The Crimson Z

by Robert Cloud, Lee Rush, Richard Savage

  "One of the disadvantages of being flesh and blood,” Anne rejoined. “I do need some sleep.” She smiled and pulled the carafe from the base and filled the mug. “And some hot coffee."

  "I miss that lovely elixir almost as much as sex. And speaking of sex, you have a few hours before the amazing Jason arrives. What are you going to do with yourself? Masturbate?"

  "Honestly, Virginia, did you ever think about anything other than sex when you were alive?"

  "Food.” She shrugged and offered a mischievous grin. “One appetite or another."

  Anne just grinned and shook her head. “Well, I'm going to do a little work until he arrives. In fact, I have an idea. Come on, I could use your help."

  "My help? Work? You are talking to the wrong ghost."

  Anne walked into her room, anxious to put her thought into action. “I want to sculpt you."

  "Me?"

  "I make art dolls ... mixed media figures. Well, I've dabbled in it in the past. But when my aunt died and left me the insurance, I knew it was a chance to try something that I really enjoyed doing.” Anne sat on the stool and pulled out the of spool aluminum wire she used to build the armature, her thoughts leaping ahead.

  "Do I get to pose nude?"

  Anne laughed. “If you can take off your clothes ... sure.” Ever since she'd appeared Virginia had worn the same clothes they'd found decomposing on her skeleton. “I wasn't sure if you had to keep the clothes on that you ... that you..."

  "That I died in?"

  Anne nodded.

  "Honestly, I don't know either, but let's give it a whirl."

  Virginia lifted her arms and linked her fingers and then spun around, her clothes vanished. She stood in front of Anne nude. Like a Greek statue, her body was curved, bordering on plump but perfectly proportioned. In a deliberately sensual movement, Virginia cupped her ample breasts then slid her hands down her ribs to her waist until they stopped at a mound of dark brown, curly pubic hair. If this image was a true reflection of Virginia, she had been a beautiful woman.

  "Okay, let's get started!” Her fingers itching to get at the clay, Anne picked up pliers and started manipulating the wire.

  "Whatcha’ doing with the wire? I thought you were going to sculpt me? Doesn't that involve clay?"

  "Eventually, but first, I have to build an armature, or a skeleton to support the clay before I start applying it.” Her thoughts moving ahead, she twisted the wire into a stick person. “I don't suppose one of your talents is shrinking to about this size?” She held up the armature.

  "I don't know. Let's see.” She puckered her forehead in concentration. “Nope, sorry."

  "That's okay.” Anne pointed to a spot by the window. “Stand over there."

  Virginia floated to a spot a few feet away. “Okay, what do you want?"

  Anne paused. She wanted her to take a pose that reflected her sensual nature, but also her vivacious personality. After a lively debate, they agreed on one hand resting between her breasts the other on her abdomen between her hip and her pubis. With a mischievous smile, Virginia assumed the pose.

  Anne picked up a ball of clay and to begin putting the first layer on the armature, pressing cylinders around the wire. This would be the base for the detailed work.

  "This is pretty scrawny."

  "This is only the base for the outer layers of clay. I'll bake it and then add more levels.” Anne walked over to the oven in one corner of the workroom by the French doors.

  "How about giving me bigger boobs and a smaller hips and waist?” Virginia asked.

  "How about you let me work? You're beautiful just the way you are ... or were."

  A sad smile spread slowly across her lips. “Clay used to say that, too."

  She took the scrawny figure to the oven in the solarium.

  "An oven?” Virginia floated beside her. “I thought you needed a kiln."

  "If I was working in porcelain, but this is made from a polymer clay."

  Once the basic body was hard, Anne added the layers that would bring the figure to life. Losing track of the time, her hands worked at the figure, bringing small limbs to life. Then, she worked on the face, praying she could capture the life in her features. Anne drew her teeth over her lower lip. She was trying to capture the irrepressible love of life in the face of the spirit of a dead woman. Why did this happen to her? Virginia didn't deserve to die young.

