"Can you see if anything's missing?"
She frowned and rifled through the case, then checked her shoulder bag. "No, everything's here."
"Then we'll report it to Bruce or Laurel in the morning. The door's locked, and I'll put a chair up under the handle to make sure no one tries to get in with a pass key again."
"That's fine by me." She gave him a smile and cuddled him. "It's good to be alone with you again," she said softly. "Let's forget it all for now. There's a shower running in there with my name on it."
Martin looked at the Scotch bottle sitting quietly on the table. He picked it up and put it in the bedside drawer. "Sorry, Gerry, but my lady and I don't need company tonight," he murmured, then went through to the bathroom, where Claudia was already swearing at the cranky shower.
* * * *
The spirit of Joe Minotti watched from its vantage point as the resort in the valley closed down for the night. Lights went out as people sought sleep. The useful human known as Dave was gone; the attempt to control him failed when he fell down the stairs and now, presumably, he was in the hospital. A trace of spiritual essence on the ether showed him the pilot was quiescent. Joe frowned. He had figured out from the tortured ramblings of the rube's ghost exactly how the guy's spirit had left the cavern. Now he needed fixing for good before that powerful human figured it out and came gunning for him and Ezra. But how to do it without a human agent?
His attention was drawn to a furtive shape, a human soul tainted with avarice and lust that made its way down the darkened paths to a cabin. Huh! Too focused on pussy to be any use! He looked down at the staff cabins. A small nub of misery laid there, a sleepless human torn between doing right—or wrong. Ah! Now there was potential! All it would take was a nudge in the right direction, a little pressure applied to the soul just so.
Joe glanced at the cabin occupied by the powerful human. He too was occupied. Joe grinned, selected his spot, and swooped.
* * * *
Bruce kicked off his shoes and began to unbuckle his pants. Alone with Joanne in her cabin he felt he could relax for the first time in hours.
She lay on her side on the big double bed he'd ordered expressly for her, the tip of her tongue showing between her teeth as she smiled at his performance. The lacy black brassiere she wore barely contained her breasts; they spilled over the cups in a way that made him stiffen in his shorts. The matching thong dipped down between her shapely thighs, the smooth shaven mound neatly bisected by the thin strip of fabric. When she drew her foot slowly up and down her leg, it made him redouble his efforts to get naked and join her on the bed. The bulge of his billfold in his pocket prevented him from taking the pants off smoothly, so he took it out and laid it aside, along with his keys and loose change.
"It's a real shame we won't be able to do this tomorrow, baby," he said, kicking away the pants and thrusting his thumbs in the hem of his boxers. "Ursula's going to put a crimp on things."
She pouted prettily, and gave him a soulful look with her deep blue eyes. "That's a real shame alright, Brucey. You're so good in bed I don't want to share you with her."
"Oh, me and her haven't fucked in months," he said callously. "I think her dil's had more time between her legs than I have these last few years."
*
Joanne watched as he lowered his shorts and exposed his cock. Of all the tawdry moments she'd spent with him over the past few months since they'd begun their affair this part at least was one of the highlights—that and feeling the huge thing inside her.
The look of complacency on his face as he sported his meat always made her want to laugh. She guessed it was the same kind of feeling when a beautiful woman exposed herself to the admiring gaze of men. It was sad, really, that the rest of him—body and mind—didn't match up to the majestic manhood swinging between his legs.
As he came slowly over to the bed, his cock swayed from side to side, a motion that gave him a swagger that was in unconscious mimicry of John Wayne. Biting her lips to keep from laughing out loud, she reached behind her back and unhooked her brassiere.
Bruce faltered and came to a standstill to watch as she slowly lowered the cups. She didn't think her boobs were anything special, and had enough experience of other women's to know. Even so, the effect they always had on Bruce was worthwhile.
He slowly knelt on the edge of the bed, making it sag a little under his weight, and reached out a hand to cup and squeeze one breast. She pressed it firmly into his hand, and stroked his hair.
"I like having this effect on you, Brucey!" she said with a purr. "It makes me feel all… oooh, I don't know."
