Ghosts and Lovers

by A. J. Matthews

  Claudia gave him a pointed look. “You’re sure it’s not making you feel like asking Jules for a three-way?”

  He grimaced. “Truthfully, I think sex magic is a good option for dealing with this, but yes, the idea of us three together turns me on too.”

  “So I feel.” She toyed with his rigid cock.

  Martin blushed and took her into his arms. “Darling, I’m committed to you, my wife. You know that.”

  “I do.” She held him close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the steady if slightly accelerated thump of his heart. “But you understand I feel threatened by Julia’s interest in you.”

  He caressed her hair and nuzzled her ear. “You shouldn’t feel threatened or uncomfortable. I’ll never leave you.” Drawing back he looked at her steadily. “If you do feel this situation is getting out of your comfort zone then we’ll walk away.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you really mean that?” He nodded, but she shook her head. “Marty, you never walk from anyone in trouble. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

  Martin sighed. “Then what can we do?”

  Claudia kissed him and stroked his cheek. “If that old sex magic has us in its spell, I think we’d better get some separation between us and this place. Get some space to think this through.”

  “Good idea.” His brow furrowed as he thought. “Look, Cambridge isn’t that far. We can drive down there and I can show you the sights. You can see my old stamping grounds from when I was a student.”

  “It’s a deal.” She reached down and fondled his cock again. “We can head out tomorrow, but for now, let’s finish what we’ve started.”

  She straddled him. Feeling for his cock, she guided it to her entrance and smiled down at him. “Whatever we decide later, I want to say Julia’s nicer than I thought she’d be.”

  “You’re saying I have good taste in women? Well, I must,” he said before she could reply. “I married you, didn’t I?”

  “Good answer!” she purred. “But don’t forget we’re still newlyweds. I don’t want to experiment with other people yet and maybe never.”

  “You’re not tired of me yet then.” Martin rose to meet her. She felt him fill her cunt. Placing her hands on his chest, she spread her fingers and rode him slowly, rising and falling, her eyes never leaving his. His hands cupped and gently squeezed her tits, thumbs teasing her nipples until they throbbed. “I bet you prefer my boobs to Julia’s.” She flashed a mischievous grin.

  “Yours do fill my hands nicely,” he agreed solemnly.

  “And what about my cunny? Do you like mine to hers?”

  “I love yours, as I once loved hers,” he said equably.

  “Does mine feel different to hers?” she asked, in genuine curiosity. “I’ve often wondered how another woman’s pussy feels to a guy.”

  “It’s been a while, but yours does feel different. Don’t ask me to describe how.”

  “I won’t. But you’d like to repeat the experience, for comparison’s sake?”

  “Well, if you put it like that…” He thrust up hard.

  Claudia gasped then chuckled, riding him harder, savoring the feel of Martin’s lean body between her thighs. She held his hands firmly on her breasts, increasing the pace, feeling his shaft sliding rapidly within her passage. Delicious sensations trilled up and down her spine as the onset of orgasm began. Martin’s face took on an expression of extreme urgency, and he drove harder upward to meet each downward plunge. His cock began to throb and swell even bigger. She knew he hovered on the verge of climax. With a mingled cry of release they came together, Martin’s cum jetting in furious spurts inside her. As reality resumed, Claudia collapsed onto his chest and lay there, panting hard. Martin put his arms around her and held her tightly.

  “Ooo…that felt so dang good!” She gasped. “Can we do that again?”

  * * * *

  When they went downstairs they were met with the smell of bacon and fresh-brewed coffee. Julia stood at the range, seemingly lost in thought as she stirred scrambled eggs in a large pan. Claudia and Martin glanced at each other.

  “Good morning,” Martin said.

  Julia blinked and looked up. “Hello!” She took the eggs off the heat. “I hope I didn’t wake you up when I left?”

  “No, it’s okay.” Claudia blushed at the memories of the morning’s activities. “It was…ah, quite an eventful night.”

