The Ghost of "Gramps"; or La Petite Mort

By JealousPervert
published October 14, 2019
5912 words
Summary

An unlikely story of phantasmic horror and eroticism, perfect for Halloween. :)

It was late evening when Joey arrived at the old bed and breakfast secreted in a small, dull town near the border where Maryland, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia met. The occasion of his visit was not a glad one; his grandmother had recently passed away, and her memorial was scheduled at the tiny Baptist church where she had been a regular devotee.

The old B&B had been nearly impossible to find; the GPS on his phone was of little help out here, requiring that he ask directions when he stopped for food. Even the website he used to make his reservation was primitive and barely functional, though the photos did not do the place justice. The house was large and stately, and just dilapidated enough to be considered charming.

“Sorry I’m so late,” Joey said to the young man checking him in. “I had no idea this place was so far off the beaten path. Got lost a few times.”

“We were getting worried, Mr. Thornton,” the attendant lilted, smiling. “I’m Anthony. And, actually, I need to apologize, too. We had to do some last-minute repairs in the room you reserved, so we’ve got you in the attic loft. I hope that’ll be okay? It’s the one area we have yet to renovate, so we don’t usually put guests up there.”

“Yeah, fine,” Joey said. Any bed would do at this point.

“Very good. It’s non-smoking, of course,” Anthony added.

“Sure.”

“The owners feel very strongly that you are not to smoke in the room,” he said sternly.

“Not a problem,” Joey affirmed. “I quit years ago. I’ll behave,” he joked lightly, hoping to defuse the attendant’s concern.

After receiving his key, and being oriented to the location of the room and the breakfast hours, Joey lugged his bags up the main staircase and then to a much narrower set of stairs that took him to the attic door (hung with a small sign that read NO SMOKING PLEASE). He opened it and was immediately impressed by the size of his accommodations. The decor and furniture was antiquated, though in good condition; his one complaint, if he had one, was that the room carried the faint aroma of old tobacco smoke. Perhaps the previous guest had failed to comply with the policy, he supposed.

He kicked off his shoes and plunked himself down on the ample bed, which absorbed his weight with a creak, and texted his fiance, Jim.

JOEY: made it finally

it’s old but not too shabby

they put me in the attic

JIM: glad ur alive, babe

I think I read a book about that once

JOEY: communal bathroom too :(

kinda cute guy at the desk

very serious tho

definitely gay

JIM: not as cute as u

pics?

JOEY: didn’t take one

not a perv like some guys I know

JIM: pics of ur room I mean :)

I wanna see where they’re keeping u captive

Joey rose and obliged by snapping several photos of the room: it’s fancy wallpaper, the heavy drapes, its old furnishings, and an obligatory shot of himself in the mirror. He hit send.

JIM: nice

who is that guy tho?

JOEY: ??

JIM: behind u in mirror

Joey took a closer look at the photo of himself and almost dropped his phone. Standing behind him on the other side of the room was the blurred image of a large, burly man in clothing that looked at least a century out of date.

JOEY: HOLY SHIT!!

MY ROOM IS HAUNTED

JIM: OMG FUCK THAT

I mean

that’s kinda cool actually

looks like a hot ghost daddy

JOEY: I guess???

fucking hell

JIM: get a different room?

JOEY: Only one they had :(

And it’s too late to book elsewhere

JIM: u okay?

JOEY: Kinda freaked out

But also too tired to care

JIM: still tho

u gonna be able to sleep??

JOEY: Yeah I’m beat

If I die tell the puppies I love them

JIM: if u die you can haunt us and tell em urself

but don’t die. I love u

JOEY: Love you too honey

JIM: u should ask about the ghost

find out how he died

JOEY: I will in the morning

Goodnight baby

JIM: gnight

let me know u survived

JOEY: I will

xoxo

Joey put down his phone and said to the air, “I’m sorry if I’m in your room, sir, but they put me in here. I’ll be leaving soon, I promise. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’m just a guy in town for his grandma’s funeral and it’s bad enough that I have to see all the homophobes on her side of the family. I’m just going to sleep here, if that’s all right with you. We friends?” There was no answer, of course, so Joey just said, “All right then, cool. Just don’t kill me.” He retreated to the bathroom down the hall where he washed his face and brushed his teeth. Upon his return to the room, he looked in the wardrobe and under the bed (just in case) before undressing. He turned off the light but left the drapes open; the moon was nearly full and bathed the room in subtle, silvery light. “Okay, gonna go to bed now,” he announced. Again, there was no response. He climbed into bed and loaded a DVD into his laptop to wind down, but fell asleep just ten minutes in.

