A Girl, a Guy, and a Ghost

by Patricia Mason

  Ry lifted his head from the bed and delivered a long, luscious lick to the inside of her elbow. Giselle gasped. Who knew that such an innocent area of the body could be so erogenous?

  “The third date was just earlier tonight. Dinner and a movie. The movie was some improbable comedy about a séance interrupted by a fire.” He moved upward to nip along her shoulder to her neck and then to her lips. More tongue action.

  Yeeessss! Three dates! Wanton Vixen yelled in her ear.

  “Oh yes,” Giselle moaned when his head fell back to the bed. “You are so right. Three dates.”

  Now both of Ry’s hands moved upward to cup her breasts.

  She leaned forward and sipped at his full mouth. Then she kissed her way down his chin to his neck. Giselle stroked one hand down his chest. She played briefly with his navel. An innie. It was perfect like the rest of his body. Giselle hesitated. Her own body wasn’t so perfect. Should she go through with this?

  Ry groaned. “Don’t stop now. You’re just getting to the best part.” His eyes laughed even though his face was strained with desire.

  Giselle chuckled. “If you do say so yourself.” She grasped the tab on the zipper of his jeans and pulled it down. “Well, that answers one of my burning questions,” Giselle said when she had completed the task.

  “What question?” Ry groaned.

  “Boxers or briefs?” Giselle teased. “I never thought it would be commando.” Giselle delved into the parted denim. Ry gasped and jerked beneath her.

  “There’s a condom in the bedside table,” Ry managed to grit out.

  It was a stretch, but Giselle was able to reach the drawer, pull it open and find the prize inside without losing contact of Ry’s body. “Ta-da!” she said, holding up the package. “How do these things work again?”

  Suddenly, he twisted and Giselle found herself on her back with Ry covering her. “You talk too much,” Ry said, and then pressed a long, wet kiss to her mouth, finishing with a lick. He pulled his jeans off, retrieved the condom from her hand and dealt quickly with the task himself.

  The denim shirt had worked its way to Giselle’s waist so Ry found no impediment as he slid his hand into the waistband of her panties and yanked them roughly down. Giselle kicked them away impatiently.

  Ry spread her legs and then gazed down at her. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Hurry,” she said. “I want you now.”

  So much for him not thinking you’re slutty, Wanton Vixen laughed at the back of her mind. Giselle ignored her.

  Ry moved to lie between her thighs and Giselle him against her.

  When he began to unbutton the denim shirt she wore, Giselle stopped his hands.

  “Let’s leave it on,” she said, uncertain about revealing her full figure. Particularly, her D-cup size.

  “I want to see all of you.” With shaking fingers he pulled at the buttons. Then Ry parted the fabric to reveal Giselle’s breasts…and the rest of her. As he looked down at her, he smiled. “You’re gorgeous,” he said. Eyes gleaming.

  Bending, he kissed her breast. Giselle cried out. She couldn’t help arching. Writhing against Ry. She scored his back with her nails.

  Both of her hands urged him forward. Ry took the hint and thrust into her. Breath rushed from Giselle in a whoosh as she felt a slight pinching. It had been awhile since she’d been with someone. But it was only a moment before her body adjusted itself to his size. The penetration was rough. Filling her. No room left inside that he didn’t fill. Ry pulled back.

  “Don’t stop,” she groaned.

  “I don’t think I can stop. You feel like heaven,” Ry answered as he shoved forward again and moved rhythmically against her. He moved inside her, hard and deep. Each thrust increasing in force until she teetered on the edge of the precipice of climax.

  She loved the feel of his big body over and in hers. The friction of him inside her as he moved. The hair of muscled thighs tickling at her skin. His broad chest rubbing against her, against her chest. The sweat of his body mingling with hers. His eyes stared into hers. His jaw clenched as he moved.

  So intimate. So right.

  He drove her on. She couldn’t stop. They were all flesh, moisture and breath. With her climax, she screamed. “

  “Aghhh.” Growling, he released.

  Ry collapsed and rested his cheek against Giselle’s breast. Giselle held him there, stroking his soft, wavy hair as emotions rushed through her. Tears swam in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall.

