"This is a hair-brained idea!" Norm Palmer muttered to himself as he pulled his car to a stop outside the run down apartment building on the east side of town. On the ten minute drive over he'd almost turned the car around twice, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Norm was a sixty-six year old former plumber. When he'd retired from working just over a year ago he'd been looking forward to the golden years of his life, at least that's what his older friends had been telling him since they retired. Unfortunately things had not worked out that way for Norm. Less than a week after he'd finally hung up his tools, Marge, his wife of forty years was killed in a car accident. Run over by a drunk whilst crossing the street.
This was not the source of Norm's unhappiness however. His marriage to Marge had not been a happy one. Marge was a real bitch who was constantly looking down her nose at Norm, always whining and nagging for him to do something better with his life. And as for their sex life it was non-existent, in the forty years of their marriage, Norm could only think of six times that he'd fucked Marge and half of those were whilst she was dead drunk. It was always standard missionary style sex, and over very quickly, at least that was the way Norm dimly remembered it, for the final fifteen years of their marriage he'd been impotent, not that it would have made a whole lot of difference of course.
Norm actually felt kind of relieved when Marge had died, he did love his late wife of course, but her departure had left him with a feeling of immense freedom. Things had not worked out so well for Norm since her death however. His luck at the track had taken a significant turn for the worse, in fact since Marge's death Norm had not won a single cent, where previous to that he'd always thought of himself as a lucky fellow, usually earning a pretty penny through some shrewd betting. Much worse were the strange goings on in his home. He was constantly losing things, any money left out at night for example would, without fail, have vanished by morning. Electrical appliances seemed to regularly break down, in the year since Marge's death he'd gone through seven television sets. The last one had been the most spectacular, actually catching fire during a rerun of an old episode of Baywatch.
Moving hadn't helped matters either, two months ago Norm had shifted to the other side of town and there things seemed to get even worse. On top of all that Norm had started to hear strange noises during the night, creaking sounds, or more recently loud crashes. It was all very weird.
Most of Norm's friends had assured him it was nothing, but Norm was convinced that Marge was still haunting him from beyond the grave. He'd finally decided to do something about it after seeing an advertisement in the classifieds for a 'Madam Sabrina – Medium & Psychic'. The ad claimed that Madam Sabrina could see into the future and talk with the dead. Norm had been skeptical about such things all his life, but with things getting worse by the day he'd been desperate. If there was even the slightest possibility that this Madam Sabrina wasn't a sham, and actually could talk to Marge for him, then he could hopefully sort out his problems.
"This is crazy Norm Palmer," he said to himself with a deep, weary sigh as he got out of his car, locking the door behind him. Nevertheless he walked over to the apartment building and climbed the stairs to the second floor, apartment 2C, the home of Madam Sabrina, Medium and Psychic. Norm almost turned back again as he reached the door, but with a final sigh of defeat he reached up and knocked.
There was a rustling from inside the apartment and then the door swung open. Norm was surprised that there was no one there to greet him.
"Hello?" he called out timidly.
"Enter," replied a woman's husky voice, presumably belonging to Madam Sabrina.
Not feeling any better about the whole idea, Norm stepped cautiously inside the apartment, gauzy purple scarves and silks covered the walls of the entry hallway and a rather spicy aroma of incense struck his nostrils. The light above was dimmed, no doubt to add to the overall air of mystery that the apartment exuded.
"Come in," the woman's voice repeated.
Norm took another deep breath, almost coughing as caught another overpowering whiff of incense. He then made his way down the hallway to the deep blue curtain at the end. He brushed it aside and stepped through, into the room where Madam Sabrina conducted her séances and fortune readings. The room was decked out with a similar gaudy decor to the halls, in the center was a small, ornately carved table with two matching chairs.
"Please, be seated," said Madam Sabrina, she was seated on the chair opposite the door.
Norm started at the sight of Madam Sabrina. He'd expected to see a wizened old gypsy woman with more wrinkles than his great grandmother and wart covered nose. Instead the beautiful creature before him was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Sabrina's appearance made Norm's heart skip a beat, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her exotic, sensual features were framed by locks of long, raven-black hair that stretched midway down her back. Her eyes were a deep, intense dark brown, almost a black, which seemed to melt his soul and make his knee's go weak, the lashes impossibly long and giving her an almost wicked appearance. Sabrina's lips were a deep, blood red, contrasting with her flawless olive skin and made Norm ache to kiss them.
