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A Triple Scoop of I Scream
ISBN # 978-1-78184-235-5
©Copyright Gabrielle Holly 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2013
Edited by Sue Meadows
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.
This story contains 61 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.
Ghost Encounters
A TRIPLE SCOOP OF I SCREAM
Gabrielle Holly
Book two in the Ghost Encounters series
A reluctant spiritual medium, a sexy TV ghost hunter and a handsome telepath create a love triangle so hot even the dead can’t ignore it.
Newly single and without a job or a place to call home, spiritual medium Toni Bianchi finds herself the owner of a run-down ice-cream parlour in a historic Wisconsin river town. The shop is haunted by the ghosts of two lovers who can’t rest until their tragic mystery is unravelled.
While Toni looks for answers and works to get the shop up and running, she finds herself drawn to her handsome neighbour, bookstore owner Liam Greco. Toni soon learns that Liam has a psychic secret of his own.
When the hauntings get physical, Toni enlists the help of the ghost hunters from TV’s Paranormal Research Team and reunites with the show’s sexy star Thomas Becker. Passion and psychic energy surge when Toni, Thomas and Liam engage in a decadently delicious ménage that helps the dead cross over and leaves the living craving more.
Dedication
To the ghosts that haunt and inspire me.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Frisbee: Wham-O Inc.
Jeep: Chrysler Group LLC
Chapter One
“Of all ghosts, the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.” ~ The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Toni Bianchi stood at the corner of State and Main squinting against the late morning sun. She parked her hands on her full hips and shook her head as she looked at the run-down building on the opposite corner—her run-down building on the opposite corner.
“What a fucking dump,” she muttered.
She scanned the grimy two-storey façade. The brick was crumbling, half of the upstairs windows had been boarded over and the wood trim was nearly devoid of paint. A sandstone plaque above the door read ‘A.D. 1888’. Well, if nothing else, this real estate venture was newer than her last—if only by a few decades.
She’d been optimistic when they’d rolled into town in the moving van. The historic downtown district was a four-block stretch of quaint shops in lovely, well-kept adjoining buildings. While Toni had taken in the brick-paved streets and the overflowing flower baskets that hung from the ornate street lights, Mike had sung the praises of the ‘gem’ he’d found for her. Not only was it a corner building, it was the last one on the block and one side faced the river. He’d left out the part about it being a loose brick shy of condemnation.
Toni turned and scowled at the man standing next to her. Mike Briggs seemed oblivious to the death rays Toni shot from her pupils. He just stared lovingly at the red-brick behemoth across the street as if it were the most glorious thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Didn’t I tell ya?” he said, grinning dumbly and shaking his head in giddy disbelief. “Isn’t it awesome?”
No. Toni could say with complete and utter conviction that it was not awesome. She’d not even toured the inside of her new piece of real estate and yet she could—without hesitation—appraise its depressingly dismal level of awesomeness.
She had to hand it to Mike Briggs, he was one hell of a salesman. He had convinced her—really without much effort—that dumping her bed-and-breakfast inn and purchasing a failed ice-cream parlour in a sleepy Wisconsin river town really was in her best interest.
Mike finally tore his gaze from the building and turned to face Toni. He laid his hand on her forearm and his expression went from awestruck to downright goofy.
“And the best part,” he said, “it’s totally haunted!”
Toni’s eyes widened. “That’s the best part?” she asked, not holding back on the sarcasm.
Mike Briggs playfully punched her on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, Toni. You’ve been in the hospitality business long enough to know that paranormal tourism is the hottest ticket out there.”
Toni lifted her hands from her hips and crossed them under her ample breasts. “And how did that turn out for me last time, Briggs?”
He shrugged. “That was different. The Buckman Inn had one ghost, one boring old Civil War soldier ghost… Yawn.” Mike dramatically pantomimed stifling a yawn.
Boring? That wasn’t how Toni remembered it. The ghost of handsome soldier John Buckman had been part of her first ever ménage à trois. Thomas Becker—television ghost-hunter extraordinaire—had been the third side of that paranormal erotic triangle. But, less than a week after their night of earth-shaking, otherworldly passion, Thomas had quickly disappeared and had been incommunicado ever since. Toni tried not to take it personally. She knew that Thomas had been crushed discover that the cache of ‘gold’ coins they’d found were, in fact, marginally valuable nineteenth-century pennies. And they’d both been disappointed to learn that the body-rocking passion they had experienced with the ghost of John Buckman couldn’t be duplicated without the paranormal element.
She regarded Mike through narrowed eyes.
“C’mon, Toni! Let’s go poke around inside! You own the place now! Let’s go! It’ll be so cool!”
