Archive-name: Fantasy/ghost.mf
Archive-author: S. B. Douglass
Archive-title: Ghost


1991

	I went to bed Sunday night feeling a bit depressed.  Weekends did 
that to me, with the knowledge that others went out and had fun while I 
did nothing, and it had been the kind of warm spring weekend that people 
say is ripe for romance.  I was lying on my side wondering if I would 
ever find a girl, one arm under my pillow and the other arm hugging the 
covers against my ear when I heard a quiet voice.
	"Hello?" it said, sounding tentative.  It was a softly feminine 
voice, but there was nobody in the room who could have spoken.  After a 
brief startle, I ignored the voice and assumed that I'd imagined it.
	"Hello," it said again, more firmly, just as my thoughts had begun 
to drift.
	"Who are you?  What are you doing in my room?" I answered, sitting 
up in the darkness as I groped for the bedside lamp.  The light flashed 
on, partially blinding me, but I could see well enough.  Nobody was in 
the room with me.
	"Don't get upset," the voice said, pleading.  "I don't really have 
a name, I guess you can pick one.  I'm in your room because I like you, 
and I've decided that it's time for me to introduce myself.  I hope you 
don't mind."
	I sat in my bed with my back against the wall, staring around my 
empty room and seeing no sign of anyone.  The voice seemed to come from 
nowhere in particular.  "Where are you hiding?  Come on out where I can 
see you.  What do you mean, you like me."
	"Just that.  I've been following you for a year now, and I like 
you.  As to why you can't see me, I don't have a body yet."
	I slumped in my bed and pulled the covers back up to my chin.  
"Then this must be a dream," I said.  "What do you mean, you don't have a 
body.  What are you?"
	"I guess I'm a spirit, or something like that."
	"What do you mean, you guess.  Besides, I don't believe in 
spirits."
	"It really doesn't matter what you believe," the voice said, with 
a chuckle.  "I'm me, I'm real, I like you, and I'd like to be your 
friend."
	"It's a hell of a way to begin a friendship," I said, sitting up 
angrily in bed.  "Following me around for, what was it you said, for a 
year?  Where have you followed me anyway?"
	"Everywhere, most of the time.  I'd like to sleep with you."
	"What?"
	"What I said, I want to sleep with you.  What kind of body would 
you like me to have?"
	"I've never slept with a girl before," I said, feeling very unsure 
of myself.
	"I know," she said, sounding sympathetic.  "I'd like to make love 
with you.  What kind of body do you want me to have?"
	"Are you saying you can materialize, that you can look like anyone 
I want?"
	"Yes."
	"That sounds obscene!"
	"Why?"
	"It does, that's all."
	"There must be a reason."
	I sighed and slumped down in my bed.  "I don't know.  This is too 
weird!  Maybe it's just that dreams, fantasies, things like that, maybe 
they aren't supposed to come true.  Shouldn't I have to earn my friends 
and accept the bodies nature gave them?"
	"Usually," she said, sounding serious.  "But you did earn me, and 
since I don't have a body right now, you have a choice about how you'd 
like me to look."
	"What do you mean, I earned you?"
	"You earned me, just that.  I've followed many men over the years, 
and you're the first one who's interested me in a long time.
	"Why me?"
	"Do people need reasons?"
	"No, I guess not."
	"OK, so how do you want me to look?"
	I hesitated, and then decided to play along.  "How about tall and 
slim, about my size."
	"Easy enough," she said.  "Pick a skin color."
	"I don't know," I said, and then chuckled.  "Suntans look nice, 
but I think tanning's a stupid activity.  How about naturally dark skin, 
like people from India or something."
	"Hair color?"
	"Black, I suppose.  Anything else would look out of place.  Make 
it straight and long, and I guess your features should look Indian too, 
you know, oriental."
	"But most tall slim Indians have western looking features."
	"They do?  OK, if you say so."
	"What about my figure."
	"How about medium to small breasts, with big nipples."
	She chuckled again.  "This is fun, I guessed that one from the 
kinds of girls you like to watch.  How about build, skinny, lightly 
padded or muscular?"
	"Slim but muscular," I said.  "Be functional, not decorative."
