A Haunting Experience

by Kessily Lewel

  His thumb moved up the side of her jaw, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "I won't push you more than you can handle, April. I want a partner, a wife—not a rug," he assured her. He didn't point out that her body had reacted to the punishment with a hunger and need that had surprised them both.

  She took some assurance from that, but there were other questions. "What about Elizabeth? You punished her and that psychic, too!"

  "Well, ignoring them wasn't going to work when they were trying to cast me out of my home, was it? They got what they deserved, and I assure you, they didn't enjoy it in the slightest," he said in a self-righteous and defensive tone.

  She could accept that, she supposed. It didn't make her very happy, but she could deal with it, especially when it wouldn't be an issue ever again. Either she'd stay and there would be no more women trying to throw him out, or she'd leave, and it wouldn't matter to her. They'd gotten down to the last of her worries and fears, and it had been partially answered already, but she still needed to say it.

  "John, she told me that your deal demanded a woman. A woman who was a medium to live in the house."

  There was an unspoken question, but John didn't seem to understand. Perhaps it was because he came from an earlier time when marriages were arranged and women were routinely part of elaborate negotiations.

  "Yes, it did," he said easily.

  She struggled, and some of it showed on her face as she tried to find the right words to express what she was feeling. Finally, she blurted, "Would you just have taken any woman who could see you then? I mean—"

  He took her face in both hands, drawing it close to his own as he gazed intently into her eyes. "No. Absolutely not. I had no intention of picking the first woman who walked through the door. I told her I didn't care how long it took; if I didn't find someone I could care for, the deal was off. I admit I was willing to settle for someone I liked. I didn't know she'd send someone I could love." He dropped the words there and left them, silent as he waited for her to understand what he was saying.

  "You—love me?" she said finally. Her voice sounded faint, as though her breath had been stolen from her.

  "Yes. I love you. I don't expect you to return my affections this soon. I understand that love at first sight is not something that happens often, but I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the one," he said firmly. "Maybe being dead gives you some perspective of—"

  "I love you, too," she blurted. Her voice cracked embarrassingly, and she flushed, pulling away to hide her face against his chest. She couldn't believe she'd said that. She'd never told any man, other than her father, that she loved him.

  The silence stretched out an eternity, it seemed, before he pulled her head up and pressed his lips to hers in a crushing kiss. It was that kiss, more than any of the words and explanations, that drove the last of her worries away. She could feel the passion and need behind it, and there was no way to fake the chemistry between them. Things progressed quickly from there, and she was too swept up in the emotions to protest much when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Knowing that the camera was there made her flush hotly, but Elizabeth's edict had been clear. They'd already gone over the two hour maximum time limit in the bathroom, though she expected her boss would forgive it after what had been filmed.

  That didn't mean she had gotten over her shyness about having sex on camera, though. Especially as she was still new to the experience, as John settled her on the bed, she tugged his head down, whispering against his ear, "Shut the lights off, please."

  He looked startled, as if he'd forgotten the eyes on them, as well, and then he nodded. Without any gesture from him, the lights suddenly went out in the room. There was still a soft glow from the bathroom that would probably allow the camera to pick up the moving shadows as they made love; she hoped that would suffice for her voyeuristic employer. He took her gently, pressing his length into her body, slowly and with care for her sore ass. She still felt it as she shifted and rocked her body against his. The quilt, which normally felt so soft, now seemed rough against her tender skin, but the pain only seemed to heighten the pleasure, now that it wasn't so overwhelming.

  Mindful that even though the room was dark the microphones would still pick up sound, she tried to keep her volume low, though a few times it got away from her. She thought she'd been fairly discreet until the next morning as she stood in the equipment room. Every soft moan was clearly audible, like the soundtrack of an adult film, but worse was remembering that the cameras were equipped for night vision. When the lights in the room went out, it switched, and there she was, her nude body undulating on the bed in stark black and white.

