The Bride pointed to her wrist, then to the porch, then to the lake. She stared at Twila, talking quickly though no words were audible.
“I can’t hear you. I’m sorry.”
Eerily, the ghost’s ill-shaped mouth continued moving. Once again, the Bride pointed to her wrist, then to the porch, then to the lake.
“I understand.” She pointed to her own wrist. “It’s time.” She pointed to the porch and to the lake. She knew what the Bride wanted; she just didn’t know how she was going to accomplish the tasks.
“Maybe when the truth is revealed, you can be with him again. You loved him, didn’t you?”
The Bride nodded, her mouth stretched into a warped smile. Then, the Bride pointed at Twila then at her own heart… then at her wrist.
Time for me to do what? Find love? Was that the Bride’s implication? Apparently the ghost believed Twila had gotten the message. Within seconds, she faded into nothing.
For a long moment, Twila stared at where the Bride had stood trying to communicate, then her knees gave way and she slid in a boneless heap to the porch. Suddenly freezing, she wrapped her arms around her knees, her teeth chattering. She heard the kettle’s shrill whistle.
“Fuck tea,” she whispered. “I’m gonna need something a lot stronger.”
* * *
“You want me to dig under the porch?” asked Officer Kyle Danport.
He’d been good-looking as a horny seventeen-year-old and he was better looking as a twenty-seven-year-old cop. He was tall, and lean, with sparkling blue eyes, a square jaw, and whiskered cheeks. Tufts of black hair stuck out from his white cowboy hat. He wore a dark green uniform with a black belt, which secured his firearm, cuffs, and baton, and black cowboy boots. He fit that uniform in a way that suggested he worked out and damned if Twila didn’t want a gander at those muscles. This time, she was willing to let him go way past second base.
“Twila?”
She blinked, gaping up at him. “Huh?”
“I’m not married and I don’t have a girlfriend.”
A blush swept up her cheeks, but she managed a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look at you like I’m a carnivore and you’re a steak.”
“That’s okay by me,” he said. He leaned against the porch railing, matching her stance. They each held a mug. His was filled with tea, but hers had vodka and plenty of it. “Long as you don’t mind if the steak bites back.”
She looked at the man a foot away from her and imagined the possibilities. Well, why she shouldn’t she strip away all inhibitions, and Kyle’s clothes, and just ride his ass until they were both sweaty and orgasmic?
“You keep looking at me like that, Twila, I might have to assume you have something entirely inappropriate in mind.”
“Assume away,” she said. “You should know my boobs are much bigger these days.”
“They weren’t too bad back then.” His gaze dipped to her chest. “But I’d love to test my memory.”
It was past 11 p.m. She’d called Miller’s Lake tiny police department and asked someone to come out, thinking it might be easier to convince a live person she wasn’t crazy. She almost fell off the porch when Kyle sauntered up to take the report.
“Tell you what… we’ll see if you rate getting to third base if you promise that tomorrow morning you’ll dig under the porch. And you gotta take a boat to the center of the lake and dive to the bottom.”
His brows rose nearly to his hairline. “Oh, that’s all?”
“Yeah.” She met his gaze. “It’s weird and illogical, but it’s important.”
He studied her for a full minute then nodded. Twila took their mugs and opened the back porch door. Kyle stayed near the railing, watching her. She looked over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“I sure hope so.” He followed her inside, grinning widely.
She deposited the mugs into the sink then marched to the bed and ripped off her long T-shirt, panties, and thick socks. Now that she’d decided to fuck Kyle’s brains out, she wasn’t gonna waste time with regrets or guilt or clothes. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Kyle’s uniform. “How long will it take you to get out of that?”
Silence met her inquiry. She looked up. “What?”
He was devouring her with his eyes, which was damned flattering. He seemed particularly enamored of her breasts. Her nipples appreciated his fascination; they hardened under his hot gaze. Finally, he looked up. “You’re very pretty.”
“Oh. Uh… thanks. Now, get naked.”
“In a minute.” He took off his hat and put it over the clock on the nightstand. He sat on the bed to remove his boots and socks, then he took off the holster that held all his weapons.
Twila crawled onto the middle of the bed and spread out. Expectant, she looked at him. He was removing the simple black belt from his pants. She thought he would toss it to the floor; instead he wrapped the end with the buckle around his fist. She guestimated he had about ten inches of leather… to do what with?
“Turn over, Twila. Let me see that sweet little ass of yours,” he demanded in a lazy voice, but his eyes were on full alert.
She looked at the belt, then at him. She rose up on her elbows. What the hell was this? She wanted hot and heavy sex and he wanted to spank her? Gah!
“Are you afraid?” he taunted.
“Uh, yeah.”
