Southern Spirits (19 page)

Now he looked up, past Cat to Belle. ‘One night, though, circumstances had me sleeping in an abandoned railway depot and in a forgotten locomotive that had seen better days.' His face grew pale. ‘That was the first time she talked to me, whispered her name. Oh, at first I dismissed it as a dream, the product of a vivid imagination. But I stuck around and felt more, in other abandoned carriages. I watched and listened and learnt.'

Cat's gaze followed his, to the great silver and red locomotive that sat nearby. ‘Learnt what?'

‘That spirits permeate the Deep South. The families have as many skeletons buried beneath them as do the antebellum
mansions and the ruined mills, the battle sites and the abandoned graveyards. The past, and those from the past, are unignorable. And that Belle did more than just carry departed spirits. She could employ the living to help the dead. Valentina and Enrique were killed, and their bodies buried anonymously somewhere along one of these railway lines. Their spirits can't rest until they're found and identified. And that's . . . where I came in.'

‘And that's what this is all about? Then why not just go ahead and do that? Why renovate everything and go into the swingers' party business? Why not get a team of scientists onboard to investigate?'

‘Because Belle didn't want to be studied. She wanted to be restored. And it made sense, as she needed people onboard, people who might be receptive enough to pick up on the vibrations.' He sighed. ‘In case you hadn't noticed, there's a residing theme to the experiences: arousal and sex. The energies generated during sex are potent, used in magical ceremonies for millennia. They can touch us to our very core, strip us of our facades and leave us open, vulnerable.' He smiled. ‘At least, if done right. And so, I observe and listen, and look for clues.'

‘Uh-huh,' she replied finally, amazed at how much she was accepting.

‘I know how it sounds,' he confessed. ‘And I readily admit that the séances and ghost stories are fictitious. But this is real. And it's given me a chance.'

‘A chance at what?'

He paused. ‘Enrique was a better man than I've ever been. I've looked through his eyes, felt his deep abiding love and passion for Valentina, a love and passion that was more important to him than his own life. It's something I've never experienced myself.' His gaze dropped, embarrassment and honesty stark on his face. ‘If I can do this for him, for both of
them, then maybe I don't have to be . . . what I am. I can be something better, too.' He smiled. ‘This was meant to be. I was drawn to Belle, as you were.'

Cat stared. She'd been trying, almost desperately, to see the angle behind all this. Was it about money? He'd turned down hers and Nathan's offer from their ‘employers'. Was it about getting into her pants? It seemed unnecessarily complicated for that. Was he simply delusional? If so, then how did he induce these incidents in her? ‘What do you want from me, Jack?'

He smiled. ‘I don't know if I should ask. I don't want to get into trouble with Mr Ames. He seems the possessive type.'

‘He doesn't possess me,' she snorted. ‘No one does.'

‘Indeed?' He smiled at her. ‘It's hot, and I'm going for a swim. Want to join me?'

She didn't answer, wordlessly following as he gathered his materials and walked around the outside of the graveyard to the edge of the lake, a cul-de-sac partly hidden from the rest of the passengers at the far end. A dark canopy of foliage hung over the water, a haven for a swarm of insects overhead, ignoring the two below as Wheeler sat on a moss-covered rock and began removing his shoes. ‘Well? You never said if you were joining me.'

‘No, I didn't. Is it safe here? No 'gators, I mean.'

He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘No 'gators, no snakes. Just spirits.'

Cat watched as he cast aside the shirt, revealing the tanned compact chest with the curls in the centre and the tiny dark nipples, and then rose to his feet and unbuckled his belt. He slid his jeans off his legs, revealing tight white briefs that hugged his cock and balls.

Her hands moved to her blouse, pulling it over her head without unbuttoning it, even as she kicked off her pumps,
feeling the soft wet earth beneath her feet. She slid out of her slacks as she watched him slip off his briefs, his cock emerging, alert and ready, seemingly thickening more as she stared boldly at it, but he made no move to get closer to her.

