She'd hated it, and she often hated how she looked, too. People either wanted to be close to her or shunned her because of her looks, and now, John was telling her that her appearance would have made her the victim of the murderous scumbag who had built this house. It gave her a sick feeling inside, but that wasn't why she'd left the room.
He loved her. Not because she was pretty, not because of how she looked, but because of who she was. No one, outside of her close family, had ever said they loved her for who she was. She'd known, of course, that he loved the submissive side of her, but now, she also knew he loved the stubborn fighter that made up the rest of her personality.
She didn't know quite how to deal with those emotions with that blinking red eye trained on her, listening to her every word. The team didn't worry her so much; she was used to them seeing everything by now, but eventually, others would see the tapes. She was already sharing her body with an uncountable number of strangers; she preferred to bare her soul as little as possible for them.
When she'd calmed down and rinsed the tears from her face, she opened the door to find John waiting just outside with an anxious expression. She stepped back, inviting him in wordlessly, and then she closed the door so she could explain. She shared her life with him, how she'd felt growing up, everything she'd had to deal with and how her powers had pushed people away, one after another.
The conversation went on into the late hours of the night and they ended up soaking in the tub, mostly for the warmth and comfort the hot water offered, but also because she needed a wash after the enthusiastic sex earlier, anyway. By the time they crawled into bed, she felt…lighter? Maybe that wasn't the word, but a lot of her worries had washed away with the cooling bathwater.
She couldn't remember ever sharing that much of her private thoughts with anyone in her life. John, in return, told her stories of his childhood and how he'd struggled with hearing people mock his father for wandering around in a daze, head in the clouds, while his strict mother ran the household. That she was more highly educated than most men had caused a lot of sneering, as well.
John had to become a fighter early on, and upon coming home with a black eye or bloody lip, would accept the lecture about letting his fists rule him. He hadn't been, he confessed, an especially good fighter. His father had no skills to teach him and his mother didn't approve of physical altercations.
She taught him about Plato and Aristotle during long walks. They had intense conversations about nature and how it connected to society. She encouraged him to debate, to fight with his words instead of his fists, but that lesson never quite settled in entirely. Eventually, he did learn to stop reacting so quickly when people would make comments, but he also got better at defending himself. Between the two, he'd gradually stopped coming home with his clothes torn and his face bruised.
"I learned to control my temper better. It saved me a lot of thrashings. You could probably do with more self control, as well," he'd commented dryly, referring to her tantrum in the kitchen, which had led to her slapping him in frustration.
She couldn't really argue that, flushing in the dark bedroom as she turned to rest her face against his chest. It was late and she was tired. Morning would come early and she wasn't looking forward to having to face the day with not enough sleep, but it was hard to let go of the moment. She felt so close to him, so safe in his arms.
Despite the punishment earlier, even though they lived on two sides of the veil, she'd never felt this sense of security with any other man before. That was probably why she'd never given in and gone 'all the way' with one. Being a virgin at her age wasn't exactly standard, but for her, it had meant something.
It wasn't a matter of morals or some religion telling her that women had to be chaste until they got married. She could care less about whether she got married or not. It's not like it was essential to life. And she certainly didn't think being a virgin made her anything special.
No, for her, it had been much simpler; she needed to trust someone to let down that last wall and be completely vulnerable. She remembered her mother crying when her father left, and she'd crept out of bed to see what was going on and had overheard her distraught mother talking to her grandmother about it. She hadn't understood everything she heard then, but some had still stuck with her. They hadn't known each other well enough when Foshi, her mother, had gotten pregnant with April and they'd rushed into marriage too quickly because of it. There hadn't been trust between them. They'd come from different worlds and neither had been willing to adapt enough; the list of issues went on.
It had been ingrained in her with just those few sentences, that she had to know someone well and have complete trust in them before she made them part of her life. The older April had connected that with sex because sex could potentially lead to babies. Even with birth control, things happened; she was proof of that. So how could she have sex with anyone, when she was hiding this huge secret from everyone she dated? No one really knew her, outside of her little family, because as soon as they got an inkling of the curse she was hiding, they vanished.
Until John—with him, all her deepest secrets had been exposed that first night they'd met. Maybe that's why she'd rushed into sex with him without thinking twice when she'd always hesitated before. Or maybe it was because he'd turned her on more than any normal (mortal) guy ever had, with his dominance. She'd bared her body for him, now she was baring her soul, and it felt right. It felt perfect.
Chapter 6
The house was starting to take on a rushed, frantic feeling as the days ticked down towards the end of the experiment. For April, it meant freedom from the daily embarrassment of being watched all day and night and, finally, the chance to be with John alone, but for the team it meant that their time to collect data was running out. Tempers started to fray, and even the normally calm and quiet Jerome could occasionally be heard snapping in frustration.
