Lady in White Page 7

  "Busy!" She glanced at the mixture of chopped sausages and sauce in the pan. "Do you need any help?"

  "Only to eat it."

  "You got it." She gave him a longer kiss, released him and stretched with her hands in the small of her back. "Ooh, I need a shower."

  "Go ahead, dear; this won't be ready just yet."

  * * * *

  She undressed and set the water running in the shower. One thing the temporary apartment was blessed with was good heating and, by association, a good hot water supply. Stepping into the steamy cubicle, she closed the door and adjusted the showerhead so the water pummeled her skin. "Ooh!" she gasped, turning to and fro, letting it cascade all over her, hot and stinging and wonderfully refreshing.

  Over the noise of the shower, she could just make out Martin's pleasant tenor coming from the kitchen as he sang something slow and reflective. She began to soap herself and smiled, thinking of how lucky she was to have such a wonderful guy come into her life. Her heart had been in her mouth when she'd asked him to live with her in the US; she knew her man—she hoped—by now, and she didn't think he'd refuse. Even so, there had been that hard nugget of doubt lodged in her heart.

  Leaning against the wall of the cubicle, she shivered at the touch of the cold tiles as she washed herself briskly between her legs. The action reminded her of the time back in her New York apartment when she'd first imagined him touching her just there and she felt herself grow warm and moist. "Oof! Enough, girl!" she said, turning and pushing her head into the jets. "There'll be plenty of time for that later—with the real deal!"

  * * * *

  Caroline steered her car into the drive, the wheels crunching over the mixture of snow and gravel. The headlights swept over the house, the light reflecting back pin sharp from the snow. As she drew near, the porch light came on, and she switched off the engine and sat for a moment, savoring the welcoming illumination and the comparative silence. Much as she loved her family, she treasured the small moments of peace and solitude after a hard day. She truly cared for her patients, but she was honest enough to admit to herself she needed me time now and then.

  The car cooled rapidly, and after a few moments she shivered. Picking up her bag from the seat, she opened the door and got out, treading into a couple of inches of snow. Locking the car, she went to the front door and took out her key to let herself in.

  Something made her pause and look around.

  The bare trees lining the road stood tall and black against the white of the snow. The salted ribbon of the road lay a few yards off, the traffic quite light for the time of evening. Her car made tiny pinging and clicking sounds as the engine cooled in the frigid air. Nothing looked out of place, and yet…

  Shaking herself vigorously, she turned back to the front door and unlocked it. "Imagining things, Caroline!" she admonished herself, stepping inside to be greeted by the warmth of home. Closing and locking the door, she leaned against it and slowly shucked her coat and boots.

  Her talk with Martin the previous day had left her confident in his abilities. The handsome Englishman had set her mind at rest with his calm approach to her story, his willingness to believe her reassuring above all else. Even so, the encounter with the white lady and their later experience in the modern wing had left a small nub of fear inside her, an itch that couldn't be scratched away.

  "Caroline, honey? Is that you?" her mom called from the sitting room.

  "Yeah, Mom," she replied, hanging up her coat and sliding her wet boots into the rack near the door.

  Her mom appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. "Come on through, dear. Are you hungry? I've got dinner nearly ready."

  "I'm ready to eat," she said with a smile, going forward to kiss her on the cheek.

  As they went through, her mom gave her a considering look. "You look tired, sweetheart. Have you had a rough day?"

  "No more 'n usual," she replied, sitting down and stretching out her legs.

  Her mom sat down beside her and clasped her hand. "You should've listened to Doctor Burwell, honey," she said, stroking hair away from her face. "After that awful experience no one would've begrudged you a week off work."

  "I'd have been missed too much," she pointed out. "We're so short of staff."

  "The cemetery is full of people who thought they were indispensable!"

  "I promise I won't be one of them, Mom," she responded with a tired smile.

  "Well, be told. Why don't you take off this weekend? Go see Uncle Winfield."

  "Um, maybe."

  "No maybe about it, young lady. You haven't been down there for months."

  "Okay, I'll go if the weather holds."

  "He'll be delighted to see you. Now," she said, getting up. "Come and eat."