  Julia’s lips quirked. “In more ways than one.” Martin made to speak but Julia produced something from her pocket. “Take a look at this,” she said, handing over a coin. “What do you make of it?”

  Martin turned it over in his palm and closely examined it. “It’s an early Victorian coin.”

  “Yes. I found it lying on the pillow when I went back to the room to get dressed.”

  “I take it you didn’t see it before?” Martin gave her a questioning glance.

  “No. I swear it wasn’t there when I left.” Julia shrugged. “I’ve never seen such a thing in this house. I don’t know what it means.”

  “You think your ghostly visitor left it?” Claudia took the coin from Martin and looked it over.

  “It’s possible. Eggs, tomatoes, sausage, and bacon okay?” Julia asked, turning back to the range.

  They accepted a heaping plate. Claudia declined the baked beans which seemed a major feature of British breakfasts. Julia sat with them at the kitchen table.

  “Is Paul joining us?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t know.” Julia shrugged. “I left him be. It’s up to him if he wants to apologize.”

  “You’re not getting along too well, Jules.” Claudia noted the sad tone in Martin’s voice.

  “No, we’re not. I think he’s screwing around when he’s off on location. I can’t prove it. If he is being unfaithful to me, he’s being cunning about it.”

  “He wouldn’t think you’re getting to know us, in the Biblical sense?” Claudia asked. “I worried about him seeing you coming out of our room.”

  Julia put down her fork. “Claudia, Paul’s opinion doesn’t matter much to me. He’s been very cavalier in the way he treats me, as if he’s entitled somehow.” She shook her head and looked frustrated. “I can’t seem to get through to him.”

  “We sensed something was up,” Claudia said, glancing at Martin, “but we didn’t want to interfere.”

  “That’s good of you. The thing is…” Julia took a deep breath. “Would either of you be desperately offended if I say I wouldn’t mind getting to know you both—in the Biblical sense, as you call it?”

  “Bloody hell, Jules!” Martin stared at her. She blushed deep red.

  Claudia blew her cheeks out in a slow gust of air. “We wondered if you were feeling something along those lines…but we weren’t sure what to make of what you did last night.”

  “If I’ve offended you…” Julia began.

  “No, no, you haven’t,” Martin said quickly. “Claudia and I discussed it when we woke to find you gone. It might offer a way to deal with this. Sex magic is a potent way to release psychic tension.”

  “Oh, Martin! Any excuse for a shag!” Julia laughed.

  “What are you laughing at?” Paul growled from the kitchen doorway.

  “Nothing that concerns you, dear,” Julia snapped.

  “You’re trying to get back with your ex, aren’t you, you slut!” he snarled, advancing toward where Martin stood.

  “Paul, stop!” Julia shouted, rising so quickly her chair turned over with a bang.

  Paul swung at Martin who deflected the punch and landed one of his own on Paul’s chest. Paul grunted, and in a flurry of moves grappled Martin in a headlock. He squeezed and Martin strained to free himself. Claudia snatched up the coffee pot and flung the contents over Paul’s legs. Screaming with pain, he released Martin, who backed out of the clinch and kicked the back of Paul’s legs. The actor went down hard on the tiles.

  “Get out!” Julia shouted, kicking him. He somehow managed to roll away an
d get to his feet, wincing in pain.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this!” Paul shouted, limping away to the door.

  Julia followed him. “Go and get your things and get the fuck out of my house!” She pointed to the stairs.

  Paul left with anger manifest in every line of his body. Claudia went to comfort Martin. “My hero!” she said softly, examining him for injuries.

  “What a wanker.” Martin sighed, sitting down. “My legs feel weak.”

  “You did good, lover.” She hugged him.

  “Hmph!” he grunted. “I’m not cut out for fighting.”

  “I’m truly sorry about all that, Martin.” Julia came to stand the other side of him. She put her arms around them both. “Thanks for standing up to him.”

  “You’re welcome, Jules.” He gave her a one arm hug about her waist. “I just hope he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

  “I’ll see he doesn’t,” she said, grimly.

