Chapter 9

Nora sat across from Detective Jake Fantine, a dashing, black-haired rogue in his mid-thirties. His drawl, a mix of a southern accent and the clipped tones of a New Yorker, intrigued her. She'd met him while consulting with the New Orleans Police Department earlier that day. He was the lead detective on the abduction and brutal murder of a young girl that had taken place during Mardi Gras that year, a murder so similar to Hanna Jenkin's everyone involved believed the same man killed both girls. In fact, DNA comparisons proved one man, a serial killer, had brutally snuffed out the lives of all three girls. Nora and Fantine were dining in Commander's Palace, one of the finest restaurants in a city famous for its unusual cuisine, at least according to Jake. After sampling the appetizers he ordered, she tended to agree with him.

During the flight from Phoenix, Nora discovered Gant had spent part of his youth in New Orleans and still had friends in the city. Nora also suspected her colleague was gay, not that he'd exhibited any feminine behavior or gestures. What made her suspicions was the fact that he hadn't reacted to her teasing sexual innuendoes or paid much attention to her flashing thighs when she moved in and out of her seat, like most heterosexual males, married or not. As far as Nora knew, Gant was neither married nor in a committed relationship.

At the end of the workday when Jake offered to take them to dinner, Gant begged off, informing them he already had plans for the evening.

Unlike Gant, Jake certainly reacted favorably to her legs, her cleavage, too, and he was a toucher, placing his hand at the small of her back as he guided her through a door, or brushing her hand or arm as he emphasized a point, those kinds of touches. She didn't mind his hands on her, either. Some recreational sex without commitment might be just what she needed, but when he informed her he was married but separated from his wife and four children, she reconsidered inviting him to her room. When Jake dropped her off at her hotel after dinner, she adroitly evaded his blatant hints for a nightcap. Once alone in her room, a heavy sense of loneliness swamped her.

"Damn you, David Stanley," she whispered. "Why did you turn out to be such a freak?"

Was he listening? Watching.

Suddenly, she realized she hoped he was watching her. Thinking he might be hovering somewhere in the room drove some of the loneliness away. She shivered. Strange. For days, the thought of David watching made her a nervous wreck. She'd railed against her loss of privacy. She'd felt violated, for criminy sakes. Now, here she was wishing he were here lurking somewhere in the room. "Go figure," she said out loud, as she rose to undress for bed.

Undress. Fearful he was watching, she'd also been reluctant to take off her clothes since she found out how he could violate her without her even knowing she was being violated. Unaccountably, that attitude had changed, too.

With a wicked, small grin, she hung her suit coat on a hanger, unzipped her skirt and placed it on a hanger, too. Her blouse went into a plastic bag the hotel offered for laundry, which she'd use to store her dirty clothes. Her pantyhose, bra and panties joined the blouse, and she strode naked to the bed.

"If you're watching, David, eat your heart out," she said with her eyes turned toward the ceiling. She rolled onto the bed and stretched out, pointing her toes and slowly pulling her hands above her head until the fingers of both hands entwined. "Waddaya think? Do you like what you see? Yeah, you do. You picked me, picked me out of a crowd and started to court me... sent me flowers... found a job for Pops, the best job he ever had."

She groaned and rolled to her side and curled into a ball, grasping her knees with her arms and pulling them tightly to her breasts. Tears flushed her eyes. "Why did you have to be a good guy, David?" Yeah, he was one of the good ones. She sensed that about him, and Pops had echoed her sentiment.

Still, he'd intruded on her sense of self. Dammit! He'd violated her! Only David knew when he'd watched her and what he'd seen. No doubt, he watched her fuck Tim the night she'd met him at the piano bar.

Did he get excited when he was out of his body? Did watching her with Tim turn him on? Had he watched her touch herself, use her fingers to experience the rapture of a needed climax his kisses had demanded after their first morning run? While watching her, he could have touched her, but she couldn't remember feeling his ghostly touch except when he'd demonstrated his freaky ability that fateful morning. He could have spoken to her, too.

Wait! Suddenly, she remembered a sound, a gasp of passion or shock, when she was with Tim a while back. Tim had heard the sound, too, and they'd spoken of it.

"Was that you, David? Were you watching me with Tim that day? Did you gasp when you saw me fuck... ?" No, the gasp had happened after she'd had sex with Tim, when she was moving over the bed to give Tim a goodbye kiss. Was that when David first stumbled upon her, when he picked her? What had he seen at that moment that would have caused him to gasp with shock or passion?

"A fuckin' peeping Tom," she muttered, and then remembered a neighbor boy in her youth who frequented her bedroom window at night. She'd made him gasp out loud, too. For a while after she discovered she was being watched, she'd made certain the drapery were fully closed before undressing. Time went by, and soon she reverted to old habits. The second time she noticed him at the window, she was masturbating under the covers. Already excited by her own fingers and realizing she had an audience, she'd become very aroused and kicked away the sheet and blanket, offering the boy a scene he'd never forget.

