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From: bitbard@newsguy.com (BitBard)
Subject: {BITBARD} New: "Wraith" (F-Solo, M/F Cons)
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Content Warning: This work of fiction contains mature subject matter
and graphic sexual language including descriptions of consensual sex
between a man and a woman. If you think you can't deal with this
story, or if it's illegal to possess such material in your locality,
please hit the delete button now. If you're a minor as defined by the
laws in your locality then you MUST stop now and go no further. As a
work of fiction, any similarities to any person(s) dead, alive, or
fictional is merely a really weird coincidence.
Subject: The world is never a small place, but sometimes it takes the
paranormal to break down the very normal walls we build around
ourselves. It's kinda hard to summarize this one but think of it as
an erotic ghost story.
Subject Matter: (F-Solo, M/F Cons)
Rating: (X) Not suitable for minors. May be illegal in some areas.
Copyright (c) 1998 by bitbard@newsguy.com.
Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely WITHOUT MODIFICATION on
USENET, USENET II, not-for-profit web sites, not-for-profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to >>ALL<<
archived articles. Modification in violation of this license is
defined as any change which breaks the digital PGP signature of this
document. All other rights are specifically reserved by the author.
All distribution rights to this story, expire at midnight December 31,
1999.
Creation Date: 6/18/98
Distribution Date: 07/07/98
Author's Notes: This story started at least a dozen times, and was
different with each telling. Some were horror in more ways than one.
Some were darker reflections of places I'd rather not visit. Finally
"Specter" was born and it was a good thing, but not what I would
consider my best work. And as I stepped objectively back and looked
at it, I realized that if I had done things just a little differently,
I'd have a truly remarkable story. So I filed "Specter" away in my
"Nice Try" folder, and "Wraith" was born in a few hours of furious
typing. A ghost story doesn't always have to be horrific, sometimes
it can be downright erotic.
Credits: Mike Ink has perfected the punctuation, humbled homonyms, and
generally polished this story more than you will ever know. As always
my Mike has my undying gratitude for this altruistic act of charity.
:-)
Archive: This and all my stories are archived at
http://extra.newsguy.com/~bitbard or http://www.bitsmart.com/sandman.
============
"Wraith"
-- By BitBard
============
Gail strained as she listened to the night. She was sure it was safe,
but not that sure. She shuddered, recalling the first, and last time
she had been caught. Her aunt had shrilled so loudly that Gail
winced, remembering the pain it had caused her. Then she had been
spanked like a little girl, and between the incredibly painful blows,
she was lectured on the evils of masturbation.
And so, Gail listened to the sounds of the night. She could hear the
soft padding of Badger's feet as he moved with catlike grace along the
hallway outside. Mentally, she tuned out the symphony of crickets and
frogs filling the night air with their song outside her window. The
hum of the air conditioner assaulted her sensibilities, but that too
she tuned out, as she listened for the one thing she needed to hear.
Then finally she heard it. The soft groan of her aunt's bed as she
turned in the night.
Gail let out a long, low breath of relief, surprised at how intensely
she had been listening. Slowly, she raised her hand to her face and
let her fingers drag against her skin, pulling, tugging, digging in at
places, just lightly teasing in others. The touch electrified her,
and for a moment, just a moment, it was not her fingers tracing her
lips, but a lover's touch. Her hand fell, pressing into her neck and
breasts, pausing to trace light circles around her nipples, enjoying
the feel of their erect firmness against her palms.
And then down to her privates, already moist with anticipation. And
the touch, so pleasurable before, exploded into a myriad of
sensations. With three fingers, she explored herself while her thumb
drifted up and down her swollen clitoris, dragging the fleshy skin
over her glans. Within the building pleasure, there was also enormous
relief. For the first time in days, she finally felt good. She
finally felt at peace. She finally felt.
Yet, despite the release, the part of her that always lived in fear
kept constant vigil, and that fear diminished her pleasure. Riding
the swelling waves of pleasure, she suddenly came to a screeching
stop.
Something was wrong.
Desperately pushing her senses to the limit, she listened for the
tale-tell sounds of movement, but heard nothing. Yet the sense of
wrong remained with her. It felt almost as if she were being watched.
Sometimes she could tell when that happened. She would be listening
to her music, and get this very same feeling, and find that her aunt
had entered the room.
"Who's here?" she whispered, her voice quivering.
She swallowed hard at the implications of the question. If it had
been her aunt, she'd be getting a beating right now, but Gail and her
aunt were the only people who lived here. So if it wasn't her aunt…
Suddenly she prayed there would be no answer, and regretted the
question.
In the silence, the sense of not being alone grew even stronger. Just
when the terror threatened to become unbearable, she was suddenly sure
her visitor was moving. No sound reached her ear, but she grew ever
more certain of the movement. Shaking uncontrollably and breathing in
short, fast gasps, Gail nearly screamed when she felt the hairs on her
right arm stand on end, and then she felt a touch.
On her cheek, she felt something like a bitterly cold breeze trace a
line from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth. The touch
was deathly cold, yet within the touch was a tenderness she had never
before felt. And then it was gone.
Everything was gone. The touch, the sense of someone else in the
room; both were gone in a heartbeat, as if they had never existed.
