“A little to the left,” said Brooke, peering through her fingers formed into a rectangle.
Ray surveyed the artwork and suggested, “I think it needs to go up another inch.”
Brooke said, “Yeah, I think that’s right. Also, maybe a smidge higher on the left. That’s it. That’s it. Perfect!” She looked at Ray to get his confirmation.
“Yep. I think that’s got it.” said Ray, nodding.
Jorge patted down the paper, smoothed it out like wallpaper, taking care to get all the wrinkles out. It was a large piece and it took some time. Brooke and Ray watched patiently as Jorge worked, careful not to disturb him. When he was satisfied, he peeled up an edge and started pulling it off slowly. It left a purple pattern on Julia’s back that ran from the nape of her neck to her buttocks.
“Wow,” said Ray, the first to speak.
“Awesome!” said Brooke, giddily.
“It’s badass, babe,” said Jorge.
“Can I look, now?” asked Julia.
“Of course,” said Ray.
Julia hopped over to the full length mirror propped up in the dining room. She appraised her nude body and twisted around to see the ornate tree of life, designed by Brooke, to be tattooed on her back. She canted her hips and craned her neck to see how far the complex root pattern extended on her butt. Brooke offered her a hand mirror so she could get a more complete perspective of the work. She turned around and twisted her shoulders to see how it moved with her skin as she watched the image in the small mirror.
Ray chuckled while watching Julia twerk for an imaginary audience in front of the mirror. After all, this was an investment of sorts-a business investment. If the tattoo didn’t look great with her gyrating ass, it wasn’t going to work at all. Finally, the girl was satisfied. She turned and shivered just once, perhaps she felt chilled, or perhaps to purge any remaining doubt for the commitment she was making. She walked over to Brooke, put her fingers around her neck and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you, I love it,” she said.
Julia glanced at Ray and let go of Brooke. She moved over to face him, caressed his crotch and kissed him too. Ray felt her tongue slide in and tease his before she let go. “And, thank you for sharing your home… and your woman,” she said. As she stepped away, Ray watched her exam the mandala tattooed under her boobs thoughtfully. She passed by the mirror one more time to peek at the stencil on her back, then she climbed up on the dining room table and made herself comfortable on pillows, stretched out, ready for Jorge’s hand.
“We’ll leave you two now. Have fun!” said Brooke as she took Ray’s hand and they went upstairs.
Soon, the buzzing of Jorge’s tattoo machine thrummed through the old house only occasionally punctuated with whimpers of pain.
When they were out of earshot, Brooke leaned over to Ray and whispered, “You know, she’s going to be covered.”
Ray felt a little jolt of adrenaline as he mused about Julia’s addiction and said, “Yes, I believe she will.”
—
Before meeting Brooke, Ray could only remember visiting a strip club a handful of times. Although Brooke was no longer performing, Ray found himself at the El Proscritos Club House often, either dropping off Julia for work or hanging with his biker friends. Toad had transformed it into a comfortable place to drink and watch naked women dance. There was even a bar stool with his name crudely painted on the back with his name- a gift from Toad for saving his buddy’s life.
Now, he was considered a regular at the Club House and came to recognize others who frequented the bar- which is why he was surprised when one of them knocked on his front door, dressed as a priest.
The thin dark-skinned man stammered when he recognized Ray, and said, “Uh, hello. My name is Father Muttathupadathu from St. Alphonsus Ligouri parish.” He held a Bible in his left hand and extended his right awkwardly.
“Say, that’s a mouthful, Father,” said Ray cheerfully as he shook the priest’s hand.
Ice broken, the priest said, “Oh, yes, the parishioners call me Father Mutta.”
“Father Mother?” asked Ray.
“Oh no, Father Moo Tah,” said the priest, pronouncing it phonetically.
Ray was never one to mock a man’s name, but thought that ‘Father Mother’ sounded cooler. “Well come on in, Father.” Ray said, as he held the door open. “Have we met somewhere? I mean, you look familiar.”
The two men locked eyes momentarily and an unspoken bond of silence about frequent visits to the strip club was formed. Eh, everyone has a role to play, and everyone has natural urges. Ray introduced the priest simply, as Father ‘Moo-Tah’ to Brooke as they sat down together in the living room, but he could see in her eyes she recognized him as well.
“So,” said the priest with an ingratiating smile, “I usually get around to visiting new neighbors sooner, but I’ve been busy recently. I like to get to know people, bless their house and, of course, invite them to visit our church for services.”
