Amanda decides to renovate on old house not realising that it comes with a resident ghost. That would be challenging on its own but when it turns out that it is a voyeuristic ghost things get complicated.

I’m Amanda. Ever since I had any sexual preference at all I have been attracted to girls. I had many innocent, but intensely exciting, relationships in high school but it wasn’t until I was at university that one of them was serious.

It was there that I met Lucy. She was on the same architecture course as me at Columbia and, soon after I met her, I knew that I could not bear to live without her in my life.

We shared a flat together at Uni and were deliriously happy for the three years of the degree course.

I was on a scholarship but, although I knew that Lucy’s family had money, I didn’t realize that her place there had been largely secured by a family donation to the college.

After we graduated we got married, her family insisting on a big ceremony at the family home in Montauch. It was all very beautiful but a long way from my upbringing in upstate New York.

Lucy seemed to be as embarrassed by her family’s money as I was, and we lived simply in a small apartment in Washington Heights. I was working as a waitress in the evenings while doing an internship at a local firm and Lucy had a position in urban planning in local government.

It was then that my world fell apart. Lucy was away visiting some relatives with her parents and there was a knock on my door late at night. When I saw the two policemen standing there I knew that something awful had happened, and when they insisted on coming into the flat before they would tell me what was going on I knew it was bad. They had taken her father’s light aircraft to Oregon and had hit some extreme turbulence while trying to land. All three were killed outright.

There was an awful period of lawyers and solicitors that I wasn’t interested in at all, but the end result was that I was now quite rich. It was of no interest to me at all, other than allowing me to withdraw from the world without starving to death.

I guess if I’d been a drinker I would have gone down that route, but it had never really done much for me. I gave up my job and just whiled away my life on a mixture of appalling TV shows and books downloaded onto my Kindle. I ordered groceries and take-outs online and hardly ever left the flat.

It was only when my mom took it upon herself to move in with me and drag me out of my self-pity that I began to take an interest in the human race again.

I was walking to the store one day when I saw an amazing car. I’m not into cars at all but this one looked extraordinary: it was all rusty but had been treated in some way so that it looked kind of shiny. When I looked inside it was immaculate; it looked brand new.

A guy approached me as I was looking at it and he turned out to be the owner. Apparently, this is a thing called ‘Restomodding’, you take a classic old American car and replace everything but the bodywork, so you end up with a car that looks like it is a hundred years old but drives like it is brand new. I loved the idea of this, not the cars at all really, but how the idea could be applied to architecture.

I started looking around and eventually found what I was looking for: it was a lovely three-and-a-bit-story old New England style house on the beach in Maine. I decided it was perfect for the resto treatment. I drew up a full set of plans of what I wanted and sent them out to contractors to get quotes. I intended to do the project management myself.

I wanted to keep the outside looking as it was: interesting and characterful, while restoring any serious damage in a sympathetic way. The inside would be completely redone using a steel frame to allow full-height ceilings in the lounge and kitchen/dining areas.

I intended to decorate it in a very minimal way but to fit it out with the latest ultra-high tech kit. I employed a sub-contractor called William for this stuff as it wasn’t really my area.

He came up with a system with cameras throughout allowing facial recognition for security and gesture control for a lot of the house’s functions. For example, you could close all the curtains in the open-plan area simply by drawing your two palms together. As much as possible all the heating, ventilation, audiovisual, and connectivity were all hidden away in heavily insulated false walls.

I decided to leave the small flat on the top floor as it was as a contrast, although I would be re-decorating it at some point.

I rented a cute one-room cottage on the beach not too far away, to stay in while the major work was done. When they got to the second fit I decided to move into that flat so that I’d be on hand for any urgent decisions that needed to be made.

It was all going quite well with only one rather strange exception. I kept having the feeling that I was being watched when I was in the flat.

Initially, I told myself that it was just my imagination and I tried to ignore it. But the feelings wouldn’t go away, and what was really odd was that they only occurred when I was partially undressed. I wondered if voyeuristic ghosts were a thing but, at that stage, I was more amused than worried.

