She nods with a knowing expression. Not hurt by my question, which is a relief. “This way, I can send you a warning text next time another man is driving me home, so you don’t get spooked.”
I scoff, offended. “I wasnotspooked.” Furious, bloodthirsty, seconds away from committing a serious crime, yes, but not spooked.
“Or if I’m running late, or if I’m bored at work, or if I just want to tell you my legs are sore as hell from the way your gigantic dick almost split me in half.” She kisses my cheek, and I forget why I thought this gift would be another item collecting dust in the study.
“I’ll never tire of hearing that.” I hold out my hand, palm up. “Okay, show me how to use this machine so I may hear more about my dick.”
She doesn’t hand it over. Instead, she takes a seat at the counter while I fix her a plate of lasagna, and tinkers with the phone between bites. Once the basic settings are in place, she shows me how to type using the number buttons and pulls up the only contact saved in the phone.
“That’s my number. Send me a message.”
It’s…difficult. I struggle for several minutes. Penelope had a large computer she kept in the study, and a cellular phone of her own, but I never attempted to use them. There was no need. With each button I press, I worry I’m about to accidentally call 911 and be forced to explain that there’s no emergency at Caraway Manor, just a ghost attempting to use technology for the first time.
By the time Natalie’s almost done with her meal, I manage to successfully send my first text.
Hello, sweet Natalie. Sincerely Yours, Winston
Natalie: YOU DID IT! I’m so proud of you!
We do the dishes together, shut down the house, and make our way upstairs while pawing at each other’s clothes. I fuck her against the wall, then once with her sitting on the edge of her dresser before we make our way to the bed. She falls asleep sweaty and relaxed, with her cheek against my chest. Being with her, whether it’s having sex or just lying next to her, iseasy. Comfortable. As if we’ve been doing this for as long as I’ve been dead. I stare at the ceiling, measuring with my eyes while I figure out how to install a skylight in Natalie’s room without her knowing.
The next day, Natalie is abuzz with anxiety as she waits for Lindsay to arrive. She receives a text around lunchtime from her saying she’s about an hour away. There’s nothing I can do to calm Natalie, so I follow on her heels, ready with antibacterial wipes in hand to clean any last-minute messes my Natalie makes.
“What if she freaks out and, I don’t know, brings a priest here to exorcise you from the house?” she asks, her voice higher pitched than normal.
“Is Lindsay even religious?” She doesn’t strike me as someone with the fear of god in her.
“No,” she replies with a frown. “But what if this is the thing that sends her in that direction?”
She’s babbling now as her anxiety goes into overdrive. I step into her path and take her face in my hands.
“What if–”
I don’t let her continue. Instead, I lean down and silence her with a kiss. Her lips are frozen at first, but it doesn’t take long for her mouth to move against mine, and for her body to sink into my embrace. I lick into her, tasting the deepest corners of her mouth. She lets out a needy moan that has my cock throbbing painfully. When I pull back, her gaze is heavy-lidded, and her lips swollen. She’s impossibly beautiful.
“Did you do that to shut me up?” she asks with a playful smirk.
I run my hands up and down her arms. “It was more to calm you down. The shutting up was an added bonus.”
She shoves at my chest, her soft chuckle filling the air and wrapping around me like a blanket.
We go through the plan a few times, since it seems to give Natalie an outlet for her nervousness. But the plan is obliterated when Lindsay arrives red-faced with tears staining her cheeks.
Chapter 20
Natalie
“Fuck men,” Lindsay says through gritted teeth. “Fuck every single overpaid, mediocre one of them. There isn’t one man on this entire goddamn planet worthy of anyone’s time or attention.”
I rub her shoulder as Vyla puts a gin and tonic in front of me and a martini in front of Lindsay. This is the second drink for me and the third for her. I had to quickly make her aware of the existence of monsters in Mapletown in the car between the house and the bar. She showed up at the house, sobbing, tossed her bags inside the front door, and grabbed my hand. There would be no pizza in our immediate future. She wasn’t hungry. The only thing she wanted to do was drink her sorrows away.
I had no choice but to follow along and look for breaks in the conversation to dump my three pieces of news. To my shock, she didn’t seem to care much about the first piece.
“You mean, like, werewolves and shit?” she asked as we pulled into the parking lot of the Fast Glass.
“Yeah, and lots of other species of monster. They’re real, and they live here. The owner of the bar is a zombie,” I explained. “But hedoesn’teat human brains, so don’t worry.”
I don’t think she believed me at first, since she nodded and said, “As long as none of them hit on me and then ghost me immediately after, whatever. It’s cool.”
