Phantom Flings

This story is based on a short but extremely spooky and very sexy story by Sisi Burks - Phantom Touch - found here

Phantom Touch - NonHuman - Literotica.com

With Sisi's permission and grateful help with the editing, I have taken her universe and some of the sexy characters that she had created and then spent some time expanding on them.

This is very much a Bazzle story with a couple of chunky girls having fun with plenty of nudity, smoking, and drinking. All with added sex. Plus seeing as it's the Halloween season, the potential for a ghost or two.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Bazzle

Phantom Flings

Chapter 1

My laptop is on, the cursor is still blinking at the end of the words Chapter One, the page is very much blank after that. Plenty of space for words, but not a single word where I would hope there would be, rows and rows of blank space.

Chapter One...|

This morning on waking up, after a cigarette or two, I spent an hour snoozing. Then on finally getting up, I just had to have a bath. I even spent time shaving my legs. I like taking baths as they are not finished as quickly. They take time. I do have a real problem with procrastination at the moment. Shaving prolongs the event, keeps me in the bath for longer as it takes more time when you've got large tree trunks like mine. Even my armpits, left to their own devices, are like large hairy caverns. I do know I will need a lawnmower if I ever think about ever doing my bikini line again. I thought shaving some of myself was a useful thing to do. Make me feel all clean and make sure I am ready to write. The laptop lives ninety five percent of the time in my spare room. It is getting old now and takes ages to boot up. The spare room is where I wrote my last novel. It's done amazingly well. There is a lot of clamor for a sequel. The room is a little box, the window looks out over a little park. I've spent so many hours watching people run around and around it. I get dizzy just watching them. I occasionally will get some fresh air and slowly walk through smoking my cigarettes. It's a good excuse because at one end of the lake there is a nice ice cream shop at one end that has an excellent range and a coffee shop at the other end. I can slowly walk between the two. It kills some time. The time that I should be sitting in the spare room writing.

Going downstairs, I spent a little time getting all the dishes done. In reality there weren't many, I've been spending far too much time cheating a little too often in the past few weeks and getting a cheeky takeaway. The dishwasher is a convenient storage device, it just makes life easier.

I then had lunch, just a pot noodle. Again, it is easier than cooking anything exciting and all I need to wash is the spoon. I also have an extra-large slice of the double chocolate cake. The recommended portion size on the box never matches up. I bought it at the shop yesterday when buying my cigarettes. I got enough cigs for today and tomorrow. I don't need to go out again today. I think that it's good there is still some remaining cake and cigarettes today, it shows restraint. I did not eat and smoke them all. When writing I need to have my brain food. I will pop to the shop again tomorrow.

By two o'clock, I again checked back on my laptop. Hopeful for something.

Chapter One...|

Nope nothing. Not even a single fan email to respond to. When the last book came out I used to get loads. Even more when the paperback came out. I then sat down on my comfortable office chair. I spent a small fortune on it as I was planning on spending many hours sitting there writing, a good investment I thought. Running my fingers through my long bottle dyed black hair, I leaned back. I seriously need a haircut. My split ends are developing, or I should think about changing my conditioner. I needed to do something. I then focused on my pack, smiled, then lit a cigarette, they always helped. I'm never far away from my pack and lighter. Throughout the day, they keep me company. I really do need them.

It's been that way ever since my older sister Melissa started chasing Chris Oldham when I was around fourteen. She was sixteen and he was eighteen. He was extremely handsome, even I was jealous of Mel getting so close to him. But he unfortunately smoked. He thought it was cool and sexy to have a girlfriend who smoked with him. When I tagged along with her being the bored, annoying teenage third wheel, I knew there and then that I also wanted to be sexy like her. Just listening to the platitudes that he gave out to her, just sounded amazing. In reality it was never going to happen, however much I tried. Playing around with hair and makeup. I was very much the dumpy, spotty younger sister. But he dished out his cigarettes to both me and Mellisa. Not really sure what ever happened to Chris after that summer, but much to our parents' disgust we both kept our smoking habits. Well, we both did until Mel got into a health kick leading up to her wedding five years ago. She is now happily married. I'm now the single, fat, rather unfit aunty. But at least I still have my cigarettes.

