Haunted Page 19

  Now, over brandy and coffee, she realized that the alcohol had made her slightly tipsy: a warm spot burned low in her belly. "I'm so glad you're going to come to the dance with me, David." She slowly pushed her hand across the table and laid it down so that her fingers were a bare inch from his.

  He smiled and let his fingers brush against hers. "Amber has been invited to go with friends. I just couldn't commit until I knew she wouldn't be home alone." He withdrew his hand to drain his brandy snifter. "I can't thank you enough for introducing her to Kelly Cox. In fact, she's at her house tonight."

  "That explains the sudden invitation." Theo gazed into his eyes and lowered her voice a notch. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

  "How many of these fund-raisers have you held?"

  "This will be the twelfth annual Come As You Were Dance."

  David lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "And they're successful?"

  "Yes, very. The whole town will turn out and we'll have people from Pismo, Morro Bay, and Cambria as well. Even a few from Los Angeles." She smiled. "You seem surprised."

  "I'm surprised that you say the whole town will turn out.

  By whole town, you mean people who make their living running the gas stations and hardware stores?" He paused. "Will Ferd Cox be there?"

  She laughed. "Oh yes. All of them, even Ferd."

  "Ferd mentioned your church and sounded, ah, unimpressed."

  "He called it the 'High Hooey Center,' I'll bet."

  David blushed. "Well, yes."

  "Most of the townies do. But it doesn't matter, they still enjoy the dance." She gave him a knowing look. "Our cosponsors help, too--no one's put off by the Seaside Preservation Society, and they take seventy-five percent of the proceeds."

  "Why is your group involved?"

  "We're very involved with ecology as a cause," she said sincerely. Then she smiled. "And, frankly, we enjoy the subject matter. Everyone loves a costume party, and the reincarnational aspect is our specialty. The Beings of Light Church offers past life counseling at a special price this time of year and you'd be surprised who comes--"

  "Past life counseling?" David interrupted, smirking.

  She was treading on thin ground, thanks to the brandy.

  "Yes," she said, holding his gaze. "It's rather… romantic. Don't you think? Knowing that you were, say, a court jester in a Renaissance court, or a soldier in the Civil War, and getting to dress up that way for the dance?"

  "I suppose it is romantic, at that." He smiled slowly. "But how do you find out things like that?" The skeptical look returned.

  "David, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."

  "Try me."

  "We channel it." She waited for the retort, and it wasn't long in coming.

  "You're kidding. You believe in channeling?"

  "Don't knock it until you’ve tried it." Her words were purposefully light, even though his skepticism irritated her. If he knew she was the channeler, he'd write her off as a hopeless loony. "I would think that as a novelist, you would be fascinated by such things--and more open-minded than most."

  He stared at her a long time before answering. "You're right, I should be. Instead, I'm being a complete turd. Forgive me."

  "You're forgiven," she said warmly.

  "Well," he said, sitting back, "I don't know for sure, but I'd guess I was a monk doing illuminated manuscripts."

  She'd been hoping he'd say something like that. "David, I asked for information on you already."

  "Oh?"

  He looked surprised instead of offended. "Yes. First Spiros said--"

  "Who's Spiros?"

  "Our guide."

  "Is that the spirit you people channel?"

  "Yes, Spiros is his name. He lived his last life on earth ten thousand years ago in the great Atlantean society. He's a spiritual teacher." She'd gotten carried away again and now watched him warily.

  "I'm not going to tease you," he assured her. "So what did your Spiros tell you about me?"

  "Most recently, you were a German housewife renowned for strudel."

  David laughed heartily. "You know, I can almost believe that. I detest, absolutely detest, strudel."

  "You probably got sick of it." She smiled broadly. "And I didn't think that you would want to dress as a Hausfrau, so I asked for a past life where we knew each other, just in case you accepted my invitation. I thought it would be fun to dress as we were when we last knew one another."