  Paul departed the house within fifteen minutes, driving away in his BMW with a crash of gears and shower of gravel. The three of them watched him go from the front door.

  “Good riddance!” Julia turned to go back indoors. The clock in the hall chimed, and she grimaced. “I’ve got to drive down to Norwich to see my lawyer today.” She headed for the stairs. “While I’m there I can pop along to the specialty coin dealer in Elm Hill. I can show him the coin, get his opinion on it.”

  “Good idea,” Martin said. “We were thinking of heading down to Cambridge so Claudia can see my old haunts. If you’re going to be out all day, we can do some checking up on the Attoe family then head down there.”

  Julia paused at the foot of the stairs and looked at them both, her expression wistful. “Cambridge?” Her smile looked haunted. “I really enjoyed my time there. I wish I could come with you, but I think you’d like some time alone.”

  Martin looked embarrassed. “We’ve got things to discuss as well, Jules.”

  “I know.” She looked at Claudia. “Cambridge is a different world, and I think you’ll enjoy it. I felt so many possibilities were open to me there.”

  “You took some of those possibilities, and look where you are now,” Martin said softly.

  Julia chuckled. “Yes. I can’t complain, can I?” Her expression brightened, but Claudia thought a shadow still lay behind her eyes. “I’d better get going. We can chat some more tonight. Maybe discuss what we were talking about this morning some more, hmm?”

  Claudia blushed. Martin cleared his throat nervously before he spoke. “See you tonight.”

  * * * *

  Paul drove faster than a sensible driver would have done along the lane and out to the road through the village. He rubbed at his legs where they stung from the scalding coffee. That American bitch will pay for that! He bit his thumb with frustration. Who’d have guessed her hubby had the balls to stand up to me? As he drove, a nagging concern began to fill his mind. What a cock-up! How the hell do I get the money out of Julia now?

  A thought occurred. With an eye for the road and any lurking cops, he picked up his cell phone and dialed one-handed. After a couple of rings Alex answered. “Alex? Are you alone? Good. Are you at your place? We need to talk and…other things. Yes, you naughty girl, that too. Say around eight? Cool. See you then.”

  He clicked it off and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. In spite of the lingering pain from his legs Paul smiled. I might just be able to save the situation yet. The thought of that, and what he’d do to Alex in a handful of hours kept him entertained all the way to Cambridge.

  * * * *

  Julia completed her legal business then headed for the coin shop on Elm Hill. A bell jangled overhead as she entered off the cobbled street. The shop appeared no bigger than a walk-in closet. The bearded guy behind the counter looked up from a magazine and smiled a welcome. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” She glanced around at the counters and wall mounted boards displaying coins, banknotes and stamps from all over the world. “It looks like I’ve come to the right place. Would you help me identify this?” She drew the ziplock bag from her purse and placed it on the counter in front of him.

  He picked it up and looked at the coin inside then glanced up at her. “May I open it?”

  “Certainly.”

  He opened the bag and tipped the coin carefully onto a sheet of black card taped to the counter. Switching on a small anglepoise lamp to light it, he produced a magnifying glass and studied the coin at close range. After a minute he used a pair of rubber-tipped tweezers to turn the coin over so he could examine the reverse. Julia stood and watched, suppressing the urge to fidget. Eventually he nodded and looked up. “This is an English half-crown piece from early in Queen Victoria’s reign—1847 to be exact.” He gestured to it. “It’s close to mint condition. In fact, I’ve never seen a finer specimen.”

  The hair on the back of her neck rose and her ears tingled. “It’s genuine?” she asked, wishing to be clear on the point.

  “Oh yes. The half-crowns were made of silver alloy.” He held the glass so she could see the fine detail on the coin. “You’ll notice this one’s tarnished to a degree I’d expect after some limited use. It’s very hard to fake that.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve had people come in here trying to pass off counterfeit antique coins. I know all the tricks. This is the genuine article.” He cocked his head and gave her a hopeful look. “If you’re interested in selling it, I’ll give you a good price.”

  “I’m not sure what to do with it yet.” She sighed.