“We’re istanbul escort not really church-goers,” said Ray casually.
“Yes, of course, but if you do decide to in the future, I want you feel welcome,” said the priest as he handed them a copy of the parish bulletin. “We have quite a nice, family community.”
“Well, thank you for that, Father.” said Brooke with a smile.
“On another matter,” said the priest paused struggling with his words, “Another parishioner claimed there was a debaucherous party held in your back yard recently…”
Ray stopped him and said, “Father we have a six foot privacy fence.” He paused and looked at Brooke, “And, I don’t recall any debauchery, do you?”
Brooke looked puzzled, “Why no, I don’t recall any debauchery. And, who would be peeping at us over our fence?”
The priest looked embarrassed and aggrieved as he cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. “Yes,…yes, as I suspected. Thank you for setting that matter to rest.” His gracious smile returned but fell immediately as Julia walked through the living room naked.
Julie waved and said, “Hi Pratush.”
The priest watched her walk casually to the dining room. He gulped as she wiggled her ass at him one last time before climbing up on the dining room table. His eyes were riveted as she made herself comfortable on the pillows arrayed there.
“Um,” stammered Father Mutta. “So, so, Crystal… lives here too?”
Brooke and Ray grinned at the priest’s use of Julia’s stage name. Noticing the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, Ray leaned forward and said, “Yes, Father, she is staying with us.”
“But, she is so… naked.” said the priest, now stretching his neck to see past Brooke and Ray.
“Yes, she does that sometimes.” said Brooke.
“What is she doing now?” asked priest, still distracted.
“Oh, she’s getting a new tattoo.” said Ray.
As if on cue, Jorge came out of the bathroom and returned to his equipment cart in the dining room, snapping on rubber gloves.
Brooke said, “That’s Jorge.” “He’s Mexican,” she added unhelpfully.
The poor priest dropped his gaze to his Bible. He was forcing himself not to look up. Perhaps he was trying to remember any Bible verse that forbid nudity or tattooing on a dining table. It is more likely that he was desperately trying to purge his mind of Crystal’s sensuous curves and those pendulous breasts that swayed and bounced so delightfully at the club. He felt a rise in his pants and was absolutely sure he was possessed by demons. Feeling the need to return to sanctuary as quickly as possible, he abruptly stood to leave.
The front door swung open. Amar entered lugging a large toolbox and called out with a jolly, “Hey Ray and Brooke! I came over to fix the plumbing in the kitchen.” He glanced in the dining room, and said pleasantly, “Oh, Hi Julia. Hi, Jorge.”
Ray cleared his throat and said “Amar, allow me to introduce Father Mutta, from St. Alphonsus.”
Amar put his tool box down, approached the priest and embraced him. “Merhaba,” he said as he kissed the priest on each cheek. The priest was cringing, not accustomed to being touched. Amar took his hand and shook it saying, “Selam-alejkum.”
“He’s a Muslim,” said Brooke, again not helpfully.
Two minutes later, Brooke and Ray stood on the front porch watching Father Muttathupadathu’s Yaris speed away.
“Well that was a short visit,” commented Brooke.
Ray shook his head and said, “I don’t remember him blessing the house, either.”
—
“Great and merciful Lord of heaven and earth, bless me!” exclaimed Ray.
Brooke giggled.
Ray’s spontaneous words of appreciation had taken on a biblical quality of late. He had passed by the open door of the bathroom and glimpsed Brooke, squeaky clean from her shower, standing naked in front of the sink. He scooted his way into the snug room and put his hands on her shoulders. He gently kissed her neck. She smelled of lavender, and her skin felt lush and warm.
Brooke twisted in place and kissed Ray affectionately as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned in and teased his lips with her tongue, tilted her head to the side and kissed Ray with passion. As they embraced, Brooke suddenly scrabbled at Ray’s shirt, pulling open buttons and dragging it off his shoulders. When she started to unbuckle his belt, Ray stepped back, pulled open his pants and pushed them down to the floor. His cock bounced up, and waved at her. Brooke reached out and held it as a fire rushed through her body.
When they fell on the bed together, Brooke was on top. She slid down Ray, dragging her tits across his chest and belly; and nestled between his legs with her hand wrapped around his cock. Peering at the wee bit of dew at the tip, she waved his cock around and licked it off before wrapping her lips fully around the head of his penis. As it slid slowly into her throat, it seemed as if Brooke was drawing it in with her tongue, one centimeter at kadıköy escort a time. She expertly edged Ray by feeling his stomach muscles contract with her free hand and sensing the rhythm of the beast sliding in and out of her mouth.