He dreamed of the ghost. He imagined a towering man with a magnificently bushy handlebar moustache emerging through the wall in an old suit, with eyes that were authoritative but too kind to be frightening. The gentleman puffed on a large cigar as he stood over him and caressed his head and his body. His touch was light, ethereal, and warm. “Let me have your body,” he growled, as he smoked his cigar and began playing with Joey’s balls. “It’s been so long and I’ve been so lonely. Let me take care of you, boy. You can trust me.” Joey gazed into the man’s pale blue eyes; he couldn’t move, and didn’t want to. The man’s touch felt so good, his cigar smelled so good. His dick stood at attention as the stranger stroked it, gently at first, but then more intently. The man drew hard on his cigar, and leaned in to kiss him. Joey surrendered to the blissful feeling of the man’s furry face against his, the rich taste of hiss smoke. The ghost moved his head down Joey’s body, sucking his nipples tenderly, then kissing his abdomen. He took another pull on the cigar before plunging Joey’s cock into his smoky maw. He sucked expertly, and the two made intense eye contact as Joey bucked his hips, and came.

He awoke that morning feeling refreshed, recalling his dream with unusual clarity and then noting that his underwear was caked with dry cum. Wow. He hadn’t had a wet dream since college.

He looked at his phone. The funeral was in three hours. He texted Jim.

JOEY: Good morning honey

JIM: ur alive!!!

JOEY: For now

We’ll see how the service goes

JIM: no screams in the night or blood on the walls?

JOEY: Nope

Slept great actually

JIM: that’s almost disappointing lol

not that u slept well I mean

I hope everything goes okay

if they’re cunty u don’t have to stay

JOEY: I’m sure I’ll be fine babe

I stopped caring a long time ago

JIM: ok fag :)

love u!!!

Charlie and Daisy miss u

JOEY: Love u too fag

Aww

Kiss them for me

Joey draped himself in a complimentary robe and stole down the the bathroom to toilet and shower, feeling aroused again as he parsed his dream. Obviously, he had conjured the ghost from his anxieties of the night before, and the cigar was undoubtedly a symbol for oral sex, perhaps brought to mind by the discussion about smoking in the room and the smell that continued to linger there. Finished, he returned to his room, dressed himself in his suit, and made his way downstairs for breakfast.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, but did take some coffee, and he had to admit it was among the best he’d ever had. As he savored the warm, bitter brew, he suddenly yearned for a cigarette. He sighed, still able to almost recall the cigar smoke from the dream, how complex and satisfying it tasted… No. The stress at the prospect of seeing his family was probably getting to him, he thought, and he’d be damned if they pushed him to relapse!

Seeking to distract himself by taking notice of the decor in the dining room, he spied an old cabinet that held a few items of historic interest and, upon examining them more closely, noticed a pipe, some spectacles, and cufflinks belonging to the former master of the estate. These had been placed carefully alongside an aged sepia photograph of the man, who looked exactly like the “ghost” in his dream!

“That would be Colonel Chadwick Cubbage,” Anthony said from behind, causing Joey to jump. “How did you sleep, Mr. Thornton?”

“Uh, fine,” Joey answered. “Thanks.”

“Oh good,” the attendant said, apparently relieved. (Had he expected a different answer?)

“What can you tell me about him? Colonel Cubbage?” Joey asked, indicating the photo.

“Just that he owned the place. The attic was his old study, I’m told. Um…” His voice dropped and he said quietly, “Sometimes people say they sense a presence, or they think they’ve seen him. Why, did you see him?”

