"Sit up, Boo,” he whispered. “Put your back against the headboard like a good little girl."
Her stomach did somersaults, but she did as he asked. Dev crossed to the opposite side of the bed and sat down, taking her hand in his lap. Fletch took the other hand and after a few moments of silence, they nodded at each other.
"What the fuck...” Quinn gasped as they wrapped a length of material around each of her wrists, then stretched her arms out to the posts of the tester bed.
"Wait, wait.” She could hear the panic in her own voice. No one had ever tied her up before and she was more than a little nervous. “This wasn't part of the deal."
"Relax, Quinn,” Dev said. “It's only ties from our robes. You said you wanted to watch, which is a wonderfully erotic idea. But, we wanted to up the stakes, just a bit."
"You watch and squirm,” Fletch said. “By the time we come, all it'll take is one little stroke on your pretty little clit and you'll think it's the Fourth of July tomorrow instead of Halloween."
Quinn pulled against her bonds, then whimpered when Dev and Fletch stripped, then knelt at the end of bed, facing each other.
Their hands began to explore, moving slowly over skin, each one of them whispering words of approval for Quinn's benefit.
Quinn's clit twitched when Dev leaned over and licked Fletch's nipple. The other man threw back his head as he buried his hands in Dev's hair.
"That's it, amoureux. Oh yeah."
Fletch cradled Dev's head in his hands as the other man moved his lips from nipple to nipple. Quinn fought against her bonds and felt her own nipples peak out almost painfully.
She wanted to touch, to run her hands through Dev's hair as he sucked on Fletch's chest, wanted to take one nipple while he took the other.
"Untie me,” she hissed. “Now."
"You wanted to watch,” Dev murmured as he trailed his hand down Fletch's chest and stomach. “You just enjoy yourself."
He clasped the other man's cock in his hands and began to pump.
"Fuck yeah,” Fletch said. “Harder. Oh, yeah, harder. Yeah, pump me. Let our pretty little Quinn see my cock grow in your hands."
Her whimper turned into a whine. “Please!"
In response, Fletch took Dev's cock in his hands and stroked it. Soon, they moved in tandem, their hands sliding up and down each other's cocks in long, delicious strokes.
Quinn's chest heaved with exertion as she watched them caress each other.
"I need to fuck,” she said. “Please, please."
"Not yet,” Fletch said. “First, you'll watch Dev fuck me. Then, I'll fuck you.
Fletch turned and ran his tongue down Quinn's thigh. She shivered as hot tendrils of desire shot to her core.
"Fletch, Dev. Please.” She pulled on her ropes and Fletch laughed softly.
"Tell me, little miss anchor woman. If you were to describe this scene, how would you do it?"
Fletch knelt on all fours, his head close to Quinn's pussy. She could feel his hot breath on her wet flesh.
"You're killing me."
"Well, that wouldn't do anything for your ratings, now would it?” Fletch shot her a mischievous look. “Describe it."
Dev knelt behind Fletch, his fingers disappearing between the other man's legs, causing Fletch's look to change to one of pure need.
Quinn watched as Dev wet his fingers in his mouth, and put them between Fletch's upturned buttocks.
"Do it, Quinn,” Fletch said. He groaned as Dev pushed his fingers inside him. “Let's hear it. Film at eleven."
"Oh,” Quinn threw her head back and hissed deeply. She looked back in time to see Dev grasp Fletch's hips and thrust forward.
"Fuck ya,” Fletch said, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. “Give it to me hard."
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room.
Quinn cleared her throat, her eyes locked on Fletch's face.
"This morning, the most beautiful sight appeared before a guest at Alison's Plantation House near Baton Rogue."
"Yeah,” Fletch said. “More, both of you. Give me more."
Quinn pulled against her bonds. “They say finding true love is like finding two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together."
Fletch's tongue snaked up and down Quinn's quivering thighs as Dev continued to fuck him in long, sure strokes.
