ColonialGhost (4 page)

Once he’d passed the bar, and despite the long hours he was
required to put in at the law firm, he had developed his interest in
motorcycles. It had been something of a secret life for him, especially after
he made partner. Soon the motorcycle persona began to seep into his staid and
proper lawyer appearance. He’d grown his hair longer, in stages, boots began to
creep into daily apparel, and the women he met were quite attracted to each
change.

In high school and throughout his pre-law years, he had been
something of a geek. Being the smartest kid in his class, he’d tended towards
the academic classes and practically no time was given over to sports. His last
year in college a friend convinced him to start working out as a way to relieve
the stress from studying and classes. He must have had a lot of stress, because
soon his body was showing the benefits. After school, he’d continued his
regimen, eventually buying his own equipment.

The first day he’d shown up at his law firm, wearing his
boots, T-shirt, jeans and leather jacket, he didn’t notice the second and third
looks many of the women in the office gave him. As he became the highest earner
in the firm, the older partners didn’t care what he dressed like as long as he
kept winning and bringing in high profile and big money producing clients.

Successful professionally and financially, he soon became
what his younger sister termed a “babe magnet.” Long, leggy blondes were his
usual choice for companionship. Sex and idle friendship was all he had been
interested in while living in the city, working long hours. Now that he was
trying to renovate this white elephant he’d inherited and get his law practice
onto financially stable ground, even casual relationships had become too hard
to fit in. Not many women liked having to be squeezed into a busy schedule.
Nodding to himself, Broderick spoke softly.

“Yup, all I need is some occasional, casual, but safe sex.”

Silence followed his words. His mind answered that erotic
dreams were certainly casual and definitely safe.

“In fact, I don’t think you could get much safer,” he
rationalized. It certainly wasn’t as fulfilling…and the dreams he had last
night had obviously left him satisfied. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d
enjoyed making love to a woman—

Abruptly Broderick stopped. It was a dream, he reminded
himself. Surely it wasn’t fair to compare an imaginary woman to any partner
he’d had in the past? A real woman couldn’t match an erotic dream. Still, it
sure felt real as he recalled it now. Her mouth on his—

“Hell! Stop wasting time on dreams and get up, damn it!”

Broderick threw the covers off and became aware of two facts
immediately. First was that his cock and lower abdomen felt sticky and dried…as
if some bodily fluids had gotten on his skin. Frowning, he sat on the edge of
the bed. The second fact was the distinct scent lingering in the air. As a
grown man, with a certain amount of experience, he knew the difference between
wet dreams and what a man would smell like after a hot night of unrestrained
passion. He could also smell the perfume that Kerry had been wearing yesterday.
And the strength of the scent couldn’t be attributed to the brief appearance in
his room.

Logic, and Broderick definitely considered that he was the
epitome of a logical man, dictated that he must rule that option out. Which
left him doubting his dreams. Or rather, he was suspicious that his dreams were
really memories. Then that would mean he’d had sex with his first bed and
breakfast guest. And naturally, he could assume that such actions would be
frowned on. Hell! Such an action was downright sue-able!

Jumping up, Broderick quickly pulled the sheets and
pillowcases from his bed. After dumping the sheets into the wicker hamper, he
took a quick, cold shower. Returning to his room, he felt more in control. If
his dream, or memory, were correct, there was no sign that Kerry had resisted
his advances. Dressing quickly, he wondered if perhaps he had suddenly become a
sleepwalker. That might explain things…right?

Chapter Five

Kerry walked into the kitchen, not completely sure what she
would say if she saw Broderick. Purposely she’d stayed in her room until after
nine, hoping to avoid her handsome host. Since she’d awakened, she’d been
thinking about the first night. There had been that eerie mist, followed by the
hair-raising feeling she had, as it seemed to move across the hall carpet
before finally disappearing beneath the closed door.

Her feet stopped abruptly as she saw Broderick seated at the
table. It was impossible to stop the flush that heated her cheeks as their eyes
met. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, Kerry smiled.

“Good morning!”

Broderick swallowed the hot coffee suddenly, coughing
immediately. Kerry saw a definite light red staining his cheeks a second later,
and she hoped it was a little embarrassment on his part as well. She was
definitely feeling unsure of herself, and it was due to the dress incident last
evening. She was somewhat reassured that this turmoil wasn’t all attributable
to her erotic thoughts and dreams.

“Hello! I haven’t started anything for breakfast yet. I
wasn’t sure if you’d left for the convention already. Sorry I overslept.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not really hungry. I was wondering if
you could tell me where I might find a library within walking distance.” Kerry
pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and sat down. When she looked back
up, she saw Broderick’s eyes dart away from her quickly. For a moment, she
pondered why he had turned away. It was doubtful that he was embarrassed by the
encounter in his room yesterday. She was working desperately to keep herself
from blushing, doubting her success as each second passed.

