Ghosts and Lovers

by A. J. Matthews

He gave a snort of laughter and exited as Claudia filled the kettle at the sink, smiling to herself as she thought of Martin’s addiction to the brew. “It’s not as if they make it properly here,” she murmured. “Milk and sugar? No lemon or honey? Blech!”

  “I understand matters are different in the American Colonies,” a voice said from nearby.

  Claudia froze. Very slowly, she looked around. General Sir Allerdyce Attoe emerged into existence right before her eyes. He wore a tricorn hat and carried a fine ebony walking stick topped with a silver knob, which he raised in genial salute to her. “Good day, Mistress Grey.”

  “Good day to you, sir,” Claudia responded, her skin crawling with energy.

  “I trust you’re not afraid of me?” he inquired solicitously.

  “Not at all. What can I do for you?” She wondered where Martin had gone. He entered the kitchen at that moment.

  “It was some lost soul asking for directions,” he said then blinked at the general. “Ah.”

  “Master Grey, good day to you, sir. Your good lady wife asked if she could do anything for me. I feel the moment ripe for me to do something for you. Come with me, if you will, to the library.”

  With that he vanished. “Where’s the library?” Claudia asked.

  Martin shrugged. The general reappeared. “Oh, I am a fool! Of course, the function of these rooms has changed over the years. I mean the room where the lady of the house has her desk.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Martin said.

  Hand in hand, Claudia and Martin headed for the office. The general was conspicuous by his absence. “He’s not here,” she said, looking around.

  A book began to slide out of the shelves by the desk. Instead of hitting the floor it drifted a few feet and settled down next to the computer keyboard. “I think you’ll find this of interest,” a ghostly voice said. “I thought I’d get it to you whilst the coast is clear.”

  “What do you mean, sir?” Martin asked, but the general didn’t reply. “I sense he’s gone,” Martin said, as Claudia went over to look at the book.

  She picked it up. “This is old. I can’t imagine why Jules would keep it around in among all these modern works.”

  Martin came over. “It’s giving off residual spirit energy,” he said, touching it. “I think it might’ve been kept elsewhere in the house. The general merely put it in our hands.”

  “It’s a notebook.” Claudia opened it. “Doctor Jonathan Prendergas, MD.” She flipped through the pages. “It looks like notes taken from 1838 to 1860.”

  “What’s this page?” Martin pointed at one which had the corner folded over.

  She opened it. “It looks like a diary entry.” She read aloud. “‘I have struggled with my conscience and fear it will prove my undoing ‘lest I take care to confide my thoughts only on this page.

  “‘This affidavit of myself, Doctor Jonathan Prendergast, MD, written on the seventh of July, 1849. I hereby attest that whilst walking home along the Demdyke Causeway from visiting friends this evening, I was approached by George Attoe, Esquire, of the manor here at Tennington Saint Lawrence. He and I being acquainted I greeted him, noting as I did so he appeared in heightened spirits. He greeted me in turn, and said without preamble he wished me to attend a confidential meeting at his home, Tennington Old Hall, the following evening.

  “‘Upon attending upon him thus, he served me with copious amounts of intoxicating liquors until I became quite inebriated. At this point he took me into his strict confidence.

  “‘He confided his cousin, Miss Charlotte Vickery, stood to inherit a sizable fortune, and he, George Attoe, wished it for himself, having incurred a number of debts. Through use of blackmail, he inveigled me into a plan he had hatched to murder his cousin in such a way as to make it appear she had died of sickness. I saw at once the plan to be feasible, but my hesitancy availed nothing against George Attoe’s implacable will. I was forced therefore to comply with his scheme.

  “‘Such is the hold he has upon me I cannot speak out loud of what transpired, but can only write an account of the horrific event here.

  “‘He being alone in the house with his cousin, the servants having been dismissed upon some pretext, invited her to dine with us. She seemed ill-disposed toward him, but succeeded in masking most of her hostility out of duty to myself, their guest. Through the subtle use of a poison in her food we sent her into a deep sleep resembling death, and placed upon her body such marks as to resemble the cholera morbus. At this point I transgressed sorely against my oath as a doctor and certified her as dead.

