Martin frowned. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting any poltergeist side effects!" Doug and Bruce were watching open-mouthed as the objects fell without any visible means, the napkins whirling around as if caught by an unseen tornado. A catsup bottle exploded as Minotti swung a haymaker through it at Gerry, showering the floor with sticky globs of tomato. The two men jerked back. Jodi gave an angry yell and tried in vain to stop a large menu board from collapsing. Martin helped himself to a packet of brown sugar and sprinkled it onto his coffee.
"Martin!" Claudia hissed, gripping his arm. "You seem very cool about all this! Aren't you even slightly worried?"
"No, dear." He glanced at the fight. "It seems… right that it should happen. Sorry; I can't explain why I feel that."
Then Gerry got the upper hand. A combination of right cross, left jab and uppercut saw the dark spirit flung back in a shower of napkins, to lie senseless on the diner floor.
Putting down his cup Martin walked over to lay a restraining hand on Gerry's shoulder. He ignored the undercurrent of Jodi's swearing and looked down at the sprawling shape of Cutie-Boy Minotti. "I think he'll cooperate," he said mildly.
Gerry glared at the fallen spirit. "Bastard!"
"Gerry, there are ladies present!"
"Sorry, ma'am, Ms. Mackenzie," the ghost muttered, nodding to them.
She waved away the apology. Jodi swore vehemently and began to clean up the mess.
"Who won?" Doug called, busily writing in a notebook.
"Gerry, of course. Now you, spirit!" Martin said sternly, addressing the wretched figure at his feet. "Jack Minotti, in the name of all you hold or ever held dear, tell us where you killed this man!"
Minotti fingered his jaw and gazed up, unnerved by the terrible purpose in Martin's voice. "W… will I be released?" he quavered. "I wanna cut a deal…"
"Don't attempt to bargain with me!" Martin thundered and Minotti fell back with a cry. Martin leaned forward and glowered at him, and even Claudia felt a shiver run down her spine at the sheer authority in her man's voice. "If you tell us truthfully where we can find the remains of the men you killed, you'll be released."
Minotti stared up at him, and the spark seemed to fade. No longer did he resemble the cocky young gangster he'd been in life. "It was in a cave," he mumbled, "up in the mountains."
"Not good enough! Where in the mountains?"
"Wait! I'm tellin' ya, okay? The rube we took along called it Canning's Vale. The cave's in the bluff to one side." He looked up at Gerry, standing close, still furious as if about to leap on him and beat him some more. "Look, I'm sorry I killed ya, okay? My brother made me do it!"
"What happened to the boy who guided you?" Martin pressed, his arm holding Gerry back. The chill of the spirit's form bit through the cloth of his jacket but he ignored it in his anger.
Minotti grimaced. "He's up there too. We buried 'em both under the crud at the back of the cave." He lowered his face into his hands. "I'm sorry! So sorry! I never knew it would be like this. All this pain! I can't take it any more!"
"No, I suppose you can't," Martin said in a cold voice. "You are truly penitent?"
Jack “Cutie-Boy” Minotti got up onto his knees and clasped his hands together, his eyes fastened imploringly on Martin. "Yes! I swear!"
Martin raised his eyes, sent out a call through the spirit plane. "Is there a kindly spirit present who will show this unfortunate being the way to the light?"
And there came an answer. "Yes. I'm here."
A soft light seemed to grow around Minotti, and he raised his face towards it. An odd expression stole across his face, first puzzled then wondering. "Momma?" The light grew in intensity. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, then faded from sight.
"He's gone!" Gerry mumbled. He sagged as if drunk again, and stared at the spot. "He got released from this world."
"Yes." Martin sighed. "He was loaded with guilt for what he'd done in his life. I don't believe he ever intended to be a criminal, but he was led astray by others. It was keeping him here in this energy until he discharged that guilt."
"Aw, that's not fair!" Gerry moaned. "What did I ever do wrong to compare with him?"
Martin laid his hand on the spirit's shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. When he looked round, he saw Claudia was watching him with harrowed eyes. He gave her a sad smile, and turned to Jodi.