The fact that they'd already gotten more evidence than they'd ever expected didn't mean they were willing to gracefully relinquish the opportunity to see more. The professor seemed to have a never-ending stream of questions for April. Had she noticed this? Had she noticed that? Would she be willing to try this? It left her feeling anxious and wishing this was a normal job where she could just call out sick to avoid it.
Several times, he hinted that he'd like to make a deal to continue the study after the month was over. She'd avoided replying to that because she wasn't sure how she felt about it. With only four days left, he finally worked up to asking her outright. She'd known it was coming and had tried to organize her thoughts on the matter, but when he confronted her at the end of the morning debriefing, she still felt like a deer in the headlights.
"The thing is, April, this house is a wealth of information. In all my years of chasing down rumors and investigating claims of haunting, I've never found anything as conclusive as what we've seen here. Of course, most investigations are much more limited—a few hours, maybe a weekend, is all we get. This whole experience has been incredible," he said as his eyes fixated on her with an intensity that came from pure passion; not for her, of course, but for his work.
She squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa and wondered why she was feeling guilty about not throwing open the doors of the house to them indefinitely. Hadn't she done enough already to advance their research? Her backside was pretty sure she had!
"I can't offer you money; our budget is tiny. Carson and Jerome get paid on a work study grant and put in a lot of their own time, as well, because there has been so much more data than we expected. This will benefit them in the long run, but I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you, except a sincere plea for help," he said. His tone was hopeful but she could tell he didn't really expect her to say yes.
"Professor, I mean, Ben, I don't know. This has been so hard. The lack of privacy and…" She shook her head as her words trailed off. She wanted to help, but she needed to start working towards forming a new life with John, one that didn't involve being wat
ched every second of the day.
"I understand, of course," he said. He sighed and offered her a weak smile. "I didn't really think you'd agree to letting us continue as we have been; that would be too much to ask, but I wonder…" He paused and she waited for him to continue, which he did after a long silence. "It seems like once we are able to correlate all the data, we will probably think of things we should have done or find gaps in the research that will lead to skepticism. You have no idea the intense scrutiny we're under in this field. It would help if we knew we could schedule an appointment to come back as needed." He held up both hands, rushing to add, "Just for a few hours, a day, at most, here and there. Perhaps some follow-up experiments and interviews."
She tilted her head, lips pursed thoughtfully as she considered the request. She felt far more inclined to help him and his team than she would if it was Elizabeth asking. Science was, after all, more important than video games. While she wanted nothing more than to put this whole chapter behind her and start over in her new life, what he was asking was reasonable. "I think that could be arranged, Ben," she said finally. "I'll have to talk to John, first, though."
The punishment she'd received for making decisions that affected them both without consulting with him first had been thorough, and she wasn't in a rush to repeat it, anytime soon. She didn't foresee him having a problem with it; he seemed to like Ben well enough. "But the cameras and sound equipment come down on the last day," she said firmly. She wasn't even opening the door to him suggesting they keep them 'in case something interesting happened.'
"Of course, yes, thank you!" the professor said, his dignified face lighting with appreciation. "I understand how difficult this has been for you, April, and I appreciate the sacrifices you've made."
She gave him a small smile. "It's worth it, in the end. I mean the money, the house, and John. I don't regret it; I just wish I'd known what I was getting into," she said. She laughed and shook her head as she realized that she wouldn't be here if she'd known. If she'd had any idea what was going to happen, she'd have run screaming in the other direction and never given it a chance. But then, she wouldn't have fallen in love with John, so maybe it was a good thing she'd been taken by surprise.
"I don't think any of us really understood what we were getting into, April," he said. Professor Marlowe had made it clear he wasn't entirely sure her relationship with John was a good idea. For someone who had so diligently pursued proof of spirits, he didn't seem to trust their intentions much. Despite his reservations about her safety, he'd acknowledged that she was an adult who could make her own decisions, but his conscience pushed him to try one more time. "April, are you certain this is what you want? It's not too late to back out. I know you trust this entity, John, and the research we've done on his life seems to match the story he gave you, but all of that aside, he's still…dead."
After weeks of doubting and worrying about that, April had finally been able to resolve that in her mind, at least for the moment. "I know, and it seems crazy but I do love him." She shrugged. "I just have a feeling that things will work out, somehow. Who knows, right?"
"I suppose," he said doubtfully and then shook his head. He reached up to run his fingers through the gray strands of hair at his temple, looking a little awkward. "There was one other thing I wanted to ask you," he said hesitantly.
She tilted her head. "Yeah?"
"Well, I, that is—" He sighed, looking awkward. "To be honest, this was a suggestion from Ms. Hagmaier. I'm sure she'd like the footage for her video game, but after consideration, it did seem like it would be useful for scientific purposes, as well." There was more fidgeting, as he stumbled around, failing to get to a point.
His hesitation was making April nervous. Whatever he wanted was likely to mean more embarrassment for her and she was already cringing internally. "Okay?" she prodded.