“What, you mean like his.. ghost? Or something?”

Anthony’s expression turned very serious again. “You remembered not to smoke in the–”

“No, dude, I didn’t smoke! But since you mentioned it, the room does smell of it a little. I just want to go on the record that it wasn’t me, all right? I don’t want to be charged extra.”

The young attendant nodded. “I hear you. We’ve tried cleaning it but it never quite goes away. They say the Colonel smoked quite a lot up there, and it probably seeped into the plaster over the years. If it bothers you–”

“It doesn’t, but I’d like to know if you gave me a room where someone was murdered or killed themselves. It’s a peace of mind thing, you know?”

Anthony gasped and said, “Oh, no, nothing like that! From what I understand, the Colonel died in this house, alone, of natural causes. He never married or had children, and the place changed hands a few times until the current owners turned it into a B&B. I’ve never seen anything weird myself, but I’ve only been working here a few months, and only rarely at night. The folks who’ve been here a while call him ‘Gramps.’ And every so often a guest will claim to have seen a glimpse of him out of the corner of their eye, but rarely more than that, so he seems pretty harmless. You’re right, though, I should have mentioned it, but I didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily, especially under the circumstances.”

“It’s fine,” Joey said. “This coffee was almost worth the trip, anyway, so I can’t complain all that much.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments. Will you be checking out now, or later?”

Joey looked at the time. “No, thanks, I’ll take care of it when I get back. My stuff is still up there. Thanks for the history lesson, Anthony. You, uh, should probably disclose the ghost thing on your website; I’m sure some people would actually love the idea of a haunted room. Anyway, I need to get going. I’ll see you later.”

“All right. Be careful driving; the forecast this afternoon looks pretty bad.”

“Oh, perfect,” Joey said dryly. “I will, thanks.”

The church wasn’t any easier to find than his lodging had been, and even though he had given himself plenty of time, Joey grew increasingly anxious at the uncertainty of his whereabouts and after multiple wrong turns. Again, he found himself tempted to stop at a gas station and buy some cigarettes. He could smoke just one, just to take the edge off, and throw the rest away… Ugh, no. He knew himself better than that, and he was already too pressed for time.

He pulled into the churchyard with only a few minutes to spare. He recognized two of his cousins, who were having a smoke before the service, and this only aggravated his reawakened cravings further. Maybe he could bum one…? But as he got out of his car, the idea vanished as the men deliberately turned away from him.

Joey was barely acknowledged when he walked inside. “We didn’t expect you to actually be here,” his aunt Nancy said, her smile forced and icy. “At least you had the decency to come alone, so thank you for that.”

“Yeah, well. She was my grandmother, so.”

“She was a godly woman, and this is a godly house.”

“God is love,” Joey retorted with acerbic sweetness, and moved past her to find a seat away from the small, mostly elderly crowd. He did not care to see his grandmother’s body up close. He preferred to remember her as the kind and loving person he knew in childhood, before life had gotten complicated. He used to be her favorite; she would read him Bible stories, and take him apple picking, and she baked the best raisin cookies on the planet. Even her later condemnation of his “lifestyle” had been couched in concern for his soul. She genuinely worried for him, and that meant she still did care about him, even if it hurt.

The preacher spoke blandly of Jesus’s promise of eternal life, how his grandmother had gone home, all the customary platitudes to comfort the grieving with somber nods all around. There was a hymn, and a prayer, and many tears. When the service was finished, Joey was first out the door, and waited in his car to follow the procession to the burial site. Fortunately it was just up the road.

Folding chairs had been arranged on the grass where his grandmother was to be interred. He claimed one on the outer edge; he might as well have been dead himself, the way everyone else ignored him. When it would be his turn to die, he thought darkly, not one of these people would visit him beforehand or come after to pay their respects. But back home at least he had friends and the family he had made for himself, and they would mourn and celebrate him in spectacular fashion the way only true old queens could. He thought again of the “ghost,” and what if anything lay beyond death, and wondered if he would become a ghost too. Did ghosts still have sex, as his dream the night before had suggested? Ha, he sure hoped so – and despite the solemn and morbid occasion he found himself getting aroused again.