  David said nothing, just raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  "You were a composer in the court of Napoleon in the early eighteen hundreds. I was a courtesan." She paused, waiting for him to respond, but he remained silent. "We knew each other very well," she added finally.

  "Oh?"

  "In every way. In fact, the emperor, who was a very jealous man, sent a spy to observe me. We were caught in the act and eventually beheaded."

  "Ouch," David said, wetting his lips. "It's a good story. A very good story." His eyes roved over her face, searching. "David, you'd look marvelous in a powdered wig and leggings. I've already rented my costume and they still have one that would be just right for you." She decided not to mention she'd put down a deposit to hold it for him.

  "Thanks, but I already have a costume."

  "You do?" She hid her frustration. "I wish you would have told me. I wouldn't have gone on so long."

  "Oh, but I wanted to hear it. It's fascinating." He cleared his throat. "I just found the costume today. Eric and I took some old trunks from the attic and they were full of clothes. From Lizzie's time," he added proudly.

  "You're not going in drag, are you?" she asked, shocked.

  He laughed again. "No, no, no. There was a sea captain's uniform in one carton. It fits perfectly."

  "But you're supposed to dress as you were in another life." Theo tried to hide her disappointment under gentle chiding.

  "Who's to say I wasn't a sea captain?" he asked, his tone mild.

  "Well, maybe you were. But since you know who you might have been--don't you think you should represent that life?"

  "I don't see why. I doubt if many of the attendees will be so appropriately dressed." He leaned closer. "Or if .most of them even believe in reincarnation."

  "You have a point." She made herself smile at him again. "I guess I'm just disappointed that your costume won't match mine."

  "Change yours. Be a captain's lady."

  "Thanks, but I'm obligated to dress correctly. The other members of Beings of Light would disapprove if I didn't. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

  "I'm sorry. I wouldn't be comfortable dressed so theatrically. You know, we writers aren't too outgoing. We prefer to put our characters in colorful clothes, not ourselves. That's probably why we write instead of act; we don't generally want to call attention to our physical selves."

  She laughed throatily. "But you have a wonderful physical self, David. You shouldn't be so shy."

  He blushed again. "Thanks. But I'll stick with the conservative costume. Otherwise, I might die of embarrassment."

  He drained his coffee cup. "Also, Eric Swenson said something that really made sense."

  "Eric?" she asked, surprised.

  "Yes. I don't know who told you he's slow, Theo, but it's not true. He's been misjudged. He's different, yes--I think he lacks a certain ambitiousness present in most people and its absence scares them and makes them think something more serious is missing." David shrugged. "He doesn't care about impressing anyone, but he's not slow or retarded or handicapped.”

  Theo carefully hid her annoyance. "So, what did our Eric say?"

  "That he's going to dress as a cowboy because that's what he'd like to have been if he'd lived before." He paused. "Inventing a past sounds more satisfying to me than following the advice of some dead guy from Atlantis. No offense."

  Silently, she counted to ten, keeping her expression as serene as she knew how. "And you'd like to think that you were a ship's captain?"

  He nodd
ed. "Sure. And the costume won't embarrass me. Uh, Theo, I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean--"

  Smiling sweetly, she said, "Don't worry about it. I'm a member of a very unusual group and I've heard much worse. So, do you know what Amber is going to wear?"

  "I thought I'd let her pick out something from the trunks, if she wants. She's been gone all day, so I haven't told her yet."

  "David, you don't mean you're going to let your own daughter dress as a prostitute?"

  He chuckled. "She can call herself an elegant woman from 1914. There is nothing cheap about the clothing." He paused. "Well, most of it."

  Theo wet her lips. "Most?"

  "Um hmm." The waitress brought the check and David grabbed it before Theo could see the damage. "Just a moment," he told the girl. Pulling a credit card from his wallet, he laid it on the little tray, then waited for the waitress to move out of earshot. "There were some very naughty underthings in one crate. Corsets. Garters. You know."

  "I'd love to see them," Theo whispered.