Badly shaken by the experience, Gail rose from her chair and rushed
over to her bed. She hid beneath the covers until sleep finally
claimed her.
***
"Good evening, Sir. My name is Gail, and I'd like to tell you
about…<click>!" Gail sighed as the other end of the line
disconnected.
A fearful night's sleep had turned into a long miserable day. There
were preciously few jobs available for people with her handicap, and
unfortunately, one of those jobs happened to be telemarketing. Even
on the good days, she always went home feeling dirty and persecuted.
"Tough day?" Jimmy asked.
The scent of Old Spice and stale smoke filled her awareness, as she
felt the heat of his body near hers. Their manager would be down on
both of them if she saw they were chatting, but at the moment, Gail
didn't mind at all. Anything to avoid the next call.
"I haven't finished my opening sentence all day," Gail sighed. Then
she lowered her voice, "Except for one mark, but he sounded so old I
didn't have the heart."
"No. You did have the heart, that's why you ditched the sale. When
you sell crap to people who can't afford it, that's when it's time to
quit, babe."
Suddenly, Jimmy pulled away. Gail straightened, and quickly punched
the call button. Sure enough, she heard the sharp heels of her boss's
shoes on the hard tile floor.
"Good evening. My name is Gail, and I'd like to tell you about a new
product you may be interested in."
There was a sudden click on the other end, but Gail continued to pitch
to the dead silence, for as sure as she had been of the presence the
night before, she was certain her manager was standing behind her at
that very moment.
The charade continued until Gail finally admitted defeat. As her hand
reached for the call button, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"I'd like to speak with you a moment in my office, Gail." the manager
said grimly.
An hour later, haggard and depressed, Gail got into her aunt's car.
"You're late," her aunt said nastily.
For the rest of the ride home, Gail bowed her head. She tried to
ignore the high pitched whining on how inconvenient it was for her
aunt to drive her to and from work every day, without being further
inconvenienced by Gail being late. When she managed to do that, Gail
then tried to forget how horrible she had felt when her manager had
gone over her production numbers, or lack of them. Gail could have
handled that. She knew she wasn't the world's best telemarketer. But
it was the way her manager kept telling her that if it weren't for the
government subsidies and pressure to keep her on, she'd have been long
since gone.
The only one who had treated her like a real live person had been
Jimmy, but a few stolen words of comfort could not make up for a day
like this.
"Or any other day," Gail thought grimly.
The day had been intense, but it was hardly unique. If her aunt was
not berating her for being late, then it would be some other lapse, to
remind her how horribly Gail interfered with her life. How noble her
aunt was in accepting the obligation of caring for her niece when
Gail's parents were killed in a car accident. If Gail's manager had
not called her in about the production numbers, then Gail would be
riding home feeling just as bad, simply for the work she did.
As soon as she was in the house, she was rushing to the shower,
needing to wash away the terrible day. The warm water beaded her skin
as Gail threw back her head and just let the jets of water batter her
skin. Touch, even the touch of water on flesh, reinforced her
existence. In the never-ending darkness of her life, it sometimes
seemed as if she drifted through the world without really being there.
But touch always grounded her, reminded her she was alive. For a
moment, she wished she could turn the shower into a bath, but her aunt
had opinions on that as well.
"My house, my rules," her aunt had said, and meant it.
It was difficult to do this standing up, but she needed to finish what
she had started the night before. With determination, her hand went
down and began its caresses. It was hard trying to keep her balance
on the slippery surface, and harder with the distraction of the water
beating against her skin. But she needed it so badly. It was with
aching determination that she forced the sensations.
BANG! BANG! BANG! "Gail! You've been in there long enough! Get
out of there and come to dinner!" Her aunt yelled.
Trying hard not to burst into tears, Gail removed her fingers and
quickly washed away the evidence. Feeling even more terrible than she
had in the car, Gail stepped out of the shower, and got ready for
dinner.
The evening at least offered some comfort, as Gail rested in her room
to the passionate strains of Mozart. She liked almost every kind of
music, but it was only the classics that so fully exploited the
richness of sound. She had heard "The Marriage of Figaro" countless
times before, but it never failed to stir her soul.
It was only after her aunt had gone to bed that Gail finally
remembered, or allowed herself to remember, what had happened the
night before. Had it just been her imagination? Had someone really
been in the room? And as she wondered, a darker thought appeared. On
top of everything else, was she going mad as well?
Again, she waited until she was sure her aunt was asleep.
"It had to have been my imagination." Gail thought, as she removed
her clothing.
Unlike the shower, the feelings she evoked this time were not forced.
She doubted an orgasm in the shower would have made her feel any
better. But this, this was calming, relaxing, tender. The waves of
pleasure rolled through her, letting her into that happier place,
where managers and aunts couldn't come.
And then she felt it. Again, there was someone with her. She paused
a moment in her touches, but this time only for a moment. After the
day she had, it could even have been her decrepit old aunt. As long
as she kept her hands to herself, Gail could care less.