Suddenly, as if overcome by Old World courtesy, he announced, ‘I'll let you follow when you're ready.' He turned and rushed into the water, making noises suggesting it was colder than he had expected.

Cat steeled herself, finding it a little more difficult to undress in the open, even if no one else could see them. But the air felt lovely on her exposed skin, and the water looked even more inviting. She slipped out of her panties and bra and followed him, feeling her feet sink into the silt beneath them as she rushed to reach a water level that would give her some cover. As she suspected, the water was cool, and her nipples scowled, but when she was waist high, she dipped down until she wet herself up to her throat.

Wheeler turned around, openly admiring her. ‘If I were Mr Ames, I would never let you get out of my sight.'

Cat smiled, rising up until her breasts were exposed to the air, and his eyes. She was enjoying the reaction she was getting from him more than she had expected. ‘You can't control cats. They do what they want.'

‘So I've noticed.' He splashed her, making her curse and splash him back. They half-swam, half-played like that, occasionally acknowledging the people at the far end who waved to them. The smells of cooking were beginning to reach them, making Cat hungry despite the breakfast she'd had.

And whenever Wheeler touched her, ostensibly as part of their playing, she hungered for more, reminding herself of how she'd denied herself relief that morning. Damn, she should have come up with an excuse when she'd been with Nathan in the berth!

After a time, he made a show of pursuing her, and she halfstumbled to escape his clutches, shrieking and giggling as he chased her out of the water and onto the bank near their clothes, both of them collapsing, rolling over each other, Wheeler behind her.

Then she felt his hand around her, holding one of her breasts, squeezing it appreciatively. ‘Hey.'

He whirled her around to face him, to look up at him as he kissed her lips. He didn't loosen his grip on her until he felt her soften beneath his kiss, felt her lips give way and part. He held her tightly until she mouthed something.

When he drew back, still holding her, Cat's head spun as she sought her voice. ‘What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

‘You want me to stop?' His hand reached up between them and touched her breast again, playing with the nipple.

She said nothing, feeling his cock throb again, against her thigh, as if reacting to the warmth she knew was building up down there. It was wearing her down like a hurricane wind against a flimsy cabin wall. He bent down and kissed her again, this time his tongue slipping in and brushing along hers. He moaned his pleasure before leaving her mouth to move his lips along the length of her throat, drawing her hair up and out of the way, using the gentle weight of his body on hers, as his hands moved to the front of her body, sliding up and down her breasts.

She didn't have to go this far, she told herself. She could still do her job and keep him at a proverbial arm's length. She swallowed as his hand rolled a nipple between his fingers. He shifted against her so that his erection now pressed between her legs, but he made no effort to get closer to penetration. But she parted her thighs a little wider to give him some space.

Her body was beginning to respond, a recipient to his attentions, swelling and moistening to complement his own desire.
As he ground his body, his shaft, against her sex, she could not deny the intense sensations of the touch against her clitoris. Her nipples burned beneath his tongue as he sucked on them, catching them between his teeth, his fingers stroking her body, moving downwards, as his lips moved back to hers. He was back on her mouth as he shifted off her body to lie close beside her, and his hand reached her bush, stroking downwards, downwards, letting Cat part her own thighs and raise her knees until her feet sunk into the mud for purchase.

Wheeler cupped her pussy with his hand as continued to kiss her. Cat's head spun like a dervish, and the heat seemed to radiate from her whole body as if she'd been set on fire. His tongue danced out and ran along her mouth, occasionally taking one of her lips between his and sucking gently, smiling as her pelvis thrust up against his hand, demanding attention. He pulled back and watched her face as his fingers stroked and parted her folds, bringing a wider smile to his face as he felt how wet she was.

Cat couldn't quite believe, or at least couldn't quite accept, that she was letting it happen. A finger slipped easily inside, and he drew it out slowly, taking obvious pleasure in the feeling of it and the sound it made. She sought out rationalisations – part of the cover, a means of distracting the target – but then wondered why she was bothering, as she wallowed indulgently and pushed her pelvis up automatically to meet his descending finger, repeatedly.