"How much do I owe for breakages?" he asked.
* * * *
"That was scary but kind of fun," Doug observed as they headed out into the parking lot. "It's not often I get to see a knock-down drag-'em-out fight between two ghosts!"
"I can't say I see many, either," Martin replied with a thin smile. "At least Jack Minotti is at rest now."
"I'd call that a good result," Claudia said.
Martin didn't reply. He stood by the door of Bruce's SUV and gazed out across the street with unfocused eyes.
Doug looked from him to Bruce, who shook his head in mild irritation. Doug touched Martin's arm. "Wouldn't you call it a good result, Martin?"
"Hmm?" Martin turned his head and looked at him. "Oh, yes—mostly. One thing is bothering me, though."
"What's that?"
"If Cutie-Boy Minotti was in the diner, then where are Joe Minotti and Ezra Ellis?"
Chapter Seven
They spent the afternoon sending e-mail inquiries and making notes and plans in the office before heading down to a meal in the restaurant. There were few staff members present; those who were eating in that night avoided them, seeming to prefer to keep a safe distance. Martin and Claudia looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.
Claudia flipped through the day's copy of the Gainesville Gazette they'd picked up earlier whilst they ate. She closed it with a sigh. "There's nothing worth seeing at the movie house in town tonight."
"Are you getting a touch of cabin fever, dear?" he asked.
She snorted. "Just a touch!" Reaching across the table she clasped his hand, feeling the strength there. "I was hoping we'd go out tonight, have a break from this place and its ghosts and spirits."
He put down his fork and took her hand in both of his. "Me too, love. I guess the nearest we'll get to a movie house would be the TV in our cabin."
She pulled up a corner of her mouth. "That's not much of an option, and you know it."
"I do." He glanced at the nearby tables; the numbers were thinning out as people drifted away to their cabins or headed for the parking lot. "We could have an early night," he said, feeling his blood quicken in his veins at the prospect of making love to her.
She squeezed his hand and sat back with a smile. "Y’ know, I was thinking the same thing.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we can try something a little different?”
She cocked her head. “I'm not sure about anal, Martin, if that's what you're thinking."
"Well…" he began, feeling his face grow hot. "It did cross my mind."
With a smile she reached over and clasped his hand again. "It's okay, darling. I don't mind the idea. It's just that we've not got any lube, I only did anal dry the once and it hurt." She rocked her hand. "Sorry, but I'm kind of tight back there." She winked. "Another time, sure."
The thought of Claudia being with any other guy—even in her as yet unspoken-of past—gave him a pang of jealousy. The thought of her being bulled from behind… He curtailed that line of thinking and raised a hand. "Okay then, love; not anal. Just touching, and being touched; making love."
"The idea has possibilities," she said, and smiled.
* * * *
On the way back to their cabin they passed Laurel heading the other way along the path from the staff cabins.
"Going for a night out, guys?" she called brightly and waved.
"No, we need to rest. We've got a flight over the mountains booked for tomorrow," Claudia called back. "Where are you headed?"
Laurel gave an expressive shrug and gestured at the main building. "I've got some work to catch up on."
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"You shouldn't work so hard, Laurel," Martin said, thinking of her wan appearance earlier.
"Now you're sounding like my mother!" she said and laughed as she began walking away. "Have a good night, guys, and see you tomorrow."
"I wonder about her, you know," Claudia said as Martin unlocked the cabin door.
He turned on the light and she saw the look of surprise on his face. "Why so?"
"She seems so… needy, I guess is the word I'm looking for." She walked into the room as he shut the door and dropped her purse on the bed. "It can't be easy for her, running this place. Look at her just now, off to work at seven-thirty in the evening. Bruce can't be much of a manager or he'd take some of the weight off her shoulders."
"Being crude for a moment, I think she may be in dire need of a good hard shag," Martin said, coming up behind her and massaging her shoulders.
She giggled. "Shag? Who do you think you are—Mr. Powers?"
He laughed and turned her around to plant a kiss on her lips. As he held her close, she looked up into his handsome face, his sweet smiling blue eyes and thought again how lucky she was.