  * * * *

  Later, Caroline showered and retired to her bedroom. The sound of the TV in the sitting room cut off as she closed the door and leaned against it, rubbing her eyes. Around her, the small room seemed the same as ever. She breathed deeply and absorbed the silence, the sense of the familiar. The feeling of tiredness and unease had slowly dissipated over the course of dinner, and now she was in the mood to relax.

  Quietly bolting the door, she sat at her computer and switched it on. A few seconds passed in which she busied herself placing her notepad and pen by the monitor, then the server's home page sprang up on the screen. Clicking on the favorites section, she brought down the tab and, after a moment's hesitation, she clicked onto the chat room. Her heart began to beat quite strongly as she selected the Intimate Romance room.

  The page opened and handles new and familiar appeared and began to scroll down the screen. Within moments pink panels appeared alongside some of them with private messages directed to her. They followed a now-familiar theme. "Hi," was a common approach, followed by "A/S/L?" "What are you wearing?" and "34m US with cam here," and "Yo, slut! Feeling horny?"

  She smiled and waited for a more novel approach. One soon came.

  From: Kingston222 "Good evening. Would you care to cyber?"

  Nodding, she typed out a reply. "I might. A/S/L please?”

  "24/m/us. urs?"

  "23/f/us."

  "cool, what part?"

  "all of me!"

  "cute! do u like to cam? audio?"

  With a brief smile she typed, "yes, set up a room, and wait 1."

  She opened a drawer and took out a broad white domino mask and her vibrator. Tying the mask over her eyes, she adjusted the folds of her bathrobe and carefully positioned her camera and headphone.

  The pink section on the screen broadened and became a private room. "Ready 4 u" came up. Taking a deep breath of anticipation, she clicked onto the private screen, and a window opened. A guy appeared in it against a background of bookshelves, a handsome black face bearing a bright smile. His broad chest was exposed and covered with a dense mat of black curly hair. What lay further down was cut off by the edge of a computer desk, but she noticed his six-pack stomach as he moved in his chair.

  "Hi!" His voice was a warm and mellow as old honey. "Wow, you look wonderful!"

  "Thanks! You look pretty cool yourself," she said softly.

  "I like your mask." His face grew larger as he leaned closer to his camera. "You're sexy, lady."

  "Mmm, thanks." She ran her tongue over her lips in a way she often practiced in front of a mirror. "What would you do if we were together?"

  "Mmm, well, first I'd kiss your forehead." She touched herself there lightly, imagining his lips caressing her skin. "I'm moving down, to kiss your eyes, your nose, your cheeks and then your lips." Her fingers matched his words, until she brushed them over her lips, her eyes half closed, imagining the handsome black guy's lips right there.

  "My hands stroke your arms, and then move across, brushing your breasts as I kiss you…"

  "Mmm, yes!" she said, brushing her hands over the peaks of her breasts, feeling her nipples crinkling with arousal.

  "And I slowly open your bathrobe, kissing you one more time before
I drop my gaze to look at your breasts."

  She wrapped her fingers around the opening of her robe and slowly drew it apart, baring her breasts to the camera and the handsome guy's admiring eyes.

  "Wow, lady, you sure have nice boobs!" Over the microphone link his voice was deeper, and she heard the rush of his breath across the pick-up. "Small and neat, and sensitive."

  "Imagine me now; I'm moving my hands across your chest, my fingers sliding through your mass of curly black hair," she said softly, and his image on the screen nodded and moved his hands across his chest as she described. "I kiss you deeply, holding you close."

  "I'm caressing your breasts, lady, cupping and squeezing them, rolling them in my strong hands, savoring the feel of you."

  "Mmmm, yeah, feels good," she said, her voice growing husky as her throat felt warm. Her breasts began to feel swollen with desire and she cupped and squeezed them under his direction. "I'm running my hands lower, and lower, feeling your stomach muscles rippling under my hand."

  "Oh, yeah, oh, yeah!" he said fervently.