	"Body hair?"
	"I don't believe this," I said, flustered by the thought of 
ordering a human body the way you'd order a meal in a restaurant.
	She chuckled.  "I'm sorry, I gess this is a bit weird, but do you 
want my body to have hair, pubic hair and armpit hair?"
	"What choice have I got?  I mean, it's stupid for women to shave 
their bodies, but I guess I like the idea of a hairless body."
	"OK, I can make me hairless," she said, and then paused.  "That 
about covers everything, ready for me to materialize?"
	"No!" I said, suddenly aware that I was naked.  "Let me put 
something on."
	"Why bother?  I can't materialize clothing, only a body, so I'll 
be nude.  Anyway, I've followed you around for a year; I'm used to what 
you look like when you're nude, and I like it."
	I sighed.  "OK."
	She was there.  It was that simple.  One moment, I was alone in my 
room, and the next moment, there she was, standing in front of me as I 
sat in bed.  She was beautiful in the light of my bedside lamp, slim, 
dark-skinned, with even darker areolas that almost covered her small 
breasts, and long black hair down to her waist.
	She took a step towards me and held out her hand.  I took it, and 
it was warm and solid, as real as my own.  She smiled at me as I looked 
at her, and then she pulled my hand to her breast.  "Come, feel me, enjoy 
the body you've helped create."
	"I still don't believe this," I said, my hand trembling as I 
touched her breast.  It was soft and warm, real flesh, and very feminine 
flesh.
	"What can I do to convince you that I'm real?"
	"I don't know," I said.
	She sat on my bed beside me, her thigh against mine, her breast 
touching my arm as she rested her arm around my shoulders.  "I suppose," 
she said, speaking softly, "I suppose it doesn't really matter.  Why not 
just enjoy a fun night of fantasy and let the question of whether I'm 
real wait for the light of day?"
	"OK, but I've got to go to work tomorrow, you know."
	"Don't worry, I promise, you'll wake up rested and ready for 
action in the morning."
	"Then convince me," I said, getting out of bed and turning to look 
at her.  "Convince me that you're magic."
	"OK," she said, grinning, and then disappeared.  She was gone, but 
in seconds, I felt a soft touch.  Lips touched mine, hands slid over my 
back, and warm breasts pressed themselves against me.  It was the stuff 
of pure fantasy, but it felt so real.
	As I sat back on the bed, I gave in to the fantasy and began 
returning the kisses.  There was nothing to see by the light of my 
bedroom lamp, yet I felt a woman on top of me as I lay down in bed.  Her 
lips kissed my neck, her fingers touched my chest, and I stroked her 
invisible back.
	My penis rose between my legs with an intensity and speed unlike 
anything I can remember, and then it was engulfed in soft moist sliding 
warmth.  I looked down and saw nothing.  My hands rested on nothing to 
each side of my erect penis, but I could feel it.  I could feel her body 
between my hands and I could feel her body surrounding my penis.
	My curiosity was overwhelmed by the sensation.  The pressure in my 
penis mounted to limits I'd never experienced in my solitary pleasures, 
and then I felt an orgasm like nothing I'd ever expected.  It roared 
through me, it mounted higher, and roared again, sending waves of pure 
undiluted pleasure through my body as my penis slid in and out of the 
invisible soft velvet of her body.
	It lasted a long time, and then I felt her lips on my mouth and 
her breasts on my chest.  We kissed, I slid my hands over her invisible 
body, and I wondered what was happening to me.  In no time, I felt my 
erection returning, and the rise to another orgasm swept my thoughts 
aside.
	It seemed like the entire night went on like that, one impossible 
dreamlike orgasm after another, each perfect, each satisfying, and each 
leaving me rested and ready for more.  If it was a dream, it was the most 
incredibly sexy dream I've ever had, and if it was real, there was no way 
I could reconcile it with anything I knew about reality.
	
	--
	
	Monday morning, I woke up aware of her body pressed warmly against 
mine.  Her fanny was against my hips, her back against my chest and my 
fingers were on her hard nipple.  I could smell her, and when I opened my 
eyes, I could see the back of her head only inches from my face.
	"Are you awake?" she asked, in a very quiet voice.