“If you don’t like what I do, say ‘second base’ and I’ll stop.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She licked her lips as she considered what he meant to do. He was remembering the last spanking he’d given her, and that made her remember, too. She’d put ice down his shirt and ran away, screaming with laughter… until he caught her.
Slinging her over his lap, he’d wailed on her ass until she was breathless, tears streaking her face. Her pussy was hot and wet and she was bucking against his muscled legs, wanting something, but not quite knowing what.
He’d dropped her onto the ground and covered her, kissing her while pressing his hard cock into the vee of her thighs. They still had clothes on, but as turned on as she was, she was also scared… of how he made her feel, of how he could control her body and own her heart.
“That was a long time ago,” she said.
“You got me so hot, Twila. Then you ran away.” He grinned. “I went farther into the woods and jacked off. I thought about you the whole time. I meant to have you, all of you.”
“And we see how that turned out.”
His smile slipped. “Yeah.” He scooted across the bed and knelt between her legs. “I’ve been dreaming of this ever since you told me to shove that condom up my ass.”
She laughed. “Did you?”
“Har. Har. I was horny and stupid. I really did like you, Twila. I talked you into the moonlight boat trip and… Then you left without ever speaking to me again and never came back.”
Twila hadn’t expected this kind of confession. Not from Kyle, who’d had his pick of teenaged beauties that summer. She always thought she’d been one of his conquests. That’s why she didn’t appreciate his eager assumption that she was going to let him into her pants. “I liked you, too, but I didn’t think you felt the same. But y’know, you could’ve written or called or something.”
“Did I mention the part where I was seventeen and stupid?”
“I guess we all have our regrets.” She thought about the Bride. Maybe Millie hadn’t gotten the fairy tale ending, but she’d known real love. Twila looked at Kyle. The Bride’s message… time to find love. “I won’t run away again.”
“I know.” He stared at her, his eyes glittering. “Turn over.”
Apprehensive, but giddy as well, she rolled onto her stomach. For a long moment, he did nothing, which built both her fear and excitement. If she expected him to be a gentle lover, to stroke her flesh with fingers, to lightly slap her with palms or the tip of the belt…
She was really damned wrong.
The first slap landed across her buttocks. Then another. And a
nother. She gasped as pain radiated from her ass to her pussy, but she bit her lip and clutched the covers, raising her ass, daring him to give her more.
“That’s my girl,” he said in low, dark voice.
The blows rained harder, faster until all she felt was the undulating sensations of pain and pleasure. Her nipples hardened against the soft cotton bedspread and she pressed them deeply into the fabric, but nothing relieved their ache. Her hips bucked against the bed and once again, she found herself straining, but this time, she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Kyle!”
The bed creaked as he moved off it. As her body thrummed, eager and impatient, she listened to the belt drop to the floor, the whisper of his shirt sliding off, the tat-tat-tat of his pants’ zipper… oh, thank God. He’s getting naked. Tears tracked down her cheeks -- her ass hurt. But she felt revved up, her entire body on high alert.
Then Kyle returned to the bed.
She felt the smooth, warm caress of his lips on her ass cheeks, soothing every welt he’d made. She shuddered and moaned and nearly levitated when she felt two of his fingers slip inside her pussy.
“You are so fucking wet,” he murmured. “Put your hands behind your back.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He chuckled as she obeyed him. He stroked her arms, gently drawing them together until her hands met. The cool metal of handcuffs snapped around her wrists.
Her heart leapt straight into her throat. “Kyle…”
“Second base?”
Her ass throbbed fiercely… and so did her pussy. She wanted his cock inside her. Oh, God -- did she ever. “No.”
Now, she was slightly bowed and her aching nipples scraped against the fabric. He so owed them attention and she knew before the night was over, he would give her breasts -- and everything else -- all the attention they ever wanted.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about taking you like this,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m wearing a condom.”
His big, warm hands grasped her thighs and lifted. She felt his cock tease her entrance and she clenched her vaginal muscles as he slid all the way inside. Turning her face to the side, she breathed against the ache of her arms and the stinging of her ass. Kyle sure knew how to give a whipping. She wondered if he was willing to get as good as he got.
“I’m going to make you come,” he said as he thrust deeply inside her. His fingers dug into her hips as he pounded her pussy. “All I ever wanted was… you. And now you’re here. Oh, God.”
Moaning, she shut her eyes and let the sensations take over. The pleasure coiled, tightening, tightening… she met his thrusts, wanting… needing…
Then Kyle smacked her ass with his open palm.
She screamed as the pain ricocheted straight into her pussy. She was desperate now. She rocked back as he pounded her pussy, sweat dotting her spine and dribbling off her temple. Goddamn it, her arms had gone numb.
Then he jerked out of her.
“What the fuck!” she yelled as frustration roared through her.