"But there was ... there was ... um.” Quinn swallowed hard. She could feel her orgasm hovering just out of reach. All it would take would be one flick of Fletch's tongue and she would come. She would take a trip to the moon and back, shoot off like a rocket.
"But there was no puzzle about the love going round ... round the room at Alison's House. There was never a more beautiful sight than two people..."
"Three people...” Dev growled out. “Three."
"...Three people showing their adoration by joining their bodies together in an explosion of passion."
"I can't ... I can't hold...” Dev growled and his thrusts picked up in speed.
"Oh yeah,” Fletch said. He flicked his tongue over Quinn's clit and she came, pulling against her bonds and screaming.
"Fletch! Dev! Oh please, fuck me!"
Dev groaned out the last of his orgasm and stood quickly.
"Condom!” Fletch roared. “Now!"
"Just fuck me. Please! I know you're both clean."
"No,” Fletch said. “Birth control, Boo."
Quinn hissed as Dev sheathed Fletch's cock. In sure, swift movements, Fletch lifted Quinn's thighs onto his own and tunneled deep inside her pussy.
"So wet,” he said. He set up a steady rhythm, pumping in time with the moans and groans that escaped both of their lips.
"Stay with me, amoureux. Don't leave me."
Dev came up behind Fletch and took his hips in hand again, guiding him as he slide in and out of Quinn.
The view was too much. Quinn pressed herself up, her arms feeling as if they would pull out of their sockets when she slipped down further into the bed.
She came with a fury she'd never felt before, tendrils of bliss shooting to all points of her body. She felt Fletch swell and give a few final thrusts, bellowing out his climax as Dev's hands dipped down to his balls and gently caressed them.
After a few moments, Dev left the bed to undo Quinn's ties, and Fletch left for the bathroom. He came back minutes later with a warm cloth, which he used to bathe Quinn's hypersensitive flesh.
She burrowed deep into the covers and sighed in contentment.
"In this reporter's opinion, there's nothing quite like shared love, which leaves everyone feeling dizzy and content."
"Very content,” Dev said, lying down next to her. He kissed Quinn's forehead, then softly bussed her lips.
Fletch did the same thing on the other side of her body.
They put their heads on her shoulders. Several minutes of silence ensued, then Quinn gasped.
"You know what? What if Alison was watching? Or Amedee? Or, worse yet, Delphie?"
"Nobody seemed to mind,” Dev said.
"I think the scene you saw yesterday showed us why,” Fletch said. “Alison and Amedee making love, and asking Cyrille to join them. They were taking part in a ménage a trios, and I'm sure it wasn't the first time."
"Do you think that's why she appeared to us?"
"Yes,” Dev said, lifting his eyes to Quinn. “She sensed the same love in us that she had with them."
Quinn returned his smile, then closed her eyes. Had Alison sensed what Quinn had not? It seemed likely. She felt sleep rise up to take her as thoughts of work drifted through her mind. She may not have come to a decision about her job, but this vacation has given her something far more precious.
The love of the two men she cared about most in the world.
Her eyes popped open, uncertainty eating at her once more. Did they love her, or was this just a holiday thing for them? She knew, though, that her fears were for naught. They loved her as much as she loved them, and they'd find a way to make thin
gs work.
With her job, and with their love.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
"How's your French?” Quinn worked to keep up with Martin as they walked toward the graveyard.
"Not bad,” he said. “I'm sure Alison and I will have a nice chat before the day is over."
Somehow she'd expected tonight, Halloween night, to be creepier. Martin hadn't been able to make it yesterday, so they were doing everything tonight. The séance was scheduled for eleven forty-five. Rachel, her husband Dean, and several other hotel guests were scheduled to attend.
But no matter what scary things happened, the house would always be something special to Quinn. Last night the three of them had gone from room to room, with Dev and Fletch waving around equipment and saying that they were “getting no readings."
