bed. A shelf holding various seashells had fallen over and littered the floor with debris. On a slanting table, Amy saw the moth eaten remains of a gown. "What a dump," Amy whispered. The careful agent checked each room. All she found was more debris and other signs of disuse. Amy kept an eye out for Bethany, but she found no trace of the blonde. In fact, the dust on the floor was so thick, she was certain that no one had been up here in years. She was about to go downstairs when she saw the flicker of candlelight coming from a side room. Amy approached the room cautiously and peered in. Inside was a four poster bed that was still intact. A row of curtains dominated the far wall while a shattered dresser had possession of the near wall. Amy stepped into the room. She could have sworn there was candlelight coming from here, but she couldn't find any light now. She checked the room twice to make sure there wasn't a secret passage leading out. It was another futile search in an already frustrating mission. "Damn it, I wish something would just happen!" Amy cursed. That was when the door slammed. ~~~ Bethany reached the third floor and the sights before her took her breath away. The hallway was lit with lamps but it was also lit with the beauty of a score of paintings. A beautiful painting of a woman was hung every few feet and each painting carried a small name under it on a brass plate. The blonde walked down the hall, marveling at the detail and life in each painting. Each painted woman was vivid and real, and each woman bore a knowing smile. It was a sinful smile as well as holding confidence. Bethany knew these women were most likely prostitutes, but they all had a noble air. At the end of the hall was one last painting. It was of a beautiful blonde who stood defiantly beside a horse. Her dress was a deep purple but her spilling cleavage was alabaster. Her smile was more of a smirk, daring the viewer to give her a reason to unleash her wit. The name under the painting said "Rebecca Bethany Taylor." "She was your great-great-great grand aunt," a voice said behind her. Bethany turned to the voice she had been hearing all night. The man was older than she was, but not by much. He was wearing a formal suit of black with silver linings. His hair was curly and dark while his eyes were bright and friendly. Laugh lines framed his face though there were a few frown lines as well. A dark top hat adorned hi9s head but he swept it off as he bowed. "Mr. Thompson?" she asked. "Yes, thank you for coming," he said. "I was hoping you would have Rebecca's curiosity and spirit." "You sound like you knew her," Bethany said. "I did," Mr. Thompson answered. "I had made plans to have sex with her the night I died. I had a fatal heart attack while I waited in the lobby. It was terribly disappointing." ~~~ When the door slammed, Amy was quick to react. She rushed to the door but the door was stuck fast. Kicking the door had no effect. For some reason, the rotting wood absorbed all the force her powerful legs could exert. "She's a bad girl!" a whispered female voice said beside her. Amy spun and aimed her gun but no one was there. "A very bad girl," another feminine voice agreed. "Yes, she came here to steal something from Becky's girl," another voice said. "Ms. Flowers will know what to do!" yet another female voice said. "Show yourself, skanks!" Amy snarled. The agent felt the temperature in the room drop as if an air conditioner kicked on. Her gun was wrestled away from her hands by unseen forces before she could react. Amy kicked the empty air with a nasty kick but she connected with nothing. Before she could do anything else, the curtains came alive. They flew from the wall and wrapped around her chest. With her arms pinned to her sides Amy was helpless as she was picked up into the air. "You girls were right," she heard an older female voice say. "This one is a bad girl." "Fuck you!" Amy said defiantly. In response, her pants were pulled off her legs. Now the agent was nude below the waist except for her white cotton panties. A slender board levitated from the wreckage of the dresser and Amy groaned, as her body was turned around in mid- air. "Over the years, I've found one thing that always works on bad girls," the voice of Ms. Flowers said in the dark room. "And that's a spanking." SMACK! ~~~ "You seem to accept that I am a ghost fairly well," Mr. Thompson said. He came closer and Bethany could smell his cologne. It reminded her of pine and streams. Bethany shrugged. "A ghost is a better explanation than a whorehouse filled with customers but without cars or modern lights. What happened here?" "Oh, I died of a heart attack," Mr. Thompson explained. He brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I was the lone ghost here for awhile and when the brothel was closed by the wives of the town, I thought I would die again of loneliness. Luckily, as the former girls of the brothel got old and died, their spirits came back here." "They're all here?" Bethany asked. "Even my great-great etc?" "No," Mr. Thompson sighed. "She married, and her spirit moved elsewhere. To most of these girls here, the brothel was the only family they had. I spent so much time here; I considered it my home too. Rebecca must have found happiness elsewhere, leaving me to long after her for years." Mr. Thompson stepped closer and his hand moved to hold Bethany's. Bethany found his hand to be surprisingly warm