A New York Haunting Pt 06

(Note to admin: story contains bold and italics --------- please remove this line)

Author's note:

Due to the mystery/suspense plot, the individual parts of this novel are unlikely to make sense as stand-alone reads. Please see note at the beginning of Part 1 for more information.

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Chapter 22. A CLANDESTINE APPOINTMENT

D amn! Damn! Damn it all!

What a royal master of finesse he had been!

In rehearsing his script for that weighty conversation, he had failed to anticipate her skeptical questions --- failed to prepare replies that explained how he reached the conclusions he had without waxing vulgar. Could he have been any more churlish?

Despite his attempts to be tactful, in his simple zeal to investigate this supernatural phenomenon, he had sorely underestimated how distressing the subject would be --- part of him had hoped the girl's intellectual curiosity would override her embarrassment (and thus his). But, in retrospect, perhaps the would-be scientist in Ondine was battling with the innocent young lady she was. Upon his revelation, perhaps the emotions and ingrained training of the latter had dictated her outraged reaction.

Indeed, how would

any

respectable woman have responded upon learning she had --- unbeknownst to her --- been watched copulating with an earthly man,

let alone

with a ghost. Her reaction had been no less than what was expected of any well brought-up young lady when confronted by a man making improper advances.

And evidently such was her poor impression of him. Naturally she did not believe the ghost story --- he himself would not have believed such a fantastic tale. He would have laughed at the idea of a ghost, had he not seen what he had. To Ondine, his account was nothing more than a crude affront intended to embarrass or shock her.

Had the offense to her sensibilities been so grievous as to destroy any chance he had of helping her? She had stalked away before he had even shared with her his ideas on banishing the ghost, and very likely, she would not consent to meet him again. Anders considered writing her a letter to offer up what knowledge he had recently acquired about ghosts as well as his assistance in any manner she wished. But he would stop there --- he had no desire to add to her agitation by pressing her.

With further consideration, he guessed his awkwardness had also cost him her artistic contributions to the journal article. He sighed. Alternative arrangements would be necessary.

Throughout a long, restless night, Anders brooded over the conversation. The next day, he moved in a distracted state through his varied activities on the ward and in class, his mind testing various opening paragraphs of a hypothetical letter to the indignant girl. Upon his return to the boardinghouse, his troubled eyes almost missed the envelope laying on the hall table atop a newspaper.

He blinked, registering the lettering

Mr. Røkke

in the same restrained handwriting from the other night. Snatching it up, he sprinted up the stairs three steps at a time to his room where he tore open the seal and extracted a single piece of paper bearing the current date and an unsigned message:

Would you be so good as to meet me at Bethesda Terrace tonight at seven?

By God! What had happened? Had she forgiven his tactlessness? Surely, she would not request a meeting simply to rebuke him again! His heart was swimming with nervous anticipation as he changed into his better suit and combed his hair. Noticing her carefully folded stocking upon his dresser, he slipped it into his pocket before clapping on his bowler hat and heading out.

Twenty minutes.

In a mere twenty minutes, he would see the dark-haired beauty again. Tonight, he would take care to conduct himself with the utmost decorum. He walked briskly through the deepening dusk, his pulse keeping pace with his strides.

A few minutes before seven, Anders arrived at Bethesda Terrace. Waves of excitement rippled from his belly to his groin. It was on this very spot he had first covertly watched Ondine climb into the fountain --- the scene that had provoked his first sensual dream about her. Tonight, his quick scan revealed but a few people on the terrace --- a pair of men smoking and what looked to be courting couples.

In the cool twilight, the sound of flowing water was paradoxically both soothing and rousing as he paced in a methodical circuit about the fountain, his hands thrust in his pockets.

Some ten minutes passed ere he saw her. She appeared in a pool of lamplight at the top of the stone stairs to Terrace Drive and cast her gaze over the brick patio below her. Anders lifted his hand in a brief wave, and Ondine responded in kind.

She was garbed similarly to the second time he had followed her: a simple shopgirl-like skirt and jacket. Nimble, boot-clad feet and slim ankles flashed under her swirling hem as she swiftly descended the stairs and approached. A jaunty, circular hat topped her piled-up hair.