It was as if Amedee had disappeared. And there were no signs whatsoever of Delphie. When they'd finally fallen into bed, at three in the morning, they'd kissed and cuddled, the two men stroking her until she'd climaxed with a scream. When she'd tried to return the favor, they'd stopped her, saying that for the night, their pleasure came from watching her orgasm.
They'd woken early the next morning to Rachel yelling that she was leaving breakfast in the kitchen. The rest of the day had been spent much as the previous night, with Dev and Fletch getting more and more discouraged that they were getting no readings.
Now, Quinn watched Dev and Fletch, who walked just ahead, their heads together in deep conversation. It was close to dusk, and Quinn was more than a little nervous about going back to the graveyard. And it wasn't even Halloween yet.
"Do ghosts get mad?” When Martin laughed, Quinn felt the hackles on her neck go up.
"Sometimes,” he said. “And some ghosts can be mean and do things that hurt people. But for the most part they're lost souls trying to find their way to the next level. Some of them are happy to be where they're at, living next to their loved ones and watching what comes next.
"Well, if watching from the sidelines is what comes next, I'd rather move on and see what's on the other side,” Quinn said.
They were nearing the cemetery. The moon was out, but not yet high in the sky. There was no mist along the ground, but Quinn still felt butterflies take flight in her stomach.
"You don't know that,” Martin said. “Now that the three of you have come to your senses, you might want to stick around until they join you in the afterlife. That is if you go first. Or vice-versa. If one of them goes first they might want to stick around and watch the other two."
Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. She put her hand on Martin's arm and turned him toward her.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh please. You don't have to be a medium to see that the three of you love each other. You've been too stubborn to notice. Until now."
Quinn's face heated and she knew that she was blushing, profusely.
"You can tell..."
"I bet it was good,” Martin said. He kissed her cheek and then turned toward the iron cemetery gate.
"Well, here we are. Oh, I can feel her already and she's dying to talk.” He laughed. “Get it? Dying to talk?"
His laughter drifted behind him as he walked through the gate and Quinn stared after him.
"You've got a sick sense of humor,” she called out.
Fletch came up and held out his hand. “You comin'?"
The memory of Alison's cold touch on her skin made her palms sweat. But she was a modern woman. She was a reporter who wasn't afraid of anything. She nodded and took Fletch's hand.
They walked toward Martin and Dev, who stood at Alison's grave. Dev held a small tape recorder, and when they joined them, Quinn could see that Martin's lips were already moving.
She'd expected something creepier. Even in the waning sunlight, the graveyard seemed serene and non-threatening. Not at all like their first experience.
Quinn watched Martin carefully. His eyes were closed, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. She smiled as she watched him, realizing she'd missed out on a very good story. This would be a perfect item to put on the news. Of course she still could. She just knew that she wouldn't be doing it at WXBJ.
There was no way she was going back there. She'd worked hard for them, and she couldn't forgive them for judging her solely on the fact that she didn't have a playmate's looks. Their decision on the anchor job showed that they didn't care about her talents. And she wanted more than that from a job.
When they got back to New Orleans she would take a few of the interviews she'd been offered before leaving. And she'd have a fantastic story to take with her. Of course she'd have to bring a film crew down to take some footage, but this story would play well with audiences, who loved all things supernatural. And it would help Rachel's business.
"What should we..."
"Shush, Boo,” Fletch said softly. “Martin works alone, and in silence usually. During the séance tonight, he'll put on a little show. But right now, just watch and wait."
Quinn nodded and watched as Martin stood, his lips moving slowly, his eyes closed. From time to time, a small smile would appear on his face and he would nod.
The sky was totally dark and the moon moving toward its zenith when Martin stepped back from Alison's grave.
"Well? What did she say?” Quinn took a step toward him, but he held up his hand.
"Give me a minute.” He took several deep breaths, his eyes closed and his fingers pressed together. Then, he exhaled loudly and sighed.