One night I was reading in bed and came to a rather raunchy bit. It was quite well done and I got a tingle between my legs that had been sadly absent for a long time. I put my hand on my pussy and stroked it idly as I continued reading. The feeling of being observed became really intense. For some reason, I wasn’t at all frightened, and I thought to myself, OK, if it’s a ghost and if it’s interested in sex, then let’s raise the stakes and see how it reacts.

I pushed the covers down exposing my naked pussy. Immediately I felt the temperature in the room drop, and the sensation of someone watching me was so strong that I actually looked around carefully to check that no one was there; of course, there wasn’t.

I touched a single finger to my pussy lips and started to stroke them very gently. The cold and the feelings intensified and I freaked out, convinced now that something really was happening. I snatched my hand away and covered myself up. As soon as I did I heard a loud crash from somewhere downstairs.

I got up, put on a robe, and went down to check, trying to ignore the voice in my head that was telling me this is exactly what the character in a horror film does just before they’re bumped off in some grisly fashion.

It turned out just to be one of the workmen’s ladders that had fallen over.

I wasn’t in the habit of masturbating very much and the experience that night put me off completely for quite a while. I still often felt as if I was being watched, especially when I was in the shower, but I came to get used to it; it never seemed threatening at all again.

Eventually, the work was completed and I furnished the house and I was really very happy with the result. I moved out of the flat into the main part of the house and began to feel really at home. I think I’d half hoped that the strange presence might be confined to the attic but no, it came along with me.

I was in the lounge one day, pondering on my weird ghost, and I decided to try an experiment: I raised the cover on the 80-inch TV by raising my hand with my fingers held horizontally then, using my iPad, switched it to clone the display from the tablet.

I brought up Pornhub. the only porn site that I knew the name of. I’d looked at the site a few times in the past, but I wasn’t massively keen on porn generally, but this time it wasn’t for my benefit.

I tried a few straight videos to begin with, skipping through to various highlights, kissing, breast kissing, fucking; nothing had any effect. Next, I tried searching for ‘lesbian porn’. Again I felt no real reaction to the first video which was nice enough, but clearly they were porn actresses and it was all a bit fake.

I added ‘amateur’ to my search and looked through the thumbnails. The first one I tried was of two gorgeous-looking girls of about twenty-five; I thought I felt a little something but it was very slight. Next, I brought up one with two very pretty girls who looked quite young but I guessed that they must have been eighteen. All of a sudden the temperature seemed to drop. I switched screens and checked the room controls: the temperature was now only 65 where it was programmed to be 70.

I let the video run to the end, about eight minutes, and checked again: still 65. Then I stopped it and covered up the TV with a raised hand. After about five minutes the temperature had gone back to 70.

I now had actual evidence that something was going on rather than just my feelings. I’d always been interested in paranormal phenomena but had never really believed in it. I think I wanted there to be more to life than the mundane, but was rational enough to know that there probably wasn’t; now I wasn’t so sure at all.

I tried to read up on it online but information was split firmly into two camps: believers would accept any witness accounts as gospel and unbelievers would reject even quite compelling evidence.

One very common factor, my own experience now included, was drops in temperature during paranormal events.

Pursuing that route I found a top-of-the-range system from Teledyne which had normal cameras plus night vision and infrared. I rang William to ask his opinion and he quickly came back to me that, with relatively few changes, he could retrofit them to my existing installation. It was very expensive but I had the money and I asked him to go ahead with it.

It took two weeks to get the kit in and install it all. When it was finally ready I sat on the couch in the lounge and brought up the security system on my iPad. With a couple of gestures, I shut all of the curtains and lowered the room lights. I could still just about see myself on the sofa in the normal mode. Night vision was clear but monochrome. And in infrared it was similar, but I showed up as a multi-colored figure and I could see some of the heating vents as hot.