Ray watched Brooke’s bobbing head, damp blond hair cascaded over his thighs, and, every second or so, he caught a glimpse of Brooke’s exquisite hand firmly gripping his shaft. He saw her nostrils flare, inhale and blow out a final hot breath as she reluctantly allowed him to slide out of her mouth, and thump on his belly. Brooke was hungry for much more, and the look on her face matched Ray’s in intensity. She climbed up on top of him, fitted his cock into her pussy and closed her eyes as she sat down, savoring Ray’s thick penis pushing deep, deep inside her.
“Sweet, Mother of God!” groaned Ray.
—
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Brooke as she abruptly leapt out of her chair. She had been concentrating on a new sketch that was stretched and taped to the table when her tea mug suddenly slid one foot over. There were pencils, erasers, straight-edges and other artist paraphernalia scattered around, but nothing else moved. Just her mug. One foot over.
The smell of damp loam rose around her and the ambient temperature dropped a few degrees, as she stared at the mug like it was a snake coiled and ready to strike.
Ray laughed when she’d complained before about strange noises in the house or shadows in places they shouldn’t be. He told her that it was just an old house, with old-house creaks and old-house quirks. There could be critters in the attic or wind in the eaves, but there certainly was nothing supernatural happening. ‘It was all just ‘her imagination,’ he’d said.
How could she tell him about this?
She gripped the mug with her fingertips and lifted it carefully like it was radioactive. Maybe there was something wrong with the mug, maybe there was something in it… maybe she had drunk something hallucinogenic.
“One foot down and three to the left,” said a strange man sitting a chair in the corner.
Startled, Brooke dropped the mug and it crashed on the floor. She backed up against the wall. “Who are you!” she shouted. “What are you doing here!”
The man sat silently. He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring straight ahead.
Brooke yelled angrily, “You get out of my house! Get out NOW!”
The man didn’t move, but he appeared to be shifting in and out of focus. Brooke shook her head and blinked her eyes to clear her vision, yet the apparition didn’t change. The man’s legs and torso faded and she could clearly see the spindles of the chair through his body. His hands became wisps of smoke for a moment then reappeared. His grey face showed no emotion, but it’s features became fuzzy and then again distinct.
Brooke was shaking with fear and frozen in place, when the man turned and faced her and calmly said, “One foot down and three to the left.” She shrieked and bolted from the room. She rushed to the kitchen, wrenched open a drawer and pulled a French knife. When she returned to the dining room, the man was gone.
She dropped the knife and sank to the floor, sobbing.
—
“Did Crystal see this?” asked Father Muttathupadathu.
Ray ran fingers through his thick hair in frustration. He and Brooke had gone to St. Alphonsus for help with their spooky affliction, but the priest was not focusing on their issue. He seemed deviantly disposed to exploring the thoughts of a naked stripper who he saw being tattooed on their dining room table.
“No, Father. Only Brooke saw the ghost,” Ray snapped.
“I was only asking, because you said this occurred in your dining room,” replied the priest indignantly.
Brooke interrupted, “Father Mutta, please look at my drawing again. I think it’s a good representation of what I saw.”
The priest looked at the paper before him and said, “He looks like a worker. What did he say again?”
“One foot down and three to the left,” replied Brooke.
The priest sighed, “And that could mean anything. Does it mean anything to YOU, my child?”
Brooke was suddenly incensed that this priest, not much older than her, was going down this psychological examination path. She asked, “Listen, isn’t THIS something you know something about? I mean, doesn’t the Church do excommunications or something?”
Ray clarified, “I think she means ‘exorcisms.'”
The priest cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair, “I’m afraid we only do those in cases of demonic possession.” Then he added, “I personally don’t believe ghosts exist. However, Satan can certainly possess the living, but I don’t think that is what you are claiming.”
“So, you can’t help us, is what you are saying?” asked Ray matter-of-factly.
The priest’s brow wrinkled with apologetic concern and he said, ” I am sorry, but I don’t believe so.”
Brooke looked at Ray with exasperation. “I guess, we’ll have to find someone kağıthane escort else.” They stood up to leave and Father Mutta cordially stood to show them out.