  “‘George Attoe had already prepared a plain coffin for the girl, and into this we placed her unconscious form. A hired cart was procured, which took the coffin to the church of St. Lawrence in the village. We gave word the girl had died of the sickness then sweeping England, and found none who disbelieved our wicked lie.

  “‘Charlotte Vickery was interred alive in the family vault within the church of St. Lawrence. When I plucked up the courage to ask George Attoe why he would do such a wicked deed, he said she would have married her beau and left him penniless. He then stated that had he not done so, there would have been no inheritance. At this point he paid me a sum of fifty guineas and dismissed me, with further threats of what would occur to me should I break my pledge of silence.

  “‘I dare not speak out, but will recount the events as I recall them here. This book will then be hidden, hopefully until such time as I am long dead, and my soul disposed of according to the Divine will of God.

  “‘Post-scriptum. Upon reflection I will inform George Attoe of this document without allowing him knowledge of where I shall hide it. Such is his character, I will not trust him to allow me to live without such insurance to stay his murderous hand.’”

  “Whew!” Claudia sighed. “That’s something else.”

  “I wonder how this came to be here?” Martin took the book from her and looked it over. “I’d think it had to come from somewhere in this house, which suggests Sir George got hold of it somehow.”

  “Hopefully not at the cost of Dr. Prendergast’s life.”

  “I don’t know,” Martin mused. “The doctor had to be a pretty immoral specimen to go along with such an evil plot, however much his conscience pricked him afterward. We could find out, but I don’t think it’d be relevant. We have enough to concentrate on right now.”

  “So, we can at least use this to get knowledge of Sir George’s crime out there.” Claudia looked around. “I wonder what the general meant when he said the coast is clear.”

  “He might be referring to Jules.” Martin shrugged. “Either way, we’ve got quite a tale to tell her when she gets home.”

  * * * *

  Paul allowed Alex to secure him to the headboard. It helped that she favored the old-fashioned brass type, and she snapped the cuffs home with a look of glee. “There! Now you can’t get loose. And I can do what I want to you.”

  She proceeded to strip him naked, starting with his pants and ending with his shirt. The sleeves made her pause for a moment, before she grinned and produced a pair of nailscissors from her dressing table. “Oh, you’re not! This is a bloody expensive shirt!”

  “Too bad.” She shrugged.

  Paul squirmed and tried to deflect her, but Alex had a determined expression on her face. After a near-miss with a scissor blade he stopped struggling and allowed her to cut the shirt. She tossed the remnants aside, and dropped the scissors on the dresser with a tinny clatter. Her gaze raked him where he lay helpless. “I can see you’re getting into the mood,” she said, reaching out to run her fingertip lightly over the head of his erect cock.

  “Okay, I admit, it’s kinky as hell.” He grinned.

  “Good.” She flicked his cock hard, making it rock back and forth like a meaty metronome.

  “Ouch!” he gasped as she did it again, harder.

  “Poor boy!”

  “Aren’t you going to undress?”

  “In a while.” She left the
room, and for a panicky moment he wondered if she intended to leave him there. After a few minutes Alex returned with a Tupperware container, which she set aside. Taking a bottle of scented oil from her dresser, she uncorked it and poured some onto her hands. Rubbing them together to spread the oil evenly, she knelt on the bed beside him and began to massage it into his chest. “This’ll make you feel good,” she said.

  “Mmm, yeah!’ he whispered, as her pliant hands worked over his chest and arms. “That does feel good.”

  She grinned and stroked his legs, working the tension out of his feet and calf muscles, up to his thighs, his hips. Wiping her hands on the bedclothes she took his cock in her hand and lowered her head. “Oh, God!” he mumbled as she took him into her mouth, and his cock gave a hard throb of pleasure. “Oh, man!”

  Alex stroked his balls with one hand as she slowly pumped his shaft. His breathing quickened and within minutes felt close to climax. Alex must have sensed it, for she suddenly stopped. He blinked and looked at her quizzically as she picked up the Tupperware container. Peeling the lid back, she stepped to the side of the bed—and poured freezing slushy water over his groin.