She'd enjoyed being watched back then, enjoyed it so much she'd offered the boy quite a few similar views before Pops tumbled onto her naughty behavior and put a stop to it. Her father also put a stop to the boy's nighttime vigils around the neighborhood. Strangely, but correctly, Pops also considered her more at fault than the boy, strange because most other fathers she knew would have had a conniption fit and attacked the boy as the sole perpetrator of the crime.

She remembered Pops' admonition. "No doubt you inherited your desire to expose yourself from your mother, because she sure did put on some sexy shows, so I've got no problem with you teasing a boy, but masturbating for him at your age is going too far, peanut." She'd been twelve at the time. The boy was seventeen.

Nora chuckled. After that, she'd continued to tease and expose herself, but mostly she teased and exposed herself to her father. She recalled a time when he'd seen her playing with herself and hadn't turned away. Of course, if he'd realized she knew he was watching, he'd have hightailed it out of there in a flash.

Sometimes, you're such a hypocrite, Pops, she thought.

With a sigh, she had to admit she was a hypocrite, too. She condemned David for watching her, when under different circumstances she would have thoroughly enjoyed his eyes on her. Again the idea that he was lurking invisible in the shadows somewhere in the room excited her. Still curled in a ball, she stretched out and rolled to her back as the palms of her hands moved over her heavy breasts. Her nipples lengthened to her touch. Would they do the same if the hands fondling them were David's? Yeah, they would, in spades.

"Are you watching, David?" One of her hands left her breasts and slid down her body until it cupped her vulva. "Is this what you saw when I finger fucked myself after you kissed me and I didn't have Tim around to slake my lust? If Tim were here, I'd let him fuck me, and what's more, I'd want you to watch us."

Her fingers spread her outer lips and dipped down for moisture. She found plenty lubricant, which didn't surprise her. Her pussy had been demanding her touch for quite a while. "Tim's a fair to middling fuck, David, not the best I've ever had, but he can bring me to a crashing orgasm. One of my best fucks was a threesome - two young men and little, old me. They fucked me every which way from Sunday, but then maybe you know about that time, too. Of course, I was only seventeen then. Were you watching me that far back? If you've been watching that long, you've seen some naughty sights indeed."

Her fingers flashed over her clitoris, and her other hand moved to her cunt to shove a couple of fingers inside her. "Hmm, this feels good. Some days, David, the best thing that happens to me is a good come from my fingers. A cock feels better, though. Any cock. I just love cocks, David. Big ones, small ones, skinny or fat, I love them all, and I had my fair share of them when I was younger. For a while there, I was a real slut, David. I fucked around, and not because I lacked self-esteem, like some other sluts I knew. No, I fucked around because plain and simple I just loved to fuck. Still do, for that matter. During my last year in high school and the first few years in college, I spread my legs for a lot of men." She chuckled. "A few boys, too."

She remembered a time when she returned to Nevada for the summer break and taught a boy how to fuck. "That was fun, David. I was twenty; the boy - Henry was his name - was fifteen, almost sixteen, a virgin, if you can believe it. By the end of the summer, Hank knew his way around a pussy and the other erogenous zones on a female's body. I wonder what Hank is doing now. Does he think of me once in a while? I think of him, usually when I'm playing with myself, like now. He had an average cock, length-wise, but it was very thick, and if I have a preference for a type of cock, it would have to be a thick one."

Her mouth felt dry, so she licked her lips and swallowed. Was David watching and listening? Had she shocked him? She hadn't heard a shocked gasp, or a passionate one for that matter. He was probably keeping his promise. A shame. He'd have learned more about her during the last fifteen minutes than he'd learn about her while in his body in years.

"You have invisible hands, David. Yet, I can feel your touch. Can you kiss me with invisible lips? Slip an invisible tongue in my mouth? In my pussy? Can you fuck me with an invisible cock?"

Her last question pushed sexy images through her mind: a large, invisible cock spreading the lips of her pussy; an invisible mouth moving the flesh of her breasts as David's ghost sucked and licked her nipples.

A sudden, unexpected orgasm enveloped her. She screamed with pleasure, and her hips rose off the bed as she jammed three fingers inside her as far as they'd go. With her body stiff, held aloft by her feet and shoulders, she let the exquisite sensations of her climax to take hold. Her cunt pulsed around her fingers, and her clit throbbed, and all she could think about was David's invisible cock filling her cunt. Thrusting. Pounding.

When she fell back to the bed, she stretched out her legs, moving them together. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from inside her cunt and wiped her sticky hands across the sheets. As her breathing slowed and her heartbeat returned to a normal rate, she hoped against hope David hadn't witnessed what she'd wanted him to see and hear just minutes before.

"David, if you were watching and listening, let me clarify the record. I haven't been a slut for a long time. Some things happened, and I learned some important lessons the hard way." She rolled to her side and pulled the sheet over her nakedness. "I'm very discriminating now. Some would even accuse me of being too careful."

I'm capable of being a slut, though, she thought. I wanted to invite the dashing, black-haired rogue from New Orleans to my room tonight, and if he'd been unattached, I probably would have.