Deliberately, Gail threw back her head and followed the flows of
pleasure, as she renewed the ministrations to her sex. As the seconds
passed, the feeling of being watched increased, but the anxiety that
caused diminished. It became another exquisite sensation among the
many she was feeling, a dangerous excitement, added to the thrill of
doing the forbidden.
She sensed her visitor moving, but didn't pause in her own movements.
Closer. Faster. She felt so close to the oneness of her building
pleasure; it would not be long now. The hairs on the back of her neck
stood on end as she felt the foreign touch on her breast. It was a
light touch, hesitant maybe, but it was definitely there. This time
the touch was not cold, but neither was it hot. She felt only a
pressure of the touch as if it existed, and nothing more.
But the touch was the last sensation added to what had already been
building. Her hips rose to meet her fingers, as the first waves of
orgasm rippled through her, consuming her thoughts, her worries, her
fears. And the touch, that mysterious touch, lifted everything to a
new and higher level she had never felt before, as she felt it play
with her breast. And then another touch on the back of her hand, the
hand over her convulsing sex, caressing her, pressing against her,
pressing her deeper. With her second panting breath, beyond
redemption in the depth of her orgasm, Gail nearly cried out. It was
by only the barest shred of self-restraint, that she continued to
writhe in silent ecstasy as her visitor multiplied her pleasures a
hundred fold.
In the warm afterglow, the sense of presence remained, but somehow
seeming less substantial.
"Who are you?" Gail whispered to the night.
The only answer was a soft touch against her lips before she was alone
again.
"What are you?" Gail asked of the darkness.
***
The next night she waited for the presence again, to no avail. Though
she felt no special need to pleasure herself, she none-the-less began,
hoping to draw out her mysterious visitor. But though the orgasm
came, and went, she remained alone. Feeling sad and disappointed, she
turned in for the night.
***
A week passed with no other visitations, and Gail began to write the
whole incident off as a stress induced hallucination, or whatever it
was called when you were blind, but felt something that wasn't there.
It was nothing more than a waking dream, a fantasy. And life
continued on, day after miserable day.
Jimmy quit a few days later, and management hadn't bothered to replace
him yet. He had been the only man in her life. True, he had been a
married man, and truer still, he had never said or asked anything the
least bit suggestive, though neither had she -- more from lack of
knowledge than desire. But at least his presence allowed her to
pretend that the possibility might exist that someone would see her as
a woman.
At least he had treated her like a friend.
The chatter in the coffee room fell into an awkward silence as she
entered. It always did. At first Gail had avoided the room because
she felt guilty at interrupting the conversation of others just with
her presence. Then she made it a point to visit the room, hoping that
one day they would just get used to her and realize she was just the
same as they were. Gail didn't have to see anything to share their
same hatred of the job; the same hatred of their boss; the same hatred
over how they pulled in ten thousand dollars of sales a week per
person, but walked home with only three hundred. She could
commiserate with the best of them, if only they would allow it.
But they didn't. The silence grew more uncomfortable, and one by one,
they shuffled out.
On the ride home, her aunt complained unceasingly about money, and how
expensive it was to take care of a BLIND girl.
Gail forwent the traditional shower when she got home. Throwing
herself on the bed, she cried until she couldn't cry any longer, her
body shaking as she let out her frustrations.
She didn't even notice her visitor, until she felt the touch on her
shoulder. Instantly Gail recognized her mysterious visitor, and just
as instantly, her sorrow became venom.
"Either reveal yourself and be my friend, or get out of my life." she
hissed. "It's a sorry enough mess without you in it!"
The presence was gone before she finished the last word, and she
quickly regretted her words.
She regretted everything.
"Come to dinner, Gail." her aunt sighed from the doorway.
Gail sniffed. "I'm not hungry."
"Suit yourself," her aunt said, as if it would suit her just fine if
Gail starved herself to death.
As her aunt drifted away, Gail's thoughts raced furiously as she
wondered about her strange visitor. Not for the first time, she
cursed her lack of sight. There would be no mystery at all, if all
she had to do was to open her eyes and… And what if there was nothing
there? Bare seconds had passed between her visitor's disappearance
and her aunt's arrival. Surely, her aunt would have seen something.
Fear reasserted itself, but it was only a small distraction as Gail
worked out the puzzle. Whoever or whatever it was had not seemed
threatening. When the fear surged to uncomfortable levels, she let
herself remember the touch that night, and then again the comforting
touch before she had spoken without thinking.
Finally, she allowed herself to consider the possibility of the
supernatural -- a ghost. It was a very old house, as her aunt
constantly complained Many people had lived here over the years,
maybe… Just maybe….
For the rest of the evening, Gail meditated. Reached out into the
unknown. Flung wide her senses, trying anything and everything to
summon her mysterious visitor.
But only the sounds of her aunt's television show intruded into her
solitude.
***
"Directory Assistance, how may I help you?"
"I'd like the number for a… I don't know the word… Someone who talks
to ghosts?"
"One moment please…"
A short pause.
"We have over one hundred listings for mediums."
"Just pick one for me, please."
The line clicked, and a computer recited a number. Gail hit "1" to
connect to it.
The voice on the other end of the line was soothing, calming, seeming
almost infinite in its wisdom. "This is Madam Josephine, how can I
serve you?"