  His yells might have been heard down the street. “You bitch!”

  “Oh, what naughty language! I must punish you for that.”

  She moved to the middle of the small room, and began to undress. Alex kept her back to him, giving him only brief glimpses of her breasts as she stooped to remove her jeans and panties. When she turned around, she had a calculating expression. “I really don’t need you disturbing my neighbors,” she said, picking her panties off the floor. She advanced on him. “Open wide.”

  He glared at her. “Forget it! I’m not wearing a fuckin’ gag, especially not those!”

  “Oh, but you will.” She held the panties close to his mouth. “Open, or we’ll do this the hard way.” Paul clamped his jaw shut. Alex sighed. “Okay, then.” Reaching down she grabbed his balls and gave them a sharp squeeze. He gasped and Alex rammed her panties into his gaping mouth. “There, that’s not so bad, hmm?”

  He could taste her on the fabric. “Mmmph!”

  “Good. Now…”

  She went to her dresser again, and he wondered what else she had in the thing. When she took out a box of emergency candles and matches, he stiffened. “Mmm mm!”

  “Oh, but yes.” She lit a candle, blowing the match out carefully and dropping it on a porcelain saucer. Guarding the flame, she brought the candle over to the bed. “I do like candles. They’re so romantic.”

  Paul shook his head, as Alex carefully rolled the thick white cylinder between her palms. “Got to get enough molten wax to do the job,” she said.

  He tried to shrink away from her, to no avail. She held the candle over his chest, smiled then dropped scalding hot wax on him.

  “MMMMMph!” he yelled around the gag.

  Alex peeled the congealing wax from his skin with an elegantly manicured fingernail. “Nice?” she said. “Again?”

  “Nnn-unn!”

  “Okay, then…” She dripped what felt like a pint of wax over his abdomen, flicking a few drops into his pubic hair. Paul braced for the burn, and although it smarted, found it didn’t seem quite so painful. His cock had wilted from the ice and sheer trepidation, but now it began to stiffen again.

  Alex peeled the wax from him as before, tugging it free of his pubes and making him wince. She looked at the pink area of flesh across his thighs where the hot coffee had scalded him. “Should I drip some there?” He shook his head violently, eyes wide. Alex gave him a nasty smile but eventually shook her head. “No, I think that’s enough.” She glanced at his cock. “And you seem ready.”

  She blew out the candle and set it aside. Tearing open a condom she rolled the sheath over his rigid member. “That’s taken care of.”

  Alex straddled him, feeling between her thighs for his cock and guiding it to her cunt. Bracing her hands on his chest, she lowered herself onto him slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. Instinctively he thrust upward, and she nodded approval. “Good boy. Lie still. I’m in charge, remember?”

  She rode him, rising and falling, rubbing her hands over her slim body and tits and through her hair. Paul’s cock began to throb hard in time to his heartbeat. The cold of the icy attack wore off as his groin heated up and soon his breath quickened. Alex felt his coming climax and rode him faster, and faster. He groaned around the gag and then stiffened, his balls hot and heavy, before exploding inside her.

  Alex cried aloud and shuddered, throat flushing pink, goosebumps prickling the skin around her nipples as she orgasmed almost simultaneously. Sinking slowly down, she lay upon his chest and kissed his cheek as she pulled the panties from his mouth. “Okay then, Paul. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  *

  Alex pulled the used rubber from Paul’s cock and went through to the bathroom to dispose of it. She took her time, washing her sex and splashing water in her face. When she straightened up and looked in the mirror over the basin, another woman’s face looked back at her from the glass. “Please.” The woman’s lips moved and a whisper of sound reached Alex’s ears. “You mustn’t help that man! He’s evil, and influenced by one far worse!”

  Alex recoiled from the image, but stopped when she felt no threat. Glancing over her shoulder toward the bedroom, she knew Paul wouldn’t get loose without her help. She stepped up to the basin, gripping the sides to steady her shaking hands. “Who are you? What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

  “My name is Charlotte Vickery. My spirit haunts Tennington Old Hall. Sir George Attoe haunts it also, and he guides that man in your bed.”

