The next morning, I stepped out with my briefcase in hand. Considering whether I should try and contract a psychologist.
I'm clearly losing a bit of grip.
Over the last few weeks, I couldn't count how many times the ghost had come to pound into me.
Far too many.
But it wasn't every night. Once in awhile I'd have a strange reprieve and I'd never know when it was coming to get me again. But it was always just after I dozed off.
I was logical enough to realize that this could be something like the flickerings of some horrible, suppressed memory returning to me.
Something I need to work through.
Though I certainly couldn't recall anything that would've caused them.
Somehow in my sleep I was tearing my own clothes and touching myself in a way that left tiny bruises and left me sore inside.
Why would I do that?
I couldn't quite analyze that piece through.
***
I frowned as I passed my mailbox on the sidewalk. My red heels clicking on the concrete as I aimed for my car, headed to work.
My short, pin-stripe skirt was carefully in place. Twitching across my thighs with every long stride and I was aware my blouse was just a bit too tight across my plump breasts. Most of my clothes were. To hug the narrowness of my waist they were usually too tight across my large breasts. But if I wore looser clothes, then I appeared to have no shape. I couldn't have that. I liked the way I was shaped.
And I certainly didn't mind men appreciating how I looked.
As I hit the button to unlock the door of my comfortable Sentra, I heard the thudding of boxes from down the road and saw that a moving van was parked before the old Thomas house. A home which had been abandoned now for the near-five years I'd lived on this road. I only knew it as that because it was what all the neighbors called it.
But what caught my attention more than that was the man emerging to bark orders at the crew of movers.
I stopped moving to openly stare.
The man had to be over seven foot tall.
The tallest man I've ever seen.
I immediately wondered how much a man like that would be packing below the belt and felt my eyes wandering to where his tan slacks were stretched over his crotch.
Probably something as striking as his height. I was duly impressed.
He was spectacular aside from that too. Close cropped black hair was tossed over one side of his forehead. And cut close along the back of his head.
Clean cut.
Dark whiskers framed his mouth in an immaculate black goatee. Surrounding lips which might have been just a bit thin but, as I openly gaped, they opened to reveal a beckoning mobile mouth.
He was roguish. Reminding me all the world of an olden day pirate. He'd look right at home with a big gold loop in his ear and a red bandana cinched around his skull.
Pure pirate.
Realizing he was smiling at me, my gaze shot to vivid green eyes which had zeroed in on me. He rounded to face me fully. Feeding me an ample view of wide shoulders arrowing to a lean waist and narrow hips then down to muscled legs which already strained those pants.
Like he shouldn't be wearing them. Shaking my head at my own idiocy, I pulled my stare from him and forced myself into motion. Climbing quickly into my car. Still feeling the burning intensity of his returning assessment.
Once in the comfort of my car, I shifted my hips to ease the dampness already gathering in my satin panties.
Still shaking my head, I turned on my car and lurched into motion. Driving past the Thomas house, I glanced over and saw he was twisting to keep my car in view as I went by.
I bit my lip as I emitted a tiny noise. Ducking my head and flushing. Mortified I'd been caught staring as I had. Practically undressing him right there on the street.
Staring like I'd never seen a man before.
***
I walked into work. My briefcase filled with legal paperwork as I headed to my large, windowed office. The swish of my skirts and the click of my red heels drawing the eyes of the men that worked for me.
Predominantly male. Because I enjoyed the way they looked at me. Lust written on their face.
Until I look back at them. They'd duck their head and avoid my gaze. Not wanting caught staring at my shirt a bit too tight or my skirt a bit too short.
They can want.
And when I go home for the night, they'll all be left wanting. I had no desire for an office dalliance. I rather preferred to keep that far from the office.
These guys see nothing but my tough façade and short answers. The assertive being I liked everyone to know.
Careful boundaries. And deep inner strength.
But despite all that power, all day long at work I found myself plagued by thoughts of the man. The image of his tall imposing figure stimulating my mind. Wondering what those large hands would feel like all over me.
It's the fault of those horrifying nightmares. I told myself. Recalling how it'd felt to be ravished by a spirit I couldn't see. Leaving me hungry and wanting. Frustrated and violated. Such a horrible onslaught of emotions.
Confusing beyond belief.
By the time I left work I was aching between my thighs. My pussy in dire need of some attention.
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