  She cringed, her breath caught in her throat, and she made a strangled gasping sound as she watched the screen go black and then switch back on without color. Her sound of distress jerked the attention of the techs off the picture and towards her. Jerome looked sympathetic, but there was also a flash of heat in his eyes. Only to be expected since he'd just watched—everything. Carson, predictably, was sneering.

  Seeing it from that angle had been mortifying. The only consolation was that a good part of the earlier action had been blocked by the bed. They got to see every expression of pain and pleasure on her face as her body was bent across the bed and spanked, then fingered, then spanked again, but the angle, thank god, was from the front. Her insides crawled with humiliation as the camera cycled through, shutting down during the time the room was empty, but when they came out of the bathroom, it caught the image of her floating across the room as John carried her to the bed. There was an excellent shot of her nude, prone body in full color, then the lights went out.

  The sounds of her moaning and making guttural sounds of pleasure filled the small room. The professor cleared his throat several times, embarrassed, but his eyes stayed fixed on the screen throughout the entire scene. When she'd drifted off to sleep next to her ghostly lover, the camera finally shut down. There was dead silence in the room for over a minute before Carson broke it with a derisive laugh.

  "Boy, you sure don't take long, do you?" she said. She had a look of profound disgust on her face, and it took April aback. Why did she seem so personally offended by what April was doing? What did she even care, April wondered.

  "Carson," the professor said, sounding tired.

  "What? I'm just saying. She's barely been in the house a week, and she's already fucking the resident ghost," the pink-haired girl said.

  "Just lay off of her, Car," Jerome said. He fixed his deep amber eyes on April and shrugged. "Sorry. She's just pissy because she volunteered to move into the house, and they told her no," he explained.

  Carson snapped her gum, shooting him a dirty look. "At least it would have stayed a proper investigation and wouldn't have turned into a porno," she said, scowling. "I'm trying to get a degree in parapsychology, not in adult films!"

  "Hey! It's not like I planned any of this!" April said.

  "Carson, they wanted a psychic, you know that!" said Jerome.

  "You really think I want to be naked on camera?" April asked.

  "I dunno, do you?” Carson said. “Didn't look like you minded much last night!"

  "Car, stop it! Look at all the footage we're getting. Why you wanna bitch about her when we've got enough material for our thesis and more?"

  The back and forth exchanges got more heated until they were all three raising their voices to be heard as they interrupted each other, and finally the professor had had enough. He cut through the din with a loud whistle that made all three wince and shut up.

  "Carson, go wait in the car. If you can't be neutral and unemotional about this, then I will replace you. I suggest you think about whether you actually want to be part of this team, because I'll have no trouble finding another student to take your spot," he said in a stern voice that was not to be argued with.

  The girl looked like she was going to fight him on it, anyway, eyes narrowed and mouth opened to protest, but Jerome reached o
ut and put a hand on her arm, shaking his head firmly. She met his eyes and sighed.

  "Fine, I'm going," she said. She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, slamming it open and disappearing.

  "Jerome, back up the footage and let's take a look at the rest of the house, please. I want everything documented," he said to the remaining member of his team.

  April tucked herself back into the corner of the small room, remaining quiet, arms crossed over her chest as she tried to calm down. Her heart was racing, hands shaking, and face flushed from anger. She hadn't expected or wanted any of this. When she took the job, she'd expected to be scared; she hadn't expected to fall in love and have the whole thing documented on tape. It was embarrassing enough without being judged by that pink-haired bitch, she thought, scowling.

  "April, if you wouldn't mind going to write out your experiences for me. I'll be in for the interview shortly," the professor said gently.

  "Yes, prof— Sorry, I mean Ben. I actually started this morning when I got up, but I'll just go finish," she said.

  She slipped out of the room much more quietly than Carson had done and went to the library, where her written report of the night before was spread out across the desk. She'd hesitated over detailing the domestic fight, but of course, it would all be on film, too. So she'd started with Elizabeth's visit and gave a very brief and edited description of what had started the fight, being mindful that they could hear her side.