"I -- I'm Gail Wilson. I think I might have been visited by a ghost."
"And you wish to exorcise this ghost?"
"No!" Gail said quickly, "No, I want to talk with him. I want to
know why he's visiting me." Why he touches me…
"Would you like the seance at our office, or at your home?"
Gail paused. She hadn't anticipated this. "I don't have any way to
get to your office, and my aunt would never understand you coming
here." Frustration welled behind every word.
There was a pause. "Look, how old are you?"
"Twenty-three. Look I'm blind, I don't make much money, I hardly have
any freedom at all. Can't you just tell me how to talk to him?"
This time the pause was so long Gail thought that Madam Josephine had
hung up.
Finally, "Look dear. Most of us are in the entertainment business,
and wouldn't know what to do if a ghost walked up and pinched us on
the butt. Other people may try and get your money, but I don't need
to get mine that way. If this is for real, and you really do have a
ghost, then you don't have a ghost of a chance of getting any real
help. Capisch?"
Sadly, but grateful, Gail replied. "Yes. Thank you."
"You take care, girl." Madam Josephine said, suddenly sounding
neither wise or soothing.
***
Another long, frustrating, lonely week passed, and then, just as she
was settling into bed, she felt the presence.
"Please…" Gail whispered. "Say something. Do something. Show me
I'm not mad."
She felt it approach her slowly, and then came the barest of touches
on her lips as it traced their outline. Her lower lip folded down to
touch her chin as the touch moved lower. She arched her neck to bare
herself to the visitor in the night, thrilling at the touch, as it
slid down under her jaw, down her windpipe, between her breasts. And
then, suddenly, it was gone.
Her fists clenched in frustration, Gail turned in the bed, and fell
into a fitful slumber.
***
"State University, how may I direct your call?"
"Do you have a department that studies ghosts?" Gail asked.
"One moment, please…"
There were several clicks on the line, and then ringing. Gail was
about to hang up on the fifth ring, when a breathless voice answered,
"Hello?"
Steeling herself, Gail said, "Hello. Yes. I was wondering if you
studied ghosts."
"In a manner of speaking." the man answered. Actually he didn't sound
very much like a man at all. More like a boy whose voice had just
stopped breaking.
"Do you know how to talk to one?"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Well, we've never
had a provable apparition. There's lots of literature, but it's
mostly myth."
"Oh." Gail said, sounding disappointed.
"Are you doing an article for a paper or something?"
"No. It's just that something's visited me a few times, and I want to
know more about it."
Another long silence, and Gail was tempted to hang up, since the man
obviously couldn't help her.
"For real? I mean, your sorority didn't put you up to this or
anything?"
"I don't go to your college." Gail said. "I just wanted to know more
about what's happening."
"So would I. Would you mind if I visited you?"
Gail frowned. Same problem she had with the medium. "Uh. I can't.
I'm sorry but this isn't my house."
"Then maybe you could come here?"
"I don't have a way to get to the college."
There was a long pause.
"Well, maybe I could ask you a few questions about it over the phone?"
Gail shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
There was a rustling of paper in the background, and then some muted
curses as she heard the sound of porcelain falling. Finally, after a
long wait, "Your name?"
Gail frowned. "Can't I remain anonymous?"
"Sure. This is unofficial anyway. Why don't you just tell me about
it any way you want to."
Then Gail realized exactly how personal her encounters had been. A
slow blush spread across her cheeks as she desperately thought of a
way to back out.
"It's OK, just take your time," he said soothingly.
"Well, it's kinda personal." Gail said slowly.
There was another long pause as the researcher wondered once again if
this was some sort of joke. Finally he said, "You're anonymous,
remember?"
"Oh yea!" Gail said, smiling.
But as he coaxed her into telling her story, she suddenly didn't feel
very anonymous. When she was vague, he pressed for details; when she
was explicit he pressed for even more. By the time he had dragged the
complete story from her, she was blushing from head to toe.
"I still don't understand what you mean by sensing him." the
researcher grumbled. "Is it like ESP?"
Gail frowned as she tried to put it into words. "Close your eyes a
moment."
"OK."
"Your eyes are closed?"
"Yes."
"Now think of the room you're in. You can imagine the table and the
door, even where you spilled your coffee earlier. It's like a mental
map, right?"
"How did you know I spilled my coffee? Never mind. Yes, I see what
you're saying."
"Well, my mental map is always with me. It's how I get around without
bumping into everything. When I felt the visitor, it was like
something had just inserted itself onto the map."
"Interesting. Very interesting in fact. You're sure it couldn't have
been your aunt?"
"If it had been my aunt, I would have known it. She would have made
my life beyond miserable," Gail said hatefully.
"One of those."
Gail pondered on that for a moment before deciding he was sympathizing
with her.
"Yea, one of those."
There was another long pause, before the man said, "Look, I can see
how after everything you've told me, that I'm the last person you'd
like to meet, but I really am interested in this case. You're an
adult. Isn't there any way at all you can arrange to visit the
university?"
Gail sighed heavily. "It just doesn't work that way. Yes, I'm an
adult, but I don't make enough money to live on my own. If I did live
alone, I'd be in constant fear for my safety. And this city's bus
service is so bad, there's almost no chance I could get an apartment
on a bus route that would get me to work and back."
