Entertaining a Visitor
Watching Angel drive away, Michael felt depression sink into him. He puzzled at its source. Partly it was her reaction on leaving the house. While it had been unlike the reactions of Alicia or Jenny, neither of whom had any interest in seeing him again, still she had expressed a near-shock at her own actions.
Michael understood her disquiet, feeling it himself. He had begun to entertain a strange notion that the house itself was responsible for his recent carnal diversions. How else to explain intimacy with Alicia, days from marrying a man she loved, a man to whom she had promised faithfulness? Or Jenny, excitable Jenny of the wedding ring and the wonderful body? Alicia's feeling that she was being compelled into something expected of her seemed to have crystallized into an obligation to sexual intimacy, the same obligation which drove both Michael and Angel from a desire to seek romance into a gloriously frenzied lust.
As little as this idea was rational, it seemed that nothing else would account for the obsession that had gripped Michael's partners and himself to find sexual gratification in each other. Not as a desire, but as an urgent necessity.
In one way, if it were true, the possibilities would be exciting. Romance a woman just long enough to get her to the house, and wham! Seduction supplied by environment.
In another, if it were true, that would be little more than rape.
That was part of the reason for his funk. He didn't want to lose Angel. What would happen when she thought over the events of last night? Would she believe that she had not consented? If she learned the truth (if, indeed, this crazy idea could be the truth) would she believe that Michael had coerced her seduction?
The other part of his depression was a sense of loss. Where was the romance, if all they needed to do was meet here and fall into bed? Excitement, yes, lust, even love - but what about just being together, dating, getting to know one another? If he and Angel stayed together, would they ever really know these?
His phone call to Angel the following day encouraged him a little. Though she had a very busy week, she was, she said, looking forward to seeing him the following weekend. They arranged to meet on Friday evening for a movie. Her voice sounded a little strained, but with tiredness, not uncertainty.
During the week, counting the hours until Friday evening, Michael was spending his free time making small repairs to the house, replacing some dubious floorboards and preparing for the electrician to upgrade some of the wiring. Although he had not yet moved any furniture, he had moved enough personal belongings to be comfortable in his new home.
On Wednesday evening, the doorbell rang. He lay down his woodworking tools, wiped his hands on his overalls, and headed downstairs. By the time he reached the front door, he was certain that his visitors would have left; in fact there were two women standing on the porch expectantly. He assumed they were there to convert him, and was about to dismiss them, when the older of the two donned a practiced smile and spoke to him.
"Mr. Maretti?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "We're from the neighborhood association. I'm Ginger, this is Genie." She indicated her younger companion, a slight, dark-haired, attractive woman, whose large dark eyes held his from behind large wire-framed glasses as she said hello.
"Am I in trouble?" asked Michael.
"No, not at all," replied Ginger, "we're not that kind of association. You don't have to join us, but we'd like to recruit you. May we talk to you for a moment?"
Michael grinned and showed them inside. "Would you like a glass of sherry?" he asked them. "I haven't moved much yet, but the liquor cabinet was a high priority."
"That sounds wonderful," replied Ginger. Genie agreed, in her soft, low voice, and Michael left to prepare. He returned with a bottle and glasses on a tray.
Ginger had taken the chair. He poured the drinks, and sat beside Genie on the sofa. Ginger was looking around the room with an expert's eye.
"How did you know I had the place?" asked Michael. "I only closed last week."
"I'm a realtor," replied Ginger. "I knew as soon as you had made an offer."
"Really?" asked Michael. "Have you ever shown this house?"
"Many times," she answered. "I thought I had sold it at least twice, but there were always problems. You know this was an amazing bargain."
"Yes, that's what I thought. I found it hard to believe that it had been on the market so long. I heard that it was because the house was haunted."
Ginger looked alarmed, perhaps embarrassed. "I don't think . . ."
"Relax," interrupted Michael, "You're not selling me the place, I already bought it. Do you think there might be any truth to the rumor?"
Ginger deferred the question. "Genie might know more about that."
Genie turned to face him. "My husband's a minister," she said softly in explanation. "He serves in the Episcopal church here. I'm sure he hasn't been asked to perform any exorcisms in a while." Her smile was demure, but Michael found himself gazing into those deep, dark eyes. She blushed slightly as he forced himself to focus.
"Would he, if I really have a ghost?"
"I was being facetious, but yes. Probably not himself, but if the bishop could be convinced, I believe the church could bring in a trained exorcist. It sounds strange in this time, but many priests take such things very seriously."
Ginger wore a bemused look, as if she couldn't believe the others were talking earnestly about such a subject. Michael directed his comment to her. "Don't worry, I'm as skeptical as you are. I've just seen some weird stuff here lately."