"Sexy? Horny? Wet?" He grinned.
"Yeah, I'm all wet for you."
And so she was; the sight of the man's cock caused that reaction. She reached down and pulled the crotch of the thong away from her pussy lips. It made a soft sucking sound and felt damp.
"Take them off," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Why don't you take them off me?" she whispered, and lay back, flexing her body.
His fingers were less than gentle as he took hold of the slip of fabric, and she hurriedly raised her butt and moved her legs to allow him to pull them off in his haste. Tossing them aside he buried his face between her thighs and she felt the tickle of his moustache, and soon his tongue and lips were playing over her labia.
"Oh, fuck!" she said half to herself and rolled her eyes. "You always were an impatient bastard!"
He raised his head, his lips smeared with her cream. "Baby, when I see all this lovely goodness, how can you blame me for pitching right in?"
Dear God, but I can see Ursula's point of view! she thought. Pushing him away, she closed her legs firmly, and sat up. "Bruce, dear, let's try something new."
His eyebrows shot up and a smile creased his face. "What you got in mind, baby?"
For an answer, she reached into her bedside drawer and took out four pairs of handcuffs. Jingling them, she watched his expression change from mild incredulity to firm lust.
"Who gets to wear those?" he asked, his voice hoarser than ever.
"You do, Brucey," she said, writhing down the bed toward him. "You've been very naughty, and deserve to be taught patience." She poked him in the chest. "Have you been naughty, Brucey?"
"Yeah! I guess…" he swallowed and nodded emphatically. "Yeah, I've been very naughty!"
"Lie down, you bad boy!" she commanded.
The speed with which he obeyed made her giggle. Pushing his arms up, she snapped the cuffs onto his wrists and secured them to the bed head. Within a minute his ankles were fastened to the foot of the bed and she knelt and looked down at him. He moved and writhed, moaning and groaning in a way that sounded pathetic, but she smiled and kept up the pretence.
Tossing her head forward she draped her hair over his face, swishing it backwards and forwards, as she worked her way down his body. His writhing and groaning grew more natural, and when she reached the level of his cock she could see it positively throbbing with his lust.
"We'll be able to do this whenever we want soon, baby," he said. "I've got things right where I want them."
"How so?" she asked, pricking up an ear. By way of encouragement she bent and licked the tip of his cock.
"Uhhh!" He shuddered and his cock released a stream of pre-cum.
"Now, now!" She took hold of it by the root and squeezed it. The throbbing lessened almost immediately. "Don't cum just yet. Only when I want you to, okay?"
"Okay, sweetie." He flashed his smile again.
She bent over and kissed him on the lips, tracing the line of them with the tip of her tongue. He strained against his shackles, and she drew back, letting her breasts hang down and brush over his chest and ribs. His cock stiffened again and knocked into her butt as she crouched. Suppressing a sigh she pushed it out of the way.
"What were you saying about having things where you want them?" she asked idly, licking and chewing his nipple.
"Only that Mr. Grey has been very helpful," he said and wink
ed at her, "and all so innocently into the bargain."
"Mm-hmm?"
"Yeah. Baby?"
"Yes, Bruce?"
"We can go away together, far away from this place and my fucking wife. I'll have more than enough money for us to live on. Tonight's the icing on the cake!"
Some icing! Some cake! she thought, her mind whirling.
Kneeling, she traced a sharp fingernail over his chest, trawling through his chest hair. "Bruce, I know you're sweet on me, but are you sure about this?"
"Oh yeah, baby!" He strained against his bonds and grimaced. "Fuck, Joanne, how much longer do we have to keep this up? I don't think I got the patience for this shit!"
"You just want to fuck, is that it?" she asked, feeling curiously deflated. Although it had been a whim, a mere idea, she found she was enjoying the position of power over the dumb schmuck.
"Don't you want to feel this big bad boy inside you?" he demanded. He jerked his hips and made his cock sway like a drunken tower. "You always yell when I get it into you."