Broderick pushed away from the table. “Would you like some
coffee, or juice?”

Kerry shook her head quickly. “No thanks.”

Broderick nodded, stood and walked over to the sink, rinsing
out his own cup, even though he’d only drank about half of it. “Well,” he
cleared his throat before continuing. “There is the John D. Rockefeller Library
on First Street. Also there is the Regional Library, over on Croaker road.”

* * * * *

Kerry thanked Broderick and walked out the back door.
Through the kitchen window, Broderick watched as she walked toward the front of
the bed and breakfast. He doubted she’d have any trouble. Realizing his fist
was still clenched, he slowly relaxed his fingers and hand. That had been his
only salvation keeping him from offering to take her to the museum that was
several miles away on Croaker road.

The first thought in his head when Kerry questioned him
about libraries had been feeling Kerry pressed close to his back while they
road his motorcycle over the city streets. Ever since he had glimpsed her
breasts, nearly falling from the ball gown, he was having a hard time getting
them out of his daydreams. And when he had looked up this morning, he had
wondered if she was wearing a bra beneath the pink T-shirt. Imagining her
unbound breasts, jiggling and bouncing against his back while they rode was
making him hard once again.

“Damn!” Broderick turned away abruptly and made his way into
the office he’d made at the back of the house. It had three entrances: from the
kitchen, behind the commons room on the first floor of the house and lastly,
from the outside. The room had probably been many things over the years. He
guessed that it had originally been a library, or a man’s study from the large
built-in bookcases. Now there was a nicely painted sign above the exterior
door, along with one at the street, proclaiming it his law office.

* * * * *

The sun had set just a short time before Kerry returned to
the bed and breakfast. She had spent the entire day searching for information,
and now she was ready. Looking around—including looking at his bedroom door to
see if a light was on—she couldn’t find Broderick. Her bag was getting heavier
by the minute, but she had a gut feeling that she needed his permission before
she continued. She knocked on his bedroom door and called his name, but after
several moments Kerry returned to her room.

Peering in the bag, she pulled out the flashlights she had
purchased and made sure the batteries in both were in working order. Now what
she needed to do was put on the dress…

* * * * *

Broderick stumbled up the front stairs, pausing in front of
Kerry’s closed bedroom door. After an extremely unproductive day, he had decided
that what he needed was to get out among other people and have a few beers. A
couple of his friends had decided he needed help getting home, which had been a
good idea as he tripped over his feet. Instead of politely knocking on Kerry’s
door, he fell against it.

Unfortunately, Kerry hadn’t completely closed the door.
Broderick continued to stumble forward and landed on the floor. The faint light
coming from the bathroom was enough for him to see that Kerry wasn’t in the
room. Perhaps she was waiting for him down the hall! His lips curved into a
grin before he remembered she was still unaware his erotic dreams centered on
her.

Putting one hand on the floor and the other on the bed, he
started to rise. Stopping abruptly, he closed his fingers around something that
had an all too familiar feel about it. Even in the dim light there was no
mistaking the torn package in his hand. Standing slowly, he acknowledged that
it was the kind he used. Following that truth, he remembered noticing one in
his jeans pocket yesterday. It had fallen from his wallet, and he’d hastily
shoved it into a pocket.

Abruptly he turned and started walking down the hall toward
his room. He was consciously ignoring the niggling thoughts on why it was on
the floor of his first guest’s bedroom. Opening the door, he ignored the
wishful thought that Kerry was in his bed now. Instead, he quickly saw the room
was dark and empty. The moon had not risen for the night.

Broderick tossed his leather jacket toward a chair, weighing
his options. He could go to bed, or he could stumble back downstairs and wait
for Kerry. Turning to glance back down the hall, he wondered what the prim and
proper Ms. Perry would say if she found him naked and waiting in her bed?

Pulling the torn condom package from his pocket, he looked
at it instead of tossing it in the trash. From somewhere deep inside, he
couldn’t stop the most basic of instincts. How much sweeter his dream would
have been if he had been able to fill Kerry’s body with his seed. Right along
with the desire to make love to the prim Ms. Kerry, he felt for the first time
in his life the desire to procreate. It struck him hard that
he
was
experiencing this basic desire. Luckily his mind still had a few lucid cells
and ruled that idea out.

Yawning widely, he guessed his only option was sleep.
Crossing to the bed, he tossed the torn package into the small trashcan. Not
really thinking about it, Broderick pulled open the drawer of his bedside
table. Grabbing two sealed packages, he once again turned toward his bedroom
door. Perhaps he should go back downstairs to wait for Ms. Perry. Standing in
the doorway, pushing logical thoughts aside, his mind again considered waiting
for Kerry in her bed. Grinning, but shaking his head negatively, he once again
thought sleep would be his wisest option.