Anders tipped his hat. "Mrs. Van der Veen."

"Mr. Røkke," she responded in a similarly formal tone. "Shall we?" She motioned with her chin towards the stone benches at the perimeter of the patio. They found seats away from the other park goers.

"Thank you for meeting me," she said. "Please forgive my tardiness. Sometimes, slipping out of the house unnoticed takes patience."

"Is that how you manage it? I don't want your meeting me to cause you trouble."

Ondine waved her hand dismissively. "I professed to be suffering from a headache and requested my dinner be brought to my room. My aunt considers me drab company and no doubt rejoiced at my absence from her dinner party. My maid, Hildy, who has my complete trust, will forestall any unlikely attempts to look in on the invalid."

"Ah. Your coachman must be equally loyal."

The girl nodded. "Hildy and Braddock came with me from my parents' home."

Anders was cautiously heartened by the sharing of these confidences. He glanced aside at her. No trace was there of last night's indignation.

They lapsed into silence, both watching the fountain in front of them. For several moments, the cascading water was the only sound --- then they simultaneously spoke, turning towards each other on the bench. An awkward laugh followed.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Van der Veen. Please continue."

Ondine's moonlit eyes met his. "Mr. Røkke, I must apologize for my brusque manner last night. I've been pondering what you told me, and I believe I rejected your account precipitously."

He shook his head. "It is I who must apologize. I blurted it out without a care for decorum."

"I wouldn't say 'without a care'. It was apparent you were searching for the proper phrasing. Unfortunately, the shock of the story could not have been allayed by even the most judiciously selected words." She sighed. "I'm afraid I exhibited conduct unbecoming an aspiring physician in dismissing your observations without due consideration. Indeed, I now suspect you might be on to something."

"You do?"

"I do. I have some impressions to share with you as well, but first I would like to hear the rest of your story."

His eyebrows lifted. "I don't want to cause you embarrassment or offend you ---"

A rueful headshake accompanied her next words. "It was wrong of me to impugn your integrity by suggesting you had derived some salacious pleasure from observing or reporting the incident. I now feel certain your intentions were honorable."

Anders shifted uncomfortably on the bench, recalling the excruciating arousal he had experienced during the incidents and the culminating release in his drawers both nights --- the second time frigging even as his fingers spread her cunny lips. Did that truth negate her second statement? To his own mind, his intentions in discussing the matter remained honorable despite this damnable attraction to her and his momentary lapse of self-control.

"I have steeled myself for the unsavory details, Mr. Røkke. If I can manage to hear them, then you can manage to say them." A humorous upwards quiver at the corner of her lips belied her solemn expression. "I believe when you left off, the ghost was having its way with me."

He met her eyes briefly, then his gaze dropped to the bench. Sitting angled towards each other, their knees were but a few inches apart. With a deep breath, he began. "Well, as I said, the ghost engaged in relations with you and when he eventually spent, there was a flash of light ---" He paused as she suddenly opened her mouth to speak.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Røkke. You said 'spent'?"

Anders' mind raced. If Fulton Fordyce's sisters' upbringing was characteristic, he could only assume that as a young lady of the upper social stratum, her access to sexual information was severely restricted --- prior to availing herself of her brother's medical textbooks, of course.

He tried to remember the extent of discussion of sexual intercourse in his own textbooks. There were histologic drawings of spermatozoa, descriptions of chemical assays for semen, and anatomical diagrams of the male and female pelvis --- which might not even be accurate (for the female) depending on which edition of

Gray's Anatomy

she had. Apart from that, there was no actual description of the act of procreation.

He swallowed. "Erm ... climaxed ... reached orgasm."

Her big eyes continued to regard him with naïve confusion.

Glancing at a nearby strolling couple, Anders lowered his voice. "During the act of intercourse, the male ejaculates semen ... erm ... deposits his seed inside the female.

Spending

is another term for it."

The concept of seed appeared to trigger understanding in the girl. "Oh," she murmured. "And this normally is accompanied by a flash of light?"

Anders chuckled. "Not for earthly men. In the case of the ghost, there was a flare of green light illuminating the outline of a man ... with you."

Ondine's eyes grew wide. "You could see it ... him?"

