A Haunting Experience

by Kessily Lewel

  "We had dentists, though many couldn't afford them. Toothbrushes and cleaning powder as well. Some people cared for their teeth and some did not; I expect it was not too different from this time. Though, if your tooth did start to rot, often all they could do was pull it, unless you had enough money. Having a tooth removed was very painful," he explained.

  He didn't sound offended and he had a way of answering her (probably silly) questions without making her feel like an idiot. She wouldn't have had the courage to ask, otherwise. It was just that having a chance to talk to someone from the past was such a unique opportunity.

  "They give you medication to numb the pain so you can't feel when you have one taken out now, and when they fix cavities," she said. "Sorry. It's not the most romantic question I was just curious."

  "April," he said with a very serious look. "I want you to ask me any question you think of," he assured her. His hand reached out and caught her chin, and his thumb stroked the side of her jaw. "Asking questions is the sign of a healthy mind. Now, as to having teeth removed in my time—it wasn't pleasant. The one I'm missing had formed a hole and it broke one night when I was chewing a strip of dried meat. I had to have a dentist pry out the rest of the pieces."

  He winced, and she could tell the memory of it had given him a brief flashback of the pain, from the way his jaw tightened.

  "That sounds horrible. Let's talk about something else," she said quickly.

  She'd cut him off because that was one of the personal experiences that she didn't want to get stuck reliving with him. She'd been extremely lucky that she hadn't gotten sucked into the story of his death, as personal and traumatic as it had been; she'd have suffered through every second of what he'd experienced. Though, now that she thought about it, she wondered how she had escaped, because that was exactly the sort of memory that should have sucked her into reliving it while it was being told.

  "Hey, John? Will you tell me some memory from your childhood? Something special?" she suggested suddenly.

  He seemed surprised but didn't ask why; it fit his idea of them getting to know each other better, and he pulled her into his arms, settling her in his lap, and launched into a story from when he was only twelve. His voice was soothing, and the story was an enjoyable one; she relaxed against his chest and listened as he told her all about his exciting trip to England.

  "My mother hadn't visited her family in London since she'd moved to America with my father, but in 1862, there was a war going on. Everything was uncertain in the States, and she decided it was a good time to take me home to show me off to her family. I know travel in these times is a fast and simple thing, but when I was child, there was only one way to go across the ocean, and that was by ship. Unfortunately, with the War Between the States going on, there weren't many ships traveling between the two countries. In fact, England was wary of Americans, in case the war should spread to them.

  "We three traveled to Canada, which was a long journey in itself at the time, but I enjoyed much of it. It was an adventure, you see," he said, laughing as he paused to kiss the top of her head. "From the port there, we took a passenger liner across the Atlantic Ocean. The ship had been newly launched just that year, and the trip was faster than my mother had expected. I remember her commenting on how miserable their immigration to America had been in comparison. All I knew was that those nine days were a wonderful adventure for a young boy. I ran wild, poking myself into places that passengers had no business being, and got walloped for my trouble a couple of times before one of the men finally allowed me to follow him around like a lost pup."

  She tilted her head to look up at him, smiling softly at the faraway look in his eyes as he described the trip from the eyes of a young boy. The story was interesting, and she loved hearing it, but she felt no pull. There was no feeling of disorientation as she suddenly found herself looking at a memory through someone else's eyes. Nothing. Even when she actually tried to insert herself, nothing happened. And she wondered, why? If it had been years since the last time she'd lived through someone else's past, she might have thought the power had dried up without use, but just the other day, it had worked far too well.

  She wondered if it was because John was dead. In a way, he was nothing but a memory, himself. This shade that she had fallen in love with was just a reflection of a man who had once been hearty and alive. She ducked her head down, pressing it against his chest and listening to the heart that beat, but only because he was drawing the energy from her to make him seem more alive. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled once again with her decision to try to make this work. But realistically, her emotions had made the decision for her; she could no more leave him than she could cut out her own heart, and the effect would feel similar, she thought.

  He laughed out loud, his chest rumbling under her, and she blinked quickly and looked up as she realized she'd missed the (obviously) funny ending of his trip. She forced a smile to push away the dark cobwebs in her mind.

  "I think we miss something these days. When we can fly anywhere in the world in just a few hours," she commented to fill the silence.

  "The journey is often better than the destination," he agreed, smiling as he smoothed her silky hair under his rough palm.

  "Let's go downstairs and watch a movie," she suggested suddenly, sitting up and sliding to the edge of the bed as she grabbed for his hand and tugged. She wanted, needed, to do something normal with him. Something that any dating couple would do. "C'mon. There's a ton of movies down there. I'll introduce you to one of my favorites," she suggested with an entreating smile on her lips.

  He was usually amenable to however she wanted to fill the hours, as long as she was behaving by his standards of decorum, and that time was no different. He chuckled and allowed her to tug him to his feet. When they reached the top of the stairs, he vanished and playfully appeared on the bottom step to tease her.

  "Living folk are so slow," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  "And dead folk are pains in the ass!" she retorted, then added, "In more ways than one!" as she skipped lightly down the stairs, one hand on the railing for balance.