He didn’t answer. She heard a tiny jingle, a click, and her arms were free. Her joy was short-lived. He rolled her over and handcuffed her arms in front of her. He looked down at her, sweaty and gorgeous and oh-so-serious. “Second base?”
“Fuck you.”
“Excellent idea.” He lay beside her and turned her so that her back was pressed against his chest. Cupping her breasts, he squeezed them hard, kneading them. “Better than I remembered.”
He rolled her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, pinching and twisting. Zing. Zing. Zing. She sucked in a breath. It felt as though a taut wire stretched from each nipple to her clit and every time he tugged, pleasure hummed down the wires.
Kyle lifted up her leg and guided his cock into her pussy. The bastard didn’t move; instead his fingers danced along her vulva, teasing the swollen flesh with tiny pinches.
Then he stroked her clit.
“Whoa. Yeah, do that,” she begged, wiggling against him. “Oh, Kyle…”
While he played with her clit, he began to move again. His big cock filled her completely, and as he plunged and stroked and whispered how much adored her… she went over the edge and into sparkling oblivion.
She heard his cry of completion as she felt the final, sharp thrust of his cock. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. Twila smiled. Maybe she’d found what she’d been searching for…
* * *
To whoever finds this letter, please give it to the police immediately. My name is Millie Dutton and I murdered my husband, Jonny Dutton. By the time you read this confession, I will be dead. You will find my body in the middle of the lake tied to two concrete blocks. I hope I will not be too difficult to find.
Please do not judge me too harshly. Everything I have done… I have done for love.
Jonny was a cruel man. He drank heavily and gambled away our meager earnings. I realized practically on our wedding day that I had made a mistake. The only ray of hope was his younger brother, Lloyd. Dear, sweet, gentle Lloyd.
Maybe it was shameful to turn to Jonny’s brother when I needed support, when I was scared… I don’t know. I only know that I grew to love Lloyd more than I loved anyone. He became more important to me than my marriage, than Jonny’s terrible jealousy, than even what others might think of me.
Lloyd and I decided to run away. We stopped at Miller’s Lake because it was so beautiful, so peaceful. But Jonny followed us. He burst into the cottage, drunk and crazed. He struck Lloyd with a lamp and killed him. I had stolen the little gun from Jonny and I kept it on the nightstand. He would’ve killed me, too, but I shot him right in the forehead.
I am not sorry that I killed Jonny. If I go to Hell for that justice, it can be no worse than living without the one who is my heart. I would like to believe that two souls who love each other on Earth are offered the same privilege in the afterlife.
If possible, I would like to be buried next to Lloyd near Miller’s Lake. Our love shone brightest here -- however brief.
Twila put down the letter, tears in her eyes. “It’s so sad.”
Kyle sat on the couch next to her. “We’ll see to it that Millie and Lloyd are buried next to each other. It’s the least we can do.”
He’d spent most of the day helping volunteers dig under the porch while another team searched mid-lake. Twila had watched all the efforts, but mostly she had watched Kyle. He’d taken a shower and wore a T-shirt and jeans. He looked just as handsome now as he did with mud streaking his face and arms, as he did in the dark green cop uniform.
Eventually two sets of skeletal remains were found: a man under the porch and a woman in the lake.
“How did you know, Twila?”
“I didn’t. The Bride told me where to look, but not what we we’d find.”
He seemed to take that news in stride. “She talked to you?”
Twila shrugged, not really wanting to explain her weird connection to Millie Dutton. “She didn’t speak… but I listened.”
Kyle reached out and took Twila’s hand, drawing circles on her palm. “She dug Lloyd a grave. Must’ve taken her a couple of hours. I guess she thought whoever found Jonny would find the grave, too.”
Fifty years ago, the cottage was still under construction. The couple had gotten it cheap because it hadn’t been finished. But the grave had not been found. After the crime had been investigated, the final work on the porch was completed. Concrete was poured over the grave -- and the Bride couldn’t move on to the next life because the one she wanted to be with was still here, undiscovered.
“Will you stay?” Kyle drew Twila into his arms and she put her head on his shoulder. “Please?”
She looked at him, smiling. The Bride had been right. It was time for love. “Where else would I go?” she asked softly. “I have everything I need right here.”
Michele Bardsley
Multi-published in several genres, award-winning author
Michele Bardsley spends her days creating fictional worlds because, let's face it, reality sucks. A prime example is that no one has yet to figure out how to make calorie-free chocolate. What's up with THAT? Michele lives in Florida where she is held hostage by her two children, her husband, and four cats. Occasionally they remember to feed her, but mostly she's forced to nibble on copy paper while eking out her next story. The manacles make it difficult to type, but she manages. Email her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.MicheleBardsley.com
Jack-O-Lantern: Haunted by You Page 2