Madam Sabrina wore an old fashioned white dress made of a flowing cotton that seemed to billow about what was obviously an incredible body, the dress tight-fitting in all the right places without looking overtly sexy. The neckline of the dress scooped low enough to display the swelling upper slopes of Sabrina's incredibly generous breasts and a deep cleavage that accentuated the delightfully rounded mounds.
His breath catching at the sight of the incredibly beautiful young woman, Norm paused at the curtain hardly able to think straight.
"Be seated," Sabrina repeated softly, pointing to the seat opposite hers with one soft, delicate hand.
"You're Madam Sabrina?" Norm managed to stammer in surprise and he lowered his old frame into the chair.
"I am," Sabrina replied warmly, her full lips smiling.
"I...I was...you're not what I expected," Norm admitted, God she was exquisite, for the first time in months his wife was the last think on his mind.
"You sounded troubled over the phone Norm," Sabrina said, her voice friendly and full of sympathy as she got straight down to business.
"Yes," Norm agreed. "My wife Marge died a year ago and..." Norm faltered a moment, blushing, even though Sabrina claimed to be a psychic and medium he still felt stupid admitting this belief to her.
"It's okay Norm, I'm here to help," Sabrina assured him, reaching out with one soft hand and touching the top of Norm's hand.
Norm jumped slightly, the beautiful young woman touching him made him even more nervous, "I...I believe she's been haunting me."
"I see," nodded Sabrina empathetically, as though she heard that every day. Actually she probably did, Norm reflected.
Norm reached up and ran his fingers through his coarse gray hair, he'd always been blessed with a full head of hair and was grateful that at his age there were still no signs of a receding hairline. "It's just, strange things keep happening, and I hear noises...it's hard to explain."
"And you wish for me to help you contact your wife?" Sabrina asked.
"Yes," Norm agreed, he couldn't help but notice the way the ample mounds of Sabrina's enormous breasts and the way they swelled against the thin fabric of her white dress, producing a very healthy looking bosom. Norm's had always been something of a 'breast man', but unfortunately his wife had not been at all blessed in that department, so the vision of the busty gypsy was quite a sight for old Norm Palmer. "Hopefully she'll tell me why this is happening."
Sabrina nodded, "Sometimes, when a person dies, their spirit does not always pass over to the other side," she explained. "Sometimes when a soul has unfinished business it will remain in a limbo between the physical and spiritual worlds."
"Unfinished business?' Norm queried.
"Yes, do you have any idea what it could be that is keeping Marge tied to this world?" Sabrina asked.
Norm shook his head. "No. Can talk to souls in this limbo?" Norm asked hopefully.
The beautiful psychic nodded. "Yes, but it is more difficult than reaching the spirit world as I am accustomed too."
"Please," begged Norm, although he suspected the young woman was just trying to get more money out him.
"Did you bring something of hers as I requested? Something she held dear." Sabrina asked.
"Yes," Norm reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a small silver locket on a chair, inside was a picture of Marge's father from World War 1. He handed the locket to Sabrina who carefully placed it in the center of the table.
Sabrina then reached out and took Norm's wrinkled hands in hers, the old man trembling slightly at the touch of the lovely young woman. Their hands formed a circle around where the locket lay on the table. "I need you to focus on Marge now Norm. Close your eyes and picture her in your minds eye, concentrate on your love for her."
Norm nodded, closing his eyes and conjuring an image of Marge. "Okay," he said with a nod once he was ready, the image showed Marge looking at him with her usual look of disapproval and he found it a little hard to focus on his love for the stern old cow.
"Good," said Sabrina after a moment. "I am going to reach out to Marge and try and contact her now. Just keep your thoughts on your wife."
Sabrina closed her eyes and sent her spirit out in search of Norm's departed wife. Norm couldn't help but peek out at the beautiful gypsy, admiring her serene features as she closed her eyes and sought Marge's soul. Sabrina's generously proportioned chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, a low humming noise starting to come from her throat as she reached out to Norm's wife.
"Norman?" Sabrina suddenly spoke, her eyes still closed. The gypsy's voice sounded different, it was still hers but she seemed to speak his name in a more formal, harsh tone of voice.
"What?" he asked, noticing her hands grip his tighter.