	"Yes," I answered.  "Who, what are you?  Did we really É ?"  I 
broke off flustered.
	She chuckled and held my hand to her small, soft breast.  "Did we 
really what?  We really did make love last night, almost all night, if 
that's what you want to know.  For a beginner, you're pretty good, it was 
fun.  As to who I am, I don't have a name yet, but you're welcome to name 
me.  What am I?  I'm not sure what I am now, but I was born a girl, a 
very normal girl, a long long time ago."
	"How long ago?"
	"Hundreds of years, and it's been a century or so since I last 
took human form."  Her voice sounded sad.  "When I'm in human form, I get 
so disgusted with people, but when I'm a spirit, I miss having a body so 
much."
	"Are there others like you?  There's a word, a succubus, is that 
what you are?"
	"A succubus?  I've played that role at times, and I'll admit that 
it can be fun, but it's not something to dedicate a life to.  I don't 
know if there are others like me.  I guess it's possible, but I've never 
found any evidence of any except in folktales."
	"It sounds like you've had some lonely times."
	"I have," she said, and then took a long breath.  "You know, in 
all those years, I've never talked about it with anyone else."
	I didn't know how to respond to her, but I liked the feeling of 
her body against mine and I liked the way she held my hand to her breast.  
She stroked my forearm with her hand, and then sat up beside me and 
looked down at me.  Her skin was a warm brown in the early morning light, 
except for her dark brown lips and the dark circles of her large areolas.  
She gracefully shook her long hair, smiled, and slid a hand down my 
chest.
	It was exciting looking at her and feeling her fingers on my skin, 
and when she noticed my excitement, she wordlessly straddled my hips with 
her thighs and slid herself down to engulf me.  She was gentle at first, 
sitting on my hips and moving ever so slightly while she smiled down at 
me and fingered my chest, but as my excitement mounted, she began to rock 
harder, and then I could see that she was excited too.  I pulled her to 
me as we neared a shared climax, and the exquisite touch of her nipples 
on mine sent me over the edge as we kissed.
	
	--
	
	After breakfast, I think she wanted to make love again, but I 
stopped her.  I pushed her away as she tried to hug me and lead me back 
to bed, and then I confronted her, standing facing her in the bedroom 
doorway.
	"Look," I said.  "Whoever you are, I've got to get to work.  I'll 
be late as it is."  Her beautiful brown body was very tempting as she 
stood naked before me.  "You said you started as a normal girl, then 
became a spirit or something, and now you're very much a girl, but what 
the hell are you?  How did you become a spirit?"
	"Magic."
	"Right," I said.  "The trouble is, that tells me nothing."
	"I was trapped, my father was a monster, he wanted to force me to 
marry for his political advantage, and I might as well have been in 
prison the way I lived.  Worse, I was in love with a boy.  Under those 
circumstances, wouldn't you try things, anything?  I did, I found an old 
book, a wizzard's book, I think, and the result was what I am now."
	"What else can your, uh, your magic do?"
	"Not much, not now.  I've discovered that the less use I make of 
my magic, the better it is.  In the first few years after I earned my 
freedom, I fooled around with it all the time, and it got boring.  I've 
learned that in the long run, it's more fun to play by the rules.  I've 
also learned how to use my magic powers to temporarily nullify 
themselves, and late last night, after I materialized, I did it.  Now, 
I'm all but powerless until this body dies."
	I didn't know what to say.  It sounded like she'd made a huge 
sacrifice, and it sounded like she'd made it so she could live with me.  
I looked at her for a while, trying to understand her, and I felt a bit 
lame when I finally broke the silence.  "Do you have a name?"
	"Each time I've taken a material form for any length of time, I've 
taken a new name.  You chose my form, you may as well name me too."
	"But what name were you born with?"
	"Beryl."
	"It's a pretty enough name, do you mind if I call you that?"
	"OK."  She smiled.  "I'm glad I chose you, you know?"
	"Why?"
	"Because you're a gentleman."
	"Thanks," I said, looking at her beautiful body as she stood in 
front of me.  "Look, what are we going to do.  What am I going to do with 
you?"
	"I don't know."