There was another long pause, filled with the tapping of a pencil on
the desk. "Have you considered attending college?"
Gail laughed. "Me? College? I barely made it through high school,
and I think that was mostly a pity graduation."
"But there are some good programs out there. We could get you set up
near campus, on full scholarship, at least for a few semesters to see
how your grades work out."
"All that just to turn me into a lab experiment? Besides, the ghost,
or whatever it is, is here, in this house. What you want to study is
in a place I can't get you into."
"I'm thinking that maybe it might not be attached to the house. We
know next to nothing, but some ghosts don't haunt locations, they
haunt people."
"And you're willing to bet a couple of grand that my ghost haunts
people?"
The man laughed warmly, and despite herself, Gail smiled at that
warmth.
"I'm willing to bet a couple grand of other people's money. At the
very least, I'd get a more solid interview, and get to run a few
tests. You'd finally be out on your own; you don't sound to happy
with either your home life or your job."
"I'd finally be out until I flunked out, or graduated." Gail said.
"Look, I'd better go. It's late and I have work tomorrow."
"Wait. Give me your number," the man pleaded.
"Anonymous, remember?" Gail said as she hung up the phone.
She sat for an hour as she replayed the conversation over in her mind.
He did seem like a nice man, and genuinely concerned for her, and
definitely interested in her experiences.
She hadn't even asked for his name.
***
With each passing day, Gail's world became a little smaller. Her boss
continued to berate her at work for failing to meet her quota, her
aunt continued to berate her at home as an unnecessary burden in her
life. The woman hired to replace Jimmy was as aloof and standoffish
as all the other women, and continually rebuffed Gail's attempts at
conversation.
The only comforting thing was yet another frustration. Her visitor
now appeared nightly, however briefly. Sometimes it was just the
feeling of being watched, sometimes it was a light touch or caress,
but not always when she was pleasuring herself.
When the paranormal became commonplace, she returned to drifting
through her life.
***
"Yes, the department that studies ghosts, please." Gail said.
Clicks, rings and then, "Hello?"
Gail frowned. It was not the voice of the man she had talked to.
"Yes, I talked to someone a few weeks ago. I'm sorry, but I didn't
get his name."
"What did you call about?"
"A ghost story." Gail said hesitantly.
"Hold on. I'll check."
Long minutes passed and Gail was about to give up when another man
said, "Hello? Gail?"
"Yes! I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"David. I'm David. I'm glad you called."
"I've been thinking about what you said…"
"About college?"
"Yes."
"There's another option too. It turns out the department actually has
a budget. We can pay you. Not much though. Only three hundred a
week and the hours would be long. You might do better going the
scholarship route and working as a volunteer. We'd want to verify
your claims first, though. I think you're legit, but there are so
many frauds."
He was doing the hard sell, talking fast, and not giving her much time
to think. She had called him on a whim to begin with. Her world had
become so small lately that the only time it had seemed a little
larger was when they had last talked.
"I don't know," she said hesitantly.
"What can it hurt to give it a try?"
Gail blushed again. "What I told you…" The thought drifted.
"What you told me was nothing to be ashamed of. If you ever think I'm
holding that over you, then you can remind me that I'm just as vile
and disgusting, OK? I mean, I'm hardly a saint."
"I'll be at the downtown library this Saturday around ten. I'll be in
the Braille section. The librarian knows me. You can meet me there."
Gail said quickly, then hung up the phone, and with a gasp, leaned
back in the chair.
She was going to do it! After all these years, she was going to do
something on her own!
The briefest of touches on her shoulder shook her from her thoughts,
but as quickly as it had come, the presence was gone. Leaving her to
once again anticipate the weekend.
***
Gail knew it was him the moment he opened the door and took his first
step. No blind person would walk with such clamor in this section.
Even the librarian who worked in this section had learned to walk as
quietly as a mouse.
Gail rose from her seat immediately, catching David's eye.
"Gail?" He asked.
Gail nodded, and then took him by the arm and led him out. "I'm sorry
to drag you out like that, but no matter how softly we talked, we
would disturb the others, and be overheard."
"Oh. Are you ready to go to the University?"
"I'd like to sit out by the fountain for a while, if you don't mind.
I have some questions."
"Of course."
Seated in front of the fountain, they had to raise their voices a bit
to be heard above the white noise of the falling water, but that same
noise shrouded their conversation from passing ears.
"What exactly are you going to do if I go with you?"
"Well, ask you a bunch of questions, run some basic blood work, and
EEG tests. If you decide to stay on, there will be more tests.
Probably a CAT scan and a few x-rays, not that I expect x-rays to show
anything, but we've got to be thorough. Mostly, you'll be sitting
around the room while we monitor various energy fields around you as
we look for your visitor. We can supply music, reading material,
Internet access, anything you want or need, so you won't go
stir-crazy."
"And if I go with you, and nothing happens?"
"We can try again until it does. But Doctor Shafer isn't going to
release any funds unless he can get some sort of proof. BUT he might
be willing to recommend a scholarship to give us the time to get that
proof."