"I don't get near the sex I want and need, David." She cuddled into her pillow. "As I said earlier, I just love cocks... big cocks... small cocks... fat cocks... skinny..."

Her eyes closed and she relaxed. Would she have nightmares about David watching her like she'd had the last few nights? Or would the nightmares now evolve into pleasurable erotic dreams about David watching her, touching her... kissing her... fucking her?

When Darla came into David's view, she was stepping into her morning shower, so he moved into the stall with her and kissed her soft shoulders and the nape of her neck.

"David?" she whispered.

"And who else could it be, girlfriend?" he asked using his feminine voice. He picked up a plastic pouf and squirted it with body wash. "I'll wash your back."

"Front, too."

"Good plan."

"A little birdie told me Nora's pissed, feels like you invaded her privacy, and told you to take a flying leap."

"Sounds about right. Your breasts are half-again larger than they used to be," he said as he rubbed the sudsy body pouf over her nipples. "Fun breasts now."

"Are you saying they weren't fun before? Seems to me I remember a certain fellow I know had a lot of fun playing with them."

"Funner breasts, I meant."

"Funner isn't a word."

"I know, but still you understood my meaning. If a nonexistent word transmits a meaning accurately, it should be a word."

"Funner isn't a word because it breaks grammatical rules. Perhaps it's an onomatopoeic word."

"Whatever that is. Should I have said you have the funniest breasts I know, instead of your breasts are the funnest breasts I've ever played with."

"David, don't give up your day job to become a writer."

"I don't have a day job."

"I'm getting hot."

He switched to his normal voice. "You ought to be. I've been playing with the funnest pussy I've ever played with - yours. Wanna try another incestuous psychic suck?"

"Uh-huh, a psychic fuck, too."

"Uh-uh, I promised."

"Spoilsport. Let me explain. I've been thinking about this for days. Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't you make your invisible cock any size you wish, with any degree of hardness you wish?"

"You're not wrong."

"And can't you lick me and fuck me at the same time? I mean, your mouth and cock don't really need a body between them. Right?"

"You're right. I think I understand what you're getting at."

"Not really. You can't, not yet, because I'm not finished with my request. It gets even more complicated." She giggled. "Nastier, too, and nastier excites me, as you well know. Am I clean? I think you've scrubbed every square inch of my body twice."

"Some enticing square inches a lot more than twice. Yes, you're clean."

"Turn off the water and wipe me dry with a towel, please. I feel like being pampered this morning."

"Your wish is my command." A fluffy, apricot-colored towel floated from the rack and draped Darla's shoulders when she stepped from the stall.

As he dried her off, she said, "Good, because here's what I wish. I want you to..." She described what she wanted in graphic detail.

"Whew! You certainly have given this some thought." Her creative mind and the scenario she'd conceived intrigued him. Fuck promises, he thought. "Okay, as I said before. Your wish is my command."

On the way to her bedroom, she checked on Gorgy-Porgy in the nursery. The little darlin' was sound asleep. After she settled on her bed, she pulled up her feet until her heels touched her tush. Then her knees fell open until they almost touched the sheets.

David gazed down on his sister, and his heart filled with love. Gorgeous, he thought, both the woman and her pose. Some would consider her inviting, submissive posture obscene, and he felt only pity for the misguided fools.

"To insure the success of your project, a pillow under your world-class tush will help." He lifted her and slid a pillow under her, raising her bottom a few inches above the bed.

She grinned. "Thanks. I do love being pampered. Are you ready? I'm ready." She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the onslaught of the sensations she'd ordered. "Ready. Set. Go!"

As she'd requested, the fingers and palms from eight hands roamed over her body. He knew all the places she enjoyed being touched, and caressed them all. He also fashioned four mouths, again according to her specifications. While he kissed her lips, another mouth covered her vulva, and the other two suckled each of her milk-ladened breasts.

When he leaned back from the gentle kiss, she said, "Oh, David, it's even better than I imagined. It's as if four Davids are making love with me at the same time, and every David is like the real David; each knows my body intimately, knows what turns me on, knows precisely where and how to touch me, knows how I liked to be kissed, how I like my pussy licked, how to fondle and suck my breasts. Sweet! I'm so hot I could come right now, but I'll wait if I can. Now, I want five cocks, David. Conjure up five cocks for me. Place one in each hand. Hmm, nice. They feel just like your real cock." She stroked them. Because he knew what she'd planned he was able to maintain their surfaces. "Now build a short, stubby one. You know where I want it. Yeah, right there."

"Relax, Darla, let me in," David said. When she obeyed, the newly fashioned cock burst through her anal ring. She moaned, but not in pain.

"Perfect, now be very careful, but fill my cunt with a mushy cock. Don't thrust it into me; just fill it. Yes! Oh, my! Yes! Oh, David, it's picture perfect, ten times better than I imagined it would be. When you entered me, I barely felt it, and then it expanded, pushed against the interior membranes of my cunt until it became just what my gynecologist and I ordered. I feel complete. I have a cock in my cunt again. Your cock, David."