"Just for a second or two. And with it, the scent of gunpowder grew stronger."

"Wait!" She raised a hand. "Did you say gunpowder?"

"Yes, gunpowder. Perhaps I neglected to mention it yesterday --- I first smelled it when the cold draft swept the room. When he spent, it grew stronger."

The girl regarded him intently. "Could you see his features well enough to recognize him, from a photograph, for instance?"

"No. It was only a hazy silhouette."

"Could you hear any sounds attributable to him?"

He shook his head.

Her brows drew together. "Then what happened?"

"Almost immediately, the atmosphere in the room returned to normal, and the fire reappeared in the fireplace. My body was released from the paralysis, but you still seemed to be in a trance as you re-donned your nightgown and slipped under the bedcovers."

Ondine's fingertips drummed upon the skirt over her thigh. For some time, her gaze was unfocused in the distance past his shoulder. Then her fingers stilled. "Did you share your observations with Dr. Schuller?"

"No. I feared we might both end up in a madhouse."

She nodded. "When I told Dr. Schuller about my husband's nighttime visits, I withheld some details I considered too intimate ... and reasoned them to be unnecessary to share."

Anders listened with close attention.

"During these visits, I often feel a weight pressing down upon my body. Sometimes I sense his face close to mine. He commands me to never remarry --- as I related to Dr. Schuller --- but those are not the only sounds he makes. Many times, I hear a ... a grunting akin to an agitated beast." She averted her eyes, seeming abashed.

"Are there any other sensations you recall during the visits?" he asked.

"Apart from fear, no. But it's curious you report the scent of gunpowder. Peter's clothes often had that odor --- he was ever engrossed in testing new firearms."

It was the first time he had heard her refer to her husband by name, and the matter-of-fact familiarity of the first name elicited a twinge of jealousy in his gut. He inhaled and expelled a long slow breath. "In the morning after these visits, do you notice any lingering symptoms?"

"Such as?"

"Erm ..." His eyes shifted from her guileless gaze. "Pain in your neck, perhaps? You mentioned he chokes you? Or ... soreness in your privates?"

Christ, could he be any more clumsily obvious?

Ondine mercifully did not take evident offense. "Pain? I don't think so. But there is a distinct sensation of --- I scarcely know how to describe it --- pressure, but not from the outside. A pressure and tension between my ... umm ..." She paused, looking embarrassed. "... inside my belly. Not like a bellyache, but a disarray of both emotion and sensation ... a vague urgency, but I know not to what end. It's most distressing."

Anders' head was spinning. What had she been on the brink of saying?

A pressure and tension between my ...

had she been about to say

legs

? Was she alluding to her cunny? All too vividly did he recall the palpable arousal in her nether parts. With a discomfited throat clearing, he collected his distracted thoughts and muttered, "This is quite remarkable."

"So you see, Mr. Røkke, I'm inclined to concur with your interpretation. Until hearing your account, I was almost convinced I

was

going mad." She twisted towards him, drawing both knees onto the bench and tucking her feet under her hip. "May I play devil's advocate for a moment?"

Never had he seen a young lady sit so, although there was nothing ostensibly indecent about the pose with her limbs pressed together and entirely covered by the long skirt. Rather it betrayed an appealing artlessness, no doubt prompted by her enthusiasm for the provoking subject under discussion. The artifice of the prim, finishing school girl had vanished to be replaced by the eager, natural, true Ondine.

Keen to delve into the mystery, Anders likewise turned, resting one knee on the bench so that they faced each other. "Please do!"

"We both have had bizarre experiences, but they differ in the specifics. Notwithstanding these differences, would you say our accounts corroborate each other?"

"Absolutely!"

"Can we disprove the hypothesis that it was all a dream or a hallucination?"

"I'm certain I was not dreaming, Mrs. Van der Veen. If I had been dreaming, I should have been able to wake myself. But for the sake of argument, we would have to allow we had complementary dreams the same night."

She nodded. "All along I have been convinced it was not a dream, although Dr. Schuller never believed me. And as for hallucinations, how would two people without previously known neurological disease simultaneously have hallucinations." A quick smile showed. "I am assuming you have no neurological disease."

"Not to my knowledge."