	"That's crazy.  I've got to go to work today, what will you do?"
	"Whatever you want me to do."
	"No!  What do you want to do?  I'm sure as hell not having you 
hang around my apartment all the time as some kind of love slave."
	"Mabe I'll go out and look around the town."
	"What'll you wear?"
	"To go out?  I don't see much point in wearing clothes around the 
house.  We're the same size, you know.  I'm not used to wearing men's 
clothes, but these days, I guess I could.  Do you mind if I borrow some 
of your clothes?"
	"What about money and identification?  Nowdays, you can't very 
well run around town without money.  Don't get me wrong, you're very 
pretty, and so far, you've been lots of fun, but you're a legal non-
person, and that poses problems."
	"Don't worry," she said.  "I have a few letters to write and 
that'll be all taken care of.  Let's get dressed."
	I backed into my bedroom and pulled out a pair of jeans for her, 
then hesitated.  "I don't have any girls underwear."
	"That's OK.  Last time I had a body, they hadn't invented modern 
underwear yet.  Quite frankly, I don't see much point to wearing it 
anyway."  She stepped into my jeans and pulled them up.
	"What about a shirt," I asked, admiring the way my jeans looked on 
her.
	"With my dark skin?" she asked, and then paused.  "Here, I'll show 
you," she said, stepping into my closet and pulling out a white short-
sleeved shirt.  It was a knit shirt, pullover style, with three buttons 
at the neckline.  "How about this?"
	"OK," I said, and then it struck me how odd it was that she knew 
what clothing I had in the closet.  She really had been watching me for a 
long time.
	As she pulled the shirt on over her head, I began to have second 
thoughts.  "Beryl, are you sure you want to wear that?"
	"Why?" she asked, adjusting the collar.
	"Well, it's not very modest."
	"What do you mean?"
	"With your dark skin, your nipples show, look at yourself."
	She looked at herself in my bedroom mirror, and then turned to me 
and grinned.  "Don't you like the effect?"
	"Well," I said, looking at her.  Her dark areolas were visible 
through the thin fabric, and the lumps of her nipples stood out clearly.  
"I won't say I don't like looking at you."
	"Then OK.  You should have seen the dresses I wore two centuries 
ago during the Greek revival craze.  Come on, as you said, you're in a 
hurry to get to work."
	
	--
	
	Before I left for work Monday morning, I left the spare key to the 
apartment with Beryl along with forty dollars.  I half expected her to 
disappear with both before I got home from work, but as I walked up the 
steps to my apartment, I heard music coming from my sterio.
	"How was work?" Beryl called as I opened the door.
	"OK," I said, closing the door behind me.  Actually, my day hadn't 
been very productive; I'd spent too much time thinking about Beryl.
	"Sit down," Beryl said as she came out of the bedroom.  "When was 
the last time you went out to dinner?"
	"It's been a long time," I said, looking at her.  She wasn't 
wearing the clothes she'd been wearing when I left her in the morning; 
instead, she wore a short white skirt, perhaps fingertip length, with a 
silver camisole top.  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she 
wore a row of four rings in each ear.
	"Like it?"
	"I'm not sure," I said, staring.  "You're awfully sexy looking 
dressed like that." The colors set off her brown skin nicely, and the 
fabric of the camisole draped gently over her small breasts, hinting at 
their shape instead of frankly revealing them the way my knit shirt had.  
"Did I give you enough money to buy all that?"
	"I spent a few of the dollars you gave me on fabric, then spent a 
bit of time sewing.  The earrings only cost four bucks a pair at that 
Indian import outlet in the mall."
	"But ear piercing, they don't do that for four bucks a pair."
	"I did that myself with a sewing needle."
	I must have blanched a bit at that, because she walked up to me 
and gave me a gentle hug.  "Don't worry, I've got enough magic left that 
it wasn't any problem."
	"Sounds like you went to quite a bit of effort," I said, trying to 
collect my feelings.  "Where'd you get a sewing machine."
	"I did it by hand," she said, looking down at herself as she 
stepped back to pose for me.  "I've never used a sewing machine, and I 
grew up sewing my own clothes.  Anyway, these modern styles are pretty 
easy."