and gentle. She wondered what kind of man Rebecca must have found to leave this man behind. "You, Ms. Taylor, are the exact image of your ancestor," Mr. Thompson continued. "I don't know if you are her reborn, or just an amazing likeness. Either way, I request your services." Bethany shook her gaze from his intense eyes. "How can I help you?" In answer, he kissed her. Her lips barely felt his. It was just a feather light touch on her lips and tongue. His hands went to her hair, and it felt like a breeze was running through her. "I meant it more as a question, not a proposal," Bethany whispered. Mr. Thompson chuckled but he didn't stop. He reached down and picked Bethany up by her thighs. His kisses might have been spectral, but his grip and his strength was very real. "not that I'm complaining," Bethany added. ~~~ SMACK! "Ouch!" Amy yelled again. The swinging board was relentless. Her legs kicked and flailed but the floating curtain kept Amy suspended in the air for the entire punishment. Her buttocks were burning from the spankings but the board didn't seem to care. "All right, all right!" Amy screamed. "I'll be a good girl!" The board paused in the air. "Apologize for having a chamber pot mouth," the voice of Ms. Flowers demanded. Amy hovered in the air. Her ass was a bright red and her legs were exhausted from kicking. Sadly, he bad attitude was still intact. "Fuck off and let me down!" Amy snapped. SMACK! ~~~ Bethany was pinned against the wall by Mr. Thompson. He dipped his head down and kissed her shirt but she felt his mouth on her skin! She wasn't sure at first, but as he kissed further down and licked her breast, she knew for sure. His intangible mouth was kissing and sucking her skin underneath her shirt. Mr. Thompson pressed forward and Bethany cried out. He had entered her, and both their pants were still on. It blew her mind, but the solid feel of his cock dispelled her fears. Bethany squirmed as her sex was opened inside her panties and she moaned as her thighs tried to grip around a person that wasn't there. "Finally!" Mr. Thompson groaned. Years of denial caught up to him as his hips pumped against her. Bethany cried out as he slammed into her, her buttocks bouncing off the wall like a perverse metronome. "Buddha! Didn't you screw any of the other girls?" Bethany asked as her sex was pummeled. "There's just something about the living," Mr. Thompson gasped. "There's something about the dead," Bethany gasped. Her body was shaking from the frenzied thrusting he was giving her. Dust fell from the ceiling as their bodies collided. His cock was so cold inside her, but the heat of their friction warmed her. She clenched so many times, but was never able to clasp his sliding cock. It was frustrating and intoxicating at the same time. No matter how hard she arched, no matter how much she moaned, she couldn't control how much of him was in her, and she wanted more. "Yes! Dear God, finally yes!!!" Mr. Thompson yelled. Bethany shuddered as his cock released ice-cold semen inside her. She shivered in his arms as the cold seeped into her bones. Shaking, she moaned as he withdrew, cheating of her own orgasm. "Sorry," Mr. Thompson said. "Like I said, it's been a long time." ~~~ Amy's ass was beyond burned and was deep into inferno. "Say that you are sorry," the voice of Ms. Flowers demanded. Amy spun in the air. Her legs were too tired to kick. Even at a pause like this, Amy's ass was still flinching instinctively. Through out it all, she never saw her spankers or the owners of the voices. All she did see was that board spanking her ass over and over and over. SMACK! ~~~ "Well, glad I could help, I guess," Bethany said as she stood up. Her panties were soaked and her knees were shaking. "Wait, I almost forgot," Mr. Thompson said. The smile on his face explained his faulty memory. "Reach behind the painting." Bethany moved the painting off the wall, and was surprised to see an old-fashioned cubbyhole. Inside was a small bag. It jingled when she picked it up. "I was here when Ms. Flowers hid it," Mr. Thompson explained. "She left it there in case Rebecca ever came back. Apparently, Rebecca left so quickly, she never received her last wages." Bethany opened the bag and whistled. Inside, was a sparkling emerald necklace. The gems caught the candlelight and reflected it onto Bethany's smiling face. "She also thought it would look good on you, or Rebecca as the case may be," Mr. Thompson said. "Damn, maybe I'm in the wrong business," Bethany said. When she didn't get an answer, she noticed Mr. Thompson was gone. The candles also winked out and she saw the true brothel for the first time. Mostly, it was dark. Bethany clicked on a tiny flashlight she carried on her key chain. There was no sign of her ghostly lover, and quite frankly, the place looked like a dump. She removed her foot out of something sticky and headed back for her car. "Just like man," Bethany sighed. "Wham, bam, fuck the living and they're gone." Later, as the blonde got into her car, she thought she heard a yell. Bethany shrugged and started the car. There was no one out here for miles. ~~~ "Are you going to apologize or not?" the disembodied voice of Ms. Flowers demanded. Amy considered. At this point, it was just a matter of pride. It was true that her ass felt radioactive at this point, but what was pain compared to the shame of admitting defeat? "Go suck Casper," Amy said between clenched teeth. SMACK!