Capricorn Cursed

by Sèphera Girón

  “You like it?” she asked. “I’m quite proud of it.”

  Craig went over to the shelf and looked at her many instruments. “What kind of guitar is that?” he asked, pointing to a closed case.

  “Open it up and try it out,” Natasha urged. “I’ll get us some wine.”

  Craig’s face was flushed with excitement as he opened up the guitar case. Natasha left the room and went into her living area as he oohed and ahhed with delight as he tuned the guitar.

  She gathered some wine, glasses and several types of cheese and crackers. When she returned to the room, Craig had the guitar plugged into an amp and was strumming it.

  “What a lovely sound,” he said. “This guitar is nicer than all of mine put together.”

  “I do take pride in my instruments,” Natasha said.

  “I’m glad. Because people like me certainly appreciate it.”

  She poured the wine, and Craig set down the guitar to take a glass.

  “Let’s toast to new jamming partners,” he said.

  “Let’s.” Natasha grinned as they clicked their glasses together. As they sipped their wine, she studied Craig. He was a pleasant enough fellow, his blue eyes bright, his blond hair curly, but he had a rather weak chin. He was slender, slight and his knee bounced with nervous energy. He wasn’t as handsome as Gus, but Gus wasn’t here. Gus was far more masculine, with a strong jaw and eyes that held many secrets. Craig’s eyes were curious and lively.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Natasha said. “Okay, how do you want to do “Are you a Gemini?” she asked.

  “Why, yes, I am. Hey, how did you know?”

  “Just part of what I do,” Natasha said as she sipped her wine.

  “What about you?”

  “Capricorn.”

  “Oh. That’s right now, isn’t it? Did you just have a birthday?”

  “Not yet. Very soon,” she said.

  “Nice. Another year older,” he said. “Here’s to your impending birthday.” He clinked his glass against hers again.

  “Let’s not rush it. I’m not so eager to get any older.”

  “Well, it’s not going to catch up to you for a while. You can’t be 30 yet,” he said.

  “I can read music or we can just jam,” Craig said eagerly. “I know these days it’s hard to find guitar players that can actually read.”

  “Yes, it does seem to be a dying art,” she said. “However, you came here to jam, so let’s jam.”

  Natasha busied herself with preparing her violin while Craig returned to the guitar. “Can I play yours?” he asked.

  “Of course. Whatever you want.”

  It didn’t take long before they were playing with and around each other. The music soared through a wide variety of styles as they egged each other on. One minute they were playing folk, the next they were rocking. Their fingers flew as the sounds from the strings filled the air.

  At last, Natasha put down her violin. “That was great,” she said.

  “Yes, it was,” Craig responded, his eyes shining with the exuberance of a session that had gone well.

  “We should do it again sometime,” she said.

  “Yes, we should.”

  They stared awkwardly at each other until Craig leaned over to kiss her. At first, Natasha was reluctant, but as his lips pursued hers, she fell into him.

  They kissed passionately in the music room, the vibrations of their jamming still hanging in the air. She could feel the music still swelling through Craig; he loved music as much as she did. She held him tightly, the gnawing in her stomach rumbling loudly.

  Craig pulled back.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Just for you,” she said.

  “Are you sure? Why don’t you take a moment to eat?” he asked, reaching for the cheese tray.

  “No, that won’t help my hunger. Kiss me again. Your lips feel so good on mine.”

  Craig pulled her close again and let his mouth merge with hers. His tongue wiggled into her mouth, and she played with it gently. Craig’s hands roamed up her back and down again to clutch her round bottom.

  He was growing hard—she could feel him pressing against her. She rubbed into him, and they swayed, kissing and holding each other as if dancing to an invisible band.

  “Over here,” Natasha said and led him to a large velvet couch. She sat on it and pulled him down on top of her. He kissed her some more, his slight, thin body wriggling over her. She touched his back, his small bottom, and sighed. His smell was in her nostrils, and her stomach cried out again.