"What has happened?" inquired Genie.
"Oh, nothing I could really pin down," he lied. "Just strange feelings in some places." That part was true.
"Well, I've never seen anything odd," stated Ginger, "unless you count some very strange financial problems that kept other deals on the house from going through."
"There you are, accountant ghosts." Genie chuckled, then drank the last of her sherry.
"Oh, no, then I'll really need an exterminator," said Michael as he refilled her glass.
"Exorcist," she corrected giggling. Ginger joined in the laughter.
A shrill warble made Michael jump. He grabbed at his pocket for his phone, then realized it was upstairs where he had been working. Ginger took hers from her purse. Genie stayed calm through the minor commotion.
"You don't do the cellphone shuffle?" whispered Michael to Genie as Ginger took her call.
"No, I'm still one of the lucky ones," Genie responded.
Ginger interrupted them. "Genie, can you call Ryan to get a ride home?"
"He's in Denver, remember?"
"Oh, shit." Ginger had the cellphone mouthpiece covered. "Listen, could I leave you here for an hour or two? I have a showing right now in the wrong direction."
"I could run you home, if you like," Michael suggested to Genie.
"Sure, that would be fine," she replied, then to Ginger, "Go ahead and take care of it, I'll be okay."
Ginger finished her conversation, then stood to leave. "Thanks for helping me out, Michael. Welcome to the neighborhood. I'll see you later, Genie." She held out her hand; Michael stood to take it, and walked her to the door.
After Ginger had left, he returned to the sofa. Genie was still sipping her drink.
"Do you need to leave now?" he asked, "Or are you going to tell me about the neighborhood association? Ginger didn't get around to it."
"Oh, I think Ginger got what she came for," Genie said.
"What was that?"
"She wanted to see who you were. She's been showing this house for so long; I think she's jealous of Jenny, your realtor."
Michael felt a surge of remembered passion as Jenny's name conjured up a brief image of her eager face and glorious breasts. "Jealous?" he asked.
"A little. I'm not complaining about Ginger, she's a very good friend of mine. She put a lot of work into a couple of those deals she said about, then Jenny seemed to pick up a real sale from nowhere. Then there was Jenny's reaction, I think that was the real reason Ginger wanted to see you."
"Which was?" Michael found himself losing the thread of the conversation.
"Ginger told me, let me try to remember it exactly, she said, 'I asked Jenny what he was like. She turned bright red, then said "He's just a guy."' So I think she wanted to see what 'just a guy' was who had the mayor's wife so enthralled."
"Jenny's married to the mayor?" Michael experienced a sinking feeling as he considered how much damage his brief fling with Jenny could have done.
"Yes, I thought you'd know that."
Michael shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know what's going on around me. And it doesn't help when everyone has the same name."
Now Genie was confused. "The same name?"
"Jenny. Genie. Ginger. They all sound the same, and they're all jays."
"Genie doesn't begin with J. Neither does Ginger."
"Well, they sound like they do. And Jenny's the wife of the mayor, and Genie's married to the bishop, and Ginger's husband is the undertaker."
"Ryan's a priest, not a bishop, and Ginger's single. Divorced. And she was married to an office manager who now lives in South Carolina. How much of that sherry have you been drinking?"
"Not enough, obviously," said Michael, and they both giggled.
Genie's laughter was developing a nervous edge. Not from drink or from fear; the look in her eyes was warm, though her expression uncertain. Michael felt a now-familiar anticipation. Oh, God, no, he thought, I'm not going to let this happen. He stood and excused himself to bring some cookies; when he returned with them, he took the chair Ginger had left. He believed he sensed disappointment from Genie.
"So, finally, tell me about the neighborhood association," he prompted.
"There's nothing much to tell. We meet monthly at the elementary school. Second Tuesday. Sometimes we have a speaker. Next month one of the councilors is telling us about garbage collection."
"Sounds exciting."
"It will be more interesting than you think. Going from two trash pickups a week to one is a major community issue right now. We often get a good argument going, especially with the politicians."
"And you came out here to invite me to a life-and-death debate over trash collection. I see."
"Keep up the sarcasm, " retorted Genie, "and I'll be sure they haul you off on their next weekly trash pickup."
Michael feigned a mortal wound, and Genie giggled. "You'll live," she said.
Michael raised his glass. "Here's to grime."
"Oh, that's terrible," groaned Genie. "And I've almost finished my drink. Will you pour me one last glass?" Her warm gaze held his. Michael's stomach tingled with the urge to lose himself in that gaze.
"Are you sure you'll be okay with another?" Will I be okay if you have another, he was asking.
