The XXX Files Season Two (Episodes 5-8) (4 page)

 
Each of the girl’s stories was stitched with similar thread: the girls couldn’t put their fingers on it, but each felt somehow watched, and had for a while. It was hard to figure out when it all started since no one said anything out loud until two weeks earlier when Carli Hope was stepping out of the shower and got smacked with “like a cup of spunk” on her right nipple. The day after that, Lindsey Jensen took what at first looked like a slightly smaller load on the face, almost immediately followed by a much larger second. Then there were a few days where nothing else happened with the spunk, at least not directly on the girls. But it was
everywhere
in the locker room, and no matter what they did or where they went on campus, the girls always felt like they were being ... observed.
 

One theory, introduced by a stunning brunette named Regina Gorman — whom Courtney prayed Brad didn’t see — suggested that the ghost peeper was all a setup from the faculty because the sisters at Saint Ursula thought so many of the girls who attended the school had loose morals, and told them so often. Regina figured the ghost jacker was their way of scaring the coeds into curbing their behavior.
 

But that theory didn’t sit well with Carli or Lindsey, both who felt the sticky heat of the ghost loads on their skin, and had a hard time believing the sisters had anything to do with it, or with any of the handful of girls who would be happy to swear on a high stack of bibles they were being watched as they masturbated, otherwise alone in their room.
 

Courtney was glad she thought to ask the first girl, freshman Lucy Sandoval, if she ever felt watched when she masturbated. It seemed almost out of line, except that she needed answers, worked for Division 69, and didn’t want Brad to take over that part of the investigation. It took some goading, but eventually Lucy came clean.
 

“Yeah,” she said, red faced and nodding. “I had to stop doing it. When I first got to school it used to be a great way for me to release stress, especially around finals — who has time for a relationship — but now I always feel creepy.”
 

“How did you know you were being watched?”
 

Lucy stared into space for a minute, taking forever to answer. Finally, she shrugged and said, “I don’t know, exactly. I just did. I’d swear on my life that there was someone in the room.”
 

It was a bold statement, echoed by several other girls. One of the girls, Jenna Lewis, who had larger features and a smaller body than all the other girls, admitted to feeling the presence, but actually liking it.

“Yeah, I could totally feel someone in the room, but I just pretended I was on a webcam, which has always been a fantasy of mine, anyway. I sat in a chair in the corner, with one leg draped over each side. Normally I like to finger myself with the lights off, but I have no idea if ghosts can see in the dark so I started masturbating with the lights on instead. The first time I just used my fingers, but the feeling of being watched got me so wet, now I’m using some pretty large toys. You know how it is.”
 

Courtney didn’t. Brad couldn’t watch her doing anything for more than a few seconds before he was climbing her like a tree. Jenna’s roommate didn’t get it either.
 

“I feel like the ghost is camping out in our place. I can always feel him watching, probably because Jenna’s always sitting in the corner with the lights on, fucking herself with something giant and gross.”
 

The problem with the ghost jacker, like all ghosts, was that he didn’t leave clues. No matter how forthcoming the girls were, it was impossible for Courtney to separate truth from fiction. There was no starting point since anything the ghost did outside of shooting his spunk could either have a hundred other explanations, or simply be a figment of a girl’s imagination. Other than yards of crusted cream in the locker room, Courtney had nothing to go on.
 

She decided to bring the questioning into reality. After finishing all the short, individual interviews, Courtney left the sacred space, returned to the multipurpose room, and asked the group of girls a general question.
 

“Has anyone seen anything that could be considered far more normal than a ghost, yet still it strikes you as odd?”
 

“What do you mean?” Lindsey asked.
 

“Like someone you’ve seen on campus who seems like they don’t belong. Or maybe someone who works here at Saint Ursula — either support staff or faculty — who has been behaving uncharacteristically.” After a second she added, “Or maybe someone on a date doing something strange?”
 

“All of my dates do stuff that’s strange,” Carli said.
 

Jenna piped, “That’s not what she meant.” She turned to Courtney. “That could be said of any of the dudes who work here. They’re all so pent up from working around the sisters, and seeing all girls bouncing all the time, they all seem like they could boil over at any minute.

“Jenna!” her roommate exclaimed.
 

“Well, it’s true,” Jenna said.

“Agent Grayson?” Lucy raised her hand.
 

“Yes?”
 

“I think the janitor, Mr. Gellar is
super
creepy. And he’s
always
staring at us. I’m sure he would turn invisible if he could.”
 

A chorus of agreement circled through the room. Courtney said her thanks, then left to find both Brad and the janitor.
 

She was out of the multipurpose room for maybe 10 steps when she saw Brad walking toward her, wearing a long purple jacket, buttoned at the middle but still showing his strong bare chest beneath. He also wore a large wide-brimmed hat with a feather sticking out from the top.
 

“Are you kidding me?” Courtney said, trying not to laugh. “Why are you dressed as a pimp?”
 

Brad said, “Because the only clothes I could find were in the Drama Department, and these were the only duds in my size. I guess this means the sisters see all guys as pimps.”
 

“Why did you need new clothes?”
 

Brad looked like he wished she hadn’t asked, then said, “Because I was interviewing one of the girls who thought she saw something — she totally didn’t, she just wanted to ask me if I’d ever fired my gun, then when I said yes she wanted to know if I had ever killed anyone — then midway through the interview I got splashed with like a gallon of ghost goo. Most of it got on me, but the girl got some too. Right on her cheek. She went to her room to clean up.
 