  "Hey, Stud Muffin will be here any minute. Shouldn't you be getting ready for his arrival.” Clothes instantly covered her nude body. “Time to play!"

  "Yikes! You're right!” Anne exclaimed then made a dash for the stairs. In her room, she grabbed a simple, loose flowing dress from the closet, then walked to her dresser and pulled open her underwear drawer.

  Virginia pushed it shut. “No way. Underwear is not an option. Let him suffer. There's nothing that drives a man crazier than knowing you're naked under your clothes and there's nothing he can do about it.” She grinned, then leaned against the drawer.

  "You are a wicked woman, Virginia Marshall!” Anne chided with a laugh.

  "Why thank you, Annie my girl."

  * * * *

  She watched Jason climb out of his car. His simple outfit of white tee-shirt and jeans accentuated every muscled line of his muscular physique. He moved with a signature, male grace that could make her feel feminine even at this distance. She pushed away from the window then hurried down the stairs.

  She opened the door before he reached the top of the steps. Her smile started somewhere deep inside her and spread through her whole body. Could this be love?

  "Hi, Beautiful,” he murmured, then took her in his arms, bringing her tight against his body, sandwiching his thick arousal between them.

  Her breasts felt weighted, and a steady pulse grew stronger between her legs.

  "Hello, yourself,” she responded then lifted her face for a kiss, arching her body into his to increase the pressure on his already swollen penis.

  "Has Virginia been coaching you?” he murmured against the sensitive spot on her neck just below her earlobe.

  "Actually, she's off doing whatever ghosts do when they aren't haunting.” Anne closed her eyes, tipping her head to one side to allow him more access to the sensitive spots on her neck. When had her body become so sensitive? Perhaps he was the key unlocking the sensual mysteries of her body.

  She slid her hands lower toward his groin. Before she could reach the prize, Jason caught her hands and pinned them behind her back.

  "What?” she exclaimed softly. “Don't you want a little appetizer before breakfast?"

  "God, I'm tempted, but I think I'd rather have you as dessert."

  "But I thought...” Doubt demons nipped at her new-found self-confidence. “I thought you wanted me."

  He shook his head as he offered a rueful laugh. “Want you? I want you so badly that my groin thinks I must have had a head injury because I'm not stripping you and taking you here against the wall."

  "Then, why aren't you?"

  "Because anticipation can be as stimulating as foreplay."

  "Maybe for a masochist.” Through the soft well-washed fabric of his jeans, Anne massaged his rigid shaft with her abdomen. Pounding need blossomed in her sex. Impatient moisture seeped through the slit between her legs. She cupped his tight scrotum. “And I'd say you've been anticipating plenty already."

  With her soft laugh, he raked his fingers through her hair. He curled his fingers around the sandy waves and tipped her head back. His other hand slid to her behind, cupping the soft mound as he claimed a branding kiss. This one was different than anything she'd experienced with him before. It was as if he was placing his mark, invisibly yet indelibly on her spirit. Deep inside something primitive responded to the primal gesture.

  "No underwear?” His whisper was raspy.

  "Not a scrap,” Anne returned with a saucy grin.

  "What the hell? We can play the anticipation game some other time.” Before the sentence finished his hands sli
d under the silky material of her dress to her waist. Anne relished the weighty pressure swelling her breasts, an ache and a pleasure all that the same time.

  "Now, that's sounds more the Jason I've come to know.” Anne laughed then gave him an open-mouthed kiss, relishing his capitulation. Could this be the same man who had restrained himself for months, not hinting at the depths of his feelings for her? Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the differences of the two different men—one whose touch could make her belt or the Jason from the past who used to make her cringe under his inscrutable looks. Looking back, the clues had been there, and a part of her had probably even noted them, but it was only in hindsight and her recent experiences that unveiled them to her.

  All those months ago, his penetrating gaze had followed her around the room whenever they had been together. She'd been aware of his observation, but unaware of its source. All she'd known was that it had unsettled her. He'd kept his distance. Considering how quickly he could be aroused, she knew that physical proximity would have been true torture.