Once everything had concluded, he walked back to his car. He was ready to go home, where real love was waiting.

But just as Anthony had warned, the sky darkened over with gunmetal clouds as he drove back to the bed and breakfast, and before he knew it the rain started pelting the earth in heavy sheets, forcing him to drive with extra caution. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the wheel tightly, his eyes dazzled by frequent flickers of lightning that were accompanied immediately by peals of thunder. The downpour had soon inundated the country roads, and it took Joey much longer to arrive at his destination than he anticipated. Steeling himself, he ran inside, but was soaked within seconds.

“You weren’t kidding about the weather,” he said to Anthony. “Holy crap.”

“Are you sure you want to drive through this?” The attendant asked. “It’s not supposed to let up for hours.”

“Ugh. I’d better not. I could barely see out there.”

“It’s no trouble to extend your stay, if you’d like.”

Joey sighed in resignation. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Thanks.” He slunk up to his room, his shoes squishing. Once sequestered, he peeled off his wet clothing, hung it carefully over some chairs, and changed into something dry.

JOEY: hey babe

JIM: hey babe

u ok? how’d it go?

JOEY: meh

JIM: go on…

JOEY: I don’t know why I try. They basically treated me like I was the dead one, minus the tears. All in all about what I expected.

JIM: I’m sorry Jojo :(

u deserve so much better

r u glad u went?

JOEY: Not really, but it would have felt worse not to, I think. At least I can say I tried.

JIM: I love u for trying

it’s who u are

JOEY: thank you honey

that means a lot

JIM: weather channel says there are bad storms up there

JOEY: omg it’s fucking awful out

I don’t think I can drive in this

Will you be ok if I stay another night?

JIM: of course babe

u know how I worry!!

and besides gays can’t drive lol

probably safer with the ghost than on the road :)

JOEY: yes I do :)

I love you for worrying

The ghost says hi btw

JIM: tell him I said boo

JOEY: Haha I will

Txt you tomorrow when I leave

JIM: ok honey

sending long distance hugs

JOEY: Thank you

I feel better already

Ok I’m starving, gonna find food

JIM: good hunting babe

ttyl

Downstairs, at Joey’s request the cook was kind enough to put together a turkey sandwich with some fruit, which he ate with relish. Outside, the rain showed no sign of slowing. He went back to his room, fired up his laptop, and continued watching his movie where it left off, until he dozed off again.

When he next opened his eyes, his room was dark save for glow of the moon. He looked at his phone, which indicated it was already 11:59 PM. The storm’s furor had passed and all seemed tranquil; however, at some point the bed and breakfast had evidently lost power, which Joey discovered only when he tried to turn on the light and nothing happened. “Fuck me,” he sighed.

Then he smelled smoke, and he knew he wasn’t alone. A strong pair of hands – one of them with a thick cigar nub held between its hairy knuckles, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him against the warm, solid bulk of the intruder. (Although technically he was the intruder here.)

The ghost of the Colonel kissed his neck and breathed into his ear, “I knew you’d be back, boy.” His hands slid down Joey’s chest, cupped his pecs, and tenderly teased his left nipple through the fabric of his shirt with the moist butt of the stogie.

“I’m dreaming,” Joey murmured, his surprised mixed with delight in the man’s presence and touch. Two sex dreams in a row! He hoped this one would be as good as the first.

The ghost moved the cigar up to Joey’s mouth and said, “Shh, boy, and smoke this for me. You need it.” Joey hesitated only a moment (it was just a dream, after all) before parting his lips and accepting the offer. He puffed the Colonel’s cigar and tasted the rich tobacco and warm, dense smoke as the stress he had been carrying immediately evaporated. God, it felt good. How he’d missed it!

