The Erotic Ghost

Chapter 2-2

She lay quietly in darkness, a mysterious hush hanging heavy in the night, a soft, withering wind soughing hauntingly through the treetops. The sound was high and lonely—out of tune.

It was calling her, urging her to follow it out of the darkness. She tried to resist, but like a ringing phone, it was insistent, and she found herself reaching for it. The pain was raw, unmerciful. It settled there, hitting again and again like a fisted hand. Her lashes began a soft flutter, and she slowly moved to lift her head.

She didn’t know how badly she was hurt, but it seemed every move she made brought a new ache to life. She moved slowly until she managed to work herself free of the mangled car where she was faced with spinning wheels, a smoking engine, and darkness. As near as she could tell, she had landed in a hole the lightning had made in the road. She moved to grab her bag from her car and winced at the aches and pains of a badly bruised body.

Pulling her cell phone from a dark corner of her bag, she began dialing Zack’s number. Her fingers did a swift click, click, click, only to realize she wasn’t getting a signal. She shook, pounded, and glared at the phone until she realized the batteries had picked this precise moment to run out of juice. And if that wasn’t enough, the excruciating pain in her shoulder had spread and turned into one gigantic headache. She was still looking the damage over when she happened to glance at the floor of her car’s front seat and saw where her romance novel had landed.

She read the book every chance she got, hating each and every time she was pulled away from her erotic suspense. Just a few days before she’d managed to get a few days off, and was just settling down with her book, a Coke, and a big bag of potato chips when her boss called to inform her he was just about to leave for California on a multi-million dollar deal, and since she was familiar with the product, he didn’t want anyone else but her to take care of the office.

Too bad she would probably miss her plane and be fired, but—well, that’s the way things had gone today, so she stuffed the book deep into her bag where she saw her dead, useless cell phone taking up valuable space.

God, how she wished she had taken the time to recharge the batteries before making this long trip. Anyone else would have taken care of it immediately. Your f*****g signal gets low, you recharge. Oh no, not her. That would be way too organized, and no one could ever accuse her of anything so sensible.

Lifting her head, she looked into the darkness surrounding her. Anxious to find her way out of this hell, she pushed herself away from her car and began stumbling down the dark road to the nearest phone. Oh, God, she thought when she looked down at her new wedgies that were at least five inches high. Another stupid move. Well hell, who knew she’d be clomping down a deserted road in heels high enough to send her into orbit?

“What else can happen?” she mumbled as she looked up into the sky where dark clouds threatened. “Oh, no,” she moaned, slipping a hand up over her eyes to hide the awful sight. “I had to ask.” Suddenly, through her fingers she saw something in the distance and quickly lowered her hand.

Squinting, she could barely make out a looming old structure that reminded her of a page out of her novel. It was too tempting to pass up, so she scrambled through her bag, quickly dragging the paperback out one more time. More than a little curious, she glanced down at the cover, noticing the mansion behind the handsome hero and heroine, and back at the dark old mansion ahead of her. The resemblance was uncanny, as if the novel had come to life before her eyes.

“Damn, I need a rest,” she whispered, while dropping the novel back into her large bag. “Apparently, two o’clock in the morning is not the best time to find yourself on a dark road without wheels. Your imagination can play all kinds of tricks on you.”

With that thought in mind, she had no choice but to make her way toward the dark, gothic-type structure while chills crawled up and down her arms as she noticed it was heavily laden with gables, towers, and steeples and imbedded weather stains.

As she walked, she glanced around, seeing nothing for miles, except dark trees bending in the wind, and wildly fluttering shrubs. Realizing this foreboding, old mansion was her only chance to get help, she stepped hesitantly past the entrance and onto a wide walkway. It was flanked by trees with crackling leaves quivering in the stiff breeze. She was sure she could hear a faint whisper, as if the trembling trees were talking to each other.

“What the hell is an old English mansion doing way out here?” she murmured. It looked incredibly unreal, illusory, a shimmering image that seemed to be floating.

Enter at your own risk, it seemed to be saying.

As if to encourage this eerie message, suddenly, a corner of the distant sky lit up in heavenly brilliance, drawing her eyes upward to the low churning clouds and grumbling thunder. She had just stepped up on the stone porch when a blast of wind brought with it the pungent odor of rain and a loud clap of thunder. In seconds, a deluge began, and she stood trapped beneath the overhang, looking at a curtain of rain. It was so heavy, it almost blinded her to the lawn beyond. From behind her, she heard an eerie squeak and immediately whirled around.

A man stood there, almost as insubstantial as the late night gloom surrounding him. She saw the steely glitter of his eyes coming from within a deep shadow draping his head and shoulders like a shroud. When he spoke, his words were slow, his chilling rasp out of place anywhere—except in her nightmares.