Awakened with a Touch

by Kessily Lewel

  She gave him an objective once over and shook her head. "I doubt it's just the grades, Ben," she said. There was no flirtatiousness to her tone; she was just stating facts.

  Two small pink circles appeared high on his cheekbones and he gave her a flustered look that clearly showed how rarely he looked outside of his research. Yes, any woman in his life would definitely find herself in second place. John would never make anything or anyone a priority over her; she knew that without a doubt. After waiting so long for someone who could see him—could love him—she'd always be first for him.

  She realized, as she watched the team packing up the van and heading off for the day, that that was probably the real reason she was staying. How many women could say that their man had waited a hundred years for them? And if he couldn't leave the house to explore the world with her, well, she'd find a way to bring the world to him. Despite his disembodied circumstances, he'd proven he wasn't like the standard spirit. He learned, he grew, he experienced, and he could even adapt to the modern world, albeit slowly and with reluctance.

  Content with her choice, the last couple of days went by without too much emotional stress. They continued to provide the kind of action Elizabeth wanted for her virtual reality adventure, trying to be creative and choose different locations. She'd called the owner of the house back when the changes to her contract had been made, feeling her out about the cost of utilities in the oversized mansion, as well as the taxes—and they were even higher than April had expected.

  After a lot of discussion about finances with John during the following two weeks, it had become clear to them that the small percentage they'd be making from the game would be necessary for keeping the house running. They did have a few other ideas for garnering a steady income but those would take time to bring to fruition and would need some upfront capital, which she'd have, but not for long, if they weren't careful.

  She'd done her best to forget about the cameras while they played out their sex lives in front of them. After a while, she'd started to feel like there was something almost liberating about what they were doing. Her body shyness, her shyness over sex in general, had been, if not wiped away entirely, at least pushed back. It left her feeling free to explore her relationship with John in a way that would have been hard for her before all the exposure.

  While there were some personal fantasies she wanted to try with John, someday, she was keeping them to herself until after. She'd considered introducing one in a dream scenario, but those had stopped for the moment. They were too busy trying to be active on film to have the energy to play in their dreams. As excited as he could make her with just a few whispered words, there was a limit to her stamina. That didn't seem to be a problem for him, maybe because of his otherworldly state, but he always seemed ready anytime she showed the slightest bit of interest. It was just a shame that they'd had to add a level of planning and organization to their adventures. It took some of the spontaneous fun out of it. But they'd be alone soon and then they'd have all the time in the world to explore.

  Their activities were designed to be entertaining for others, and she was so focused on that, the arrival of the final night of her one-month contract and the last time she'd have to worry about being filmed, took her by surprise. Tomorrow, the team would dismantle and remove the recording devices; all of the paranormal equipment would finally be gone. Mr. Bruebeker, the lawyer, would be coming over in the morning to legally sign the house over to her, with witnesses on hand to keep him in line. That was a relief; she was grateful that she'd never have to be alone with him again after that.

  She was actually going to miss Ben, Carson, and Jerome. She'd become close to all of them in different ways over the past month. Something about exposing her secrets to them had broken down the walls of her social reluctance enough that she felt they were friends. But she wouldn't entirely be out of contact with them; she'd agreed to allow limited research opportunities. Well-defined by her rules, this time, they'd be able to come back intermittently to update their findings.

  Ben had even suggested bringing over select classes from the university for overnight field trips to show them what a real paranormal experience was like. John could, no doubt, be encouraged to perform for them; he'd decided that he liked the professor and had shown interest in helping with his research in the future.

  She pulled herself out of her introspective thoughts as the sun went down and the shadows coming in through the tall kitchen windows lengthened across the floor. John would be there soon. She'd started to get a feeling for when he was about to appear. She wasn't sure if it was connected to her psychic gifts or if they'd just settled into a predictable routine, but when he materialized behind her, she turned with a welcoming smile.

  "Good evening, my love," he said as he stepped forward and swept her up in his arms. He lifted her by the hips and settled her backside down on the kitchen counter, putting them at eye height. "How was your day?" he asked.

  It was so normal. The man comes home, finds the woman in the kitchen and asks about her day, couldn't get more domestic than that. She had to giggle as she rested her forehead against his. So normal, except the man was a ghost who went dormant during the day, the woman was a medium who was trolling spooks for a living, and she couldn't cook, if her life depended on it. "My day? My day was wonderful, John. Tomorrow's going to be extra busy so Professor Marlow brought in a cake today to celebrate. Carson and Jerome told us about the basis of the thesis they are putting together. It was almost like a party," she said.

  His fingers slid into her hair at either side of her face, tipping her head back so he could look down into her eyes. The muddy brown color was spotted with flecks of green. He thought the effect resembled lichen on a tree and, somehow, it suited her. She was a passive, calm woman, but there were wilds hidden inside; he could feel it.

  "One more day," he said softly.

  "Yep, though we still have one more night. Elizabeth called," she said. Her tone was neutral; John wasn't a fan of the woman who'd tried to evict him from his house once upon a time.