"But what if it's only in the house? It is a very old house, after
all. It wouldn't surprise me at all if it's haunted. I can't get you
in there."
"Then we'll have done our best."
"And I'm out on the street. It's a terrible risk for me David."
He was silent a moment as he considered his answer carefully.
"Are you happy, Gail? We haven't talked much, but you seem so
dissatisfied with your life."
"If I were happy with my life, I wouldn't be here." Gail said.
"Then do something to change it. I can't promise anything, but we're
good people. If things don't work out, I'll help you get started in
something new, and I think others will as well."
"What would you do if you were me?" Gail asked meekly.
David frowned and rubbed his chin. "Why don't you tell me why you are
unhappy, and then maybe I can answer."
Gail did. As they sat by the fountain under the warm August sun, she
told him of how she had been blind from birth. That it had not meant
very much to her until her parents died, and she had to go and live
with her aunt. She told him of the job she hated. But most of all,
she told him of her loneliness, the terrible isolation of her soul.
And in the telling, she felt as if a great weight were being lifted
from her shoulders, and if not passed to another, at least cast aside.
"I'd go." David said firmly. "I'd be out in a heartbeat. I'd know
that if I went home, it would be the same, day in and day out, until I
was too old to change anything. Ask yourself if you really want to
die like that."
Gail wiped a tear away from her eye.
"Let's go."
As they walked to his car, Gail checked her watch, and was surprised
to find out how much time had passed. Too much time actually. In a
few minutes, her aunt would be leaving work and stopping by to pick
her up.
"Is there a phone anywhere here? I need to tell my aunt she doesn't
need to pick me up."
"I have a Cell Phone. What's the number?"
Gail told him. David dialed for her, and passed her the phone while
it was still ringing. As she waited patiently for her aunt, she heard
the rustling of papers as David cleaned off the passenger seat for
her.
"Auntie? You won't have to pick me up at the Library. No, I met
someone, and we're going out. Don't wait up, I may not be back."
Gail winced as she held the phone away from her ear. Even at arm's
length, the shouts of her aunt were clear and distinct.
"Hang this up, please, David." Gail said sweetly, as she passed him
the phone, trying very hard to hide the smirk of deep satisfaction.
"Tell me about yourself." Gail said, as David began to drive.
"Not much to say really. I'm a parapsychology major at the
university. I wake up, I go to the university, I study, I research, I
go home, I study, I sleep. The next day, I get up and do it all over
again."
"Yes, but you chose parapsychology. I'm a telemarketer because I have
to be a telemarketer. There's a difference. Why do you do what you
do?"
"Well, it's kind of embarrassing."
Gail laughed out loud. "You're talking to a girl who's told you her
most intimate secrets, and you have cause to be embarrassed? This I
HAVE to hear!"
"Touche. Well, my aunt was a witch."
"So's mine." Gail giggled.
"No, I mean really. She was into the stuff big time, and I saw her do
some things that I still can't explain today. She died when I was
just a kid, but I always wanted to know how she did the things she
did."
"A good witch?"
"I think so. My mom, her sister, always kept me on a tight leash when
she was around. But the last time I saw her, she made a rose float
between her hands, and she did it just to make me smile. That's not
something I think a bad person would do."
"So, are you happy now that you're learning more about it?"
"Science really doesn't know much about the paranormal. It doesn't
get any government funding, and the university gives us a stipend just
to cover their bases, but nobody really seems to believe in it.
There's some research, but since few people of note go into
parapsychology, the research that's done is often flawed, or biased,
or even just plain fiction."
"You sound frustrated."
"I am. I believe in what I'm doing, and I believe others should
believe in what I'm doing. The only thing I can do is my absolute
best, and hope that one day that's good enough to get the science the
attention it deserves."
The next five hours were spent in the medical wing of the university
while David had the basic tests done. Finally, after being poked,
prodded, and examined far more than she cared for, David led her into
a small room.
"There's a camera on the wall, and some sensors to detect energy
fields. I'll be next door watching the equipment. I'm sorry, there's
not much here right now, so it's going to be kind of boring."
"Will we be able to talk?" Gail asked.
"Sure. That's important too. If you feel anything, you've got to let
me know."
Gail felt her way over to the bed and sat down.
"Can you hear me?" David asked from the other room.
"Like you were here," Gail smiled.
"Good. The experiment officially begins at eight-oh-five PM PST."
For five minutes, they sat in complete silence.
"This is boring," Gail complained.
"Welcome to the world of research." David laughed. "But it won't
hurt the experiment to talk. Why don't you tell me what it's like to
be blind?"
Gail thought a moment.
"You know, nobody's ever asked me that. I guess my parents always
just knew from watching me grow up. When I was in school, the friends
I had were also blind. My aunt just didn't care. I've always been
blind, so I don't really know what it's like. It'd be like asking you
what it's like to hear. You just do. I know it makes me different.
I know sighted people treat me differently, like I had some sort of
disease, or like I'll break if they say the wrong thing. That's the
worst thing about being blind. I like that you talk with me. I know
it's because you think I can help you, but you don't treat me like I'm
blind."
David chuckled, a bit embarrassed. "I guess I treat you like I treat
everyone else. Like a lab experiment. I'm not a very social person."