My ex-boyfriend, Dave, used to complain I would disappear into my own little smoke-filled world when I wrote. He wasn't wrong. Used to whine that I was off with my characters rather in the room with him. Again, he wasn't wrong. Sitting there with the laptop, I needed to smoke to think. At least now I've still got my cigarette smoke and my characters, just unfortunately I no longer have him.

Chapter One...|

It was after spending ten minutes intently staring at the screen, finding myself very much mesmerized by the flashing cursor, as the cigarette slowly burned between my lips, the smoke drifting up in front of my eyes as my fingers were hovering with ambition over the keyboard. I'm ready to type. Just as and when the voices speak to me. I am here and ready. My main character, Jenny, will say something soon I know it. Unfortunately, she is quiet again today. Has been for weeks. After listening to silence, I relented and after another drag, stubbed my cigarette out. It was then that I jumped in my seat, my mobile vibrated into life. I took a reluctant deep breath. I wished I still had a lit cigarette between my lips. The screen said Joyce. Joyce Greenaway, my agent, and amazing editor. She helped me so much with the last book.

"Yes, Joyce everything is going amazingly well. I am over halfway, and Jenny is being scared witless at her uncle's cabin. Give me two months max to finish it." I crossed my fingers on my left hand. A small white lie. In my head she was scared. Even if there was nothing on screen to prove it. I was certainly scared of the blank page.

"Definitely, I will get you a couple of chapters soon." I was hoping that she wouldn't ask me to define "soon".

I give my regards to her family, say goodbye, and hang up. Looking down at my screen Chapter One and the blinking cursor. I sigh as I reach as I do at every time of need for my pack of cigarettes- again. I light one, I really need inspiration and soon. I'm running out of time, and cigarettes. As the smoke hits my lungs, I get some. I smiled to myself as I then picked up my phone and in an old-fashioned way, I rang my best friend, Tammy. She is always available. I knew that she would willingly drop everything to spend time with me. I had the need to chat about life and the universe and everything over a bottle or two of wine this evening.

I can also get her to pick up the Chinese takeaway and of course more wine on her way over.

It's then as I shuffle back into the chair, I see my reflection on the screen and very quickly determine that I should really get dressed. Spending all day comfortably bra-less in only a baggy XXL t-shirt and equally comfortable large cotton panties is okay, but when you have visitors, even I dig deep. I put in the effort to get dressed, put a bra on, and even put some perfume and makeup on. I can act normal.

***

We all too soon finished the first bottle of wine, being civilized over the nice, but greasy food sitting at the kitchen table. Then I opened and took the second bottle, settling in the lounge.

It's a cozy space, far too comfortable. I like spending time there. Time, I know, should be spent upstairs in the spare room in front of the laptop. But I find my sofa extremely soft, it is shaped to my body now. I also find daytime television enthralling. I feel like I learn so much. Stuff I should already know and that I should have learnt at school. But don't.

Tammy is my blonde, very much skinnier than me, but that is not difficult. Yet she is the sort of bubbly yummy mommy friend, but without children. With her oozing positivity she would be an amazing mom. She is so happy and smiley. Slim yet curvy, sort of impossibly perfect. I feel so much better after spending time with her. I think it's mutual. We do spend a lot of weekends together.

It's then the conversation, like night follows day, finally drifted around to my books. After the first bottle of wine, she is now all tipsy, smiling sitting in my corner chair, her lovely floral tight fitting maxi dress that showed off her stunning curves, and with her shoes kicked off, her bare feet with red painted toes all tucked up under her equally cute bottom. Looking cozy and comfortable, hugging the glass of wine. She really does look stunning.

It's the conversation that I know is coming, it's been a dark cloud looming on the horizon, getting closer by the minute. "So how is it going, how are you getting on with your latest book?" She smiles happily, her teeth scarily blood red stained from the wine.

It's like a painful dagger of truth to the heart. My head jumps upstairs to the screen.

Chapter One...|

I gulp a large mouthful of my wine and as I swallow, I instantly reach for and fidget my cigarette pack on the arm of the sofa shaking one out. She knows me too well. I place the filter between my lips. It's then she is the one that mentions those evil words of truth. What is now like a large worm wiggling deep inside me. It's been there for weeks, growing bigger and bigger.