  Anne unsnapped his jeans and opened his zipper, slipping her hand inside with a confidence that surprised her. She slid her hand inside his briefs, curling her hand around his shaft, stroking the length of it with her palm, finally reaching the coarse hair at the base of his rod. The ache in her sex demanded satisfaction.

  "You know,” he murmured, then drew a soft breath of satisfaction. “If you keep meeting me at the door like this, I might think you might enjoy having me around."

  Anne paused momentarily sobering. “How much I want you and want you here keeps surprising me."

  Jason cupped her face, and her skirt slid down her hips. With tenderness in his gaze, he smiled. “It's what I'd hoped would happen between us if given a chance. It just happened faster than I expected."

  His open expression of his feelings knocked her off balance, drawing out an expression of her own state of mind. “I don't know if this is love ... but I do know that I've never felt like this before and it's more than stellar sex.” Her climatic union with Sam hadn't touched the deepest parts of her that had responded to Jason. Her response to Jason was imbued with the sense of ease and comfort. Granted she had boldly seduced Sam, but their union hadn't created a deeper connection.

  "It's a great starting point, and I won't force myself on you if you discover you can't love me, but I won't walk away without a fight."

  Determination glinted in his eyes, confirming his statement. The unconcealed iron will should have unsettled her, but his words wrapped around her and she hugged them to her heart.

  Their gazes locked. He undid the buttons to her waist, then slid his hands inside her dress, pushing aside the garment, exposing her breasts. Her heart raced and she could feel her pulse in the swollen lips of her sex.

  He cupped her breasts, holding the soft mounds against his palms, massaging them gently. Mesmerized, Anne watched her nipples pinch. Such a light touch, and yet, the flush of arousal spreading through her body needed to be sated—now. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around his shaft relishing the heat and rigid length of him.

  He sucked in a gasp of air. “Come along,” he murmured, leading her to the living room. “I want you now, and I don't think I could make it much farther than the living room."

  "Are you a mind reader?"

  He laughed, then stepped behind her, sliding his hands down her arms, applying just enough pressure so she bent over, placing her hands on the arm of the couch. Anne closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of his hands sliding her skirt upward until it exposed her legs and buttocks. Her breath accelerated when she heard the soft sound of his jeans sliding down his legs. His hands slid under her dress to her breasts as he brought his body against hers. His cock slid between her legs, into the heated slick folds of her labia, then back, then with a thrust he was inside. A raspy gasp escaped from her lips and her body arched. Wet and ready, her body welcomed him, intimate muscles clenched, hugging him, holding him tight. Before he could move, she moved along his shaft, impaling herself on the rigid length of him then pulling away. Only to have strong hands bring her tight against his body, then relax so that she could stroke him with her body.

  She squeezed him with intimate muscles. At his gasp of pleasure, a smile turned up the corners of her lips. Immediately, he plunged into her faster, driving her toward ultimate satisfaction.

  Now, it was her turn. Gasps of pleasure burst through her lips as the climax hit. A pinnacle of sensation that turned muscle and bone to jelly.

  He pushed her dress up and kissed her back. “Why don't we skip breakfast and have dessert again?"

  "And try out some more toys in the playroom?"

  "I think I'll clear my afternoon schedule as well,” he said with a laugh. “There's no way I can leave."

  He slid out his semi-flaccid rod from inside her and reached for his jeans. His cell rang as he pulled it from his pocket. With a flick of the wrist, he opened the phone and put it to his ear. Anne sank onto the couch, slipping into a post-sex lethargy.

  He snapped it shut. “That was Clay. We can meet with him tomorrow evening."

  Anne's heart skipped a beat, and her hand flew to her locket. In the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten about Virginia, her murderer, and her ghostly friend's relationship with Clay. She prayed they would find the answers to the three-decade-old questions, and she didn't just mean who Virginia's murder was. Why had Clay given up on her and their relationship so easily?

  Chapter Eleven

  "I've arranged this meeting for you with Clay,” Jason said as they climbed the stairs to private office of the owner of the Chrysalis.

