I lost control of my body at 5:46 p.m. Central Standard Time.
That, it turned out, was the very instant that the sun dipped below the horizon. Not that anybody saw it, of course. It had been a miserable day, with the wind coming straight off the lake and blowing the rain sideways. By the time I got back home—home temporarily being an apartment owned by my college roommate's father—after a day of door-to-door canvassing, I was literally dripping wet. Why couldn't they have given me that desk job at campaign headquarters?
I remember glancing at the clock in the foyer as I used my butt to push the door closed behind me; it was 5:45. I was glad that Mr. Adams wasn't there. On Friday afternoons, he went back to his home in the 'burbs, where his wife and younger kids lived. It wasn't that he wasn't a great guy. After all, he was letting me crash at his city place for free while I worked on the election. But he probably wouldn't appreciate the puddle forming at my feet on his very expensive parquet floor. He also might disapprove of me undressing in his foyer. I tossed my sweater down on the linoleum and struggled with difficulty out of the wet long-sleeve tee I had been wearing underneath. I pushed my equally soaked jeans skirt down my thighs and kicked my shoes off.
I hadn't had any intention of looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the hallway. But there I stood, staring at myself in my underwear.
I saw what I expected to see: a twenty-three year old half-girl/half-woman recently graduated from the University of Wisconsin. Her wet blond hair was pulled back behind her head in a pony-tail, and her white bra had become nearly transparent. She hadn't been one of the hotties at school; she was a little too chunky for that and her breasts were on the small side. But she had had her share of guys by the way she filled out a pair of jeans.
Without knowing why, I raised my hands to cup my breasts and push them together.
"Mmmm. They are perfect, aren't they?"
The voice that came out of my mouth was mine. The words were not.
Who the fuck was that?, I screamed. I tried to scream at any rate. The words echoed in my head. But the girl in the mirror hadn't opened her mouth that time. Instead, she had pursed her lips as her gaze swept down her body. Her hands followed, sliding down her ribcage to rest on her hips. I shifted my hips back and forth like a salsa dancer.
"Kind of chubby little legs, though, huh?"
What the fuck is going on?
I didn't say that either, not aloud at any rate. Instead, when the girl in the mirror spoke, it was to answer the question, not to ask it.
"Look, sweetie," I watched myself say. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to me for the night, capiche?"
Who the fuck—
"Quiet down, honey," my voice said. "Or I'll take care of it myself."
I found myself unable to put my thoughts into ... thought. But I knew now that there was another presence inside me, a presence that was able to control my voice as well as my movements.
'That's right, just like that, ' she thought. She was talking inside my head now as well. My body was just standing there admiring itself.
'My name is Ann Buckley, ' she continued. 'No need to introduce yourself. You're Nancy McGill. Do you know what today is, Nancy? Go ahead, you can talk again. Enough so I can hear you, at least. What's the date?'
The voice in my head was weak and frightened.
"Come on, ' Ann said. 'Guess.'
I felt compelled to do as she said. It's um, three days before the election. Saturday? October, um, thirtieth?
'Close, dear. It's the thirty-first. All Hallow's Eve. The night on which the veil between the living and the dead becomes thinnest.'
The look on my face scared me. My eyes were almost shining, my lips pulled back in a manic smile. She flicked her eyes—my eyes, dammit—back down our body, lingering on the weight I never seemed to be able to take off those thighs.
Halloween? It's a kids' holiday!
'That too, ' Ann said with a laugh that bordered on the hysterical. 'But it's also a holiday for a select few spirits, darling. For one evening we get to return to this world. On the Halloween following the day we died, we get one body to use from sundown to sunrise. Not much compensation for being robbed of the rest of our lives, is it?'
Return? You mean you're ... you're dead?
Her eyes came back up and although it was my own baby blues I was staring it, I was conscious that it was her spirit animating them.
'As a doornail, honey.'
I started screaming again. She stopped me.
'Honey, I want to work with you here, but if you keep that up, you're going to be a spectator all evening long. And maybe you've noticed that if I don't let you think, you can't feel. See?'