"I'm no lush," she stated. "I rarely drink much at all. This is more than I've had all year, I'd guess. Allow me my moment of wantonness." She grinned.
Michael had to stand to get the bottle. "Wantonness?" he queried. "Are you a loose woman?"
"Sure. That's why I need to get tight." She grinned up at him. Behind long eyelashes, her merry eyes were alluring. Her look was sapping Michael's will. The low prickle of excitement had flowed through his chest and was warming his cheeks. Genie's face showed the flush he felt.
He realized he had been staring at her for several seconds, and broke away, embarrassed, to pick up the bottle. She lifted her glass. Her hand shook as he tried to pour, so he covered it with his own to steady it.
As his hand touched hers, he felt a psychic shock; raw desire streamed into him. He glanced at Genie. Her expression was of wide-eyed surprise. His emotions in turmoil, he finished filling her glass. She used her left hand to retrieve the glass, freeing her right to catch his, weaving her fingers between his. She used her gentle grasp to draw him around, leading him back to the couch. He placed the bottle on the table and sat beside her.
Michael banished thoughts of Angel from his mind. He'd deal with that later. Right now . . .
Fingers still intertwined, they studied each other. Genie sipped her fresh drink, then set it back on the table. Michael freed his hand, then slowly reached out and unfastened the top button of her blouse.
Genie looked slightly shocked at the sudden undressing, then smiled apprehensively. Michael continued with the rest of the buttons. Genie held her arms for him to slip the blouse off, then unfastened his work shirt.
Michael wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her; he sensed that she wanted that too. But this was turning him on. As he reached for her, her lips parted, but instead of kissing her, he unhooked her bra. She gasped as she realized what he was doing. She quivered nervously, as, his heart pounding, he slid the straps over her shoulder . . .
Her breasts were small and sweet, her nipples hardening as he watched. Her nervous expression didn't reach her eyes, which were hungry with desire. He touched her breasts lightly, then drew her to him.
Her arms snaked around his neck, and her ferocious response to his kiss showed him that she had been as turned on as he. Her tongue sought his throat as he slowly kneaded her breasts.
He released her breasts and tore at her skirt, finally figuring out how to unfasten it. She kicked off her shoes, and he dragged her skirt, hose and underwear to her feet in one clumsy operation, dumping the tangled clothing unceremoniously on the floor.
She bit his tongue as, hooking his arm around her thigh, he stroked her pussy from behind. He slid a finger into her, finding her very wet. Her thighs tightened around his hand; tongue glued to his, she started to sigh, groaning quietly in her throat.
Moving his left hand back to her breasts, he pressed her back against the arm curled around her ass. Genie opened her mouth wide, breathing rapidly, still catching his tongue with her own.
The fire of excitement scorched Michael's belly as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. Her nipples were hard, and she gasped as his teeth brushed them. Then he was sucking hard on her left breast. His right hand found her swollen clit; a yelp of pleasure escaped Genie as he stroked. Her face was turned to his, glow of lust in her eyes, her forehead damp. She wrapped her hands around his head, pushing his face into her breasts, pressing hard against his fingers inside her.
Genie's passion became tangible, in every breath, every movement. She consumed his senses. He pulled back from her, pushed her against the back of the sofa, and buried his head between her thighs.
"Oh, God," she moaned as his tongue touched her pussy. He lifted her knees over his shoulder, then slipped his hands behind her thighs and parted her labia. Licking first around the edge, he slowly penetrated her with his tongue. She was sobbing with pleasure as he stroked her clit.
Immediately he sucked on her clit, and she squealed. He could hear her grunting as she tried to move against him, pushing herself to climax, but he drew back, releasing her, and she made a strangled sound as she realized he was not going to let her come. He started working again, backing off just shy of her climax. Each time he took her closer, not letting her reach the edge. Then, as she was just at her crest, he backed away again, but instead of releasing her, he held his tongue firmly against her clit.
The stimulation was too much for her to be able to relax. He felt her tensing as she realized that it was really going to happen, her clit twitching slightly. He stroked firmly. Her breathing was ragged, and she started to moan.
"Ohhhh ..." Her thighs squeezed his head. She tangled her fingers in his hair. "OHHHhhhh". He felt her clit shiver again. Her body seemed almost to freeze. Then, "OOOOOHHHHH", she wailed, as her orgasm overtook her. Michael sucked roughly on her clit, feeling every part of her convulsing in climax.
When she was through, Genie pulled Michael's head away from her legs. She lay along the sofa, then reached for his belt. After undressing him, she drew him against her.
His rigid cock slid easily into her as he lay down. They kissed briefly, then he lifted himself to his elbows, pushing strongly into her. She came almost immediately, then clung to him, still quivering. Michael couldn't hold back, the erotic impact of everything before was just too powerful, and he exploded inside her.