  "What did that wench want now," he growled, releasing April's face and untangling his fingers from the silken strands that clung to them. He moved back a pace, as though afraid he might hurt her with his anger.

  She leaned back, hands behind her on the counter. "Mmm, well mostly to compliment us on our 'enthusiasm' and to assure me all the paperwork for the transfer of the house was in order for tomorrow. She won't be coming, of course, so her part will be pre-signed, but the lawyer will have everything we need," she explained. She was sure that 'wench' wasn't the word he actually wanted to use, but John rarely cursed.

  He chuckled. "No, she wouldn't dare set foot in this house, not even during the day. She must know that what she got last time would barely be a taste if I ever got my hands on her again." He felt that what Elizabeth had done was borderline blackmail and he wasn't pleased about it. He also had a possessive alpha male's distaste of knowing other people would see his woman in the throes of naked sexual situations.

  She'd try to explain to him that it wouldn't be her that they'd see. That the scenario would mostly be filmed from her perspective and, anyway, what they did see would be a CGI creation, but he didn't really understand the technical aspects of virtual reality, and neither did she. As far as he was concerned, a vast number of people were going to see her, all of her, in the most explicitly graphic moments of sex.

  Even knowing, as she did, that it wouldn't be her real face and body appearing in the games only helped so much. While Elizabeth had sworn to make the character look nothing like her, April still knew there would be hundreds of people behind the scenes who would be watching the real footage as they rebuilt her through computer pixels. She shuddered thinking about it.

  She sighed, eyes dropping away from the irritation on John's strong face. The deep shadows of the slowly darkening kitchen seemed to give his eyes an insidious glare and she slid off the counter, moving to turn on the lights. The bur
st of brightness made things less ominous, chasing away the emotional shadows along with those caused by the sunset, and she moved close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

  He relaxed and the tension slowly went out of his back. "You have a way of calming me," he admitted as he turned to face her.

  "Luckily for my backside, or I'd never be able to sit," she teased. It had become obvious to both of them that spanking was their thing. Neither had known it before they met. For John, it had been mildly amusing foreplay to slap a woman on the ass during sex or punishment when a female got a little too out of control, and he took no pleasure in correcting them. With April, it was different. He could barely keep his hands off her rump. Play, passion, or punishment, he enjoyed it all.

  She did, too. Even the punishment, she enjoyed at a certain level. While it was happening, she hated it! Beforehand, she dreaded it, but after, oh, after was another story. All that fiery sting seemed to sink under her skin and settle between her thighs until she was needy and desperate for his touch. She'd never guessed there'd be that level of kinky desire inside of her, before him. They were so well matched.

  "She, um, also may have suggested, since it's the last night, that maybe we should, uh…" She trailed off, turning the last word into a cough. If she told John exactly what the woman had suggested, he'd probably explode into ectoplasm or something. How was she going to translate 'Get busy and fuck up a storm' to an old-fashioned ghost?

  "I can guess what she suggested. I would have thought that we'd given her enough material for a dozen of these games she is making," he grumbled.

  "Well, she's making a bunch of chapters, so, the more material, the longer she can drag it out. I guess that's good? I mean, we get a percentage of all the profits, so longer is better," she offered hesitantly. She'd be so glad when this was all over, but for tonight, they were still on the clock. "So, one last show and then we're done. Maybe, maybe, we should make it a good one? Something exciting?"

  She stiffened in his arms, biting her bottom lip, and he looked down, concerned. "What is it?" he asked, tightening his grip on her.

  "Huh? Oh, nothing, just, well, this is meant to be a horror scenario, even with all the dominance and spanking scenes, right? So, what if we kind of give it an ending?" she asked. Her mind was whirling with ideas.

  "An ending? What do you mean?" His brows lowered and he gave her a confused look. Whatever he was thinking clearly wasn't making him happy, so she rushed to clarify.

  "I mean, let's do something fun and dramatic, like, oh, full of ghostly stuff, and then I can run out the door screaming, like I've been scared out of my life and I'm never coming back. I bet she'd love it for the last chapter of the game. I imagine they're writing a whole story to go along with the scenario and they'll fit the footage in around it, but giving them something to use as a finale could be fun," she said, grinning broadly.

  Honestly, finding a new place to be spanked and fucked each day was boring, and they'd tried lots of things to keep things exciting, both for them and the camera, but she'd never tried looking terrified, like she wanted to escape. It was a must for a horror game, even one mostly based on kinky sex.

  "Like a play?" he asked, hesitantly.

  "Basically, yeah! I think people call it roleplay when it's things like this, but sure," she said.

  "Roleplay?" Again, that confused look he got whenever she mentioned something that was beyond his understanding of the world.

  "It's where you pretend to be something else for fun. People do it in the bedroom to add excitement," she explained awkwardly. She'd never actually done it, because she'd never had sex before him, but she'd read stories.

  "We've never had any trouble finding excitement in the bedroom," he said. His eyebrows perched high on his forehead.

  She pulled his head down, pressing her lips to his in a light kiss that quickly deepened until it became the focus of her world. She kissed him like she was drawing life from him, instead of the other way around, and when she finally pulled back, he had a pleasantly dazed expression on his face.