Toni couldn’t help but get caught up in Mike’s enthusiasm. He was an odd duck. He’d come to her inn as a tourist and left as the standby cameraman for a hit paranormal TV series. He’d fallen in love with the gorgeous redheaded co-star—and somehow made her fall in love with him. He’d shuffled and blushed his way through a series of shocking and terrifying events, and in the process he’d completely endeared himself to Toni. He was a modern-day Renaissance man—experienced in audio-visual communications, emergency medicine, and real estate transactions. Toni wondered what other tricks the enigmatic Jack-of-all-trades had up his sleeve.
The man had a seemingly boundless supply of energy. He kept glancing between Toni and the brick building, looking as if he’d burst from anticipation. She realised what her quirky real estate agent reminded her of—he was like one of those bouncy, hyper dogs in the flying disc compet
itions—all coiled energy just waiting for someone to throw the freakin’ Frisbee already!
His excitement was contagious. Toni huffed out a breath of resignation. “Oh, all right already. Let’s go see what you’ve gotten me in to.”
* * * *
Spring had come early to Wisconsin and it was remarkably warm for May, especially surprising on the banks of the Mississippi where the wide river typically cooled the air a couple of degrees. The April showers had overstayed their welcome, dousing the streets more mornings than not. Now that the sun had come out, the tiny river town was turned into a virtual sauna. Toni stood on the bottom step of the old building and discreetly swiped the beads of sweat from her upper lip. She dug an elastic hair band from the front pocket of her capris and corralled her long black curls into a ponytail.
Mike stood on the top step, fiddling with the deadbolt lock. Toni prickled in the heat and tapped her foot.
Mike spun around and loped down the steps. “I think we’re going to have to go in through the upstairs apartment. The keys for that door are in my truck. I’ll meet you around back,” he said.
Toni followed the State Street sidewalk and turned right at the back corner of the building into a narrow alleyway. Cutting a diagonal slash up the back of her building was a rickety wooden staircase leading to a second-storey door. Wooden pallets and empty boxes were stacked in the space beneath. The staircase looked weather-beaten and brittle. The paint had almost completely flaked away, save for a few stubborn flecks of green. Toni thought she might let Mike make the treacherous climb and she’d wait on the corner for him to unlock the front door from the inside. She reached out for the rough handrail, intending to test its sturdiness, but drew back when she heard rustling from behind a stack of boxes.
“Hello?” she called out.
There was no answer. In spite of the heat, a chill ran over Toni’s skin. She looked up and down the alley.
I should wait for Mike.
She leaned to peer around the stack of boxes. The sun cast a thin sliver of light between the buildings and the area under the stairs was mostly in shadow. She inched sideways to get a better view.
Someone stood on the other side of the boxes with his back to her. Toni could just make out his heels and calves. His feet were spread apart and his legs angled forward as if he were pressing his knees against the wall. His heels lifted off the ground in a rhythmic pulse. Toni watched for a moment, trying to understand what she was seeing.
I really should wait for Mike.
Toni’s curiosity won out and she felt compelled to see the rest of the picture. She took another step sideways and found herself with an unobstructed view of the man…and the woman. The sight was at once jarring and captivating. The man had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore a sleeveless undershirt and loose pants held up by suspenders. He had a woman pinned against the brick wall. The couple were lost in a passionate kiss. She had her legs wrapped around his narrow waist and her arms around his neck. Her skirt was pushed up past her thighs, revealing his hands cupping her bare ass.
Toni knew that she should quietly back out of the alley, but she couldn’t take her eyes from them. Other than in the movies, she’d never watched two people fuck before. This was so hot and so intimate. She was mesmerised and thought she could almost feel what they were feeling.
Each time the man thrust into his lover, Toni’s pussy throbbed in empathy, as if she were the one being screwed against the brick wall The man’s tempo increased and Toni thought the woman’s back must have been scraped raw by the rough brick. The thought of that sting heightening the pleasure was surprisingly enticing. The woman broke free of the kiss and, with her eyes still squeezed shut, she laid her cheek against her lover’s and opened her mouth wide. Toni’s breath quickened as she watched the woman in the throes of orgasm.
“My God!” Toni gasped.
The woman’s eyes flew open and locked on Toni’s.
“Can you see me?”
The woman’s lips hadn’t moved and the words seemed muffled, but the question had clearly come from her. The man did not respond at all to Toni’s presence and kept thrusting away.
Toni was frozen with fear. She realised instantly that these were not actual people. These must be ‘residuals’, ghost events that had generated so much energy in their first instance that they replayed themselves far into the future. Her ghost-hunting friends had told her all about these apparitions, but she had thought they were just like movies playing on a loop—not conscious spirits who could ask questions of the living.