Meanwhile the ghost kissed the nape of Joey’s neck, his thick handlebar moustache giving him pleasurable goosebumps. His right hand continued to massage Joey’s chest while the other moved down to his crotch and groped his growing bulge. Joey felt the Colonel’s erection pressing against his backside, which only increased his excitement.

The Colonel turned him around, and even though it was dark Joey could see him clearly, practically aglow. He found himself transfixed by the older man’s rugged features and lost himself in the intense, masculine hunger of his gaze, as if spellbound. The ghost moved his hand past the waistband of Joey’s shorts and began to stroke his cock as the smoke from the cigar continued to waft between them. Joey was in heaven.

“That cigar looks real good on you, boy,” the Colonel said. “But then, I thought every fellow looked better smoking a cigar or pipe. It’s the true mark of a man! After a while I stopped questioning it; one should go after what he wants, after all. Yes, I taught many a lad the joys of another man’s company while smoking back in my day, right in this very room. Oh, the wonderful times I had! And even when I departed from this world, my appetite and memories kept me here, waiting for the right fellow to come along. And now I’ve got you. I’ve got my hands on your body, my smoke inside you, and you belong to me now. I can see it in your face, I can feel it as your manhood jumps in my hand. It feels good to smoke for me, doesn’t it, boy? It feels so good to give in and submit to your desires.”

“Feels.. so good…”

“Quite right, son. Enjoy the pleasure of my touch and my smoke. You needn’t worry or even think, just give in, that’s good, yes, you love this feeling. Keep looking into my eyes, and trust me, yes, yes, trust me and trust the pleasure you’re feeling right now. That’s all that matters right now. You want this. You need this. Give yourself to me, boy, yes. Dream for me, just dream for me.”

Lost in the Colonel’s eyes, the magic of his touch, and the spell of his words, Joey’s eyelids drooped and his jaw slackened. The ghost reached up to reclaim his cigar, and puffed several lazy clouds of smoke into Joey’s dazed face as he pulled his body against his.

Riding the pleasure that coursed throughout his body, Joey started automatically grinding his hips against the ghost’s firm belly, when the man pulled in a thick mouthful of smoke and kissed him, forcing the fumes into his lungs. Joey exhaled the smoke with a moan, feeling lightheaded and tingly from the tobacco, feeling the orgasm building up…

Suddenly, the ghost stopped and took a step back, chuckling. “Not quite yet, my boy. There’s but one thing missing. You want this to happen, don’t you, boy? You want me to conquer you at my most powerful, don’t you?”

Joey was weak and desperate with lust. “God, yes…” He would do anything.

The ghost smiled with mischief. “It’s very easy. All you have to do is fetch my pipe for me. It has to be given to me by a willing mortal’s hands. You know where they keep it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Joey said obediently, eager to please.

“Go on, then.”

Dreams often follow a logic all their own, and in his stupor Joey was powerless to stop himself from walking downstairs, down to the dining room where he had seen the Colonel’s pipe earlier. Were he awake, were he in control, he would never have considered taking something that didn’t belong to him… But it truly belonged to the Colonel, after all, and he wanted it, and Joey wanted to please him. He quietly opened the cabinet, withdrew the old pipe, and drifted back upstairs.

The ghost was still there, his expression expectant. Joey passed the pipe into his waiting hand, and the Colonel laughed in wicked triumph. “Reunited at last!” From his coat he produced a pouch of tobacco and filled the bowl. From the same pocket, he produced a match, and struck it with his thumb, creating an otherworldly green flame. As he puffed on the pipe, thick clouds of sweet-smelling smoke began to issue forth as Joey observed the manly ritual, rapt and desirous. The ghost inhaled deeply, and streams of smoke poured from his nostrils. “Oh, son, this feels amazing, just as good as I remember. You’ve made me so very happy, and quite excited, ha ha! Now disrobe, that I may have you properly!”

Joey complied, and then, to his shocked amazement, he began to levitate as the Colonel made a lifting gesture at him. Suspended in mid-air, he watched while the ghost removed his own dated attire, and admired his strong, hirsute form and his powerful cock, now rigid and freed from its trousers. The ghost continued puffing on his pipe, filling the room with a luminous pungent haze that electrified Joey’s senses even as it dulled his wits, and he found himself gently maneuvered into a horizontal position like a magician’s assistant during a show.