"Got writer's block?" She asked helpfully as I flicked the lighter. I drag hard as I am now hoping to hide myself behind my cloud of smoke. It predictably clears leaving me in vision.

I pause, holding the smoke within me. I slowly nod as I exhale. "Second book syndrome." I finally admit to her and myself. The words hurt to hear coming from my own lips.

"You probably need to get some inspiration from a real haunted house." She giggled as she suggested it after I leaned over with my lighter and lit her cigarette.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. How about you go and stay at a haunted house, the stories they tell, that will get your inspiration." Our exhaled smoke meets under the single bulb light fitting in the middle of the room and spins and dances before dissipating.

She is talking sense. More sense than Jenny has been saying in my head for a while. Well, that is not hard. Jenny is practically ignoring me. I keep asking her what she wants to do, and she just blanks me.

"I can't, it will be too difficult." I gulp my wine, then drag on my cigarette.

She laughs at me. "Oh, come on since you were with Dave, everything for you is always too difficult. You've got to move on."

I have to nod in agreement. It hurts. Again, she is right. She knows me too well. It's now been a couple of years since he helped me operate. Letting me spend time alone with my characters. I did not need to think about eating, drinking, or even sleeping. He was there to tell me what to do. Without him...I do miss him. I definitely miss the sex. Life is just difficult; I just want to write. But something at the moment is stopping me.

"I don't believe in ghosts anyway!" I say with exasperation looking to the ceiling hoping for divine inspiration.

Chapter One...|

"Oh, come on Mir, you write about them, even you can manage to book an Airbnb. There must be a haunted house somewhere that lets you stay?"

I sit there, dragging hard on my cigarette wanting the sofa to eat me up. My brain is churning through the fog of wine, contemplating the words. I just want the smoke to do its thing. I can't work out if it's the wine talking, or she is being serious.

"It will be too expensive!" I finally tried to make a weak excuse.

Tammy puts on her most amazing warm smile as she gets up and grabs the bottle, tops up the wine glasses to the brim. It's there before I can suggest I've had too much. But with her, I don't think I've ever had too much wine. We are having fun. We always do. I smile at her as she settles down again, tucking herself up in my chair and stretching for my ashtray to de-ash her cigarette. The red rose print of a flowery printed bra pokes out from her maxi dress. I think the sort of pretty bra Jenny would be wearing. I try to remember, hoping to bank it.

"Is your laptop on? We could have a look this evening, it sounds really exciting, get you somewhere to do proper research?"

"What, like, now?" I panic, looking at the ceiling. I can see the laptop screen on with Word open.

"Oh, come on, amazing horror author Miranda Wilson can do SOMETHING?" she rolls her eyes and brings the filter to her lips. I watch as her eyelids flutter as her cheeks collapse as she pulls the smoke into lungs. I love watching people, hoping that I can use the mannerisms in my books. But my characters are normally fit, like the runners in the park, sexy and importantly healthy. No chance to smoke. I realize I've distracted myself by hiding with creative thoughts again.

My shoulders sink, I know she is right. "It is, I guess we could look?" I then do the same, a much-needed deep pull on my cigarette. My heart is thumping loudly with nerves.

Chapter One...|

We finish our smokes and with a bit of coercion from Tammy, take our half empty wine glasses upstairs, I let her go first, I'm very much slower. They are my only form of daily exercise, up and down the stairs. I try my best to minimize how many times I do it. I chuckle as her buttocks are chewing and eating her dress as she climbs. Yes, Jenny would be in a thong too. She is an exciting person like that. Young, fit, and trying to be sexy. Not needing any unsightly wobbly bits to be firmly held in their place.

Smiling, I take her glass as Tammy heads to the bathroom; at the laptop I close my file. I don't want her to read what little I've written. I'm sitting in my office chair, lighting another cigarette. The toilet loudly flushes. I chuckle as she loudly blows her nose. I take a drag; I need to relax. It's time for me to focus.

There is not much room in my small back bedroom. Its cream plain walls and gray curtains, with a computer desk, a small bed which is full, it is covered in boxes and bags that I keep meaning to put away, and then Tammy leaning over my shoulder. She is so close I can smell her perfume, cigarette smoke, and sweat. I try to Google haunted rentals near me. But after three glasses of wine my first attempt with my fingers is "hunted rents near me". That did not work. After us both laughing at my brilliant typing skills, and subsequent coughing fit, with a calming drag on my cigarette I try again.