  Giselle shifted under his weight.

  “Don’t go anywhere, I’m not through with you,” Ry grumbled. “If you’re up to it,” he added.

  “I’ll take that as a personal challenge,” Giselle choked out.

  * * * * *

  The next morning the sun had barely risen when Giselle awoke to see Ry staring off into space at the bedroom window. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. A contented smile, Giselle was pleased to see.

  She was even more pleased to see that he was completely nude. Michelangelo’s David was Quasimodo in comparison to Ry.

  Giselle could feel that her face had a pleased smile of its own. She stretched atop the sheets. It was too hot for covers. Besides, with all the things they’d done last night, she no longer had anything to hide. Giselle didn’t have a lot of experience to compare to, but she was fairly certain that last night had been unbelievable on the scale of amorous adventures.

  “Ry,” she said sleepily, and she hoped sexily. “Come back to bed. It’s your turn to rub my back…and my front.”

  At the window, Ry was abruptly tense and alert. “Oh F@#k!.”

  “Ry, why are you using the F word and not in a good way?” Giselle sat up, pulling the sheet across her body.

  He stomped to the closet and pulled out a black dress shirt. Ry shrugged into the shirt, thrusting his arms into each sleeve hole while muttering various obscenities. He jerked on jeans in a similarly vicious manner.

  Giselle got out of bed and retrieved the shirt she’d borrowed from Ry the night before from the crumpled heap it had landed in at the foot of the bed. She slipped on the shirt.

  “Ry, why are we getting dressed?”

  He didn’t answer. Mumbled curses continued.

  Giselle had begun buttoning the shirt when she heard a knock on the front door of the house. She crossed to the bedroom window and peered down. “Ry, why is Madam Divinity at your door?”

  “F@#k.”

  Still not in a good way.

  “Just stay up here. I’ll handle this.” Ry stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. “F@#k!” She heard him shout on the other side of the door.

  Did he imagine that she would take orders, particularly when the orders conflicted with natural curiosity? Of course not. He must expect her to follow. If she thought about it, he had practically requested that she follow him. She found her black Capri pants and tugged them on—with difficulty since they were still damp—before going after Ry. She reached the top of the stairs leading down to the entry hall just as Ry opened the front door.

  “Hey, Mama.” Ry greeted a sour-faced Madam Divinity with a matching scowl. “What are you doing here?” Ry blocked the door with his body.

  Mama! Mama? Madam Divinity was Ry’s mother? And he’d said he just had a passing acquaintance with her. The lying jerk. An excellent lover but a lying jerk. A gorgeous, excellent lover but a lying jerk.

  Oh well, a guy had to have at least one fault. Being a lying jerk wasn’t so bad. His gorgeous loverness outweighed the lying jerkiness.

  “Is this any way to treat your mama, Rylan? Keeping me standing here on your front stoop at dawn? Didn’t I teach you better manners than that? ”

  “I think you should let your mama in,” Giselle said from the top of the stairs.

  Ry grimaced. Then he stepped out of the doorway and Madam Divinity flew in on her broomstick. Okay, not really, but it felt like it.

  Madam glowered at her as Giselle walked d
own the stairs. “You slept with her, didn’t you?” Madam spat the words toward Ry.

  “Hey, you really are psychic,” Giselle said.

  “You’re wearing my shirt and coming from the direction of my bedroom. It doesn’t take a psychic.” Ry had turned his grimace on Giselle.

  “I know. Jeeze. I was being what they call sarcastic. Surely you’ve heard of it.”

  “Oh my good Lord,” Madam interjected. “I knew it was you with her last night outside Kopeleski’s house, but I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to…to…”

  “Not so psychic after all,” Giselle said. She paused. “That was more sarcasm in case you didn’t recognize it.”

  Ry moved to stand by Giselle. “You’re not helping matters,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You started this, you lying jerk,” Giselle whispered back. He shrugged. He shrugged so adorably Giselle had difficulty being angry with him, but she managed.