As they neared the door, the priest said, “If you could tell Crystal, I would like to offer her some … er… counseling, I would really appreciate it.”
Ray shook his head and looked over at Brooke as they got in the car, “I don’t think Father Mutta would be of ANY help for Julia either.”
—
“A little down and to the left,” said Julia panting. “Oh that’s it. Right there.”
Julia and Jorge had returned to Brooke and Ray’s house to continue her tattoo, but found the dining room table was covered with drawing supplies, so they set up on the smaller kitchen table. After an hour or so of work, Jorge took a break and the girl surveyed his muscular forearms and Latin good looks. She felt a throbbing inside her body that needed gratification. She opened legs and drew Jorge face-first into her pussy.
“Yes, just like that.” she said. “A little faster.”
Jorge complied. He was obviously a fast and enthusiastic learner.
Julia closed her eyes and laid back, letting the young man massage her clit with his tongue, rewarding him with a flow of slippery lubrication that oozed steadily from her pussy. It wouldn’t be long, she thought, before she would feel his cock again, pulsing as it forced her lips apart. She savored the anticipation as ripples of pleasure coursed through her body.
“Ah, hello lover,” said Julia quietly as she felt Brooke’s hands massaging her shoulders while Jorge concentrated on her nether region. “And that feels, great,” she said but added, “Your fingers are cold, baby. You should warm them up.”
Julia opened her eyes to see Brooke’s response but saw instead the chin of a grey, older woman moving in time with the strokes of Jorge’s tongue. Her thin house dress hung open, and wrinkled, dusty tits waved just inches over Julia’s forehead.
The girl shrieked and hopped off the table. At the sight of the older woman Jorge jumped up and yelled, “Jesucristo!” He pushed the table away and bolted for the door. Julia took a quick glance at the ethereal woman as she too rushed through the back door. The apparition had her hand under her dress, clutching a boob; and had a look of preternatural pleasure on her face.
Julia sprinted through the back yard bare-assed naked with her tits flopping wildly, yelling at Jorge, “Stop, you bastard! Wait for me!”
—
Ray took the woman’s business card and read, ‘Paranormal Eradication.’ She looked like a slightly heavy, soccer mom. Her straight hair was blond, parted at the side and shoulder length; and she wore a pink cotton v-neck sweater over black Capri stretch pants. Her tiny feet were tucked into espadrilles decorated with cartoon dogs. Ray had serious doubts this woman was up to the task, and he told her.
The woman smiled and said cheerfully, “Oh, for sure. Most people don’t know what a paranormal investigator even looks like, but I can assure you I have the experience and qualifications to identify and purge all spirits from your dwelling.”
Ray’s only familiarity with such things was from watching Ghostbusters, so he asked, “But don’t you need special equipment?”
Again, the woman smiled and held up her cell phone, which was bling-ed up with pink rubber and sequins. “Oh, there’s an app for that,” she said assuredly. “It is all very scientific now.”
Ray shrugged and looked at Brooke and Julia. “I say we let her give it a try,” he said. They agreed and a few minutes later, the paranormal investigator was about to enter the dark house alone. She turned on the flashlight of her phone, waved at the group like she was sending kids off to school and disappeared into the gloom. From inside, they heard the woman call, “Here ghostie, ghostie, ghostie…” as the door closed slowly and clicked shut.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened as if it was held by a phantom hand. The paranormal investigator drifted out of the dark, crossed the porch and stepped down to the sidewalk in a trance. Her appearance was shocking- wildly disheveled hair, smeared make-up and her sweater was on backwards, but she had a curious placid smile on her face. As she passed the expectant group, the woman sighed and said, “It’s all good. They just want something from the basement.”
When she climbed into her car, Ray noticed dusty hand prints all over the woman’s ass.
—
“Don’t push,” said Ray, mildly irritated.
Ray stood at the top of the stairs to the basement with the girls behind him. He toggled the light switch again, but the lower level remained dark, so he twisted his trusty Maglite and produced a beam of light that seemed as bright as the sun. The three crept cautiously down the stairs.
The house had been built over a foundation that elevated it over a dirt floor. The space was perennially damp, musty and a haven for all creatures that crawled. A menacing coal-fired furnace sat in the corner, it’s use no longer required. While the foundation walls were stone, and the upright beams were age-hardened oak, there was a single stretch of slightly more-modern brick along one side. When they bought the house, Ray and Brooke had visited the basement only once to inspect the utilities, but had found no other reason to return since.