	She smiled.  "Come on, let's go out to dinner.  I know you haven't 
been out socially in the year I've been following you, and you need it."
	"OK," I said.  "Where?"
	She had a place in mind, and I didn't seem to have much choice.  I 
drove there, and it turned out to be a bar, not a dive, but a place with 
food that looked decent and a dance floor.  There was evidence that a 
band would be playing later, but as we walked to a table, the only music 
was canned, and that wasn't too loud to prevent conversation.
	We sat at a small table, and after we'd ordered, Beryl leaned 
forward on her elbows to look at me.  I enjoyed the way her camisole 
hung, almost but not quite exposing her nipples as she faced me.  "I 
guess we've got some talking to do," she said.
	"You're not kidding.  Where do you want to start."
	She took a deep breath.  "I don't know.  I've never done it like 
this before.  I always either completely hid my true nature or played it 
up all the way, you know, appearing from a burning bush and making like 
I'm some kind of angel."
	"So?  I'm glad you want to be honest, but is that the problem?"
	"Not really."
	"What is?"
	"In a way, I guess it's modern times."
	"What's the problem?"
	"Freedom.  I guess you can see that I like the idea of being able 
to express my sexuality, and I like the idea that a girl who likes a guy 
can just move in with him, but, well, there are some things you can't 
take for granted these days."
	"Like?"
	"In the old days, a girl could expect men to support her without 
much trouble.  She'd keep house and keep the bed warm, and her man would 
earn the money and deal with the world.  It's not like that now."
	"Right, and it's worse.  To get a job, you need a social security 
number, and to get a number, you need proof of legal residence and 
employability in the United States."
	She grinned at me.  "I know, I haven't been asleep all these 
years.  The first thing I did this morning was buy a postal money order 
and write for a copy of my birth certificate."
	"What?  I thought É"
	She shushed me, then continued in a low voice.  "I was born in 
Wyoming 22 years ago and I'm half American Indian.  My folks named me 
Jenny Smith, but I've gone by the name Beryl since I ran away from home."
	"What about school records, things like that."
	"I'm self-educated, and damn proud of it!"
	"Do you have relatives?" I asked as I realized what she was 
implying.  "And what about friends?  They could really mess things up."
	"They're all dead.  Don't worry about it."
	The waitress delivered our food, and soon after that, the band 
started to play, drowning out any effort at continued conversation.  I 
looked at Beryl while I ate, unsure about what she'd done.  It certainly 
didn't sound legal, but at the same time, I couldn't imagine any legal 
way for a spirit, if that's what she was, to get a legal identity in 
today's world.  Had there been a Jenny Smith?  How had she died, and how 
did Beryl think she could claim her identity.  I wasn't sure I wanted to 
know, and in a way I was glad that the music was loud enough to prevent 
me from asking.
	The food was quite good, and the music was good enough that even 
though I'm no dancer, I was tapping my feet and gently nodding my head to 
the beat of some of the pieces.  My knees touched Beryl's under the 
little table, and after she finished her small meal, she slid her hand 
down under the table and rested it on my knee, smiling as she touched me.
	"Want to dance?" she asked during the first lull in the music 
after we finished eating.
	I hesitated.  "I'm no good."
	"So?  I haven't danced in years, come on."
	The evening passed in a whirl.  She may not have danced for a 
century, but she did know how to dance, and better than that, she was a 
good teacher.  After a short while, I forgot my awkwardness and began 
enjoying myself.  Beryl was fun to watch as she gyrated in front of me, 
and I could tell that she wanted me to watch her.
	As the music slowed, I wanted to hold her, and judging by the way 
she danced in my arms, she wanted to be held.  Her fingers gently traced 
the curve of my back, and she felt warm and soft as she moved against me 
with the beat of the music.
	As the piece ended, she whispered in my ear.  "Let's go home."
	"OK." I said, and followed her to the door.  Following her was 
fun.  Her short skirt seemed awfully short when seen from the rear, 
barely decent but very fun to watch.  It was almost disappointing as we 
left the lights of the bar and went out into the dark parking lot.
	"That was nice," Beryl said as we walked into my apartment.  She 
took me by the waist and kissed me, holding the kiss for a long time, 
stroking my back with one hand while she held her other hand on my chest.  