  "I'd love to see them on you," David retorted. Abruptly, he sat up straight, obviously startled by his own words. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little too relaxed."

  "No need' to apologize. I'd like you to see them on me." Excitement squiggled from her crotch into her belly. "Would you like me to try them on tonight?"

  "You're blunt, Theo," he said as the waitress brought him the receipt.

  "Sorry."

  He signed the check with a flourish, then looked Theo in the eye. "Don't be. I like blunt women."

  "Good," she purred.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Theo Pelinore's House: 8:30A.M.

  He awoke slowly, luxuriously, stretching his nude body between the cool sheets, keeping his eyes closed, acutely aware that for the first time in weeks, he'd slept the whole night through. Ever since his second night in Body House, when he'd awakened to find the ghost--or succubus, or whatever it was--using his body, he hadn't slept well, even though he'd half convinced himself that the whole thing was a dream. The sleeplessness was due in part, he suspected, to his concern for Amber's safety after the manifestations of Lizzie and Christabel in her room, though primarily it was due to his nervousness concerning the succubus. He'd continued to have orgasmic dreams--sometimes two or three in one night--and would wake at the moment of release, then remain awake, always wondering if it was really only a dream or if he would again find the invisible woman straddling him again. Fortunately, it hadn't happened again. Turning over, he let himself drift back toward sleep.

  And a moment later, he awoke, aware of the sudden coolness enveloping his penis, stroking it, using it… "NO!" he screamed, sitting bolt upright. Dazed, he stared around the room. The unfamiliar room.

  "David! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

  Theo. He'd spent the night with her in her house, in her bedroom. On the way back from the restaurant, they'd decided to come here instead of going to Body House, because of the possibility of Minnie or Amber catching them together. He gazed at Theo now, at her face, pale yet beautiful, even without make-up, at her long dark hair falling in waves over her full breasts so that it artistically hid one nipple and exposed the other.

  "I had a nightmare," he told her. "It had nothing to do with you."

  She moved closer and sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth for just an instant. "I thought I'd stabbed you with a fingernail," she whispered, then started rubbing again.

  "No, no. It was just a dream," he murmured as she trailed her tongue halfway down his neck before resuming nibbling.

  He groaned, desire returning with memories of the night before. They'd sipped champagne while curled up on the sofa in front of her fireplace, watching the yellow flames consume a large piece of hickory. After that, she'd led him into her huge bedroom with its inch-thick white carpet, central air, and enormous bed with black satin sheets. Everything in the room was black or white except for a vase of blood-red roses. She took the initiative, playing with him, making him wait, extending the foreplay for nearly two hours.

  Theo was an animal, every man's dream, but, he thought, even as he ran his fingers over the lush curve of her ass, but something had been missing. Something, he didn't know what.

  The smell of her now nearly drove him mad. She pulled him over on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he entered her, using them to force him deeper inside her with every thrust. Her nails dug into his back, and tears came to his eyes as her teeth sank into his earlobe. He pulled his ear free and raised himself as far as she would allow, looking down at her flushed features, trembling lips, and brilliant dark eyes glassy with desire. Her nostrils flared with each rapid breath she took.

  "Fuck me!" she ordered. He cringed as her long red nails broke through the skin of his back.

  Last night, when he was intoxicated, he knew she had done the same, but he'd been imprisoned in an erotic cloud that made him nearly unaware of the pain. Now, it was too much and his erection began to fail. With all his strength, he pulled away from her, trying to ignore the fingernails as they raked over his back and across his ribs. He took hold of her hips and pushed. Immediately, she understood what he wanted, and turning herself, she rested her head on the satin-sheathed pillow and thrust the globes of her perfect ass up toward him.

  Roughly, he plunged into her, giving her the depth and roughness she craved, excited by her expert muscle control and her breathless demands for him to fuck her.

  Safely out of reach of her teeth and nails, he gave her exactly what she wanted, and when they were done and he rolled off her, she took his limp penis in her hand and squeezed it. Looking him in the eye, she told him he was an incredible fuck, the best she'd ever had.