His legs were spread apart at another motion from the Colonel, and in his mind he felt invisible forces begin to stroke his entire body, teasing all of his erogenous zones at once, massaging his dick and tickling and probing his asshole as the smoke swirled all around him in mesmerizing spirals that captured the moonlight. Joey moaned and writhed, the sensations growing more and more intense as the cloud surrounding him grew thicker and he breathed it in hungrily, exhilarating in the connection of a shared vice and never wanting the feeling to end. Through the soporific fog, he watched as the Colonel slowly drew near, his eyes burning as his cock made contact with his hole, until his shaft at last penetrated Joey like a spear. Each subsequent thrust made Joey shake and bounce, each one joined by another fragrant blast from the ghost’s pipe. Joey’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and his toes curled. It was such wonderful torment to be used like this, to have his mind and body fucked so deeply, to be so thoroughly at another’s mercy.

Joey wanted to cry out, but in his state he could only whimper breathlessly. Unable to hold back, his cock spasmed and forcefully spat out several ropes of cum; but the Colonel kept thrusting, and the orgasmic waves refused to subside even after his balls had nothing left to give. He felt that time was standing still, as if he were on the edge of some all-consuming void that his imagination could only struggle to comprehend. He was helpless, and in the mind-numbing bliss of surrender he was slipping down, down…

“That’s good, boy, I’m going to take you with me,” the ghost growled. “You want that, I know you do. Your soul shall be mine, and we’ll be here forever, you and I, enjoying each other for eternity. I shall never be lonely, and you shall never be wanting, I’ll make certain of that. Just let it happen, just let go…”

[What follows next is what might have happened:]

The French invented an expression, la petite mort, to describe a powerful post-orgasmic spiritual experience that some would liken to “ego death.” In Joey’s case, he felt the distinction between his body and the smoke fading, and could only watch helplessly as he began to dissolve into a translucent vapor. He should have been horrified, but instead he felt completely placid and almost giddy, like a hypoxic pilot who is too senseless to recognize his peril and don an airmask. The Colonel then floated above him, and the last thing Joey saw were those hungry eyes as the ghost planted his hairy lips over his and sucked hard, inhaling him into his massive chest, as two became one.

The housekeeper found Joey’s body the next morning on the bed, cold and still, his cock still rigid, his face frozen in a dreamy, eternal smile. His death was later attributed to cardiac arrest. The owners of the bed and breakfast never again allowed any guests to lodge in the attic, just to be safe, and on stormy summer nights people would swear they could smell tobacco smoke and hear the ecstatic cries of two men between crashes of thunder. In the years that followed, the help continued to report occasional sightings of “Gramps” in addition to another, younger fellow they affectionately named “Junior.”

[But here’s what actually happened:]

“Just let go…” The Colonel urged.

At that moment, Joey’s phone suddenly chirped, surprising the ghost and breaking the spell. As the lights in his room flickered on, Joey fell to the ground and hit the carpet with a solid thud. His heart was racing, his head pounding. He felt cold to his core.

“What was that?” The Colonel demanded, once again fully clothed and no longer as imposing as he had been just a moment ago. Then the alert came again four more times.

“Ph–phone..” Joey gasped weakly, feeling faint.

“What? Show me.”

Joey struggled to his knees, shivering, and crawled over to the nightstand. With shaking hands he fumbled to open a series of text messages.

JIM: sorry to wake u honey

Charlie got into something on our walk and IS SHITTING ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!!!!!!

just thought u should know how we’re doing without u here

ok go back to sleep :)

love u

“Jim,” Joey whispered.

“Who?”

“M-my fiance. We’re.. g-getting married.. in October.”

“But.. Jim is a man’s name, yes?”

Joey nodded. “Four years… t-together.”

“Married?? How is that possible?”