I felt a bit awkward, unsure what I should do with my hands, until I 
realized that it must be reasonable for me to do with my hands what she 
was doing with hers.
	"That was nice," she said, breaking the kiss.  "I like the way you 
touch me."
	An uncomfortable thought struck me as I looked at her.  "Do we 
have to worry about, well, birth control?  I mean É "
	She smiled.  "No, but if you want children someday, we can have 
them.  Would you like to dance some more?"
	"OK," I said.  "What kind of music?"
	"Something long?"
	I put on a tape, and then she held my hand and we began to dance 
again.  She was a sensuous beauty, and it wasn't long before I was 
sexually aroused by the way she touched me and moved with me.
	"Don't get impatient," she whispered as I fondled her breast 
through the thin satin of her camisole.  She pushed away my hand, and for 
a few minutes, we danced, facing each other but not touching.
	Beryl danced gracefully, back to me, and I wanted to hug her to 
me, but she shrugged off my arms and began to undo my shirt.  Her touch 
was gentle as she pulled my shirt off, but she never stopped dancing, and 
when my shirt was off, she flowed into my arms once again.
	"You can undress me, if you want," she whispered as I slid my 
hands over her body.
	I felt clumsy taking off her camisole, but she smiled as I set it 
aside, and then she stepped back from me and danced, letting me watch the 
gentle swing of her long black hair and the bounce of her small breasts 
as she moved.
	"You're beautiful," I whispered as she came back into my arms.  
Her breasts pressed softly agains my chest as we danced, and I could feel 
the four earrings in her ear against my cheek.
	She didn't answer, but slid her hand down my back and slid a 
finger under the waistband of my pants.
	"Keep dancing, don't say anything more," she whispered, kneeling 
in front of me, still swaying with the music as she kissed my belly and 
undid my belt.  She gently pulled off my pants, and as she freed my erect 
penis, she gently kissed it before standing to hug me and kiss me on the 
lips.
	My penis pressed agains her as we danced, and she smiled down at 
it and petted it before stepping back and pulling my hand to the buttons 
that held her skirt.  I knelt to undo the four buttons, and then kissed 
her belly as I set the skirt aside.  Unbuttoned, the skirt was little 
more than a band of fabric a yard long and a bit over a foot wide, and 
she wore nothing under it.
	She pulled away from me when I tried to hold her, but she kept 
dancing, letting me watch the erotic motion of her body for a few minutes 
before she finally pulled me to her and kissed me.  Our dancing had 
degenerated to just swaying together, and as I kissed my way away from 
her mouth, she hugged me by the back of the neck and directed my 
attention downward, first to her soft breasts and hard nipples, and then 
lower.
	I knelt to kiss her belly, and then hesitated about kissing any 
lower.  She knelt to face me, her knees to my knees and her hands on my 
buttocks, kissing me again as we swayed to the music.  My penis pressed 
eagerly into the space between her legs, and after a minute, she pushed 
me gently back into a sitting position on the rug and then straddled my 
lap and worked herself down over me.  As I entered her, she kissed me, 
hard, and then leaned back, holding me with her hands behind my neck and 
smiling at me as we rocked to the rhythm of the music.
	She looked down at where our bodies joined, and I looked down, 
following her gaze and feeling a bit awed.  I slid my hands from her 
fanny up her sides, and her smile turned to bliss as I began to gently 
touch her breasts.
	I lost track of time as we rocked to the music.  My attention was 
focused on the moist warmth of her body surrounding my erect penis, and 
then an intense look came over her face as she pulled me to her and began 
kissing.  Her hips rocked in my lap, and I could feel waves of muscular 
contraction rippling through her from within.  She gasped, and then I was 
gasping myself, feeling the pumping within me as I rocked my hips in a 
desparate effort to thrust myself even more deeply into her.
	We held each other for a while after that, still rocking gently to 
the beat of the music, but relaxed and happy in the warm afterglow of 
what we'd done.
	"You're fun," I eventually whispered.
	She smiled shyly.  "You too.  Let's get into bed and I'll teach 
you some more ways to do it."

--