Courtney looked at Brad, suspicious, “Why would the ghost jacker spooge all over you, totally out of the blue? Were you interviewing a naked coed?”

“No,” Brad said. His face turned three shades of red as he changed the subject. “What did you get?”

“Nothing really,” Courtney shrugged. “The girls all feel like they’re being watched, both in the shower and in their rooms during their alone time.”

“Oh?” Brad raised his eyebrows. “Tell me more.”
 

“There’s nothing else to tell, jerk. They feel like they’re being watched. That’s it. I think most of the girls are having a hard time believing the ghost is real, despite the locker room full of crusted sperm.”
 

“Spunk, sponge, jizz, cum, baby batter, cocksnot, spoo, dick cream, man glue, nut butter, ball juice, hot milk — any of those will work, but no one says sperm, Grayson. It makes you sound old.”
 

“Jesus Christ, Brad! What’s wrong with you?”
 

“Cock vomit,” he said.

Courtney ignored Brad’s vulgarity, and told him what the girls said about the janitor.
 

“Well
that
sounds like a lead,” he said. “So I take it we’re on our way to go find Mr. Mopup?”
 

“Yes,” Courtney said. “His name is Mr. Gellar. If we can’t find him sweeping up at Saint Ursula, then I suggest we go to his residence since he’s our best lead and I’d love to put this to bed.”
 

“Yeah,” Brad nodded. “ME, too. Let’s get going.” He pulled the hat lower on his head so the feather pointed straight in front of him.

“Do you have to wear that? I mean the hat, too?”
 

“Yup,” Brad said. “It matches.” He paused, then turned to Courtney. “Unless you want me to go naked?”
 

“Leave it on,” she said.
 

XXX

CHAPTER 5 — Brad Hammer

Brad was relieved that Courtney had abandoned her questioning so quickly
 
but had to wonder if it was because she believed him, or because she didn’t.
 

If trust was MIA between them, everything else would crumble in its wake. Even though he
knew
that, and would never do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Courtney on purpose, at least if not for the Red Breath inside him, the vapor was thick in his blood. Brad couldn’t help being an asshole.
 

He had to stop lying. The worst thing he could do would be to continue down his current path. If he didn’t stop soon he would end up in the same cycle was before, likely finding himself back at Adeline’s a few houses down, banging a waitress that was just good looking enough — and with a tight enough pussy — to make him willing to tolerate some of the world’s worst dirty talk.
 

They looked for Gellar in the storage room, but the janitor wasn’t there. Everything seemed neat and orderly and smelled of Pine-Sol. Gellar was apparently anal to the extreme. Every shelf was neatly lined with cleaning supplies, with every row exactly even with the one behind it, every label facing front.
 

“Wow,” Brad said, pointing at the supplies. “Even if this guy isn’t our ghost jacker, I still think he needs help.”
 

“No shit,” Courtney said, barely paying attention as she looked around the tiny room.

Brad said, “What exactly are we looking for?”
 

Courtney ran a finger along the wall then brought it to her eyes, apparently saw nothing, then turned to Brad. “I’m not sure. I guess anything to show us that this is our guy. Whatever the ghost is doing in the locker room, he’s not doing it in here.”
 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to shoot spoo in his sacred space.” Brad laughed.
 

Courtney ignored him. “He’s the one who has to clean it all up, though,” she said. “Why would he want to do that?”
 

“Maybe it’s part of the ritual? Maybe he likes to clean up his own sperm?” Brad laughed before he finished saying the word sperm.

“I don’t see it,” Courtney said. “Wouldn’t that just feel like more of his job?”
 

“Maybe,” Brad said. “Maybe not. I knew a guy once who was obsessed with his cum. He would jack off three times a day just to drink it. I walked in on him one time, he was totally upside down, trying to jack off into his mouth. Fucker finished right when I was walking in. He scooped that goo right off his face and into his mouth.”
 

Courtney rolled her eyes, but Brad went on anyway.

“He even told me he sometimes liked to order shit from restaurants, then go to the bathroom, make some secret sauce, then drizzle it on his food and eat it in front of everyone.”

Courtney stared at Brad, shaking her head. “That’s my story, Hammer. Not yours. And it was Ricky Barnes, the kid who ate that mutagen and could cum like 20 times a day. He told us about the restaurant food when we questioned him together, and
I
walked in on him in the holding cell when he was upside down. You weren’t even there.”
 

“Oh, yeah,” Brad said. “Same difference. The dude was still obsessed with his own cum.”
 

“It’s not the same. Ricky Barnes liked it wet, and never had to scrape it from a metal locker.”
 

“So you don’t think this is our guy?”
 

“I’m not saying that,” Courtney said. “Just that I don’t know.”
 

“Well let’s go find out.”
 

“Let’s.”
 

Brad left the janitor’s closet with Courtney a step behind. After a quick stop at the office to get Gellar’s address, the agents left Saint Ursula, drove across town, and 27 minutes later were pounding on Gellar’s front door.

No answer.
 

“Are you going to give me shit if I go in?” he asked Courtney, knowing she would, being the stickler for rules that she was.
 

“Seriously, Courtney — if this is our guy, he’s invisible. We’ll
never
get an answer. If he’s not, then we’ll get to see how the other half lives.”
 

“The other half of what?”

“Come on, Courtney. Please?”
 

“Fine.”
 

A minute later Brad had the door opened and they were both stepping inside his apartment. Three minutes later Brad called out, “I don’t see any hot vanilla, fresh or dried. You?”