It was possible to mix the modes and I spent a while setting it up. I mixed normal and IR, and dialed the latter down to filter out temperatures above ambient. I was now fairly happy that any cold spots should show up on the image.

I then stripped off all of my clothes below the waist. It was really weird watching the screen as I did that, kind of like peeping on myself. At this point, I thought that I could just make out a faint white cloud to my right but it could have just been wishful thinking.

I started to touch myself, just running a finger along my lips. I was sure now that there was a cloud there, and it moved a bit closer. It really was weird watching myself masturbating on screen, but not unpleasant. The presence didn’t seem at all threatening and I was even starting to get a little turned on.

I put my feet up on the sofa and spread my legs. Then, while still stroking my lips, I used the fingers of my other hand to put pressure on my clit. I was getting quite into it now and my nipples were demanding some attention. I took off the rest of my clothes and cast the display onto the TV so that I could lie back on the sofa and still watch. As I lay there fondling my breasts and my pussy I could see that the vague cloud shape had taken on more form and now clearly had arms, legs, and a head.

It seemed that the more intense my arousal the more focussed the presence became. I was getting quite wet now, and I put a finger inside my pussy. Immediately the image snapped into focus, I could now see it was a little girl with long hair wearing a pretty summer-type frock. She was standing right next to me with her head looking down at my groin. It was really quite the weirdest thing, masturbating while being watched by a sort of invisible little girl, but I was still not in the least scared.

I started to build towards an orgasm now, I wet my finger with my pussy cream and smeared it onto my clit so that I could gently rub it, while I thrust two fingers deep into my vagina. The girl was so clear now I was convinced that I would have been able to see her face if she hadn’t been bent over me.

After so much abstinence my orgasm was quite spectacular when it arrived, but I managed to keep looking at her to watch her reaction: She raised her head up and opened her mouth wide, then she just vanished.

When she was absent all the next day, I began to think that maybe watching me getting off had somehow satisfied whatever it was that was driving her. But then, the day after, she was back.

I started to get obsessed and felt I had to find out who this little girl was and what her story was. I went to the local library and searched through their archives. I found the previous occupants before me: they’d been a pair of sisters who both lived to a great age, so it wasn’t them.

Before them was a family with just one daughter who had died at the age of thirteen but there were no other details. This looked promising, but I didn’t know where to take it from there, so I hired a private investigator. I couldn’t really tell him why I wanted to track them down but he seemed happy enough, as long as he got paid.

It took him a week, but he finally managed to find them. They were now living in Ohio but he gave me their names and a phone number. I now knew that the little girl was probably called Rose.

I rang them and explained that I was now living in their old house. They didn’t seem pleased to hear from me at all, and then the line went dead. I tried ringing back but they threatened to call the police unless I left them alone, so I had to leave it there.

I almost came to terms with just living with a voyeur ghost. I even got used to having an invisible audience while playing with myself, which I was now doing a bit more; it kind of felt like I was keeping Rose company.

I finally got around to decorating the little flat at the top of the house. When I was stripping the wallpaper I found the outline of a small door. There were no plans to the house and I had no idea what it might lead to.

The door had been plastered over, but eventually I managed to get it open and found a tiny landing with a short ladder leading upwards. I went up it and it led up to a small loft space in the eaves which contained three cardboard packing boxes. There was no room up there so I brought them all down into the flat.

Mostly they contained girl’s clothes, but in one I found some old black and white photos. They were the normal sort of stuff but then I found a sequence of photos of the same two girls. It was hard to tell, but I guessed they were at most fourteen as both girls had breasts but they were still quite small.

As soon as I started to look at those pictures I thought I could feel the Rose’s presence close by, but with no cameras up here there was no way to be sure.

The pictures were all very innocent and most people would probably think that the girls were just good friends, but to me, it seemed obvious that the girls were, if not yet lovers, then clearly very aroused by each other. They always had their hands on each other and were often looking into each other’s eyes in an intense way.