They kissed again, sloppily. Michael rolled their combined bodies out of the sofa, gently lowering them to the floor. Genie was on top of him, still clinging, as he started moving again. Sucking on her breasts he brought her back to her crest, guiding her through another noisy eruption, and again as she tired and his erection finally waned.
Even as he slipped out of her, he could feel the passion start to build, and knew that their bodies would soon fuse together again. He smiled, feeling his cock twitch as it tried to respond.
They lay together, tongues and fingers exploring, until Michael noticed something amiss. "Oh, shit," he exclaimed, then, pushing Genie off him, he went to close the drapes.
Genie giggled, then moved over to where Michael stood. "I guess we were a little distracted," she said. Then, reaching out and stroking his cock, "I know what was distracting me."
Michael felt himself respond, weakly. Genie's dark eyes looked into his, playfully, then she lowered herself to the floor. Michael's excitement grew as she nuzzled his cock, then opened her mouth and stroked it against her extended tongue.
She took the head of his cock into her mouth. An almost unbearable tingle sent a powerful thrill into his body. He felt his shaft extend.
Releasing the head, she ran her tongue down the length of his cock. He leaned back against the wall as she sucked on his balls. She nibbled the base of his shaft, working her way slowly back to the head. Gooseflesh prickling his arms, heat in the pit of his stomach, he ran his fingers through her hair. She looked up into his face, a wicked grin revealing her enjoyment at her sensual power. He was fully erect, almost painfully so, as she slid her lips back around him.
Taking several inches of his cock into her mouth, she sucked, tongued, then pulled back rapidly, making him gasp. He began to lose himself in the feeling as she overcame his depletion, driving him back towards climax. She slowed her efforts as he began to lose control of his reactions, letting him recover, then starting over. He could ride this experience to joy, and beyond . . .
But no. He was right at the point of no return, with Genie encouraging him to yield, when with a great effort of will he took her head in his hands and pulled her back. He had to close his eyes and will himself not to come. When he opened them, she was looking puzzled, but he shook his head, lifting her to a standing position, and locked his mouth on hers.
She responded as he turned around, pressing her against the wall. She gasped with excitement as he lifted her right leg, then bent to allow his cock to stroke her pussy. Understanding what he wanted, she helped push the tip of his erection inside her. Then he grabbed her ass, and she lifted her left leg as he wriggled his way inside her.
He felt Genie lift her thighs, and he slid all the way into her. She locked her feet behind him, pulling him against her body. Lips still joined, they squeezed against each other rhythmically. He felt her shake herself against him, grabbing more stimulation, as her breathing quickened.
Genie's back thumped against the wall in a noisy counterpoint. She groaned as she drew on his excitement, her cries becoming louder as she approached her desire. She pulled her mouth from his, breathing hard, then with a small squeal, she came, her body shuddering. She started kissing Michael frenziedly, licking his tongue, biting his chin, exuberant. Michael tensed, pushed into her a couple more times, and exploded gloriously, his whole being involved.
The doorbell rang.
Michael and Genie froze, unspeaking. They waited for the visitor to leave. The bell rang again, then a knocking. Then a voice: "Genie? Are you there? I wondered if you needed a ride home." Ginger's voice.
Genie's laughing eyes looked into Michael's. Then they widened. Her face showed the strain of remaining silent. She was panting rapidly, shallowly, her face flushed. He felt her legs squeezing him strongly into her, maintaining pressure without movement, until she gasped, her nails digging painfully into his back. She shuddered, coming again. Then she smiled, delight in her face, and opened her mouth onto his.
They kissed quietly, still waiting for Ginger to leave. Finally, they heard her car drive away, and relaxed.
"I wonder if she heard anything," Genie mused.
"Probably not," replied Michael, "not if she's completely deaf. Otherwise she probably heard the thumping from inside her car."
Genie rolled her eyes.
"I'd better get you home before she calls the neighborhood watch," commented Malcolm.
They dressed quickly. Already knowing that after they passed through the front door, Genie would be out of his life, Michael stopped her for a lingering kiss.
Genie seemed to draw into herself as they drove. She didn't speak, except to give occasional directions. When they reached her house, she sat silently for a moment.
"Michael, I . . ." she began.
"I know," he sighed.
"Don't take this wrong," she said, "I . . ." Then her voice cracked. "God, that was wonderful." She leaned her face over to his. "Goodbye," she said, kissing him quickly, then stepped out of the car and walked towards her house.
"Goodbye, Genie," Michael said to himself, then backed the car out of the driveway and headed home.