  She picked up her narrative with being carried up the stairs to the bedroom, cheeks burning the whole time she wrote. She'd just gotten to the part where he'd paused the spanking to touch her, trying to decide how detailed she should be, when the sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted her. She looked up and saw Jerome standing next to the desk. He'd come in so quietly, and she'd been lost in thought and missed his arrival.

  "Hey," she said with a slight questioning tone.

  "April, look— I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Carson," he said awkwardly.

  "If she can't apologize for her own behavior, it doesn't count, Jerome," she said. She eased herself back in the seat to look at him, grateful for the thick cushioning as her backside twinged. "Are you seeing her?" There was something about the way he acted around her that hinted at it.

  "Yeah, have been for a couple of years, actually. We're getting married once we wrap up our master's degrees." His dark skin made it hard to tell, but she had a feeling he was blushing a little. "She's just under a lot of stress right now. And she really wanted to be more actively involved in the investigation. It's hard, in this field, to get full access to a place like this,” he explained. "People don't take us seriously."

  "Okay, but how is any of this my fault? I didn't ask for the job, you know. Besides, I thought they needed a medium to get things active here?" she said.

  "Well, that's—not really true. I mean, I don't think it's true that you need a medium, necessarily. I think anyone who was here at night would get some results. Maybe, uh. Probably not what you're getting, but—"

  He trailed off, sounding awkward. And then she could definitively tell he was blushing from the dull red glow rising on his cheeks.

  "I wonder why they were dead set on a medium, then," April said, but the minute the words were out of her mouth, she realized that she already knew the answer. John. He had wanted someone who could see him and interact with him. Of course, non-psychics could see the results of ghosts, maybe even catch sight of them now and then, but he had demanded more. She wasn't sure why she hadn't put that together before.

  "Could be a lot of reasons," he replied, shrugging. He settled on the edge of the desk, half turned toward her with one leg bent and propped up as he talked. "They might have originally hoped you'd contact the spirits, but you've gone way beyond that. Or else they thought the psychic energy would cause more events? I have to say we've never gotten any results like this before. I've been part of the study for six months now and I've seen some scary shit, but nothing like this," Jerome said in a tone of quiet awe.

  "Can't say I've ever experienced anything like this, either," April said softly. "I mean I've always been psychic, you know? Knowing who's on the phone when it rings. Having dreams that come true; those kinds of things I'm used to. Ghosts— I haven't seen many and I've always hated it before now," she admitted. Her eyes were fixed on the built-in bookcases on the far wall, but she wasn't seeing them. She was seeing herself as a little girl, no more than five, wondering why people were so sad about Great Uncle Akocha dying when she could see him sitting right there and smiling at her.

  The room had gone silent when she asked innocently, her little girl voice cutting through the soft murmur of the grieving relatives. Her grandmother had come over and taken her by the hand, pulling her aside to talk to her.

  "You see Akocha here, April?" she'd asked. April had nodded firmly. "Ah, you have gifts, Chepota," she said fondly. "I see him, too." There was a great sadness in her grandmother's eyes. That her grandmother was his younger sister hadn't quite clicked in April’s young mind.

  "But why is everyone ignoring him?" April had asked.

  Her grandmother sat down and pulled her into her lap, wrapping an arm around her for a talk. April knew it was going to be a serious one by the expression on her face, and she'd worried she'd done something wrong at first.

  "Well, not everyone can see him now, April. You see, your uncle died. What you see is his spirit, and it will be gone soon. Akocha will know he was loved and will see no reason to stay."

  April's small face had screwed up in confusion. "But don't we want him to stay? I like Uncle Akocha!" she’d protested. Her voice was loud enough to attract attention, and her mother and father had looked over, worried. Her grandmother waved a hand at them, and they went back to their conversation.