  “So that explains it,” Alex whispered.

  “What the fuck’s keeping you in there?” Paul shouted.

  “Women’s things,” she called back, knowing he had an aversion to such talk.

  Paul fell silent. Alex looked at the image, the woman’s pleading eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. I promise.”

  The image faded. Alex shook herself, as if to throw off the feeling of unease that had settled over her. With a last glance at the mirror, she returned to the bedroom.

  Paul glared at her and shook the cuffs. “Get me out of these things!”

  “Okay, Paul, I’ll do it.” She glared back. “But from now on you’ll treat me nice, or I won’t get you what you want.”

  He sighed then nodded. Alex unlocked the cuffs and he rubbed his hands and wrists. “Fuck, that hurt!” he said, looking dangerous. “That wax stuff was well out of order.”

  “Do you want to go to the hall or not?” she retorted, starting to dress.

  Grumbling he rolled off the bed and picked up his clothes. “You owe me a shirt.”

  She kissed his cheek and smiled. “I’ll buy you one from Julia’s money, how about that?”

  He looked at her then gave her a reluctant smile. “Okay then.”

  She gave him a bland look and got back to dressing. Sucker, she thought.

  * * * *

  Julia returned home that evening. When she entered the sitting room Claudia and Martin greeted her with a smile. “Had a good day out?” She kissed them both.

  “Not exactly.” Martin glanced at Claudia.

  They explained what had happened, and Julia stared at them in shock. “The general? Oh, wow! I wonder why he couldn’t do all that with me here? It’s not like I’m that scared of him.”

  Martin winked. “He vanished before we could ask.”

  “Huh.” Julia made for the door. “I’m going to change. Be back in a bit.”

  “I’d like to just lock the doors and settle down for a while,” Martin said when she returned. He sank back in the sofa with a sigh of relief. “I’m getting too old for this!”

  “Poor boy!” Julia and Claudia teased in unison, looked at each other and laughed.

  Julia fetched tea, sandwiches, and a coffee sponge cake. “Your favorite.” She handed Martin a slice.

  “You remember.” He smiled and accept
ed the plate.

  “Of course. What do we do with this evidence?”

  Martin tapped the document. “I think publishing the proof might be enough. It’s way too late to file any criminal charges against Sir George, but we can at least make his crime known to the world.”

  “How do we do that?” Julia asked.

  “We can publish it on my blog,” Martin said after a moment’s thought. “That way it’ll be read worldwide within seconds.” As he spoke the lights went out.

  Julia emitted a soft scream and covered her mouth in shock.

  Chapter 9

  “What the hell?” Claudia fumbled for her purse. “Wait one, I’ll get my cell phone to use as a flashlight.” She found the phone and opened it, but the screen remained dark. “Oh, crap!”

  “Something’s happening,” Martin said, and she knew exactly what he meant. “Is bad Sir George coming through?”

  “I always liked that moniker,” a male voice growled. Claudia saw a pale man-shaped image beginning to materialize in the room. “It’s one I lived and died by.” The specter snarled, and the pages of the document whirled into the air. “I’ll not tolerate any interference in my house!”

  “It’s not your house, Sir George.” Martin’s voice became iron. “Nor has it been for over a century. You’re dead, and your crime is known. It’s time to go to your rest, now and forever.”

  “I think not,” the ghost said, and in a matter of seconds the rush of air in the room reached hurricane proportions.

  “Marty!” Claudia cried. “What do we do?”

  She saw an aura flicker into being around her husband as he stood and faced the specter. A solid, calm, golden light shone like a beacon in the gloom. “Sir George Attoe, you will go to your rest!” Martin thundered, his voice unnaturally loud.

  The ghostly image seemed to shift, and then it moved like a stroke of lightning. Julia screamed as she hurtled into the air. She hovered under the high ceiling, spinning at a head-hurting rate. Sir George cackled. “You can’t touch me, boy! Do so, and your lover here will fall on this glass table. She might even die, and I’ll have a playmate for eternity. Wouldn’t that be fun!”