"Why not?"
"A personality quirk, I guess. Just part of who I am."
"Well, you seem very social to me."
"I guess you're just easy for me to talk to. We have something in
common."
"Ghosts?"
"That too. I was thinking we're both a little lonely."
Gail laughed. "It stopped being little for me when my parents died.
But maybe it's also we both know each other's dirty little secrets."
"Yes, well, uh… I really hadn't thought on that."
"What's it like for you when you do it?" Gail asked.
"Huh?"
"You know, do you feel like you have to do it, or just that it would
be nice? Does it always feel wonderful, or are sometimes better than
others?"
"You don't beat around the bush."
Gail frowned. "Is it wrong of me to ask?"
"Well, it's not something two people who barely know each other talk
about."
"Sorry." Gail said gloomily.
"Geez, hasn't anyone talked to you about sex?"
"Touching yourself? Sure. My aunt told me everything I needed to
know as she beat me silly. Thou shalt not touch thyself there.
You're the only person I've ever met, who's said you do the same
thing. You weren't just saying that, were you? You know, to get me
to come here?"
"No. I meant it. Everyone does it, but no one ever talks about it.
But there's more to sex than masturbation. Lots more actually."
Gail leaned forward on the bed. "Tell me."
David did. For the next three hours they chatted, discussing sex,
relationships (or lack of them); sharing each other's hopes, desires
and fears. The candid conversation was a release for both of them.
It felt good just to talk about whatever came to mind in this spirit
of freedom.
"It normally happens around this time," Gail said as she checked her
watch, surprised at how quickly the time had passed.
They fell silent as they waited.
The minutes ticked slowly past, one by one.
"Would it help if you… well you know…" David said, sounding very
frustrated.
"It doesn't always happen when I'm doing it." Gail said. "And I don't
know if I could, I mean with you knowing what I'm doing." She
shuddered, remembering the last time someone had known.
"I could turn off the monitor. I really want this to succeed, Gail."
Gail shrugged. "No. Leave it on. What you see doesn't concern me,
and the only person I really care about not seeing me is not here."
An intense silence followed as Gail began to disrobe. David tried to
remain objective, but found it increasingly difficult. The last few
hours of uninhibited conversation had already evoked desire. The
sight of a woman beginning to pleasure herself evoked yet another
level of desire.
One of the meters in front of him twitched, almost imperceptibly, but
enough to draw David's eye. As he stared intently at the meter, it
moved again, and then hovered slightly above zero. Beside it, two
more meters began to register readings.
"He's here." Gail said.
"Where?"
"The far corner, by where we came in."
The computer monitor pinpointed an unusual energy radiation at that
exact point, though the monitor showed nothing on the screen. Then it
began to move.
"He's coming closer now." she sighed. "He's touching my cheek."
The meters were moving wildly, and lights were flashing all over the
board as David sat back, completely amazed at what was happening.
Then as suddenly as it had started, everything grew quiet again.
"He's gone." Gail said, with just a touch of sorrow in her voice.
"Wow!" David said as he leaned back in his chair. "Wow."
"Did you see him?" Gail asked.
"No. But every gauge went off the chart. Something happened in
there. I'm not sure what, but in five years of study, this is the
only thing I've ever managed to record!"
Gail smiled. "So I'm hired?"
"I'd say that's more than a safe bet."
***
The next week passed in a blur, as David helped Gail get set up in a
new apartment close the university. She was actually only two units
away from him, so he'd be able to reach her quickly if she needed help
as well as get her to and from the University.
The whole department was abuzz over their new wunderkind, and the data
had been studied countless times. David had, of course, refused to
turn over the videotape. Though it angered some, most generally
accepted his word that nothing appeared on it, and that if something
did appear in David's research later on, he would produce an edited
copy. Besides, there was always new data from the next experiment.
What was one videotape against the flood of new data that would
undoubtedly arrive?
"You settled in OK?" David asked.
"Just fine. It's a bit sparse, but that's fine for me. Less things
to bump into." Gail said demurely. "I just ordered pizza. Would
you like to stay for dinner?"
"I'd love to. I was just going to order and offer myself.
The living room consisted solely of a small couch, that could better
be called a love seat, and so they sat side by side, waiting for the
pizza.
"David," Gail said hesitantly, "would it be all right if I see you?"
David cocked his head in puzzlement. "I don't understand."
Hesitantly Gail lifted her hand and placed it on his face. Hearing no
objections, she began to let her hands probe his bone and muscle, as
bit by bit she built up a mental picture of the man beside her.
The intimacy of the touch evoked memories of her childhood, when she
had sat in her daddy's lap running her hands across his face, as she
was now doing to David. She felt the rounded curves of his
cheekbones, and the texture of the muscle below the skin. The
slightly course texture of shaven stubble, so unlike her own face or
her mother's.
It had been so long since she had known someone like this that she
almost cried at the intensity of the touch, but she persisted,
unwilling to stop this almost forgotten act of tenderness.