"Can you blame me?" she said, taking hold of his shaft. It did feel wondrously thick and hard, and maybe it was time to cut the game short. Her pussy was squelching every time she moved. Drawing in a deep breath, she reached for the drawer to fetch the keys to the cuffs and paused to sniff the air. "Bruce, can you smell burning?"
Chapter Eleven
"Fire!"
The cry penetrated Martin's sleeping mind and brought him halfway to consciousness.
"Fire!"
The second cry galvanized him into wakefulness. He came to in Claudia's arms and stared at the window. Faint orange light flickered around the gaps in the blind.
"Oh bugger!" he cried, shaking Claudia. "Not again!"
"What?" She looked up at him, mouth agape, her face a pale oval amidst her tousled deep-red hair.
"There's a fire nearby! We'd better get out in case it spreads."
Quickly pulling on his robe, Martin headed to the window and opened the blinds. Orange light flooded into the room and behind him Claudia swore softly. "Oh, Martin, this is just like the hotel all over again!"
"This fire's all too real," he said, peering out. "One of the staff cabins is alight!"
The bed creaked as Claudia got up and pulled on her own robe. She came over and pressed against him to peer out. An alarm bell began to ring insistently from the direction of main building.
"We'd better go and see what we can do to help," he said.
They hurried out and made their way to the scene. Other half-clad figures were already there. A cabin was well ablaze, the flames licking up to singe the branches of an overhanging tree. Greg was standing there, a fire extinguisher hanging uselessly in one hand, just staring as sparks flew in the up draught to drift on the breeze towards the main building.
"Has anyone called the fire department?" Claudia asked.
Greg looked at her open-mouthed. "I… I don't know!"
"Oh, for!" Claudia hit him on the arm. "Go and call them! Go on!"
Laurel came up, staring anxiously at the flames. She drew her robe around her and tied the belt. "I'll check the nearby cabins, there may still be people in them," she said.
"I'll help!" Claudia said.
Just at that moment Pete arrived dragging a fire hose from a nearby hydrant. Bracing himself, he aimed the nozzle at the base of the blaze and pulled the lever. A thick stream of water jetted out to drop hissing onto the fire and steam shot up to mingle with the smoke.
"Help me out here!" he yelled to Martin. "The pressure's high, and we need to control the jet!" Martin tallied on behind him and took hold of the bucking hose. Pete nodded approval. "We need to try and contain this until the volunteer fire boys get here from town. The way things are around here, I guess we're lucky this fuckin' hydrant works!"
Out of the corner of his eye Martin saw Laurel hammer on the door of the next cabin along. It opened, revealing a very naked Joanne in a state of panic. She yelled something to Laurel, who stared at her then rushed inside.
She came out a few seconds later and made her way through the slush and the mud to the hose party. "Pete, I'll help Martin with the hose! I think you'd better go see Joanne, she needs someone stronger than me to help her!"
Pete shot her a glance then looked back at the fire. Part of the cabin roof collapsed, sending more dangerous sparks and even burning brands into the air. "Hell's teeth!" he growled. "Here, Martin, take it! Keep the jet on the base of the fire as much as you can!"
With this, he ran to Joanne's cabin. Laurel took hold of the hose but her help made little difference to the feel of it. Martin glanced at the other cabin as Pete went inside and saw a corner of it beginning to burn. By using main force on the heavy, vibrating hose he redirected the jet onto the spot and was rewarded with a cloud of steam.
Joanne shot out of the door followed by Pete, who held a naked and stunned Bruce Baker in an arm-lock. Two pairs of handcuffs were fixed to his wrists and another two to his ankles. Distracted by the situation Martin had time to feel puzzled as to why Bruce should be under arrest before he had to turn his attention to the fire.
"You bastard!" came a scream of rage from behind him.
A woman he vaguely recognized as Bruce's wife Ursula ran over to Joanne and began kicking and punching her with fury. Joanne screamed and grabbed the older woman around the waist and tried to hurl her away. They slipped and fell into the mud and slush and began to kick, bite and slap at each other, tearing hair and screaming like wildcats.
"Oh, brother!" Pete growled, coming up. "Who the fuck would be a father?"