  "Mhm, you are correct," he replied, grabbing her up in his arms and giving her ass a hearty slap in agreement. He didn't fuss about the relatively minor swear, which she took as a sign he was lightening up on the issue.

  They spent the night together enjoying themselves, and for a little while, she was able to forget that they were perched on opposite sides of the veil. They watched two movies, the first a comedy about a group of misfits going through school to be police officers and getting in trouble constantly. The second was a horror movie about ghosts, which turned out to be even more amusing than the comedy had been, because he spent the whole thing mocking the way they portrayed the ghosts.

  "That is just ridiculous! No spirit would be scared off by that!" he snorted as he threw a handful of popcorn, which, of course, only she had been eating, at the huge television.

  "Crosses don't bother spirits?" she asked curiously.

  She was half sprawled across his lap, feet tucked up behind her as she leaned against him for protection. She was a sissy when it came to scary movies. She loved them but she tended to scream and jump a lot. He was extremely amused by this, which, considering the circumstances, was understandable, she had to admit.

  "I believe you're confusing us with vampires," he pointed out gently. "Though I'm not saying there aren't evil entities, demonic in nature, that wouldn't be affected by holy trappings, the standard spirit has no fear of god." He paused and then quickly added, "There aren't any demons in this house, April. There are spirits here who are evil, but they got that way on their own with no help from dark forces, I assure you."

  He was firm and confident about that, and she was glad, because for a moment, it had been a real fear in her mind.

  After the conversation, she lost her taste for horror movies. She decided living in a haunted house was enough of a scare for her, and once th
e movie was over, she cleaned up the spilled popcorn and they went upstairs to bed. He shut the lights off once she was comfortably under the covers and climbed in beside her. She laughed suddenly in the darkness.

  "What's so funny?" he asked as he pulled her ass up snug against his groin.

  "I was just thinking that I have a tent in my car," she said.

  "A—tent?" He sounded confused.

  "Yeah. I did a little research before I got here and thought I'd be walking into an abandoned wreck, so I brought all kinds of camping gear. Tents, lanterns, sleeping bags," she explained.

  That made sense, but shed no light on why it had made her laugh or why it was relevant at the moment.

  "And what made you think of that now?" he asked.

  "Oh, I just had this image of us setting it up on top of the bed and having sex in it. You know, so the cameras couldn't film us," she said.

  He snorted, amused as well. "Not that I would turn down the experiment, but I expect they'd complain about it," he pointed out.

  "Yes. It would be a lot less embarrassing, though. We could put a lantern on inside so they could watch the shadows fucking. Well, mine, anyway," she said. He smacked the outside of her thigh, a nice crisp slap that made her yelp as she shifted away. "Hey!"

  "Your instinct to curse in every situation sets off my instinct to spank," he said, still sounding amused.

  "Too many instincts around here," she muttered and settled back against him with a huff.

  To punish him for the stinging thigh, she ground her backside against him with more enthusiasm than was necessary just to get comfortable.

  "Are you absolutely certain you don't want to be on camera tonight?" he asked, a low growl of warning in his voice as he reached around to cup her breast and gently squeeze it.

  She immediately stopped what she was doing when she realized it was going to end up being more punishing for her if she didn't.

  She sighed "As tempting as it is, no. Not unless you want to pop into the bathroom for—"

  His sound of negation cut her off. He was bound and determined that she follow through with the rules of her contract. He didn't like other people seeing her naked and writhing any more than she did, but if they were going to end up with what they wanted, this was the way it had to be. She would eventually get used to it, and so would he.

  She huffed loudly, face buried in her pillow, and then she forced herself to relax, thinking of non-erotic things until her body forgot about his heat pressing against her ass and the hand that now rested lightly over the bottom of her rib cage, just under her breasts, which were aching to be touched.

  "I'll be glad when the month is over," she said wistfully.

  But, she reminded herself, neither of them was entirely sure what the outcome of the experiment would be, and at the end of the month, they might just go their separate ways. There was a pang in her heart at the very idea, and she pulled his arm tighter around her for comfort, lacing her fingers between his.

  She lay awake in his arms for a long time, keeping her breathing slow and easy, so he would assume she'd fallen asleep and not question what she was thinking about. She wanted to stay with him. She thought that if she didn't, she'd regret it for her entire life, and she'd never find anyone else who could fully understand and accept the weird and morbid gifts that she struggled to hide. But her grandmother and probably her mother would disapprove of it. They'd consider it a travesty. She could practically hear the lecture about how the dead were meant to pass on and the living were meant to help them do so, not hold them back.

  But they couldn't understand. They'd never met a ghost like John. They'd never fallen in love with a spirit who was so real that he could be mistaken for the living at first glance. Part of her wanted to phone home and ask for advice, but no; it was a decision she was going to have to make on her own, because she was the only one who really knew what was happening.

