Dreamscape (4 page)

He took a seat on the closed commode and watched her secure her glorious thick hair with pins, each slight movement of her arms swaying the full succulence of her breasts. At her bath, with adorable damp ringlets at her nape and soapy hands busily washing and rinsing, he found himself aching to touch her. Unbelievably for the first time in more than a hundred and twenty years he had an overwhelming desire to unbutton his trousers and stroke himself. However, the image of him watching a woman unawares while stroking his cock made him feel depraved. His conscience again tried to pull away from the scene and leave her to her privacy, but his dead self ached to feel alive again, and watching her came wonderfully close to that.

He rationalized,
What does it matter if I watch with cock in hand? I’m invisible.
There was no one to judge this harmless action, but Jason knew himself well. He’d see to his own self-recrimination later, but not now. Not while she stood like Aphrodite rising from the foam. Stepping out of the tub, she turned and bent to pull the plug on the drain. Acquiescing to the view that angle afforded, Jason unbuttoned his trousers. He couldn’t help himself.

She whirled to stare at the closed toilet seat as if struck by a sensation she couldn’t identify.
Does she sense the man I once was?
Those endless blue eyes seemed to scan his face, though he knew that to be impossible. Nevertheless, Jason felt his cheeks warm as if she’d caught him in this very private act. Embarrassment stilled his hand. With no outward awareness of his presence showing, she left him there holding himself.

In the next room he watched her dress in a loose white shirt and no pantalets. The idea she would walk through the house with a bare bottom had him rushing to follow, his cock still in hand. And sure enough, as she walked down the stairs, the rounded curves flashed as did the pink bottoms of her bare feet. He focused his mind and was instantly at the bottom of the staircase, watching the descent of shapely bare legs and the shadowed peach of her sex. He gripped his balls. They actually felt heavy.

He stood a moment in the hall, stroking like a madman. He could smell her soap as she passed him on her way to the kitchen, and he wondered briefly how that was possible. He hadn’t smelled so much as a flower all the while he’d been dead. A moment later, the familiar sound of cupboards opening and the kettle filling reached him. He rightfully presumed she was making tea.

The thought made him frown. It had been ages since he’d enjoyed a hot cup of tea and good conversation. He’d love to sit over their steaming cups and learn all about this ethereal beauty. Buttoning up, he followed. On the table before her sat Margaret’s bread-toasting device. She sat with one leg tucked under, and for the first time, he noticed her toenails had been painted pink. He found it quite pretty on her adorable little toes.

Having had her tea, she returned to his bedroom and stood there a moment obviously contemplating what to do next. After testing the fireplace flue, she set about opening and closing each drawer in the room. Startling him, she broke the silence when she said out loud, “Nope, no more for tonight. I’ll clean these tomorrow.”

The curtains waved wildly as the wind picked up. Lanie closed the window all the way then appeared to have a second thought and left it open a little. Thunder in the distance declared there was a storm coming. Pulling off her shirt, she turned out the bedside lamp and slid naked between the sheets. Again she spoke to the quiet house, “Well, I’ll find out if the roof of my haunted house leaks, won’t I?”

Jason smiled. To his knowledge the roof didn’t leak, but the house
was
haunted.

Chapter 3

Jason sat on the bed watching her settle, her body occasionally twitching as her muscles relaxed. Before long her regular breathing signaled sleep had come at last. Only then did he materialize, his ghostly blue-edged form softly lighting the room. Helpless to do otherwise, he focused his thoughts to create enough substance to be able to slowly lift the thin blanket and sheet. She slept on her side with one leg drawn up and bent at the knee. Her bare bottom and creamy thighs were positioned just so, beautifully lit by his ethereal light.

Against his better judgment, he reached out and touched her hip. Unbelievably, he found her silky soft and
very
warm. His hand glided up her bare leg. It had been ages since he’d touched anything warm, and frankly he was surprised that he could, for he never could touch Margaret. Not even on the night she passed when he tried to hold her hand to bring her comfort. Whispering to Lanie’s mind, he suggested, “Roll over, lovely lady, let me see you fully.”

She stirred slightly, and a moment later rolled onto her back.

He waited for her to settle again before his ghostly hands once more swept along her leg from calf to hip. His baser instinct got the better of him again. Filling his palm with her beautiful pale breast, he was thrilled to experience the warm beat of her heart under his hand. Gliding down, he came to the juncture of her thighs and paused at her mound. With his hand upon her, he stared at her a long while, deliberating. Being able to touch her like this was akin to being alive again, but he didn’t dismiss the fact the act also made him a cad. Replacing that uncomfortable thought with another, he wondered if his touch might affect her as it was most certainly affecting him. Testing his theory, he gently caressed along the split with his thumb, finding her flesh soft like velvet and warm there, so very warm.

Lanie moaned softly

You can feel me!
The inconceivable thought made his cock surge to fullness. He released his hard cock from his trousers again and stroked as his thumb circled and lingered intimately.

Just then a bolt of lightning lit the sky, and two seconds later the subsequent thunder crashed overhead. Yanked from her enjoyable dream, Lanie sat bolt upright in bed. To her shock and disbelief she found a man beside her. No more than a blue shadow of light, he disappeared! Rubbing her eyes, she stared at the spot.
Talk about wishful thinking.
“You’re losing your mind, Lanie old girl.” With that, she laughed at herself, rolled over, and fell back to sleep.

Chapter 4

Lanie yawned again. She’d be completely useless when the cleaning crew came today. Last night she woke to discover a phantasm sitting on her bed. She smiled and shook her head. Her imagination got the better of her last night. Lately, everyone she talked to had made one comment or another about her house
being
haunted. Some joked about it and a few were unbelievably concerned. Small wonder she was seeing things.

