Phantom Highwayman
A Ghostly Thief of Hearts
***
The moon had fallen
and the sky was dark with only stars when very slowly
and very gently, the shutters over Bess's bed unlatched
themselves and swung silently open. In the corner
of the room, close by the open window leaned a shadow
deeper than the rest. The tiniest glimmer of starlight
brushed a shoulder outlining the ghostly form of Aimory
Plunkett. He peeled the gloves from his fingers and
put them in his coat pocket.
"Well, well my
Bess, it seems that you have fallen into my hands
just when I need a witch…" he whispered
very softly. He unbuckled his heavy leather belt and
pulled the sash from his waist draping them on a chair.
"This time I'll find a way to keep you and your
magicks." With a shrug, his tattered velvet coat
slid silently from his broad shoulders to the floor.
The waistcoat followed. "One way or another…"
The bedroom latch fell and locked all by itself.
Hovering by her bed,
Aimory gestured with his fingers. Slowly, so as not
to disturb the sleeping woman, the sheet and light
blanket slid down, revealing Bess's coal black curls
falling in a cascade over the side of the bed to pool
on the floor. The bow of her lips parted slightly.
"Mmm, mm the
advantages of being a ghost," he whispered softly.
With a faint sigh,
Bess stretched, both her arms extending under her
pillow and over her head as though they were tied
to the headboard. She moaned then rolled onto her
back. Her breasts lifted to high relief, sharply defined
by the tautness of her shirt, rising and falling in
time to her breathing.
"Oh Lord, Bess
my girl, I don't remember you being built quite like
that," the ghost whispered. Without a sound,
he drifted to the edge of her bed. Biting his lip,
he gestured again with two fingers. The wayward blanket
drifted lower. The hem of Bess's shirt came into view,
caught just under her full breasts. As her covers
inched lower the strong line of her stomach and her
belly button were revealed.
"In for a penny,
in for a pound," he muttered to himself. The
blanked slithered lower. There, unveiled to his avid
and admiring gaze, was Bess's shaven mound.
"You really don't
have any …" He swallowed hard. In his day,
Aimory had heard that some high-priced Cyprians shaved
themselves, but in all his living days, he'd never
actually seen a completely hairless pussy. The soft
pink of her inner lips pouted slightly open and moist
peeking from between her parted plump thighs. She
looked so naked. He licked his lips. She looked so…succulent.
"Bess my lovely,
do you have a kiss for me?" he breathed near
her ear. "I want to taste those cherry lips,"
he sighed.
Bess moaned lightly
in her sleep and licked her full lips.
Aimory licked his
own in anticipation.
"Let me touch
you my bold lass. Let me feel you," he whispered
very softly. Let me hold you…" Bess moaned
softly then rolled her head to the side facing Aimory,
her eyes closed in sleep.
He took this to be
a yes. Aimory moved to the side of the bed and knelt.
Softly he moved his hand to touch the twisting curls
of her blue-black mane. A spark of blue fire touched
his outstretched fingers. He hissed and pulled back
sharply, tucking his fingers into his mouth as though
to salve them from a burn.
"Damn bloody
witch," he muttered very softly. "Going
to play hard to get, the coquette, are you?"
"What can I use?
What can I use to stroke my Bess with?" Aimory
looked sharply around the room. His eyes fell on a
feather quill stuck in its holder on the antique writing
desk. "That ought to do nicely," he sighed
softly. Raising his hand and focusing, the feather
quill lifted from its holder and floated lightly across
the room to his hand.
Inching as close to
her bed as he could get without getting zapped by
her unconscious protections, he softly gestured and
the sheets fell obediently to the floor.
Signaling with both
hands, the hem of Bess's tee shirt slid up to reveal
her full breasts crowned with pink nipples. Aimory
whistled softly in appreciation.