  Anne loved the pressure of his hand at the small of her back. The protective gesture warmed her heart.

  "But convincing him Virginia was murdered isn't going to be easy. He's a tough nut to crack. If he trusts you, he'll talk to you. Otherwise, he'll never let on what he's thinking, and he'll kick you out so fast you won't know you're standing in the hall until the door is slammed shut behind you."

  "Sounds like someone else I know."

  "Only because I couldn't tread on Marks territory. Otherwise, I wouldn't have left you alone,” he said. “Come on. Clay is waiting."

  Virginia materialized in front of Clay's door. “Could we have a few minutes with him first?"

  Anne turned to Jason. “Virginia wants us to have a few minutes with him first."

  He didn't say anything, but the conflicting emotions flitting across his face spoke volumes. He nodded. “Fifteen minutes. That's it."

  The shimmering ghost shot over to Jason and then dropped a kiss on his cheek.

  Jason put his hand to his cheek. “That was Virginia, wasn't it?"

  Smiling, Anne nodded, then leaned over and kissed the other cheek. “We both thank you."

  A few minutes later, Anne walked into Clay Montgomery's office then sank slowly onto the upholstered chair opposite his oak desk. She looked at the Armani suited owner of the most notorious club in the city. Silver streaked deep wings in his closely cropped hair. Though trim, his body had lost the definition of a man in his prime—softening his profile. Even so, it was obvious he still worked out from the smooth stomach and athletic grace. She tried to imagine what he had looked like thirty years ago. His black Irish coloring with striking blue eyes would have been a lethal combination at any age.

  Virginia floated toward his desk, sitting cross-legged on one end. Ripples of lavender moved through her transparent form. Hungry eyes studied Clay.

  "So, Miss Kemper, Jason said you wanted to speak to me about Virginia Marshall.” He let the statement dangle between them, then he rocked back in his seat, his blue eyes cool and assessing, revealing none of the curiosity she was sure he must be feeling.

  "Don't let him pull that stare on you. He's dying with curiosity but he'd dance on red-hot coals before he'd admit it,” Virginia advised. “Clay was never one to let you know what he was thinking.” She grinned. “Unless he wanted sex."

&n
bsp; Anne wondered if all Virginia had thought about when she was alive was sex. But then, if she had been independently wealthy, the only child of indulgent parents, who knows how different she would have been.

  "Three days ago, I moved into Virginia's home.” Anne pulled the necklace from under her sweater. “I believe this was her necklace."

  Not so much as a blink betrayed his thoughts, yet Anne felt the tension radiating in gigantic waves off his body the moment his eyes locked on the round gold disk with the engraved triquetra dangling from the glittering chain. She turned it over, showing the jeweler's mark an intricately woven z.

  His gaze narrowed. “Where did you get that?"

  "He gave it to me,” Virginia interjected. “But he's not going to admit it. At least, not yet."

  "I found it on Virginia's body. She'd been killed by a blow to the back of her head, and then her body was bricked into the cold room in the basement of her home. Judging from the decomposition, the coroner thought her body had been there for about thirty years."

  "Her body? It can't be Virginia's body. She left the city thirty years ago to see the world, and, other than a brief Dear John letter, I haven't heard from her since then."

  A fine thread of tension laced with pain twined around his words. Anne paused, guessing that Virginia's departure had wounded him and was probably still a raw and open wound.

  "Someone else must have written the letter,” Virginia declared.

  "She didn't write the letter,” Anne echoed Virginia's words. “And you gave her the locket."

  Ruddy color spread across his cheeks. “Look, you couldn't possibly know that. You weren't even born when she left. If you are trying to somehow capitalize on the fact that you've moved into her home and found the locket, you'll be very sorry."

  "Let me talk to him, Annie."

  Everything she'd said and done until now hadn't helped convince Clay Montgomery that it was Virginia's body in the basement and she hadn't jilted him thirty years ago. Anne turned toward Virginia feeling desperate. “How?"

  "Give him the necklace."