"Oh no, I'm much better than that!"
She pressed a fingertip to his lips. "You'd better believe it! Are you going to shower first or shall I?"
"You first, sweetheart." He gave her a half-smile. "It's a pity we can't take one together."
"Yeah, but that cubicle is no bigger than a phone booth."
He cuddled her, and she felt his growing hardness against her hip as he nibbled her ear lobe. "Maybe, but it'll mean we can be very intimate," he whispered.
She slapped his arm. "Go on, Marty! You go first." She gave him a lingering kiss. "We can be as intimate as you like later."
He winked and headed for the bathroom. She started to undress in the bedroom, laying her clothes neatly on the side table.
* * * *
In the stuffy warmth of her office, Laurel adjusted the brightness on the monitor and smiled as the younger woman's image became clearer.
"Bless you, Davy!" she said to herself, and glanced at the empty chair in the corner. The handyman had fixed a new mini-cam in guest cabin four that morning whilst the investigators were in town, before taking himself off alone to his own cabin. He hadn't emerged since, even for lunch or dinner. She sipped her bourbon and wondered, not for the first time, just what was bugging the man.
At least his new toy gave a pin-sharp image; she could easily see the firmness of Claudia's breasts as she slipped off her black lacy brassiere, and admired her long legs and tight butt as she stooped to pick up her panties. The brassiere fell off the bed and she guessed the young woman's bust to be around a C-cup. She felt a twinge of sadness and jealousy as she glanced down at her own bust, which had been heading south for a few years already. Raising her glass, she toasted the young woman. "Enjoy it while you can, shiksa; it won't last forever!"
* * * *
A psychic wave of low-level nastiness rolled down from the mountains to wash over the resort. It cost the spirit power to produce but combined with that of the other, it was the best way to find what they sought without tipping off those who might combat them. It stood in a position analogous to the mountain slope far above the main building and watched carefully.
That powerful human was down there, his psychic power throttled back. The spirit could tell he was distracted by something but didn't want to risk getting closer just yet in case he tripped some tell-tale warding. With any luck, the low level of negative energy he'd released would barely show above the background count generated by the resort's inhabitants.
With sharp eyes used to gazing on the paranormal plane, it saw the pooling of that negative energy in a few places along the slope beneath and amongst the buildings, and examined each in turn. Below, a fault in the underlying rock had made part of the hiking path weak. It held potential power but was useless for his purpose. There a couple started having a heated argument; possible. And there a guy dropped a heavy chair on his toe; nice but too short in duration. And there—Ah! Perfect! The spirit cast a last glance at the powerful psychic—still distracted—good! It gathered its resources and swooped.
* * * *
Dave lay on his bed, wearing only his pants, alternating sips of cheap sour-mash whiskey with tokes on a joint. Its glowing red tip was the only light source in the room. Away from the main building, with the lights on the footpath still resolutely refusing to work, it was pitch black outside the cabin and in. He scratched his crotch and thought of Laurel Kratzmer, alone up in her office. Under his hand, his cock lay flaccid. He thought of a yellow New York cab, and his cock gave a twitch. He sniggered and took another drag.
The cannabis, the booze and the pain relievers he was taking for his injured foot combined to create a very, very strange feeling. His brain felt furry; blue lights danced over his bare toes and nipples; a pale, ghostly shape of a man stood by his bed, looking down at him.
Dave squinted up at the figure and blew a stream of smoke right through it. The figure seemed to dissolve into the smoke, making it thicker, darker, and he giggled in a high pitch. Then the smoke stream reversed itself, flowing back past his pursed lips and into his mouth. Dave blinked—and his eyes shot wide open.
* * * *
Claudia finished her shower and walked out of the bathroom to find Martin lying on the bed, idly flicking through the cable channels on the TV. He'd draped the covers across his lower half, and was idly scratching his broad, hairy chest.
"Why do guys always find the need to scratch themselves?" she asked the air.
"Because we're the only ones who know where the itch is," he retorted, and laughed.