  She fell asleep eventually and knew her pretense of pretending had been pointless, because John was waiting for her in her dreams. She'd forgotten, in the rush of experiencing things in the flesh, that this, too, was an option. And he could give her all the attention while she slept that she'd been too embarrassed to accept in front of the cameras. She wondered how much ability she had to affect the dreamscape that he'd crafted. The old fashioned setting, with the oil lamps and modest clothing, was interesting, but she thought perhaps she could bring a more modern touch to it. So for the first time, she took a more aggressive role in the dream.

  "Hello, John. Fancy meeting you here," she said with a sultry laugh. He probably wouldn't get the cliché of the greeting, which amused her.

  "I thought, once you finally slept, you might enjoy my company," he said, and that was the only reference he made to her long, quiet wakefulness; she appreciated that.

  "I do—I will, but I'd like to try something first." She touched his cheek lightly with her fingers, letting them slide down along the line of his jaw, marveling at the feel of stubble that prickled the pads of her fingers. The dreams he brought her were so realistic, she could hardly believe it wasn't real.

  She turned to go into the bathroom, but stopped with a frown when she realized there was no door where there should have been. The basic layout of the master suite had changed somewhat in the renovation, she remembered. But there'd always been a bathroom or the eighteen hundreds equivalent; it was just arranged slightly differently. She found the door and ducked inside to find it pitch black, of course. But this was a dream, and she should be able to—yes! A nice modern lamp appeared to light the room, and she had to refrain from doing a celebratory dance.

  It looked out of place against the gleaming wooden panels and the blue and white ceramic tiles. She spent a couple of minutes looking around out of curiosity before she remembered why she was there.

  "Right. So—"

  She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully and moved in front of the old-fashioned standing mirror. It had three panels, and the side ones could be tilted in to give a view from three sides, but she just needed one. She dragged the long white nightgown off and tossed it to the floor. No granny clothes that night.

  She had no gift for creating the dreams; this was all John's doing; but now she knew that if she was here and aware it was a dream, she could at least change a few things. So, looking in the mirror, she pictured herself dressed in sexy lingerie. She had pretty panties with silk and lace at home, but she'd never owned anything like this; the idea came straight out of a lingerie catalog.

  From experience, she knew paler colors looked best against her skin, and she had a yearning to look beautiful for him, but innocent pastels were not going to give the effect she wanted. She decided finally to go with white satin fabric trimmed with black lace. A corset first; it appeared on her body, cupping her breasts and lifting them to give her better cleavage. The pure white fabric seemed to glow against her tan skin, and she arranged her long hair to drape over her shoulders, framing it in a black waterfall before she added matching panties delicately trimmed in lace.

  The thigh high stockings didn't give her the effect she wanted; she almost thought they made her look too innocent in white, so she shaded them to match the black trim with just a thought. Even though she'd never worn anything like this in her life, she rather thought she'd done a good job on the small details, like the delicate straps that hooked the stockings to the corset, crossing over the translucent panties. A pair of high heels were the last touch, and she wobbled there in front of the mirror, taking it all in.

  She stared, almost in shock at how sexy and desirable she looked. And providing she didn't trip trying to balance on heels that were much higher than she was used to, she thought she'd make the right impression on him. She opened the door and posed in the doorway, managing a casual lean against the frame as she cleared her throat. With one leg slightly bent and her back arched to display the mounded cleavage, she watched as he turned to look at her.

  His eyes widened, mouth opening, but no words cam
e out as he stared. A long minute passed in silence, and she started to feel awkward and embarrassed. Her cheeks heated, and she nervously dropped her leg and wrapped her arms around herself as a dozen insecure thoughts rushed through her mind. He was an old-fashioned man, used to modest women, and here she was dressed like— He probably thought she was being inappropriate.

  She stammered out an apology. "Sorry, I just thought I—"

  He interrupted her. "Woman, I have never seen a more entrancing sight in my life.” The words burst from him as he strode across the room and pulled her into a hard kiss.

  She stumbled, losing one shoe as she fell against his chest, but it didn't matter, because in a second, he was scooping her up in his arms, with a growl of pure hunger, and carrying her to the bed. The fierce look on his face, the fire of passion as his eyes devoured every inch of her with an intense glance that pushed away all her worried thoughts, and without the embarrassment of being watched by the cameras, she could let herself go completely.

  The moans and sounds of lovemaking that filled the antique dream room were audible in the waking world, and many of them were picked up by the recording equipment, but the invasion of privacy was so much less than what she'd been dealing with that she wasn't even embarrassed when she heard the tapes the next day. However, worrying about what they might hear was the last thing on her mind as his hands moved over her body.

  "The way these clothes fit you, you seem more naked than you would with nothing on at all," he said softly. He leaned in, kissing the top of each breast where it pressed up above the corset.

  "Is that a bad thing?" she asked, uncertainty in her voice. She'd thought she looked a bit like a saloon girl from one of the old westerns when she'd seen herself in the mirror. It hadn't occurred to her until after that those girls were not what you'd call respectable, and she'd been afraid she'd given him the wrong impression.

  "Oh, no, not in the least. Though I'm glad we're far from where anyone else can see you," he said. His hands moved over her body, stroking over her soft skin possessively. His hand came to rest across the flat of her belly, fingers nudging just under the elastic of her panties in a way that made her hips lift in need.