Joey looked at the Colonel, registering his confusion. He was truly from another world, another time. And it began to dawn on him in that moment that he had not been dreaming at all! Had he really just almost been fucked to death by a ghost? Was he still in danger? It was only his utter exhaustion that saved him from total panic.

“Uh, well,” he started, struggling for words, “it– it’s allowed now, by law. All over the country. And in a lot of other countries, too. Men can marry men, women can marry women, we can adopt children. It’s, like, normal.”

“Normal??” The Colonel spurted, dumbfounded. His face assumed an expression of marvel. “Marriage… well, I never…”

Joey cleared his throat and attempted to explain. “There’s still a lot of prejudice, but we’ve come a really long way from, uh, how you remember things, Sir. Sex is talked about openly now. We can be proud of who we are, we don’t have to hide anymore. If anything, smoking is more frowned upon these days, actually.”

The ghost was silent for a long while as he considered this information. Then he said, “I beg your forgiveness, young man, for I miscalculated terribly. Please, do not think me a monster. I had assumed you were as lonely and desperate as I had been in life. But in this new world of yours, it seems you have opportunities I never did, and you have found genuine love that can flower in the daylight. It would be abominable to take that from you, to steal you from your beloved. I am so very sorry for how I behaved. And I am truly happy for you.”

Joey breathed a sigh of relief and his eyes began to tear up. “I’m sorry, too, Colonel Cubbage. You also deserved happiness. You were just born in the wrong year.”

“Indeed,” the ghost acknowledged sadly, wistfully. “I shall be on my way now.”

Joey had an idea. “With your permission, Sir, we could add to your story and make sure that you are remembered, not as someone who never knew love, but as a man who was forbidden by society to show it? Maybe remembering how things used to be can motivate us to keep the tide from ever turning back?”

“Yes,” the Colonel nodded. “I would be honored if you would. Thank you for the pleasure of your presence these past few nights.” He added, “Should you ever wish to visit again, my friend, you and your Jim are most welcome to share my room. I would quite like to meet this gentleman of yours, and if I may be so bold, good things happen in threes, ha ha. I, hmm, don’t suppose he is a smoker?”

“Well, not anymore,” Joey said.

“Perhaps not yet, you mean,” the Colonel said with a wink. “I will be keeping my pipe warm in hopeful anticipation until we meet again.” And then he was gone.

EPILOGUE

As Joey checked out that morning, Anthony said, “I don’t want to sound accusatory, but we received complaints from other guests about the smell of smoke in the vicinity of your room.”

“Fine,” Joey admitted, “You got me, I smoked. Just charge me whatever.”

“Was there… anything else you wanted to tell us?” Anthony prodded. Presumably the missing pipe had not gone unnoticed.

“Nah,” Joey lied, “though, you know, I really do think there is something unusual about that room. You should maybe try spending a night up there sometime, see if you sense anything weird.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s actually gotten me really interested in the history of this place. I’m thinking of doing some research, maybe learn more about Colonel Cubbage and who he was as a person.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Thornton, let us know what you find. Have a safe trip home. Can we count on you to leave us a good review?”

Joey flashed a thumbs-up and walked to his car. He texted Jim to let him know he was headed home.

The drive back was long and uneventful, leaving Joey to attempt to digest his experience. In the light of day, he was tempted to ascribe everything to his own imagination, but he knew that would be dishonest. As incredible as it seemed, he’d had a sexual encounter from beyond the grave, and it had nearly been the end of him. There were certainly worse ways to die, he supposed, but despite everything he felt only sympathy for the Colonel. Would he really be brave enough to ever return? His cock began to swell at the notion, so perhaps “brave” wasn’t the right word.

Several hours later, as he finally pulled into his driveway, the door to his house burst open and he was greeted by two jubilant dogs and then Jim, who hugged him extra tight. “Welcome home, babe.” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Oh my God, have you been smoking? Jojo! Bad!”

“Uh, yeah,” Joey admitted, “but I can explain. I should warn you, though, you might have second thoughts about marrying someone who might be crazy. But if you can bear with me, and if it’s not too weird, I think I might’ve found a location for our honeymoon.”

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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