  "No, we don't want him to stay. We want him to move on to the next life; that's why your mother and I are ignoring him. Only spirits who are unhappy stay, April, but listen. If you pay him too much attention, you might anchor him here and he'll get stuck. You don't want him to be stuck here and unhappy, do you?" she asked softly.

  April wasn't sure about that, but she could tell what her answer was supposed to be. "No," she whispered.

  "Good girl. Then we will just pretend like he's not sitting there watching, and pretty soon he won't be."

  And she'd been right. The ghost sat there silently throughout the day. He seemed to enjoy listening to the stories that the mourners shared about his life, but by evening, he'd began to fade until he was see-through, and within a couple of days, he'd disappeared entirely. When she was older, her grandmother had taught her more about the dead, and she'd learned the difference between a spirit who just needed a day to move on and a ghost who was stuck.

  Suddenly, April wondered what she'd think of this situation. Would she approve of her granddaughter dating a ghost? Probably not; her grandmother dealt with ghosts in two ways: ignore them or try to help them cross over. John was never going to go away because he was ignored. Uncle Akocha had wanted to move on, really. He hadn't had anything to anchor him but a desire to see that his family was missing him, so it had been easy for him to let go. John was going to stay regardless of anything she did; he'd sunk his soul into the house and nothing was going to dislodge him.

  "Dunno what that would be like," Jerome said shaking his head. "I've caught a few supernatural things on camera, orbs mostly. I think I saw a ghost once, but it was really faint, but to see what you do? Like he's solid? I'd love that."

  "Well, it's not all fun and games," she replied with an ironic snort.

  "Uh, yeah—I guess." He ducked his head and looked away. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment for bringing up her on-camera escapades or him remembering the show. "I wouldn't like having all that private stuff on camera, either. I'm really sorry Car is giving you a hard time. She's a decent person, usually," he assured her.

  "Uh-huh." April didn't sound convinced, and she kind of hoped that the girl decided not to come
back. "If she keeps being a bitch to me, I'm going to ask that she not be part of things. This is stressful enough without her attitude, and I'm pretty sure my request will be taken into consideration."

  "Look, I'll talk to her about it. She'll behave, I promise," he said earnestly.

  He gave her an overly dramatic look with big, mournful puppy dog eyes, and she had to laugh.

  "All right, you win. I'll give her another chance," she said, sighing.

  "Thanks, April. Really, this investigation is important to her, to both of us. We're basing our thesis on it," he said.

  That made her cringe a little. She hoped they weren't planning to write about her sex life in their papers, too. Though how she even had a shred of modesty left at that point, she couldn't imagine. How many people would end up seeing her naked body in the throes of sex with an invisible man on that film was something she didn't care to think much about. She sighed and leaned forward in the large chair, picking up the pen she'd been writing with and tapping it on the edge of the desk as her agitation started to creep up on her.

  "Oh, right, I almost forgot," Jerome said as his eyes followed the pen. "Uh, the professor said to make sure to include the stuff in the kitchen, and when you're done, you can join him in the parlor for the interview."

  "Already did," April replied immediately, pointing the pen at one of the pages. "It will take about a half hour to finish up, I'm guessing," she said. Most of it was written out but the most embarrassing parts.

  "Right. Okay, back to work for me. He's not letting Carson come back in, so I have to do her part, too," he said, sighing and rolling his eyes in annoyance.

  "What's her part? I mean do you guys have separate jobs?" she asked curiously. It was partly a stalling tactic; she really didn't want to write out her own sex scene, but she was also wondering exactly what they did want.

  "I prefer to handle the video while she usually deals with the electronic voice phenomenon. We record all the sound with the video, of course, but we also have external microphones around the house that record to separate tracks. She pulls up each one, amplifies the sound, filters out the static and normal house sounds, and then listens to what's left. Anything recognizable has to be transcribed and marked," he explained.