"What about seizures? You said I was moving on the bed. Could it have been a seizure?"

A good question. "In and of itself, perhaps. But a seizure could not account for all the other happenings --- the cold draft, the fire going out, the glimpse of the being with the flare of green light. Sometimes, people do report strange odors with seizures, but it was I who smelled the gunpowder." He rubbed his chin. "Moreover, there were the visible effects upon your ... private parts ... as I mentioned last night, that could not have been caused by a seizure."

Ondine pursed her lips, then murmured, "There is indeed evidence to support the contention that something was in the room besides us, and that despite being invisible, it has a corporeal presence. I felt a weight upon me and heard its vocalizations. You smelled gunpowder, saw these 'effects' upon my person, and you also saw its form."

For a moment, Anders contemplated the other evidence of the ghost's physical presence --- the instinctual response of her body to the lascivious stimulation. But of course, it would be the height of un-gentlemanly behavior to recount her whimpers and panting ... to describe the erection of her clitoris and the glistening moisture which had formed in the groove between her lips. He groaned inwardly, grateful for the darkness which hid his reddening cheeks.

"There were also indentations in the mattress from its knees," he added after the pause lengthened.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Indeed?" For several moments, her fingers tapped upon her thigh. "But we only have our word for all this. We have no tangible proof of the ghost."

"Actually, there is the sample of semen I collected."

The girl stared at him in astonishment. "To what do you refer?"

He gulped. "Erm --- I'm sorry I failed to mention, when the ghost spent, its ejaculation of semen was visible as a green vapor. Once I was released from the paralysis, I used a handkerchief to gather some."

"From where?" Her apprehensive eyes fixed to his.

"Mrs. Van der Veen, please forgive me --- it was streaming from your privates. I thought it important to procure whatever evidence I could."

Her long lashes fluttered as she blinked several times seemingly to forestall tears. "You touched my ---?"

"Only with the intent of helping you." He had also palpated her little swollen bud, although it had not been necessary for collecting the sample, but that too had been in the name of scientific investigation (so he told himself). Wisely, he did not mention it.

Ondine abruptly stood from the bench and decamped a few paces away from him, facing the fountain. Her arms folded over her chest with his approach.

He stopped behind her --- the top of her hat was level with his neck, and the moonlight set aglow a pale, dainty ear below an upswept lock of dark hair. Close enough was he to detect her faint natural fragrance, unadulterated by perfumes. He inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry to have taken such a liberty. Flummoxed by what I had observed, I was propelled by a scientific fervor, wanting to prove you and myself sane."

Ondine's back remained steadfastly presented to him --- the sound of flowing water filling the void of her silence.

Tilting his head, he murmured close to her ear, "As I recall, you did see me stark naked in the life drawing class. If it will ease your mind, I will undress and submit myself for you to touch in any manner you judge will balance the ledger."

Before him, Anders beheld a subtle shaking of her shoulders --- it increased, and he realized the girl was laughing. She turned around, her face alight with merriment. So expressive were her lovely lips in unguarded moments --- curving with humor, quivering with curiosity, pursing with irony. How he longed to kiss them!

Glowing, mischievous eyes looked up at him. "It is indeed most remarkable how we have managed to circumvent society's every rule and regulation intended to suppress licentiousness and have unintentionally seen each other naked."

Had her eyes darted downwards to his groin for the briefest second? A shiver ran through him. They were wordlessly gazing at each other, her now unreadable face raised to his.

Good God!

All sense of space evaporated, and his incoherent yearning swelled in sensual synchrony with the water and blood pulse whooshing in his ears.

A nearby gasp and hushed voices interrupted the spell. In unison they turned their heads towards the sound which proved to have come from a couple visible on a dark path leading into the adjacent wooded glen. A man and woman stood close together, entirely absorbed in each other. The next moment a passionate embrace ensued --- arms encircling one another and hungry mouths fusing.

Anders' and Ondine's eyes met, and they awkwardly rotated apart, increasing the separation between them. By unspoken agreement, they started walking towards the tunnel under Terrace Drive. The sound of the fountain receded behind them as they traveled through the tunnel and ascended the stairs to the Mall. Glowing lampposts illuminated the leaf strewn promenade as they walked.