Wiping off the funky old toaster she found in the uppermost shelf the night before, she turned it upside down and gave it a little shake. Nothing dropped out
. Good—no spiders, no crumbs, no mouse skeletons.
Plugging it in, she carefully pushed the lever down and peered inside. A few seconds later, the wire filaments turned red, burning off any dust inside. With no flames or sparks declaring her newfound toaster a fire hazard, she dropped the two halves of her bagel in the slots and pressed the lever again.

Checking the time on her cell phone, she added honey to her tea and reviewed her list out loud to herself. “The internet provider opens at eight o’clock.” She checked the time on her cell phone. “Okay, that’s five minutes from now. The cleaners should be here at eight-thirty.” She’d have them clean in here first, that way when the movers brought her boxes, she could spend the rest of the morning organizing her kitchen. “The movers should be here by ten o’clock.” She let out long a breath, glad she’d taken the time to pack and label carefully.

She’d have them put the majority of the kitchen boxes right in the pantry to be sorted box by box later. Then she’d pack up the Mason stuff she didn’t plan on keeping. Her first run-through last night suggested more than half the stuff in the kitchen would be going to Goodwill. Her bagel popped up golden brown. “Wow, that works better than my modern one.” Lanie scribbled a quick note to see if an appliance repair place might be able to replace the cloth-wrapped cord so she could continue to use it without being afraid of starting a fire.

When she was finished with her breakfast, she assessed the walk-in pantry. She planned to tackle the pantry after she called to get the internet up and running. Ancient boxes of Jell-O and several tinned spices she knew were now sold in plastic containers sat alongside a tin of eighteen-year old crackers and four crocks in graduated sizes that might have once held flour, sugar, coffee, and loose tea. Alongside sat a large, cylindrical Quaker Oats box that mice had gotten into only God knew how many years before, and an empty two-pound Chase and Sanborn coffee can. She’d brought new shelf liners and scissors with her.

Determining if she should run out to the car for the shelf paper and scissors now or later, she looked at the clock on her cell phone again. “Later.”
Ben’s brother Wally was coming to get the hot water heater up and running soon, but she’d still have to heat water on the stove for the cleaning crew. If she were lucky, there’d be a bath tonight without having to lug hot pots up the stairs. A slight frown furrowed her brows. No, he’d have to flush the tank and refill it. There wouldn’t be hot tap water for at least another day.

Marveling at his being able to touch her and elicit a response, Jason sat across from Lanie as she ate her toasted bread and sipped her tea. Good Lord, with the morning sun lighting her like a pre-Raphaelite painting, alive or dead she had to be the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. His appreciative eyes watched as she stood before her mirror and plaited her long raven hair into a thick and lustrous braid left to run down the center of her back.

When she dressed for the day’s work in lilac pantalets and small white stockings, torn blue trousers and an overlarge man’s shirt, with no brassiere, he found himself getting hard again for the third time in one hundred and twenty years. The third time in less than
twenty-four hours,
as a matter of fact.
Imagine that.

* * * *

Everything was falling into place. By three o’clock in the afternoon, the cleaners had finished the entire main floor and planned to return the following morning to do the upper floors. The internet would be on by Friday, as would her landline. The new appliances would be delivered as soon as the plumbing in the small room off the kitchen was done. Lanie sat on the bottom step with her legs resting against the banister, her steno pad filled with projects already scratched off the list. Her well-marked crates and boxes had been divided up and stacked in their designated rooms, and the kitchen was clean and sparkling.

Last on the list—the cellar. Ben’s preliminary run-through showed a monumental task ahead, one that was better-served when more hands freed up. It wasn’t a livable space, so there was no real hurry. His crew had been at it all day, clearing trash hidden in the grass and mowing with saw blade weed-whackers that made the first pass before the lawn mowers came. With plans to reseed the grass the next day, they were now hosing off and packing their tools. She’d met the brother-in-law plumbers Wally and Kenny, and Kenny’s brother Al who’d worked most of the day glazing new windows in the front parlor and would return on Monday to do the windows in the study and dining room.

That morning, they came upon the two cedar chests filled with intricate handiwork. Ben mentioned the doily board he’d made for Janice and called his wife to tell her and she generously offered to wash and starch the lot.

All in all it had been a very productive day.

Jason had become obsessed by the black-haired beauty. By her side throughout the day, he’d followed her every move and listened in on every conversation she had with the workers and on the amazingly small gadget that could only be her telephone. He found her charming and quite competent overall with a ready wit and keen intelligence. When she put her hands on her hips and arched backwards, he recognized her back strain and fatigue.
Poor little sweetheart.
He recalled how Margaret’s mind was receptive to his thoughts when she was tired. So, partly for her own sake, and a partly because he so desired to feel her warmth again, he whispered to Lanie’s subconscious, “Rest, you should rest.”

Lanie suddenly found herself just too tired to make dinner. Leafing through the ancient yellowed phone book, she knew the odds were slim she’d find anything listed there to still be in business. Giving up, she put the useless Yellow Pages in a box full of recyclables. Flexing her sore back, she tried to decide if she was too tired to even bother going to a drive-through for a burger. Noticing her pad of paper with the next day’s itinerary, an idea came to her. She dialed Ben. “Hey there, Ben, sorry to bother you...”

“Hey, Lanie, what’s up?” asked the voice on the other end of the phone. “Did we leave the hose on?”

“No, everything’s fine. The reason I’m calling… I don’t have a new phone book yet and I’m too tired to drive to McDonalds. You get around this part of town more than I do so I figured you might know where all the good delivery food is.”

Ben chuckled. “Sure, hang on. Janice keeps a folder with takeout menus. Chinese okay? Peking House over on Center Street delivers. There’s pizza over at Brandino’s on Madison, that’s a good one. They do deep dish.”