  "I feel for your pants, and begin to unfasten them." On screen he stood and began to unbuckle his belt and, as she spoke, slowly unfastened the button and zipper. "Then I slip my hand into the waistband and feel for your hardening shaft." His hand slid into his waistband and she saw it moving slowly over his crotch.

  "I open your robe wider and roll it back, peeling it away from you…" She copied, opening her robe and standing to slip it further down her body. "…until I see your pussy emerge from hiding." The robe came away, exposing her unshaven bush to him.

  "Now I take your pants and peel them down, so I can see your cock." His hands complied, the jeans rolling back until his thick black shaft sprang free of its confines, the circumcised head already broad and swelling. "Oh, my God!" she gasped. "You're so well hung!"

  "Thanks, lady." His smile flashed. "I love seeing a nice red pussy."

  "You don't like shaved girls?"

  "I like all girls, lady, but I like what I see now the most. Imagine my fingers sliding down from your breasts, caressing your tummy, feeling my way lower to stroke your thick bush. My fingers stroke there, and slide lower, until they stroke over your pussy lips." She complied, moving her hand lower until her fingers closed over her moistening pussy lips. Stroking, she felt herself grow moister, until her juice coated her fingers.

  "I wet my hand and close it over your shaft, and begin to move it back and forth, stroking you, arousing you." He took his shaft and aimed it at the camera. The slot in the end blinked open and closed as he massaged it. As she watched, he reached down and placed a clear Perspex screen between his cock and the camera. "Just being prepared, lady."

  She laughed. "Good idea! You go right ahead. I massage your cock, slow, then quick, then slow again."

  "My fingers dig into your pussy, pushing between your lips, feeling how wet you are. Are you wet, lady?"

  "Oh, yes!" She breathed deeply, pushing her breasts up toward the camera, one hand between her thighs, sweeping her fingers over her pussy with slow circular motions as she pinched her nipple.

  "Mmm, yeah! Now I take my cock and put it to your pussy lips."

  Caroline sat down, adjusting the camera angle so it pointed directly at her pussy. Drawing up her legs, she took her vibrator and switched it on. A low buzz sounded from the hand unit and the conical tip blurred. Stroking her breasts, she played the vibrator over her tummy and through her pubic hair, moving lower and lower. With one eye half-open, she watched the reaction of the guy on the screen.

  His eyes were wide and dark as he watched her, his hand moving over his cock. As she watched him and swept the vibrator closer to her pussy, his motions grew faster, long, even strokes taking in the whole length of his shaft. She imagined what it would feel like to have such a huge thing inside her, penetrating her maidenhead and plunging deep. Tilting her head back, she gave in to the image and played the tip over her clitoris.

  "Entering you now," the guy said, his voice sounding strained. She opened her eyes again briefly to watch him stroking himself, but her imagination was drifting elsewhere. Martin entered her mind with his polite and easy charm, his sexy British accent. Lucky Claudie, to have such a guy! Laying there for him, parting her thighs, his tongue touching her bud…

  "Oooh, God!" Her breath came quicker, the image causing her pussy to flood with juice. The tingle in her clitoris grew and grew, until scorching heat began to spread through her pussy and tummy and her ears began to buzz with her quickening pulse.

  The guy on the screen was pumping his fist now, his cock jerking and bobbing in time with his movements, his eyes staring at her exposed quim. An urgent look crossed his face. "Gonna cum," he said and grunted, gasped, and thrust hard into the enclosure of his fist. A wad of thick cum shot directly at the Perspex screen, splattering over it until the screen turned nearly totally creamy-white.

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the image and buried the vibrator tip in her pussy lips, as she diddled her clitoris. Orgasm drew near and she hurriedly stuffed a corner of her robe between her teeth. Then the heat in her loins exploded into pure fire that shot blazing tendrils all through her body, and she bit her robe to muffle her scream of release.

  On the screen the guy was sagging with release too, his cock in his hand, a dribble of post-cum escaping the eye. He sat down heavily in his chair and, as she regained her wits, nodded to her, a wry smile on his lips. "Not as good as the real deal, lady," he whispered, "but you got to admit, it comes close!"

  "I'll take your word for it," she said quietly. "Thanks for your time, Kingston222. See you again sometime."