I watched myself slap my own ass without feeling anything at all.
'On the other hand, ' she continued, 'if I let you think, see what kind of fun we can have?'
I felt my hands slide under the waistband of the panties I was wearing. I pushed them down and stepped out of them.
'Nice thick pussy lips, ' Ann thought. 'I always wanted to shave, too. Mmmm, feels good, doesn't it?'
Ann had slid my fingers across my hairless mound and down between my thighs. With my index and ring fingers on either side of my pussy lips, she began to slowly slide my middle finger up and down the wet pink slit between them.
'You love it, ' Ann said with a laugh. 'I am so glad I picked you.'
Picked me? Oh, please stop it.
'I could have had any body I wanted. I picked you.' The voice in my head was deep, husky, needful. 'Almost ready to cum, Nancy?'
Oh, fuck! Oh, oh, oh.
I was a demonstrative bedmate and it was torture not to be able to squirm and writhe in response to the ripples of pleasure I was feeling. But the torture just made it that much more delicious. It was like being tied up. My insides were burning up, my fingers finding spots that I hadn't realized were there. In the mirror, I was just standing there playing with myself.
'Good, ' Ann said. 'Let's stop right there.'
She pulled her fingers away and the pleasure subsided just this side of a cum.
Bitch! I had been so close.
'Don't worry, Nance. You'll have more than enough fun tonight.'
What are you going to do with me?
'Oh, we can do anything we want, ' she thought with a laugh. 'Most guys want to lay some actress or play football. Did you ever notice how badly teams play on Halloween?'
W-what about you?
'Most women usually go for romance, you know? Cuddling with a guy, looking at the sea – something like that. One last night of what we so often failed to get during our lives, you know.'
I relaxed a little. That didn't sound so bad.
'Me?' Ann asked, grinning at our reflection in the mirror. 'I want revenge on the bitch that killed me.'
'I didn't mention that? This Halloween reincarnation is only for murder victims.'
I started feeling faint. The room started spinning.
'I was poisoned.'
When I woke, I was sitting in at a table in a restaurant. The air was filled with the aroma of oregano and tomato.
'Welcome back, ' Ann said.
'Not yet, honey. Speaking of which, though, I can't believe your underwear drawer. You're not a virgin, are you?'
'Easy, girlfriend. Just asking. Lots o' white cotton in there is all. While you were out of it, we stopped at a few places. Check it out."
I looked down. I was wearing a low-cut black sheath, the only nice dress I had brought with me from home. I had been saving it for the election-night party. I tugged the neckline open and looked down. I had on a black mesh bra.
'And matching panties, ' Ann said. 'Well ... matching thong.'
She squeezed my thighs together and I felt—nothing. My hand reached beneath the table and my fingers felt the small strip of fabric that barely covered my slit.
'Oh, and you really shouldn't let your credit card balance get so high. Do you know what the finance charges on that are? Ah, here comes Roberto.'
You used my Visa card? I screamed.
'Our card, darling.'
A smiling waiter approached us.
"Does signorina require more time to decide?"
"Not at all," I said. "I'll have the salmone taglione, the zuppa di pesce, and the tiramisu, with a glass of your house red."
"Yes, signorina," he said, a tear forming in his eye.
What's his problem?
'That was what I always ordered when I came in here. You know, before I died. That's my picture on the wall over there, with Roberto and the owner. And my husband, of course, Allen, the son of a bitch.'
Your husband? You didn't get along?
'Not after I died, ' Ann said with a harsh laugh. 'When he married that bitch who put the poison in my wine.'
Your husband married your murderer?
'Two months ago. Six months after I died. Convenient, wasn't it? For both of them, actually, since they'd been having an affair for the previous two years. My death saved him all that messy business of for a divorce and dividing the property.'
The wine arrived along with a salad. I didn't have much of an appetite by this point but Ann was evidently starving. I attacked the food with enthusiasm. The taste was heavenly.
This is delicious. Did you come here often?
.... There is more of this story ...