“Well, fuck me,” Toni muttered.
“Language, please!” the ghost woman communicated.
“Really?” Toni asked, pumping as much sarcasm as possible into her voice.
Then they were gone. There was no fanfare. There was no blinding flash of light. They didn’t dissolve away or get swallowed up in an ethereal puff of smoke. They were just no longer there.
“Who are you talking to?”
Mike walked up the alley towards her, spinning a key ring on his index finger.
“Hm?” Toni asked, stalling for time.
“Just now, you said, ‘Really?’ Who were you talking to?”
Just tell him! He’s a ghost hunter for Christ’s sake!
Toni ignored her inner sane person and lied.
“Oh, that? I was talking to myself. I was like, ‘Really? It’s a hundred degrees in the shade and ninety-five per cent humidity and you’re taking your own sweet time getting the fucking keys to the fucking upstairs apartment so I can get into this wreck of a building and out of this hellacious heat. Really?’”
Mike’s forehead scrunched so hard that his eyebrows nearly met in the middle.
“Uh. Okay. Sorry to keep you waiting. The apartment keys were stuck down between the seats of the truck. It took me a while to find them.”
Toni nodded and was fully aware that her nod was far too exaggerated, cartoonish even, but she was already committed to this crazy approach and she was going to see it through.
“Well, all right, Mike. You know how I get when I’m overheated. Let’s just get inside and get cooled off.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Mike’s patronising tone wasn’t lost on Toni. She followed him up the rickety staircase and stole a glance down the boxes while he worked the key in the lock.
Why had the woman, but not the man, responded to Toni? Was he a residual and she…something else?
The chill from the shock of the ghost encounter had left her and Toni could think only about getting out of the heat. She hoped that the darkened brick and stone building would offer some respite. She let out a sigh of relief when Mike turned the key and she heard the thunk of the deadbolt sliding open. She followed him into the upstairs corridor and blinked to adjust to the dim interior. A sheet hung across the window at the far end of the hallway, letting in diffused light. Her shoulders sagged when she realised that it was actually hotter inside than out.
“The utilities should have been turned back on yesterday,” Mike said, patting the wall beside the door.
He flicked the light switch and bare bulbs illuminated the narrow hallway. A layer of dust covered the worn pine planks on the floor and cobwebs formed a canopy between the grimy walls and ceiling. Toni closed the door behind her and peered down the dark stairway to her left. She reached out and tried the switch. The stairway remained dark. They peeked into each of the four open doorways to the right. The rooms all overlooked State Street. The first two held bedroom furniture. The third looked like a catch-all for junk, stuffed with haphazardly stacked boxes and mysterious piles covered with yellowed sheets. At the end of the hall was a large, dingy bathroom. Mike switched on the lights as Toni pulled the sheet from the window across from the doorway and looked down onto State Street. On the adjacent wall a window over the tub overlooked Main.
Mike opened the taps at the sink and tub. The pipes gurgled before spewing out a gush of rusty water.
As if he could feel Toni’s glare boring into the back of his head, he muttered, “It’s been vacant for a while. Just give it a minute.”
Toni was relieved when the stream turned clear.
He turned off the taps and faced Toni with a satisfied grin. “See?”
Toni put her hands on her hips. “Great, Mike, it has indoor plumbing and running water. Shall we head downstairs and see what other wonders this place holds?”
* * * *
Mike and Toni navigated the dark stairway down to the small, commercial kitchen. Rather than searching for the kitchen light switch, the two followed the glow of sunlight coming through the open doorway between the kitchen and the shop. It was cooler downstairs, but only marginally so. Toni waited in the doorway while Mike picked his way towards the front door. A cloud of unwelcomed aromas assaulted Toni’s senses and she reflexively covered her nose.
“Oh my… What the… Good gawd, Mike! What is that smell?”
Toni blinked to adjust her pupils to the dim interior. The windows overlooking Main Street and State Street had been covered with brown paper and in the dim light she was able to make out a soda fountain to her left. The low counter ran most of the length of the room and was topped with a wide slab of white marble. It was divided with a walk-through between the two halves. Six stools were bolted to the floor in the front of each section.
Mike flipped a switch near the entrance, lighting the front of the shop and the area behind the soda fountain. Toni fought the urge to tell him to turn it back off. The shop looked as if it had been hastily deserted and the effect was eerily disturbing. Chairs were pushed haphazardly away from the small bistro tables. On one of the tables a grey bus tub overflowed with crumpled napkins and mouldy coffee cups and plates of rotting food. A mop leaned against the counter with its head submerged in a bucket of putrid water. A large round carton of ice cream had been overturned near the walk-through and a flow of pink goo ran across the tile floor.
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