Whooosh!

Broderick stopped abruptly. After listening for a few
seconds, he decided it was just the wind outside. He walked back into the
hallway, with its dark twists and turns.

“This is ridiculous! Now you’re jumping at weird noises.”
Convinced the sound was from some natural element outside, or perhaps even the
house settling, Broderick shrugged his shoulders. He refused to listen to the
tiny, niggling voice telling him he’d never heard weird, unidentifiable noises,
or had erotic dreams, since moving in here. They had started with the arrival
of Kerry.

Something caused him to turn toward the corner. Just a few
feet down the hall were the stairs that led to the third floor, which over time
had become storage and attic. He’d only been up there once, not having the
patience to deal with generations of cast-off belongings.

He realized a moment later that he had walked down the hall,
turned the corner and was now looking down the hallway to the foot of the
stairs. But as he stared at the uppermost step that was clearly visible, there
appeared to be some kind of mist, or fog appearing. Taking a few paces closer
to the darkened staircase, the mist seemed to move up a few more steps.
Repeating this, the mist responded the same. He sniffed the air, but this sure
didn’t seem like smoke from a fire.

Standing at the bottom step, Broderick could see the mist at
the top, pausing and appearing to swell, and then dissipate a moment later.
Deciding he’d had too much to drink, Broderick opted for bed. He’d only gone a
few steps when someone yelling stopped him cold. Cursing as he turned back to
the steps, he realized it was Kerry’s voice.

“Oh my God!”

* * * * *

Kerry had entered the attic with what she felt was more than
her fair share of butterflies dive-bombing her stomach. Breathing deeply to
calm herself, she scouted a good spot and then spread out her blanket. Before
she forgot, she dragged her hair back into a ponytail. Having her hair go up in
acrid flames didn’t sound like a good way to entice a ghost. Not to mention
she’d be burning up the attic and causing a real nasty, smelly mess.

Finally she settled her butt on the blanket. Pulling her bag
over, she fumbled inside to locate the candles she had brought. Looking around
for a moment, she placed the candles in a triangular shape in front of herself
and not on the blanket. Hopefully by avoiding an accident, Broderick wouldn’t
want to kill her for burning candles. Using a cheap lighter, she lit each fat,
squat, scented candle. Unfortunately they had not had three large candles in
the same scent, so she now had an interesting combination of cinnamon with
apple, vanilla musk and wild berry. Surely he—the ghost—would not object to the
smell. Then she wondered if a ghost could smell?

The air was quickly filled with the different smells. She
lost track of the time since she’d left her watch in the room, not wanting to
catch it on the dress. Since she had been unable to fasten the dress’s
closures, it kept falling off her shoulders, and sliding down precariously.
Silently she rationalized that even if it slid completely down, she doubted a
ghost would care. Still, if this
was
a ghost she’d been encountering,
and not just her wildly erotic dreams, then based on their previous encounters,
this
ghost most definitely would care!

One of the books she’d found on ghost hunting had suggested
talking softly, or even chanting, to bring forth the spirit. She’d held off
from starting until her bottom started to get sore from the hard floor. Kerry
was beginning to sense, or rather feel, that she wouldn’t be able to stay up
here much longer. On the floor, anyway.

“Come forth, spirit! Reveal yourself to me.” Kerry stopped,
feeling embarrassed at talking to a ghost. Granted, that is what she’d been
doing already the last two nights. So why should it bother her? Then she slowly
realized that the scent in the air was now sweet lavender.

“Oh my God!” Kerry screamed instinctively.

She froze as wisps of smoke, or fog, began creeping under
the door and moving toward her slowly, weaving its purposeful way along the
path she’d made earlier. Suddenly the reality of facing a ghost was
overwhelming, and scaring the shit out of her. Telling her body to get up, she
realized her legs and feet had gone numb from sitting too long. Her eyes moved
back to the mist, moving slowly toward her. Wisps of smoke danced upwards and
sideways, but kept coming her way, without slowing down. Breathing in scared
quick puffs, she could tell the scent of lavender was getting stronger.

Trying to straighten her legs beneath the dress, she
considered pushing her body backwards, away from the oncoming fog. She didn’t
think it was only mist rising from the damp earth. First, there was no damp
dirt up here that she’d seen. And second there seemed to be purposeful movement
within the mist, and it was coming after her!

“Oh, shit!” Kerry was scooting backwards, ignorant of the
effect this was having on the dress, when the door began to open. This was not
going as she had planned. That much was for sure!