  “Ignore it,” she said as he lifted up from her. She took the moment to unbutton his shirt and toss it on the floor. He had many tattoos of vines, skulls and mythical creatures along his chest and arms. “Oh, let me see,” she said, pushing him up.

  He grinned. “You like tattoos?”

  “I admire the artwork. I don’t have one, but I think it’s cool when other people do.”

  He stood up and modeled for her, turning around so she could see the wings and fire on his back.

  “You’re an angel?” she asked.

  “Or a demon. Whichever you prefer,” he joked.

  “Mmm, what else do you have?”

  Craig took her encouragement as an opportunity to slide off his jeans. He stood naked before her, his penis standing nearly fully erect.

  “So, what do you have to show me?” he asked after she studied him for a while.

  She grinned and sat up. “I can show you what I have to offer.” Natasha said, removing her own clothes. She stood up naked in front of him. He admired her full breasts and touched her hard nipples. He ran his hand down her flat stomach to her shaved pubic area. His fingers touched her pussy lips and parted them. Natasha sighed, hunger of all kinds consuming her.

  “Mmm,” she said as his fingers found her clit. He pressed on it rhythmically, and she was reminded of the way they’d danced along the fingerboards. His expertise on her body was just as pleasing.

  They kissed again, and her hand found his cock. She stroked him firmly, feeling him swell even more between her fingers.

  “So lovely,” he sighed. “So beautiful and so skilled.”

  Natasha kneeled down and took his cock into her mouth. She slowly teased his head with her tongue, swirling it around as he danced from one foot to the other.

  “Suck me,” he whispered.

  She took him all the way into her mouth and sucked him hard, pulling him in and out with her hand. His legs shook as she teased him by varying her rhythms.

  “Oh my God, you’re so delicious,” he said. “I want to fuck you right now.”

  He reached for his jeans to get out his condoms. She let him, even though she knew it wasn’t necessary.

  She lay back on the couch, her legs spread. He took in the vision before he climbed on top of her. His mouth met hers as he slid his cock into her damp, waiting pussy.

  It had been a long time since she’d been fucked, and she savored the sensation of him filling her up. She wrapped her arms around him, wishing the little, wiry man was her big, strong Gus. But Gus wasn’t here. She didn’t even know if she would ever see Gus again. Although, on some dark level, she knew that the games between them weren’t over yet.

  Craig pushed into her slowly and moaned as he slid in and out. Natasha spread her legs wider, trying to pull him in farther. She wrapped her hands around his ass, pushing him in to the hilt.

  “Oh, you like it deep, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Fill me up, Craig,” she whispered.

  Craig pushed her legs up so he could enter her more deeply. His lips met hers, and he pushed harder and faster. Craig had her pinned under him, and she let him take the lead as he pumped. His rhythmic movements built up to an energetic, frenzied fucking.

  “More,” she called out. “Faster, harder.”

  He laid into her harder, his neck by her mouth. She smelled him, the sweaty man smell that tingled her nose and made her hungrier. It would
be so easy to just turn her head slightly and sink her teeth into him.

  But she couldn’t.

  She had to resist. Her head spun. “Fuck me, Craig. Fuck me hard.”

  He slammed into her, fast and furious. They both moaned and cried as they reveled in the tension and suspension of holding back their climaxes. At last, Natasha could stand it no more and let herself release.

  “Oh my God,” she cried out. “I’m coming.”

  “Come on me, Natasha. Come on me,” he cried as his own climax washed over him. He collapsed on her for a moment as he emptied himself into the condom, into her. She felt his twitches and smiled.

  At last he eased himself out of her. He leaned over to kiss her. “You are magnificent,” he said. “A great violinist and a great lover.”

  “You were fabulous too,” Natasha said.

  Her stomach growled loudly.

  “You need to eat,” he said. “Eat something.”

  “I will. I will. Later. I want to savor the moment.”

