Disclaimer:
The following story contains explicit content and is intended for mature audiences and open-minded people only. Reader discretion is advised.
This work of fiction includes themes of sexuality, romance, and adult situations and is not meant to be taken seriously. In fact some of my works may require you to suspend belief. It may contain scenes of explicit language, graphic depictions of sexual acts, situations of cheating and polyamory, group minglings, and other content suitable only for those over the legal age of consent in their jurisdiction.
All characters depicted in this story are consenting or willing adults and are works of fiction. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, or both, is purely coincidental.
By continuing to read this story, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to access adult content in your area and that you understand the nature of the content provided and have an open mind for such things. The author assumes no responsibility for any actions taken by readers as a result of the content of this story. Further, the author accepts no responsibility if you are offended by what you have read.
If you are not comfortable with or legally allowed to access explicit adult content, please discontinue reading now.
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Martin stepped inside the house carefully. After his talk with the Madam last week and then the 'Agreement' that he had been a part of, he felt like the house was watching him. Even as he took his careful steps into the foyer, he was sure that the long-silent grandfather clock was scrutinizing his every move.
At this point, he had told himself at least a hundred times that he did not believe in ghosts, yet what explanation could he have for what he had been through? His feelings and interactions with her had been too real to dismiss.
She had told him that she would be his first, that he would meet her at her room, and now, here he was, in the house with a bag containing some toiletries and a change of clothes.
Tamara, his long-time girlfriend, had asked him why he was going out and had to go to the house. Maybe he should have lied and said he was going to a friend's house, but she knew all his friends. Or a convention, but in addition to being his girlfriend, she was also his business associate, so she knew all his business plans.
He finally told her that he would be running by the gym after checking some things out with this house. She seemed OK with this response, and he was able to get out without any further interrogation.
The floor creaked as he took another step, causing him to jump.
"Why so nervous, Martin?"
He let out a small yip and spun around, and standing near the door leading to the parlor, he saw Amanda. She was dressed in a stunning green outfit that accentuated her shape, but what was really captivating about it was the contrast between the deep green of the dress, the pale white of her skin, and the shocking red of her hair.
"Uh... Hi Amanda." Was all he could spit out.
She smiled warmly and blushed, "I see you like my dress."
Nodding, Martin looked her over again, this time without trying to hide it since the invitation had been offered.
"You look incredible."
This time, there was no doubt; she blushed. "Why, thank you. Shall we go sit in the parlor for a bit and talk?"
He put his bags down and followed her into the parlor. It was lit well now, and it looked like it might have been when the house was in full swing. He stopped a moment and looked around, then back into the rest of the house and back at the room.
"It was a beautiful house in its time." She paused and looked around with a sad smile. "In my time."
Martin walked up and stood next to her, "It will be again, I promise."
Turning, she met his eyes, "I saw that in you when I touched your... mind."
They sat down almost at the same time, and he looked at her, "How do you do that? Did it start after... well?" He looked uncomfortable.
"My death?" She shook her head slowly, "No, I had the ability since childhood. When I came here, Madam Isabella saw it in me and hired me immediately. She told me that I did not have to work, you know, like the other girls, but I wanted to." She smiled broadly and turned to face him, "I saw that the house seemed so alive, and everyone seemed so happy working for Madam, so I wanted to be a part of that."
Without thinking about it, he put his hand on her knee and asked, "Was that hard for you?"
She nodded, "Yes, very. I had never been with a man before. In fact, I had never been taken, so my maidenhead was still, you know, there." She giggled and said, "Pauline offered to help me with that little problem. Madam said that while men like the idea of virgins, they don't like it when they bleed or cry, so I let Pauline help me out. She was gentle, and it did not hurt that much."
She straightened herself out and then looked at him, "So, had you ever been in a brothel?" She thought momentarily, "Well... if you have, I am sure they are different in your time than in mine. Perhaps not so much ceremony."
Martin shook his head, "No, I have not."
She nodded, still smiling, "I am uncertain as to how they work in your time, but in my time and in this house, before the man takes the lady to the room, they meet here. Sometimes, multiple men may meet ladies, but we only come in here to meet the man we will be with for the evening."
"Sort of like a meet and greet?" He asked.
She thought about it momentarily, unfamiliar with the term, "Yes, I suppose. Sometimes, the Madam will sit in the room and keep an eye on things. She would usually sit right there." She pointed to an oversized chair in the corner of the room next to the fireplace and a table that looked like, at one time, it had its own bottle of liquor and glass with it.
She continued, "After the meeting and pleasantries had been exchanged, the lady, in this case me, would rise and take the man by the hand and lead them to our room--my room."
"If I may," Martin interrupted, "Since these were usually business transactions, when would money be exchanged?"
"We never had anything to do with that part, at least not in this house." She looked over at the empty chair, "That was always handled in advance by the Madam. She took care of all the money. She set up an account for each of us and we would have access to the money any time we needed. Madam Isabella, of course, kept some of it for herself." She smiled, "I am sure that part went to the room, board, meals, and other things to keep the house running."
Martin nodded, "It seems like a fair setup."
"Oh yes, very fair." She stood and held out her hand, "Shall we?"
He stood and was surprised that his knees and hands were shaking; he was actually nervous. He took her hand and smiled nervously.
She wrapped her arm around his and smiled at him as he stood, "My, you are nervous. I know you are not untouched; I saw it when I looked into your mind. You've bedded a woman before." Then she paused and smiled, "I see... you are a gentleman and not a cad. I like that."
They began walking, and he matched her pace, "True, but to be honest, this is my first time with a ghost in a haunted house."
She laughed and leaned her head on his arm as they walked. "You make me laugh. I have never met a man who could do that without trying almost too hard to do so."
They rounded the corner to the hallway. Martin was surprised at how warm her touch was and how real she felt. He enjoyed her gentle hold on his arm and how she led him to the room while letting him feel like he was in control.
"Tell me, Martin. Do you have children? I did not see that when I was looking through your thoughts."
He shook his head, "No, Tamara and I wanted to wait until we were a little more financially stable."
"Hmm" was her only response, but Martin could feel the sadness in her tone.
They reached her door, and she stopped, "Now, I am not sure how this works. I hope you see the room the way I do." She opened the door.
The contrast shocked him. It reminded him of the scene in The Wizard of Oz when the screen transitioned from black and white into technicolor. The room was done the way you might expect a young lady's woman to be done. There was a lot of pink, but it was contrasted with pale cream colors. There were three candles lit and a wall sconce to light the room.
On her vanity was a collection of makeup containers, perfumes, and two bouquets of flowers.
Amanda's voice startled him back to the present: "Please, come in. Don't be shy."
He smiled and walked in, closing the door behind him. On the inside of the door was a full-length mirror. He saw himself, but to his surprise, he could also see her.
Martin turned, "Wait, I can see you in the mirror, but when I first saw Madam Isabella, she had no reflection."
"I am not sure how this works; I think that in here, you are in my world, so everything works like normal. So the mirror works the way it should."
He watched as she pulled down the covers on the bed, then stood and took off her dress, revealing a delicate set of garters and a bustier or corset, one of the two. He did not know what these things were. What he did know was that she was beautiful.
He had thought that the pale, porcelain color of her face was that of makeup, but this revealed that it was her natural skin color. She reminded him of statues that he had seen at the museum.
Realizing he had been staring at her, he averted his eyes slightly when she returned his gaze and smiled.
"Surely, Mr. Simms, you've seen women similarly clad before?" Her voice had a tone of mischievousness as she spoke to him.