  He didn't answer, only gave her a small, tired smile. His body was satisfied, but he felt used, very much like he had after the succubus episode. Guys don’t care if they’re used, Masters, so what’s wrong with you?

  Abruptly, a vision of Melanie swam across his mind, smiling and bright, giggling over the silliness of some position they'd tried, he chuckling with her as they tried it again. Now he knew what was missing: laughter. Theo Pelinore was deadly serious in her lovemaking; she never laughed.

  Theo, long and tall, unfolded herself and rose from the bed. She padded into the bathroom and he heard the shower come on a moment later. As he lay there listening to the water, he wondered briefly if perhaps he should compromise his morals and give his career to Melanie to agent. Then he would have her to talk to and to love. To laugh with.

  "Care to join me?" Theo's voice carried above the sounds of the shower.

  He glanced at his watch. Holy shit, its nine in the morning! Rapidly, he searched for his socks and underwear but found only one sock and no shorts. "Oh hell," he muttered and pulled on his pants and shirt, then slipped his bare feet into his shoes. He glanced around once more, but saw no sign of his underclothing. He'd have to pick them up later. Haphazardly dressed, he stepped into the steamy bathroom, unmoved by the dappled silhouette of Theo behind the shower glass. "Theo, I have to go. It's late!"

  "Are you sure you don't want to shower first?" she asked. "I've got a shower massage."

  Watching her, he realized that she held the instrument in question between her legs. Maybe she was just washing… Maybe she was ready for more. "Sorry, but I'll have to take a rain check. I've got to get home before Amber catches on."

  "If you say so." She finished her sentence with a little moaning sound. Five seconds later, David was out the door, trotting toward the Bronco.

  Chapter Twenty

  Body House: 9:00A.M.

  Where is he? Amber had left Kelly's house early because she'd been worried about her father being all alone in the house, but when she got back, she was dismayed to find he wasn't home.

  An hour had passed and she was a little worried and a lot annoyed as she carried a basket of laundry downstairs. Though he'd acted pretty normal for the last week or two, judging by the circles under his eyes she suspected he was p
robably just getting better at hiding his nervousness.

  Carefully balancing the overfilled basket, she opened the laundry room door and went inside. She'd thought she'd never have to wash her own clothes again, thanks to Minnie. "Fat chance," she muttered, putting the basket on the table and turning on the light. Sighing, she opened the washer and started tossing in underclothes. "Minnie, I could kill you," she muttered under her breath.

  Yesterday, she and Kelly Cox had gone to cheerleading practice, then met up with a bunch of other kids, including her date for the Come As You Were Dance, luscious Rick Feldspar. They'd spent the day at Pismo Beach, with Rick valiantly trying to teach her how to ride his surf board, while Kelly and her boyfriend, Jason Swenson, showed off on their boards. Amber had declared herself a klutz, partly because she felt that way, but mostly because it made Rick renew his efforts to teach her, and she liked that very much. At the end of the day, they'd built a big bonfire and roasted hot dogs.

  Jason Swenson dropped the girls off at Kelly's house and the pair had a pleasant evening. She'd expected Mr. and Mrs. Cox to be weird like Ferd Cox at the store, but they were nice and normal. They'd all sat together in the family room and watched E. T. Amber had seen it maybe a million times, but it was still lots of fun.

  Mrs. Cox asked her a few questions about Body House and about her dad, but Amber handled them just the way she had when her new friends questioned her: she made everything sound boringly normal, saying her dad was a terrible nag about chores and that the stories about the house being haunted were complete baloney. Mrs. Cox had looked disappointed, but Amber figured that if she said anything at all about the rotten-flower stinkfest that arose without warning almost every day and lasted seconds to minutes, or told her about the creepazoid cold spots, or even the ghostly piano music, she'd probably decide Amber was weird and wouldn't let Kelly hang out with her. She didn't tell her friends, except for Kelly, whom she'd sworn to secrecy, for the same reason.