  They sat on the couch for a few moments, holding each other and sipping another glass of wine. The silence was welcome as exhaustion held them both in its grip.

  “I guess I should get going,” Craig said. “It’s probably almost morning by now.”

  “Yes, I need to get some sleep.” Natasha yawned.

  Craig put his clothes back on. He got his guitar and turned to face her. “We should do this again.”

  “Which? The jamming or the sex?” she playfully asked.

  “Both.” He laughed.

  “Maybe we will.”

  Once he was gone, Natasha sat in her music room for a few more minutes. At least she had been able to quiet one of her hungers for the moment. But the other hunger made her restless, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep very well.

  Reluctantly, she headed for the bedroom. The ghosts were waiting, as always, and through her annoyance, she was able to block them out.

  For a little while, at least.

  Chapter Five

  A partnership may lead to new beginnings.

  Kelly Proctor

  Before Natasha left the house, she reviewed her diary and checked her horoscope. The diary helped her to remember events, and her horoscope spoke of partnerships. Kelly Proctor had lived a long and torturous life under the iron fists of her father and stepmother. In the early 1900’s, Hermana had less than 500 residents, plus a seasonal influx of another 500 or so tourists and shippers. The town was growing, and in the summertime, the sound of hammers and saws were heard over the roar of the ocean. Houses were built, babies were born, people moved away and new people replaced them.

  The deliveries made by water were often shady shipments of contraband smuggled in from larger docks by varying degrees of riffraff. The person in charge of the docks and, therefore, in control of the ring was Kelly’s father, Edwin Proctor.

  Kelly’s birth had been the result of carelessness during a drunken date with a visiting girl named Trinity. Once Trinity had realized she was carrying the evil older man’s baby, she was beside herself. She went to him for help, and he took her in, much to everyone’s surprise. When the baby came, he was the proudest father that ever was. Trinity went on to bear him two more children before her untimely death.

  No one ever found out how she died in her bed one morning. She had been fine one day. And the next, she was gone.

  Edwin didn’t take long to replace Trinity with Marguerite, a fiery Spanish woman who had different ways than his. She was cold to the children, yet she and Edwin were together until husband and wife were found dead on a hot September day. Their heads had been smashed in with some sort of instrument. There were no suspects, but Kelly had behaved oddly that day.

  The summer had already been unbearable. The headlines were rampant with musings about the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Borden over in Fall River. Had it been churchgoing, hard-working daughter Lizzie who had killed them? The speculations were the entertainment of the summer.

  When the double-murder tragedy struck in Hermana, in a house that had already stored a wealth of horrors, people wondered if Kelly, too, had been pushed to the edge.

  Natasha learned that Kelly’s life may have looked glamorous to the outside world, yet in reality, her dear old dad was a big old thug, and his actions were monstrous. Daily routines were set to a tee. There was no room for error or lateness. Breakfast was served like clockwork. There were errands for Kelly and household chores, such as laundry and shopping.

  Kelly had learned at a young age that her father was a crook, and the only reason she kept living with him until she was in her thirties was because she was afraid of what might happen if she ever left his protection. His protection had a price, though. Lateness and sloppiness resulted in spankings. Other forms of misconduct, real or imagined, caused him to lock her in a closet, or worse, in the basement.

  Marguerite was always finding new ways to punish Kelly, and Edwin never questioned her.

  There were more little zigzags in the story. Natasha knew she would learn plenty on the guided house tour. She remembered Kelly and her parents from her diaries. She definitely remembered Edwin.

  In his prime, Edwin had been a dashing, handsome man. The reason he got away with his outrageous behavior lay more in his bewitching Scorpio eyes than in any fear he instilled.

  Natasha had been walking along the docks, long ago, watching the birds, when she saw him walking toward her the other way.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked her harshly. “I’m just going for walk,” Natasha said.

  “Can’t. Private property.” He pointed to the No Trespassing sign. “Oh. Since when? I come by here a lot.”

