Eve Langlais - A Ghostly Ménage

“If you mean the one on Changeling drive, then yes.”

The shopkeeper handed Jenna her purchases and shook her head. “Good luck.”

Jenna didn’t make much of her reaction till it was echoed in every store she visited.

Only when she was driving back to the house did she give into laughter. Oh, that’s too funny. They all really think the place is haunted. How absurd in this day and age that they believed in ghosts. Although, she thanked their superstition about drafts and creaky houses, else she wouldn’t have gotten the house so cheaply. And she repeated that the rest of the day every time a cold spot made her shiver, and whenever she looked over her shoulder expecting to see eyes staring back at her.

I don’t believe in ghosts, she told herself firmly before going to bed.

However, the townsfolk’s gullibility must have been contagious for the house’s quirks followed her into her dreams.

Derrick watched over her as she slept. The sweet curve of her cheek blushing a light pink, her thick lashes fluttering slightly, her dark hair spread like a veil over her pillow. He brushed his fingers over her smooth skin, and she shivered in her repose. He trailed his hand lower over the skimpy silk top she wore, his ghostly touch puckering her nipples. She shifted and rolled onto her back, sprawling her legs wide. He trailed his insubstantial fingers down the curve of her belly to the apex of her thighs. The crotch of her panties darkened with moisture, her unconscious arousal soaking them. He brought his face down, wishing he could smell her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His brother’s disgusted comment made Derrick whirl around.

“Enjoying myself. You should try it sometime. Besides it’s not like she knows I’m here.”

Mark shook his head at him. “That’s not the point. It’s wrong, and you know it.”

Derrick sneered. “Oh, please. I’ve seen the way you watch her as well.”

“Watch, not try to touch.” Mark sighed. “I won’t deny she calls to me even in this insubstantial shape. But at least I’ve retained enough common decency to not act on it.”

“What else is there for us to do?” railed Derrick. “We’re fucking ghosts. No one hears us or sees us. And even worse, our mate has finally arrived and instead of claiming her, I’m reduced to fucking jerking off instead of plowing her like I should.” He slumped on the bed, shoulders drooping. “I’m tired of this.”

Mark sat beside him. “I am too, brother, but the alternative isn’t much better.”

“No, it’s not. I just can’t believe there’s nothing we can do. Surely there must be another way to break this spell.”

Mark stood and paced. “Well…”

“Well what?” Derrick looked at him with suspicion. “Have you been hiding something from me?”

“Not exactly. But you and I both know Jenna is our mate, right?”

Derrick looked over at the woman who slept in the room he used to call his own. When she’d arrived just under a week ago, he’d rampaged for days, both he and his brother recognizing her for what she was-their true mate. Not that they could do anything about it. “Yeah, trust me, I know who she is, not that it does us any good.”

“Ah, but while you’ve been perving, I’ve been acting and observing.”

“And?” Derrick restrained an urge to pounce on his brother and shake him. Hurrying Mark never worked though.

“She senses us. I think she even dreams of us.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Derrick looked back at Jenna. She was still sound asleep, but a crease marred her brow and her eyelids fluttered.

“No I’m not messing with you. Mind, we haven’t had anybody else to test my theory on, but she knows we’re here.”

“Okay, say for a second, she does. How does that help us?”

“Don’t you see? If she knows we’re here, and we can communicate with her, maybe she can find a spell to reverse what’s been done.”

“Too dangerous.” Derrick shook his head. “Clarissa is still out there. I won’t put our mate in danger like that.”

“Really? Has it occurred to you that Jenna might be in danger anyway, and if she is, we’re stuck here unable to help.”

“Fuck.” Derrick looked at Jenna and felt a helpless fury at the thought she could be hurt. It was his duty to protect her.

“Exactly. We need to try.”

“Fine then. What do we do?”

Mark sighed loudly. “I’m going to probably regret saying this, but we need to get her attention. Get her to look into our disappearance.”

Derrick grinned. “By any means possible?”

“Yes,” said Mark through gritted teeth.

Derrick rubbed his hands gleefully. “Well then, unless you plan to join me, I’ve got some pleasurable work to do.”

To Derrick’s surprise, Mark stayed, reminding him of the days before their captivity. The call of their mate was too strong for even him to deny.