  Before he could say another word, she closed the connection and shut down the computer. The shadows of the room seemed to draw a little closer, but she ignored them as she mopped herself with a tissue.

  When her breath had returned to normal and her skin felt cooler, she retied her robe, reached for the pad, and began to write out her notes on the session.

  * * * *

  Claudia cuddled up to Martin and breathed in the warm scent of his cologne. The sitting room was quiet, the sounds from the highway muted by the softly falling snow. "So what was it that tried to hold the old guy prisoner?" she asked.

  He stroked her arm and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

  She shivered. "It was a lousy thing to do to the poor spirit."

  "Yes." He turned his head to kiss her brow. "People don't always believe me when I tell them that ghosts can haunt other ghosts."

  She smiled. "It does sound kind of flaky. Why was this entity doing it?"

  "At a guess I'd say it was using him to reinforce its domain, basically as a power source. Frankly, I'm not sure if it's stupid and made a tactical mistake by allowing me to discover and free Walter, or if it has a bloody clever strategy and is trying to draw me into it."

  "If it's the second it's real bad news!" She pressed her hand to his chest. "Marty, promise me you'll be careful."

  He brushed his lips across her brow. "I will, sweetheart. There's no benefit to anyone falling under the influence of that thing."

  "You spoke of its domain. Where would that be?"

  "I'd say the old buildings." He pursed his lips. "Unless it's too obvious a location. I'm not sure if it's just one of several beings there, or if it inhabits the entire old wing. Maybe I'll find something more when I research the history of the place. If this was in Britain I'd consult Rutherford Hall."

  "Rutherford Hall? What's that, some kind of specialist ghost-hunter's library?"

  He grinned. "Almost—but not quite. He was the Reverend Dr. Rutherford Hall, Doctor of Divinity, educated at Oxford."

  She laughed aloud. "Wow, that's some handle!"

  He chuckled. "Isn't it? Dr. Hall was a seeker-out of spiritual phenomena in Victorian Britain. There was a huge surge of interest in the paranormal back then, with pros and antis on both sides. Dr. Hall was an ardent skeptic who went around the country visi
ting haunted locales in an effort to debunk the stories."

  "That sounds like a nice, easy number," she said. "Like you sometimes say, it's indoor work with no heavy lifting."

  "Oh, I don't know. Road and rail links were still fairly primitive back then, so he had his work cut out to reach some of the more remote places. I take my hat off to him for effort, even if he was so wrong on just about everything else."

  "He was a skeptic, yet you consult him?" She snuggled closer. "How so, my dear Holmes?"

  "Hall was a profound disbeliever, but he seems to have been an accurate observer. Like Sherlock Holmes himself once said, 'evidence points both ways.' By visiting haunted places and writing of what he saw, he inadvertently created a gold mine for the researcher who could see past his bias and understand just what he did see. When he retired in 1888, Hall published his case journals in three volumes. A friend of mine found copies in a secondhand book shop in Brighton. She realized what she'd stumbled on, bought them, transferred it all to CD and gave me a copy."

  "So you can boot it up on your laptop, pick over the chaff and find the gold nugget?"

  He blinked. "That's a hell of a mixed metaphor, but yes, absolutely."

  "Smartass! You said 'she' realized," Claudia said with a sly look and poked him in the ribs. "You've a lady friend back in England you haven't told me about?"

  "Oh, yes." He smiled at her but she met his gaze with unblinking eyes. "You've read some of her work."

  She frowned. "She's a writer?"

  "Yep, and she edits too."

  "Okay, I give. Who is she?"

  "Louise Seymour—she owns and edits Occult Times."

  "Ah, right." She nodded and settled against him again. "It's good work."

  "She'll be pleased to hear you say so. I'll introduce you to her when we're over in England and you can tell her so yourself."

  "I look forward to it."

  His fingers found the area of soft skin in the small of her back and began to describe small circles, and she sighed with pleasure. "So," he went on, "Dr. Hall might have something to say about this place, if it were over in the UK."

  "But it's not, dear."

  He nodded and yawned. "No; sorry, I'm tired and I'm wandering off the beaten track."