Wheeler worked his touch faster and faster, sometimes using two fingers, gently pinching and rubbing her clit, or a thumb once or twice. Cat's moans were louder, her hips shuddering as she rode tiny climaxes, but she tried to avoid the maximum sensation which could send her too quickly over the edge. She felt her juices seeping down her slit towards her rear. Her breasts rose and fell with the waves of bliss, faster and faster
as the ripples ebbed out from her thighs, and her breath felt ragged. She closed her eyes and let herself be all sound, all touch, driving her conscience further from her body with every second his hand worshipped her sex. When she cried out in ecstasy, the sounds seemed to join the sounds of the bayou around them.

Afterwards, they lay side by side, Cat's head cradled in the crook of his arm. She stared down at his cock, which had softened and settled against his thigh, like an obedient dog awaiting the call of its master. The animal heat of her orgasm had faded, and her voice sounded strange. ‘What do you really want, Jack?'

‘I want to try an experiment.'

She sat up. ‘Experiment?'

‘There's a place in the games carriage that used to be a private berth where Val and Mickey stayed, and I think contains a pivotal moment in their history. We can recreate what she heard and felt, let you connect with her.'

‘And give you a chance to “connect” with me?' she asked with a smirk.

‘We won't actually have to fuck. Reaching a state of arousal can be sufficient, not actual sex; we both know that one can do the latter without ever attaining the former. However, should you actually want to fuck at any stage of the experiment, you have but to ask.'

It made sense – as much as any of this supernatural bullshit made sense. Still . . . ‘Ask, eh?'

‘Ask. Beg.'

Her smirk descended into a snort. ‘I never beg,
pendejo.
'

The church near the graveyard was a gutted Gothic miniature, something suitable for whatever town had been nearby, but no longer. The passengers who had attended Faye's lectures
and ghost stories now filed out to return to the food and the swimming.

Nathan waited until everyone had departed before returning inside. It was a dark, almost claustrophobic interior, the walls cracked and weed strewn from decades of surrender to the elements. Faye Scott stood on a raised step by the altar, cast in a Jacob's ladder of yellow light that shone through her dress. ‘I thought you'd left, Mr Ames.'

‘It's Nathan. And I wanted to apologise to you for last night.'

‘Forget it.'

Her tone suggested that he shouldn't press further, so he didn't. ‘And to compliment you on your performance. Very informative.'

She snorted. ‘It was a crock of shit. We don't know anything about this place; I just made it all up when we were scouting for suitable locations for the tour.'

‘Very entertaining, then.'

She smiled. ‘I'll accept that.' She rested her hands on the edge of the altar behind her, looking him over. ‘Let's fuck.'

Nathan stopped. ‘You're not one for overtures, are you?'

‘Who has time? Life's too short – and for that matter, so's the weekend, for the money we charge people. We know we're all onboard to fuck, or to watch others fuck. Indulge in everything, deny yourself nothing. Those are my rules.' She smirked. ‘Of course, some of us are here for more than that, aren't we?'

Nathan continued approaching. ‘Jack told you why we really boarded? And that he turned down our offer?'

Faye nodded, her expression turning serious. ‘But before you leave, you should know that he won't be in charge for long. And you'll find you can deal more easily with me.'

Nathan was almost upon her, breathing in the blossom scent
of her hair, admiring those lips, while trying to remain casual and not to react to her words. ‘Is Jack selling Southern Spirits?'

She smiled, her hands reaching out to touch his waist and hips. ‘Yes. He just doesn't know it yet. You might want to keep the news to yourself until he's signed the papers.' Her hand reached the bulge in his trousers. ‘You're almost as excited as I am about that, aren't you?'

Nathan swallowed. He had reluctantly agreed to go along as Cat had wanted, learning more from this woman about the operation. And it wasn't as if the woman wasn't attractive as hell, or that he couldn't respond to her. But his words to Cat about getting too intimately involved with the suspects of an operation came back to haunt him. ‘I'm excited that I might get a bonus for securing this deal. But I want more information on any existing arrangements.'