* * * * *

Jenna woke again from another strange and erotic dream. One that left her aching for a man’s touch. Even more embarrassing, it had featured two men, doing things to her that in the light of day seemed decadent and immoral-in other words, exciting.

What is wrong with me? Since when is one man not enough? Disturbing questions she couldn’t answer.

Jenna swung her legs out of bed and surveyed her new, even if it was exceedingly masculine, bedroom. She planned to renovate it slowly over time, doing most of the work herself. She loved getting her hands dirty, and after the mess she’d left behind, it was also a form of therapy.

Speaking of which, maybe a coat of paint would help dissipate her sense of not being alone in the house. Maybe if I redo the bedroom, it will feel more like mine and I’ll stop having these weird feelings. But would it keep the odd occurrences from happening?

Like when she’d climbed the ladder to peel some wallpaper and the stupid thing tilted, dumping her. She should have hit the ground hard, but a cold air pillow had softened her fall.

Or the way doors sometimes creaked open at her approach. The first time she’d screamed, but the cool draft that preceded the event made her decide it was simply an air pressure thing.

When she showered, no matter how hot the water, her skin pimpled as if cold, and ghostly fingers stroked her.

Then there were the erotic dreams featuring two men: dark haired, dark eyed, and with some seriously hot bodies. No one she’d ever met-unfortunately.

But by far the oddest thing, she swore she sometimes heard voices, arguing voices. And the most fucked-up part? The voices sounded like they were fighting over her. Until lately. Now, the voices seemed to have one purpose in mind: seducing her.

Crazy, yes, but until she’d moved to her new house, she’d never suffered from delusions. So, if she were to assume she hadn’t suddenly lost her mind, what did that leave?

Even as she tried to come up with logical explanations, her mind kept drifting to movies like Poltergeist and The Others. Fiction, 100% unreal, yet she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she should invite a priest over for coffee.

About to head downstairs for breakfast, she instead zoned in on the chain hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the second floor hallway.

Perhaps she’d find the answers hidden in the attic. Maybe treasure. Or a dead body. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she went to the trap door and pulled the chain. Down came the folded ladder. She climbed up and poked her head into the attic space. A porthole window let in a bit of daylight, so she went all the way up. The space was huge, big enough for her to stand. She also discovered a bare light bulb with a string, which she pulled. The light flashed then popped as the bulb burned out. Curiosity piqued, she hurried downstairs to get a replacement.

Once the attic was lit again, she was surrounded by a veritable treasure trove, if you were into history, and she was. Several dusty trunks lay scattered. There were odds and end of furniture like two vinyl kitchen chairs and an old wooden vanity. But the dust-free boxes-obviously more recent additions-garnered her attention.

She sat down and delved into the first box. It held a bunch of picture frames, seemingly of a family. There was a woman with long, loose hair flanked by two men whose resemblance made them brothers, if not twins. In front of them stood a pair of identical little boys, one with a smile that spelled mischief, the other more serious. Picture after picture displayed the boys in different stages of growth. In some, the boys posed with two very large wolf-like dogs. Probably a crossbreed since wolves were too wild to be domesticated. Right?

What nagged her was how familiar the boys seemed. Have I met them before? Jenna put all the pictures back into the box, and was about to check out the next one when the doorbell chimed.

Jenna wiped grubby hands on her jeans and clambered down the ladder, then down the steps to see who had finally come calling.

When she opened the door to find her first casserole thrust at her, Jenna smiled and just managed to stop herself from giggling.

The welcome wagon had arrived.

* * * * *

The welcome wagon hadn’t stayed long. They’d come in for coffee and peered around with curiosity, but when one of the familiar drafts had flowed through the room and touched them, they’d set down their cups with a rattle and made their excuses as if they’d seen a ghost. I’ll bet they made themselves believe they did. Jenna had tried, unsuccessfully, to pump them for information, but, while a lot of folk alluded to the mystery around the house, no one wanted to talk about it.

Thinking about the house made her decide to go into town. She hit the hardware store first and picked out some paint for the bedroom. She placed the lilac color in her car then walked down the sidewalk to the grocery store. A Halloween decoration fluttering in the breeze caught her eye and she stopped.