  “For about a month. I bought it.” He stood proudly, his face still dark and menacing. At the time, she judged him to be in his early fifties. His salt-and-pepper hair fell in curls to his shoulders; his forehead had the deep wrinkles of a man who touched the sea on a daily basis.

  “Sorry.” She turned to go back the way she’d come, and he caught her arm.

  “Wait.” He held her as he looked deeply into her eyes. His rough forwardness gave her a thrill. Her teeth itched at the thought of one so feisty.

  “Why don’t you continue on?” He looked out toward the ocean and squinted. The horizon was empty except for swirling seagulls playing around lobster buoys. He looked back at her. “I’ll walk with you.”

  His talk was sweet, his seductions simple, and it wasn’t long before a drink of whiskey in his hut led to a tumble in the tiny bedroom. He was forceful, and she let him have his way at first. As her hunger grew, she couldn’t help but push him back and firmly latch herself to him

  with her pussy, all the while staring into his eyes. His hardness swelled in her, and she raised and lowered her hips, drawing him in deeper. She leaned over, nuzzling at his neck, biting and sucking on the salty fluid that pulsed into her mouth.

  “You’re rough,” he muttered, losing himself in his thrusts. She drank a bit more, pressed her fingers over the wound and let her pussy take over the rest of her feast.

  She came with a groan, sensation fanning through her so intensely that she threw her head back. The sight of his blood dripping from her mouth and her chin upset him so greatly that he pushed her off.

  He jumped off the bed, grabbing the blanket to cover himself up. He was shaking as he screamed.

  “What the hell are you?” he asked. “What have you done?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “I got a little rough.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “You must have a helluva set of teeth to draw blood like that. Why don’t you go clean yourself up now?”

  “I’ll give you a blowjob when I get back,” she said playfully. “Uh, no, thanks,” he said. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  While she was washing up, he muttered while he examined his wound in the hall mirror. She smiled as she enjoyed the feeling of fullness, at least for a moment.

&
nbsp; Edwin Proctor’s smuggling business turned a great profit, and it wasn’t long before he made enough to buy a house and run a legal business importing goods from China and the Middle East.

  Natasha fed from him twice more over the years. As he grew older, she never aged. Her beauty always shocked him. He was a man who liked to act on impulse, and he didn’t worry about little things like being married.

  It would be strange to go to the house where he was murdered. A murder unsolved to that very day.

  Madeline had been aching to stay over in the house, the whole house, to see what she could pick up. She was a real ghost hunter, while Natasha was a medium. Madeline had always felt that they could work well together. This evening would be the first time they joined forces.

  Natasha and Madeline knew each other from Lucy’s circle. Madeline was a bubbly Aquarian, rather skittish, and Natasha often wondered why she’d chosen ghost-hunting as her profession.

  Madeline had rented one of the rooms for the night. The owner reluctantly ran a bed and breakfast that was mostly frequented by repeat clients. Ghost stories abounded about the house, although many other houses in Hermana were similarly haunted. Natasha thought about her own loft and the growing number of spirits who seemed to be taking up residence in it.

  As Natasha walked up the creaky porch stairs, she though back to how the house had first looked when it was built. Shiny and new. Trinity and then Marguerite could often be seen with the children out in the front or coming and going from their many errands. The children grew up, and two left home while the strange and likely crazy Kelly remained a spinster until she died in that house.

  A chill ran through Natasha as she thought about Kelly. She paused on the porch steps and looked out at the street. The main downtown area of Hermana was two blocks over. The snow was falling steadily, and the glow of the lamplight created shadows from the tall, twisted trees that framed the driveway. As she stared at them, remembering when they were only tiny twigs in the ground, a shadow moved beyond the hedge. She squinted, trying to identify it. Her head began to throb, and she knew that it was no animal. The shadow fled to the side of the hedges and set off down the street, hugging the foliage until he was far from sight.