  "No," she said. "We don't have any trouble finding excitement." Her loving smile turned a bit sarcastic as a series of loud thumping sounds, like a bag of bowling balls being released across the floor, sounded above them. The light fixture swung, and she sighed. "Nope, no trouble finding excitement around here," she repeated with a touch of irony to the tone.

  He laughed and shook his head. "Perhaps we can try this roleplay. You could be a Roman slave girl and kneel at my feet," he suggested, looking interested in that idea.

  She snorted, "Not exactly what I was talking about, John. I meant something that would scare people. Like something ghostly," she said. She gave him a look like she was challenging him to come up with something, and he thought about it.

  It was their last night in, after all. Maybe she was right and a special finale was in order. "Very well, something supernatural. Something exciting. Not because that woman desires it, but because we have a vested interest in the success of the game," he said, finally.

  She'd accept that. She didn't have the same feelings of anger for Elizabeth that he did. She suspected being a programmer in the early tech days had been a non-stop battle to fit in. Fighting like that every day could make you hard, even when it came to the daughter of a friend. In other circumstances, she might even have liked the owner, but that didn't mean she felt an overwhelming need to do her any favors.

  "Agreed, so what should we do?" she asked him.

  He let go of her and walked to the far end of the kitchen, towards the pantry. When he got there, he stopped and turned back, crossing his arms. "Run," he said, with a sly grin curving his lips at one corner.

  She blinked, confused. "What?"

  "Run!" he ordered, raising his voice.

  She froze, and then she understood. She turned and sprinted for the doorway. Her feet pattered down the hall, sneakers squeaking as she rounded the corner and headed for the front entryway. Suddenly, he appeared in front of her and she squealed, back-peddling rapidly. He reached out, grabbed her t-shirt by the collar and ripped it down the front.

  She'd have been scared if it wasn't for the wide grin on his face that told her this was just a game. When she turned to run back the way she came, he held onto her shirt and it pulled free as she moved. Now she was hurtling down the hall in jeans and a bra; she hoped the cameras were getting at least some of this.

  She tried to turn into the kitchen but there he was, in the doorway, she let out a startled scream that trailed off into laughter, and then she immediately reversed course and dashed up the back stairs to the second floor. She paused on the landing for a brief second, debating. No way was she going to the third floor with that unhealthy aura in the hallway, and the master bedroom would be too easy. She headed for the ballroom, instead.

  She ducked in at full speed and slid across the beautiful parquet dance floor, to stop in the center of the room. Her heart was racing, chest heaving as she panted from the race, and she turned slowly, watching for him to appear. When he did, it still took her by surprise and she jumped, a shriek of surprise spilling out of her mouth.

  He'd materialized right in front of her, and she grabbed for his shirt for balance, as he laughed at the expression on her face. "You scared me!" she blurted.

  "Well, I was aiming to scare you," he said. He scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, holding on tight as he danced her around the ballroom. Her feet barely touched the floor, and when the dancing went far past the meager skills he'd taught her, it didn't matter because he was doing all the work.

  Spinning, dipping, swirling around the small ballroom until she was laughing wildly with excitement. She wondered how this was appearing on camera. It was nothing they couldn't do with special effects but, for those who knew this was the real deal, she imagined it would be amazing to see her practically floating across the beautifully inlaid floor. "Too bad there isn't any music," she whispered, her lips grazing his ear as
she spoke.

  "There's a piano," he pointed out.

  "I never learned to play," she said, a tone of wistfulness in her voice. "Do you know how?"

  "I have some small skill. My mother and I used to play together when I was boy," he replied as he led her towards the platform in a meandering dance. She thought he was going to play it, but he had other plans. She found herself bent over the closed top of the piano, legs stretched so that her toes just barely reached the raised floor.

  "John? What are you doing?" she asked nervously. It went through her mind that she might have done something wrong and he was about to punish her and she half-turned to look over her shoulder at him.

  "Last night, remember? One more show before all the spying devices are taken away," he whispered against her ear, making her shiver.

  His large hand skimmed over her ass, squeezing each cheek in turn, and she moaned as her body instantly reacted. How was he able to do that every time? Just a word, a touch, and suddenly things tightened low in her body, turning her into a needy wanton creature who wanted to agree to anything he suggested.

  "Yes, yes, do it," she said. She hoped he wasn't planning to break any records; she wasn't sure she was up for a marathon of sex and pain after a month of having to perform consistently. But somehow, when his hand slapped down across the back of her jeans for the first time, she found herself wanting more. She pushed back, presenting her ass for the spanking, begging without words for him to claim her. One blazing smack after another heating her skin through the thick denim fabric.

  And it stung like there weren't two layers of clothing protecting her backside and cushioning it from the spanking. He seemed to be making this one count, but there was no hurry, no rush, and it definitely wasn't punishment. When he peeled the skintight jeans down her legs and threw them dramatically across the room, the cool breeze across her scorched and pinkened skin was like a kiss.