And then, she felt his hands on her face, feeling her as she was
feeling him. For a second she was confused, but then she just
accepted it, and allowed herself to enjoy the moment. As his fingers
ran down her jaw and under her chin, she could almost hear her Daddy
calling her 'princess.' Then his fingers lightly traced her lips,
and she smelled the faint scent of his cologne, and pencil shavings
mixed with erasers.
There was a knock at the door, and their hands stopped.
David laughed nervously. "I wish you hadn't ordered so early."
"So do I." Gail said with the same regret, as she went to pay for the
pizza.
***
That night, they recorded their first non-sexual contact with the
apparition while several of the other researchers looked on. Later,
on the videotape, they could clearly see Gail's flesh pressed, as if
by invisible fingers.
When he took her home that night, he invited her in to celebrate, and
they drank several glasses of champagne as David bubbled over the
importance of the recording.
"Real, verifiable proof. Something was in that room with you.
Something that we could measure, something that we could see, and
something that was witnessed." He set his drink down, taking her by
the shoulders, "And it's all because of you."
There was the briefest moment of silence, then David leaned in and
filled it with a hesitant kiss.
Surprise turned rapidly to pleasure, as Gail reveled in the silky
texture of his lips pressed to hers, and she fell into the kiss and
then into the embrace without reservation. Ever since she had met
David, she had felt alive, but never more so than now.
His tongue pressed between her lips. They parted to accept him, and
the touch of his lips was multiplied by the taste and texture of his
tongue upon hers. It was a touch unlike any she had ever known
before. How long did it last? A second? A minute? An eternity? It
didn't matter.
His hand worked up under her sweatshirt, and cupped her breast in her
hand. She pressed into him, relishing yet another touch added to so
many others. Her nipple tingled with pleasure as David's hot palms
traveled over them. She thrilled at the feel of his fingers pressing
into her flesh. And with his free hand, he took her hand in his,
locking his fingers through hers, and the feel of his fingers between
hers, on top of everything else, left her gasping for breath.
"Do you really want to do this?" David asked, as she panted for
breath.
"Was he crazy?" she thought. Of course she wanted to do this, she had
wanted to do this all her life. But it wasn't just this, it was
everything that went along with it: friendship, trust, tenderness,
touch, intimacy, and maybe love. She answered by unclasping her hand
from his, and removing her shirt.
They disrobed as he led her to the bedroom.
She sat on the bed as he joined her. Gently, he placed his hands on
her shoulders and pressed lightly to lay her down but she resisted.
Instead she raised her hands to his face, and began to know him again.
Understanding, he closed his eyes and mirrored her movements.
A gentle caress down the cheek and across the lips, the soft feel of
fingertips as they trace down the windpipe to press in softly just
below the Adam's apple. Palms against chest and breasts, exploring
the contrasts, wondering if the other was feeling the same sensations.
Tracing along the diaphragm and the abdomen, and then a thrill as the
touch drifts lower.
Gail cooed with surprise as she explored his penis in her hand. It
was so different than what she could have ever dreamed. Yes, David
had told her, but now she knew. It felt so alive to her as it
throbbed in her hand, hot, fleshy yet hard, and then she felt his
hands on her. She gasped with anticipation as his fingers parted her,
and then began to explore the folds and crevasses of her sex. The
thrill of the foreign touch was almost orgasmic, each touch a pleasure
beyond words, feeling, or thought.
The only sound was the beating of their hearts, and their deep
measured breaths. The faint scent of alcohol, and the scent of man
mingled with the scent of woman. And always there was the touch. Now
she truly knew David. And with the knowledge, wanted him more than
ever. Slowly, she leaned back onto the bed, and he followed.
There was a moment of awkwardness as he positioned himself, and then
he entered her. He had told her there might be pain, but there was
none. Only wave after wave of pleasure as he filled her, as that
wonderful thing brushed against her special place. It was a
completion. It was the ultimate touch. And then he pulled away and
just as quickly returned.
Over and over again, until she wanted to scream from the pleasure of
his skin brushing against hers, the feel of her legs wrapped around
him, the smooth texture of his back against her hot palms. Each
panting breath was an orgasm unto itself, each movement of him within
her, undeniable power.
Her orgasm was as if every cell of her body had suddenly come
vibrantly alive and rejoiced in that newfound gift, and her screams of
pleasure echoed through the dark night.
***
Three weeks had come and gone, and to everyone's disappointment, no
new paranormal incidences were recorded. They tried diligently every
night of course, trying to evoke the nameless spirit to return and
reveal more of the unknown, but as the days passed, hope faded.
But not all hope.
"I don't think he was a ghost." Gail said as she snuggled in David's
arms.
"OK, Ms. Paranormal expert, what was he?" David asked lightly.
"He was my guardian angel. Now that I'm happy, he's off helping other
lost souls."
David frowned as he tested the idea for the ring of truth. It
disturbed him that he found it easier to believe in ghosts than
guardian angels. That was most unscientific. But if guardian angels
existed, then… He let the train of thought lapse, as he sought
comfort in Gail's comforting presence.
There would be time for such things.
They had all the time in the world.
- --BitBard
Copyright @ 1998 by bitbard@newsguy.com.
This and all my stories are archived at
http://extra.newsguy.com/~bitbard or http://www.bitsmart.com/sandman.
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