My eyes follow her red painted fingernail that stretches and points at the screen, with effort the mouse eventually lines up and I click.

'Lakeside haunted house available for short rental

.'

My eyes are wide darting across the page, and my heart is thumping hard, I know it would be ideal.

There is a lakeside house with a private jetty out into the water, a wooden clad "haunted" house 60 miles from any distraction in the middle of nowhere. There is free but extremely slow Wi-Fi but sketchy to nonexistent mobile phone signals.

It's available next week for two weeks. My head thinks of all the writing I could get done in two weeks, without distraction of daytime television, cake, or the internet. Myself, my cigarettes, and characters all alone together.

"I can't do that!" I whine looking at Tammy, "It's just too far and too difficult." I look at her to tell me I am crazy. "Should we look for something else?"

"No Mir, you really need to just book it." She puts her hands on my shoulders and starts to massage them. Smoke drifts from my nose as I groan. It was not until her fingers dug in, that I realized just how tense I was. It's lovely, her thumbs dig in through the fat and start to work into my shoulders. Deep down they are completely knotted. This is why she is my best friend. She really cares for me. I would love for her to caress lower, the harder she dug in the more my breasts were desperately in need of some loving attention. I close my eyes and think of her massaging them, before realizing what I was meant to be doing.

Trying to read the screen whilst being massaged is difficult. But all the reviews were all claiming how scared they were to stay there. Some did not last the weekend. "It's clever marketing, we all know ghosts don't really exist." Again, I try to make an excuse.

"You need to write about them, that's the important thing, and it's dirt cheap?" She suggested digging her thumb deeper into a knot far within my shoulder fat.

Sighing and wincing, I nod. I wiggle my thighs. "Actually, sorry, I need the bathroom," I declare. I know I'm procrastinating again. She kindly releases her firm grip on my shoulders but calmly and affectionately strokes my neck. I need to get away. I think I am sometimes scared of committing to anything.

A moment to myself sitting on the toilet, trying to compose myself. My head is spinning one way from thoughts and the room is spinning the opposite way because of the wine. What am I actually going to do? I contemplate more wine. That always helps. I wash my hands and look in the mirror, my tired face is looking far too bloodshot. Too much wine. I can't do it. Staying in a haunted house is not for me.

Tammy is standing there with her legs crossed over inside of each other for stability whilst swaying gently side to side, holding on to her nearly empty glass, she is clearly as drunk as I am. She is grinning like a Cheshire cat when I get back to the bedroom. I tilt my head and looking into her eyes inquisitively stare at her. Trying to read what she is thinking. She is either very good at poker or after so much wine, that is impossible. I stop and turn and focus on the screen.

CONFIRMATION

in bold letters. "I've booked it for you. Now you have to go." She announces and grins and triumphantly before then gulping the rest of her wine.

There is a reason why I do love her. I tut and give her a thank you kiss and then a big bear hug.

"Are you going to come out and stay too?" I ask.

"What for, like, the weekend?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, go on, why not!" She giggles and claps her hand as she continues bouncing excitedly on her knees.

Whilst still laughing, we hurriedly go back downstairs, and I get out the cheese and biscuits and then open a bottle of port to go with them. This is the perfect situation for it, it's far too early to finish for the night, we then sit there excitedly smoking, drinking, and eating delicious cheese covered savories dreaming up plans for my fortnight and our weekend together at a haunted house.

Chapter One

Having waved goodbye to her parents five hours ago, Jenny Andrews, in over ninety-degree heat, drives her mom's old beaten-up gray hatchback down the seriously twisty and extremely potholed road. Every turn the car bounces on its suspension, the springs grouching loudly whilst sending a vibration through her coccyx and jars in her spine. The windows were wound down, she was trying to sing along to Adele at the top of her voice, the music from her iPod was blaring out of the car speakers as the dust blew back into the blonde's face. The car jolted again, and she groaned as the seat belt dug in against her chest, it was difficult for her to get the heavy car down the twisting tree lined dirt track.