"What you figured is right. Amedee and Cyrille were already lovers when he married Alison, and they became a threesome. They were all very happy with the situation. Then Delphie found out. She'd wanted to marry Amedee, and was very jealous of her sister.
"She walked in on them making love,” Quinn said.
"Yes,” Martin confirmed what Quinn's vision had told her. “It was Halloween night, 1832. Delphie attacked them; she used a knife to kill Cyrille instantly. Then turned the knife on Alison and killed her before Amedee could stop her."
"Well how did she...?"
"No questions, Quinn,” Martin said. “Just let me talk."
She nodded sheepishly.
"Alison said her last thoughts were for Amedee, whom she'd grown to love deeply. She's sure that's why she never left. She heard Delphie tell Amedee that unless he married her, she'd tell everyone that he killed his wife and her lover."
Quinn opened her mouth, but closed it quickly when Martin grinned at her, his eyebrows upraised.
"Now, that's exactly what she told everyone anyway, but she didn't tell that story until after Amedee was dead. As for Alison, she doesn't know what happened after that first night. When she was buried, she found herself stuck in the cemetery. She hasn't been able to leave since. We'll have to ask Amedee for the rest of the story tonight."
Quinn leaned toward Martin and he laughed.
"Okay. Ask your questions."
"Was Delphie a witch? Was she into voodoo?"
"Alison referred to her as a witch, but I think it was more of a ‘my sister is a witch,’ than ‘my sister is a witch.’”
"What about voodoo?” Fletch asked.
"Alison said there was a voodoo lady nearby. She doesn't know if Delphie contacted the woman or not."
"Martin, you've been in the house. Do you think Delphie is there?"
"No.” Martin shook his head. “I truly feel that Delphie was an evil force, but she's not haunting the house."
"But who's doing the evil things on Halloween?"
"Amedee,” Dev said. “He's angry. Somehow Delphie tied his sprit to the house, whether she used voodoo or the power of persuasion, I don't know. Maybe she told Amedee that Alison would suffer if his spirit left. Or maybe she did contact the voodoo lady. We'll ask him in about, oh, half an hour."
He looked at his watch and nodded. “We need to go back to the house. It's getting close to ten and I want to start the séance by eleven-thirty."
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Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
True to Dev's promise, Martin put on quite a show for the séance. Quinn tried to hide her grin as he swung his arms wide, indicating the many candles that lit the living space of Alison's House. He was telling the crowd the story of Alison and Amedee, of their ill-fated marriage and how things we thought were true, were actually false.
Quinn noticed he'd omitted the fact that Cyrille and Amedee were lovers before the marriage. Instead, he'd presented Cyrille as a person who was “in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She made a mental note to see if he'd cooked up that story while talking with Alison.
The oversight made her frown. People saw lovers as a man and a woman. Although things had changed somewhat, society still frowned on changes in the formula. Would her relationship with Dev and Fletch be that way? Would they be forced to keep their true situation under wraps? How would people react if the relationship extended past this weekend?
She wanted it to go on. She wasn't sure if she could stand it if she was forced back to the second floor, listening to Dev and Fletch share their love while she was on the outside, coming in at odd times to relieve their boredom. She didn't think they would do that, they said they wouldn't, but there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind.
She needed to talk with them about it. Tonight.
"Quinn,” Martin said loudly. “Will you take your place at the table between Fletch and Dev, please?"
She nodded, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming instead of listening to Martin's instructions. When she was seated, both men took one of her hands and squeezed gently. She responded with a squeeze of her own.
"I don't want anyone to be frightened,” Martin said to the group of about ten people who were standing around the room. Rachel and Dean sat at the table with them, both looking more than a little bit nervous.
"Now,” Martin said. “If someone is frightened, or wants to leave, I ask that you do so quietly. My contact with the spirit could be tenuous, and any sudden movements could scare him away."
The people all nodded and Martin continued. “I also ask for silence. Please refrain from yelling out questions or thoughts."
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