He took over control of the hose from Martin and Laurel and ran his eyes over the blaze. "I don't think we can do any good with this cabin!" he yelled over the noise of the fire and the fight. "Let's keep it from getting to the main building!"
"Aaaagghh!" Ursula had Joanne's hair in a two-handed grip and was pulling her head back with a look of furious concentration, the wild-women effect heightened by the liberal amount of mud plastering their bodies.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Pete growled and turned the full force of the hose on the two women.
The jet caught them completely by surprise, sending them bowling over and over until they fetched up in a heap, winded and crying. Laurel ran over to help them.
Greg reappeared and ran up to Pete. "The fire department's on its way. What the—?" He goggled at the two women, who were being kept apart by a grim-faced Laurel with the help of some of the other staff.
"Never mind them, boy," Pete said, glaring at him. "Just you go and help make sure everyone's out of there!"
Greg gave him a scared look before running off.
* * * *
The distraction was perfect! It took only a few moments to gather enough energy to swoop down from the mountainside and into the cabin through the door the humans had conveniently left open in their hurry. The place reeked of goodness, but Joe Minotti forcibly held his fear in check until he located the object he wanted in a drawer.
It took even more effort to open the drawer but his will overcame the physical resistance it offered his ghostly form. When he drew the bottle out the spirit of the pilot surged into being and jumped violently. "You!"
"Me!" Minotti grinned, already taking the advantage of surprise.
He hurtled out the door and into the air, relieved to get out of the cabin and its stultifying confines. He didn't bother to look back; it would take a moment to do and he knew the pilot was in hot pursuit. In the blink of an eye they were over the mountain.
Minotti found the spot he wanted and twisted in the air. The pilot was hurtling toward him a look of desperation on his face.
"Too late, my friend!" Minotti sneered, and let the bottle fall onto the rocks below.
He did enjoy the look of horror on the pilot's face as he faded away.
Chuckling, it used the residue of its poltergeist power to move an object on the slope then sauntered off into the darkness whistling.
* * * *
/> The Gainesville Volunteer Fire Department arrived with a scream of sirens and took over the fight. With their equipment they soon prevented the blaze from spreading and confined it to the single cabin.
Released from hose duty, Martin had time to rest and look around. Joanne had been given a blanket and was standing off to one side, draped in it and staring wretchedly at the ruins of the cabin. Ursula Baker had stormed off somewhere. Bruce had also disappeared. Laurel was rounding up the remaining staff and shepherding them out of the way of the firefighters. Pete had taken Greg into the deep shadows and was engaged in a low, fierce diatribe, the gist of which Martin couldn't make out.
Unable to help any further, Martin and Claudia retired to their cabin. Both were mud-stained and sooty, and Martin's lungs felt raw from the smoke. He leaned against the wall of the shower whilst Claudia washed him down, having to lean into the cramped space of the shower cubicle. "I'm exhausted!" he groaned as she soaped him. The shower produced another gout of tepid water and he glared at it, too tired even to swear.
"You're a hero, Marty." She laughed softly. "The way you helped Pete with that hose, you helped save the cabins and possibly some lives tonight."
"Marty?" he said, giving her an old-fashioned look.
"Yeah; Marty." She chuckled. "I've called you that before, darling. Is this the first time you've noticed?" He nodded. "Don't you like it?"
"I don't think I can get used to it!"
"Aw, never mind; I'll think of something else. Now c'mon, let's get you dried and into bed…"
* * * *
They lay together in sleepy companionship, staring up at the ceiling and listening with half an ear to the continuing activity up near the scene of the fire.
"What was with Joanne and Ursula Baker?" Claudia asked.
"Joanne was with Bruce in the cabin next to the one where the fire started. They were engaged in some kinky sex-play."
"What?" she turned on her side and looked at him. "How do you know that?"
"Laurel Kratzmer told me. Joanne ran out to get help, saying Bruce was trapped. Laurel went inside to see what she could do and found Bruce naked and securely handcuffed to the bed!"
Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky Page 17