  “Well if you do decide, please let me know.” He put the coin in the bag and handed it back, along with a business card. “My email’s on that. Contact me, and I’ll be glad to take the coin off your hands.”

  “Thanks, I might do that.”

  She left the shop and stood outside on the cobblestone street, her mind in turmoil. Somehow she’d expected against all hope that the coin would prove genuine. So how could a man in her dreams, a lover no less, drop a coin that could appear in the real world? “I need more help,” she muttered under her breath.

  A passing couple glanced at her and did a double take. “Excuse me, but aren’t you Julia Grant from Lyrebird?” the guy asked.

  Julia gave him a wry smile. “That’s me.”

  “May I have your autograph?” he asked, producing an envelope and a pen. “It’s for us,” he said with a grin, glancing at his wife. “No one else.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” she replied, signing.

  They thanked her and walked away satisfied. Julia turned and headed down the hill. The Norwich Cathedral Walk wasn’t far and she felt the need to be surrounded by green open space in order to settle her mind and think.

  * * * *

  Julia had given Claudia and Martin full permission to use her Internet connection. They settled in the sitting room, and Martin initiated a search in the Public Records Office database. He accessed the website and keyed in his account details. “This site is so useful to me,” he said, as the options opened out on screen. “Just about everything I do can lead back here. I’ve been able to crack many difficult cases simply by finding out who, why, where, and when.”

  “Let’s hope we can do it this time too.”

  “Amen to that. Right, let’s see…Census records for the United Kingdom began in 1841.” Although the first census return didn’t require anything near the data of the modern counterpart, it had all they needed for their purpose. The hardest part was deciphering the crabbed writing of the Returning Officer.

  “Here’s the entry for Tennington Old Hall,” Martin said. “The head of the household is listed as Sir Archibald Francis George Attoe, Bt. age sixty-three, magistrate and squire, Lord of the Manor of Tennington St. Lawrence.”

  “If we ever see his ghost, remind me to curtsey.”

  “It’s a load of moonshine, to be sure.” He winked. “Also, we have Lady Emma Elizabeth Alexandra Attoe, age fifty-eight, lady of the manor.”
<
br />   “Oh yeah.” She didn’t feel impressed. “Look,” she pointed at the next entry, “there’s George Attoe.”

  “Age forty-one, occupation, merchant,” he read and frowned. “That’s odd.”

  “What?”

  “Being ‘in trade’ was quite a socially inferior occupation. It was okay for noble families to have mercantile interests, but they were usually run by other people.”

  “It could be the Attoe family was in need of good, hard cash, and Georgie was the means of getting it. He’s still living at home, so that might be another indicator. Who’s next?”

  “Ah, here we have Vickery, Charlotte Jane, age sixteen, spinster,” he read from the screen.

  “Charlotte!” Claudia clutched his shoulder. “The spirit tried to spell out Charlotte in the talc.”

  “I think we’ve ID’d our spirit. But her surname is Vickery, not Attoe, and she’s defined as ‘spinster.’”

  Claudia grimaced. “What a title to hang around a teenage girl’s neck.”

  “Back then it was a perfectly respectable one.”

  “Yeah, but it’s kind of old maidish.”

  “True.”

  “And to finish the ménage we have seven servants of one kind or another,” she said, reading the next few lines.

  “It’s a big house, and they didn’t have modern appliances.”

  “Hmm, maybe so. I still bet they didn’t treat any of them like an ordinary working stiff.”

  Martin shrugged. “No, they wouldn’t in those times. Not until quite recently, either.”

  “So what do we have? We’ve got George and Charlotte under one roof but with different surnames.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Significant?”

  “Could be. There had to be a connection, or she wouldn’t be there in the house.” He sighed. “It’s a shame there wasn’t an earlier census. We could check for her surname, see if she was related to the Attoe family.”

  “She couldn’t be a governess. There are no children listed. What other options do we have?”

  “She could be a ward of Sir Archibald?

  “Hoo boy, what a name!”

  He waited until she stopped chuckling. “Companion to the lady of the house?”