"Oh, don't be too sure about that!" she said in her best, huskiest voice. "I'm sure I can find plenty of itchy places on your hunky bod I can scratch."
He stretched out a hand. "Come here and start looking."
She pulled the fold of the oversized towel from between her breasts and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of the pile with dainty precision and twirling for him. He pursed his lips in a long, low whistle, and she giggled to see the bulge spring up beneath the covers.
"Hey! Before you deploy the artillery, remember—touch and be touched only for now, okay? We can take our time; let things build before I take you inside me. We’ve got plenty of time," she purred.
"That's fine by me!"
"Wait one." Fetching her vibrator from her case, she set it down on the bedside cabinet. "That's for later," she said, and stepped up to the bed.
She lay down upon it slowly, reaching out to brush the dark brown hair from his eyes. Martin tossed the remote control aside and slipped his arms around her, drawing her down and closer to him. She felt his warmth, the tickle of the hairs on his chest against her breasts. And then his lips were on hers, tongue slipping inside to seek out her teeth and tongue.
"Mmmmmm!" she said, sliding back the covers to reveal his manhood standing tall and proud. "I'm glad to see I have your attention."
"Absolutely!" His strong fingers caressed the curve of her breast, running around it, and along the fold beneath. She cupped it and offered him her nipple, and he bent his head to take it between his lips, sucking it into his mouth greedily.
She stroked his head, and kissed it, her eyes half-shut, savoring the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth as he suckled and nibbled upon her. Her pussy was soaking wet, and she looked forward to taking him inside. They could have fucked in the boathouse but she didn't regret delaying her physical pleasure until now. It would make her enjoyment all the greater. And she'd been sincere when she'd told Martin his pleasure was hers. There were more ways than one to enjoy the company of the loving, caring man she held in her arms.
"Now me to you," she whispered, pushing him gently away.
Obediently he lay back, and she kissed him on the brow, the nose, his eyes, lips and chin, working her way steadily down. She explored his chest with her fingers, pinching and tweaking his nipples and she nibbled and sucked
at his pectorals. Martin's hands roamed over her back, up and down the ridge of her backbone, and stroked the hollow of her back.
"You've got such smooth, soft skin right here," he murmured, his fingers stroking the spot.
"I'm glad you like it," she whispered, and, bending her head, trailed her hair over his face, throat and chest, working her way downwards, lower and lower.
Taking his cock in her hand she eased back his foreskin, revealing the luscious purple bulb, so big and hard with her man's blood. A trickle of pre-cum ran down and over her knuckles, and she licked it off with dainty dabs of her tongue, her eyes upon his all the while.
"Take me in your mouth," he said, his voice strained with lust.
She obeyed, dipping her head and engulfing his head with her lips. With strong, smooth movements, she drew her lips and tongue up and down his shaft, pausing to lick along his perineum until he groaned and writhed on the bed. Martin's skin wore a fine sheen of sweat, and his face was a mask of mingled pain and pleasure.
"I can't…hold…much longer!" he managed to gasp.
"Okay, lover," she said, gently releasing his cock. "Pleasure me now." She retrieved the vibrator, switched it on and gave it to him. "Down here." Holding him, she rolled onto her side, and then her back, settling herself beside him. "Go ahead."
He slipped down the bed, rubbing his firm body against hers sinuously. With hands and fingers and lips and tongue, he stroked and kissed and licked and teased a path down her body until her skin felt on fire.
"Oh yeah, baby!" she gasped, as his tongue dipped into her navel—and he slid the vibrator over her belly and onto her pussy.
Using long delicate strokes, he used the softly buzzing dildo to work magic on her pussy lips until she gasped and clutched his hand. "Slower, baby; much, much slower!"
"Like this.?"
"Oooh God, yes!"
She spread her thighs wide, giving herself totally to him, letting him work her like a virtuoso as she squeezed and pinched her breasts and nipples. He lowered his head, and she felt his hot breath on her wet, vulnerable pussy. A spasm shot through her, followed by another, and another, until he touched the vibrator to her clit.
Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky Page 9