  “I should’ve gotten rid of this horrible girl the first time I saw her,” Madam gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “Now, Mama, you haven’t been trying to kill Giselle, have you?”

  Madam’s voice turned to saccharine sweetness. “I don’t try to kill people, honey. If I was trying, I would have done it. You know that.”

  Madam circled around Ry and Giselle. She looked Giselle up and down. Her lip curled as if she had a whiff of something smelly. “Besides, I’m too well bred to do anything so crass, even if the person is a…is disagreeable like Ms. Hunter.”

  Ry placed a restraining arm around Giselle’s shoulders. It probably appeared to Madam to be a supportive hug. But to Giselle it was more akin to a hammerlock.

  “Anyway, I don’t know what would make you think I would try to kill one of your girlfriends, Ry,” Madam said.

  “There was that time you tried to kill my high school sweetheart. You remember Sally, the cheerleader.”

  “Honey, I wasn’t trying to kill her. I just wanted to scare her a little.”

  “All her hair fell out, Mama.”

  “She didn’t die, did she?”

  Giselle had the urge to reach up to protect her own hair, but she didn’t want to give Madam the satisfaction. Also, Ry had locked down her arms.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in to sit down, Ry?”

  “No, you’re not staying.”

  “Ry, Ry, my darling boy. I can’t believe this has gotten so bad, so fast. Last night, after the incident at Kopeleski’s house, I did a special tarot reading for you.”

  “Mama―”

  “And the chariot was prominent. That means there is a struggle, an upheaval in your life. Obviously, that relates to this…woman.” Madam glanced at Giselle with a scowl on her lips and narrowed eyes. She turned back to Ry. “The temperance card was there. You know that means you have to exercise self-control. I saw the knight of cups.” Madam tugged on his arm. “You know what that means. You’ve met someone with an intoxicating effect on you. But intoxication isn’t a good thing. Don’t you see that this girl is going to poison your life? You shouldn’t let your little Ry control your decision-making, son.”

  “I am in control, Mama. I don’t want to hear about this tarot-reading bull. You know how I feel about that mumbo-jumbo. Don’t come here trying to pull me into all that crap again. You forced it on me as a child, but no more.” Ry stalked stiff-legged away from Giselle and opened the front door. “Just go, Mama.”

  “Ry. It’s her you should get rid of.” Madam moved forward and clutched at his sleeve. “Why don’t you just get her a ghost? Once she gets what she wants, she’ll leave town and get out of your life.”

  “You don’t give orders to me anymore, Mama.” Ry pulled away from her grasp. Madam reached toward him again and he stepped back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Madam gave Giselle one last evil eye and flew out the door on her broomstick. Okay, not really.

  Ry threw the door closed and stood with his back against it, staring up at the ceiling. “I told you to stay upstairs,” he said, with a voice so low she could barely hear him. She’d seen Ry upset, but this was in an entirely different category. But then again, she wasn’t so thrilled either.

  “Yeah, well I’m not a dog. You can’t order me to stay.”

  “I can’t believe it!” Ry spun around, his face pinched. He paced away from the door and back again. He tugged one hand through his tousled hair. “I can’t believe I’ve been drawn back into all this crap again. I can’t believe I let you draw me back into it. You’re as bad as my mother.”

  Giselle’s hackles flew up. “Those are fightin’ words, mister. I’m not anything like your mother.”

  Then all the anger just drained out of her. They’d been so happy last night, so in synch with one another. Giselle tried to touch Ry’s arm. He shrugged her away just as he had his mother. “You’re being such a jerk. You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who’s been keeping secrets, but you’re angry with me?”

  Ry didn’t answer. He just stomped up the stairs and then into his bedroom. Giselle followed. She couldn’t bear to glance toward the bed. She stared at the jerk’s back.

  “I think you should get your things and go, Giselle,” Ry said after a few minutes.

  If he’d slapped her, Giselle couldn’t have been more surprised and hurt. Tears flooded her eyes and she blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry in front of him.