"Well, it would be invaluable if we could see, first hand, one of your physical interactions with John. With witnesses and the cameras set up to catch everything, it would be much harder for skeptics—"
Her eyes flew open wide and her mouth gaped for a moment. "Ben, are you saying you want us to have sex in front of you, so you can watch?" April demanded.
"No, no, of course, I would never ask you to. I mean, if you were willing, it would be immensely helpful but—" He cut off that train of thought immediately as he took in her horrified expression. "No, I think just a simple spanking would be more than enough," he assured her hurriedly.
"A spanking," she repeated. Her tone was dull from shock and she just stared.
"We've seen it on camera many times," he pointed out, fiddling with his jacket and avoiding her eyes. By the third time he unbuttoned and rebuttoned, she thought she might scream.
"But that's different," she protested. She didn't usually think much about the cameras, once things got intense between them. There was this vague awareness that they weren't alone but, for the most part, she was able to block it out and not think about it. How could she possibly deal with having people right there in the room when she was being spanked? That was crazy!
"I'm certain we could find a situation that wouldn't be too uncomfortable for you," he suggested. "I don't want to push you into something you'd find distasteful, but I do have to admit, it would be a unique bit of evidence," he added hopefully.
He seemed intensely interested in this, but somehow, it didn't come off as creepy the way it would have with most men. As always, Marlowe was professional, and she knew that his main interest in seeing it firsthand was for the research. She was loathe to turn down his request, even though it was adding another heaping spoonful of humiliation on her plate.
She sighed and considered the options. Her life had become a series of trade-offs. If she did something explicit on camera, she could steal a few hours of private time with John without worrying that Elizabeth would complain. What would this buy her? At the very least, she had a vested interest in the adult game scenario selling well.
"Give me a minute. I'll be back," she said. She ducked out of the parlor and headed up to the bathroom where she called John from wherever he spent his days and explained the situation.
"And you're willing to do this?" he asked, eyebrows up in surprise.
"Willing? Um, I wouldn't go that far, but I'll do it, if it's not too graphic. He'll probably want bare skin so he can see the marks, but I can wear a thong so nothing is too exposed," she said.
And that was how she ended up kneeling on the sofa in the parlor while Carson and Ben arranged the cameras to record her ass from every angle. She'd slipped into a skirt so it could be pulled out of the way easily and underneath was a thong that protected her modesty while leaving most of her backside bare.
Jerome had not been invited in to watch the spectacle, both because more people would have added to her embarrassment level, and because she didn't want to risk her developing friendship with Carson. He would remain in the equipment room working and hadn't even been told anything was happening. If he happened to notice what was going on and watched on the monitor, well, that would be no different from every other day.
"Please let Mr. Binder know we're ready, Miss Cassidy," the professor said, assuming his professional detachment for the video.
John didn't need to be told; they seemed to forget that he could hear them fine. He leaned in and lifted the hem of her skirt and tucked it into the waistband. Behind her, she could hear Carson gasp, but other than that, there was silence.
John patted her bare cheek lightly, making the skin ripple, and then he swung his arm and landed a brisk slap. It didn't hurt much, and he'd cupped his hand to reduce the sting, but the flesh bounced visibly for the cameras. He aimed at the other side, taking his time so they could see everything clearly, and then smacked his palm down firmly on the center of that cheek.
He gave her several more sets of spanks, letting each one land just a little harder so that the watching witnesses could see the skin slowly pinkening, the handprints forming. W
hen his hand connected, he pressed into her soft flesh and held for a few seconds so the impressions of his fingers were clearly outlined. But in just over a minute, he tugged her skirt back down and kissed her forehead as he whispered, "I think your scientists are going to have heart attacks if I don't stop."
She giggled and shifted, half-turning towards Carson and Ben as she slid into a seated position. "That enough?" she asked. Her voice barely showed the embarrassment she was feeling. She wasn't exactly nonchalant but she'd gotten used to it in just a few weeks of constant exhibitionism. She'd changed so much from the shy virgin who'd entered the house and found her whole world view flipped upside-down.
The professor seemed speechless and had to swallow a couple of times before he could reply. "Quite satisfactory, thank you," he said.
Carson laughed and shook her head. "Damn girl, he has huge hands. I'm surprised you're ever able to sit. I could tell he wasn't even trying and your ass was already turning red. I guess it's a good thing you like the kinky stuff," she said, sounding amused.
April's cheeks were already flooded with heat and she couldn't really argue. It was a very good thing she liked all the spanking or the past few weeks would have been a lot less pleasant. "Did everything show up on film?" April asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah, think so. What I want to know is how we can hear the slapping. I wonder if there's a paper in that," Carson mused. She ruffled her short teal hair thoughtfully. "Ghosts are intangible so hitting someone shouldn't make a sound, but hell, he shouldn't be able to hit you at all. I guess he must make himself solid enough for the slap, which would then—"
Ben chimed in and the two begin to discuss possible ideas, forgetting she was even in the room. She probably should have been offended, since it was her ass they were discussing with such animation, but she just shook her head and left them to it. She'd done her part.
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