Fifty Shades of Fantasy: Ghosts of Desire (paranormal erotica, ghost story, ghost romance, ghosts, ghost, ghost erotica, ghost sex, Halloween, Halloween stories, sexy Halloween, Halloween erotica) by Michelle Fox Page B
Authors: Michelle Fox
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the center of the cell. Dressed only in baggy trousers and a white undershirt, h e was tall with brooding dark looks. If not for the sheer terror I was experiencing, I would have thought him handsome.
“Hello, Cassandra.” He smiled.
I relaxed a little , disarmed by his smile which made him look kind. “ Are you with the film crew?”
He shook his head and the smile faded, replaced by a grim expression . “I’ m with the dead.”
Befo re I could scream, he rushed for me , feet pushing off the ground as he launched himself in the air . A frigid wind slammed into my body. At the same time, a roiling black cloud streamed into my mouth and down my throat , so cold it burned . I choked and clawed at my neck . M y knees quickly went weak from the assault and the inability to breath and I sank to the floor .
My stomach heaved, rejecting the ice- cold spirit that rammed its way i nto my flesh. Strangled screams filled my throat, emerging as breathless shrieks. The floor rose up to meet me and I fell into darkness so complete, it swallowed me like a black hole.
***
I woke to another time, another place. I was outside, on a dirt road surrounded by trees and fields. My comfortable pants and shirt had been exchanged for a fitted, old- fashioned dress in pale pink . The corset pinched my ribs making breathing difficult and the heavy skirts hung almost to the ground. Narrow shoes compressed my feet and I wobbled as I turned in a circle.
“Where am I? What is this?”
The man who had jumped me in the prison cell stepped forward. He had changed his clothes too. Instead of a loose shirt and baggy pants, he wore a brown suit and a fancy bowtie around his neck. “In my memories.”
“Are you...are you in my body?” I put a hand to my chest, relieved when it felt solid. At least I wasn’t an illusion even if everything else around me was.
“I believe the correct term is possession.”
“But why?”
His expression darkened. “To show you the truth.” He wave d his hand and the scene blurred as it changed . “ My name is Andrew Smith and I had one great love in my life, a woman named Mary Holmes. ”
Our new location was a school , one of those old one-room schools. Students sat in orderly rows, small chalkboards on their desk. The teacher, an older woman with steel gray hair and a pinched nose, paced the front of the room, lecturing.
“We met here.” He nodded over to where a much younger versi on of him sat. I recognized him because the hair and posture were the same. As I watched, his younger self smiled and winked at the girl next to him. She wore a blue dress that looked Victorian to me with its high collar. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face and tied with a ribbon that matched her dress.
She hid her smile behind her hand, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. She shook her head a t Andrew in silent admonishment .
“We were forbidden to know each other.”
“By who?” I asked.
The boy who would someday be the ghost curren tly in possession of my body, waited until the teacher’s back was turned an d then, using a sling shot, launched a barrage of small stones. They soared in an arc over the class , and, one by one, the students in the room looked up as they passed. Someone snickered and the teache r spun around, her eyes narrowed in suspi cion. The pebbles clattered to the floor and she issued a stern warning , which was met with bored indifference .
“Our parents.” The man took my hand and pulled me outside the school house. “Our families ran general stores and the competition was acrimonious.”
“Acri...what?” I frowned.
“Bitter.”
I nodded. Things were starting to make sense now. “Okay. So you were like Romeo and Juliet.”
“Yes. The bard knew tragedy well. As you will see, it was no stranger to us either. ” He stared off into the distance, his eyes dark pools of deep sadness.
A little pang went through my heart . “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He tugged on my hand
“Hello, Cassandra.” He smiled.
I relaxed a little , disarmed by his smile which made him look kind. “ Are you with the film crew?”
He shook his head and the smile faded, replaced by a grim expression . “I’ m with the dead.”
Befo re I could scream, he rushed for me , feet pushing off the ground as he launched himself in the air . A frigid wind slammed into my body. At the same time, a roiling black cloud streamed into my mouth and down my throat , so cold it burned . I choked and clawed at my neck . M y knees quickly went weak from the assault and the inability to breath and I sank to the floor .
My stomach heaved, rejecting the ice- cold spirit that rammed its way i nto my flesh. Strangled screams filled my throat, emerging as breathless shrieks. The floor rose up to meet me and I fell into darkness so complete, it swallowed me like a black hole.
***
I woke to another time, another place. I was outside, on a dirt road surrounded by trees and fields. My comfortable pants and shirt had been exchanged for a fitted, old- fashioned dress in pale pink . The corset pinched my ribs making breathing difficult and the heavy skirts hung almost to the ground. Narrow shoes compressed my feet and I wobbled as I turned in a circle.
“Where am I? What is this?”
The man who had jumped me in the prison cell stepped forward. He had changed his clothes too. Instead of a loose shirt and baggy pants, he wore a brown suit and a fancy bowtie around his neck. “In my memories.”
“Are you...are you in my body?” I put a hand to my chest, relieved when it felt solid. At least I wasn’t an illusion even if everything else around me was.
“I believe the correct term is possession.”
“But why?”
His expression darkened. “To show you the truth.” He wave d his hand and the scene blurred as it changed . “ My name is Andrew Smith and I had one great love in my life, a woman named Mary Holmes. ”
Our new location was a school , one of those old one-room schools. Students sat in orderly rows, small chalkboards on their desk. The teacher, an older woman with steel gray hair and a pinched nose, paced the front of the room, lecturing.
“We met here.” He nodded over to where a much younger versi on of him sat. I recognized him because the hair and posture were the same. As I watched, his younger self smiled and winked at the girl next to him. She wore a blue dress that looked Victorian to me with its high collar. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face and tied with a ribbon that matched her dress.
She hid her smile behind her hand, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. She shook her head a t Andrew in silent admonishment .
“We were forbidden to know each other.”
“By who?” I asked.
The boy who would someday be the ghost curren tly in possession of my body, waited until the teacher’s back was turned an d then, using a sling shot, launched a barrage of small stones. They soared in an arc over the class , and, one by one, the students in the room looked up as they passed. Someone snickered and the teache r spun around, her eyes narrowed in suspi cion. The pebbles clattered to the floor and she issued a stern warning , which was met with bored indifference .
“Our parents.” The man took my hand and pulled me outside the school house. “Our families ran general stores and the competition was acrimonious.”
“Acri...what?” I frowned.
“Bitter.”
I nodded. Things were starting to make sense now. “Okay. So you were like Romeo and Juliet.”
“Yes. The bard knew tragedy well. As you will see, it was no stranger to us either. ” He stared off into the distance, his eyes dark pools of deep sadness.
A little pang went through my heart . “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He tugged on my hand
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