  “You jerk. You…you…jerk. You jerk monster in human clothes.” She tore off his shirt and scrunched it into as tiny a ball as possible before throwing it at his back. Unfortunately it wasn’t a brick and didn’t hit him in his hard head.

  Scrounging around on the floor, she found her own damp t-shirt. Despite the mud still covering it, Giselle pulled it on anyway. She found her bra and panties, in two different locations on the floor, and stuffed them into the pocket of her pants. Her purse was on the entry hall table. She‘d get that when she passed to go out the door. Which couldn’t be too soon in her opinion.

  Ry stared out the bedroom window again. This time he didn’t smile. Neither did she.

  “Why don’t you call your mama?” Giselle said to his back. “You finally did something she’ll approve of.” Princess Giselle walked out of the bedroom, down the steps and out the front door.

  Rylan Leland was out of her life for good. Who would have thought it? Apparently lying jerkiness did outweigh gorgeous loverness after all.

  * * * * *

  Giselle walked the walk of shame. She’d thought it would never happen. Going home after a one-night stand, wearing the clothes she’d worn the night before. The damp, muddy clothes she’d worn the night before. Giselle started crying. Great. Now she was walking the walk of shame and crying.

  “Whore.” She heard the shout from a passing SUV. Great. Even passing motorists knew her shame.

  The Scooby Doo theme sounded from her purse. Giselle pulled out her cell phone as she turned down Drayton Street toward her hotel. She checked the ID. Willie. Dammit. She’d have to answer it. After hanging up on him last night, he’d probably fire her if she didn’t answer today.

  “Hello?” She choked on the word.

  “I want to talk to you about these credit card charges.” Silence. “Are you there?” Willie barked.

  “I’m heeeere.” Giselle couldn’t help the sob as she said it.

  More silence. “Are you crying?”

  “Yeeees.” More sobbing.

  “Never mind. We’ll talk about it when you get back.” Willie hung up.

  Willie being nice to her? She must be truly pitiful now. Things just couldn’t get worse.

  She swiped at her eyes. The tears kept coming. Giselle swiped at her eyes again and felt rough hands grab her shoulders from behind. They tugged her off balance. Other hands pulled roughly at her legs and lifted her in the air. Two large men seemed to have hauled her right off the street. She had an impression of motion and the distasteful body odor of her abductors.

  She had little
chance to struggle. The men tossed her, face first, into the trunk of a car. The trunk lid slammed down, shutting her inside. Darkness engulfed her.

  This really was her fault. She had to admit it. Giselle had tempted fate by thinking things couldn’t get worse and fate had thrown her into the trunk of a car to prove how wrong she could be.

  It was Sunday, who knows what time in the morning. She had no ghost, she wore muddy, damp clothes and she lay trapped in a trunk. However, she refused to think that things could not get worse. She didn’t want to tempt fate into another demonstration.

  Chapter Eight

  Perhaps the trunk of some cars didn’t contain half the trash from the local landfill. This car did. Giselle felt like just one more item for the trash heap. Reams and reams of paper lay around and under her.

  She searched under her body for her purse. Maybe it wasn’t in here with her at all. Maybe it had fallen to the sidewalk. Even now there could be some thief using the magazine’s credit card. For a moment she thought of Willie reviewing the charges the thief would make and the thought cheered her. Wait a minute. She must be hysterical. Why would she be thinking about the credit card at a time like this? Why was she thinking about Willie? Because she didn’t want to think about being in this trunk, that’s why.

  Giselle twisted her left arm into what felt like a pretzel shape but finally got it to a place near the top of her head. The kink in her arm hardly hurt at all when she discovered her purse near her left ear. She rummaged around inside. No cell phone. Dammit, she could never find that phone when she needed it. Quite often she had resorted to calling herself from another phone just to find the stupid thing. Sadly, that wasn’t an option now.

  Omigod. Keep calm. She couldn’t go into a claustrophobic panic now. Breathe deeply. Ooooh. Bad idea. Something in here stank. Giselle hoped it wasn’t her. Although her smell was the least of her worries. Focus, Giselle! Never a strong point. She could admit it. In fact, she could remember that time in college… Stop it. Think!