Hi, and welcome to my first guest spot on SEx!

Why is 'scary' so sexy? Vampires and werewolves, the tragic ghosts of dashing men and beautiful women all rouse more than just goosebumps! A phantom lover that comes by night - the stuff of dreams - or nightmares?

Here's an excerpt from Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts to whet your appetite for the world of paranormal love - and afterwards there's a couple of questions with the chance of a prize!

Prologue... Martin Grey and Claudia Mackenzie are investigating the haunting of an old hotel in New York City. Traveling up to the hotel ballroom in the old elevator, they find themselves in another time - and other bodies...

Chapter Three

They stepped forward into the crowd of people gathered at the ballroom doors, a host of ladies in fine colorful gowns and gentlemen in the sober blue of the Union Army waiting to be announced by the majordomo. From within the chamber lively music was playing over the noise of a sizeable assembly. As Martin and Claudia approached, those nearest turned and acknowledged them courteously. Two gentlemen in particular, one a general officer with splendid dark whiskers, the other a civilian with florid cheeks, smiled upon them with clear favor.

Inside the body of the man Martin felt numb with shock and dislocation. As his 'host' turned to smile at the slender woman with auburn hair Martin knew to be his wife, he swore he could see Claudia's spirit looking out of her emerald green eyes, equally shocked if not terrified. Around her neck was a splendid riviére necklace of gold and rubies; the multitude of rich red stones seemed to absorb and throw back the light.

The civilian, an avuncular grey-haired man in a rich fawn coat with a florid patterned waistcoat, beamed a welcome. "Why, Joseph! There you are, my boy!" He clapped Martin on the arm, and turned to take the lady's hand and kiss it. "Mrs. Cloverdale! I'm charmed to meet you again, ma'am. You look lovelier every time I see you!"

"Thank you, Senator," she said with a smile and curtseyed.

"That uniform suits you, son," the general said gruffly, looking Martin up and down. "I'm mighty glad to see you wearing it."

Martin glanced down at the blue serge coat of the Union, the twin gold bars of Captain's rank on the shoulder boards. "I'm proud to wear it, sir," he said, stiffening to attention. His voice had a definite Southern drawl. "To do my best for the Union cause."

"Good man." The general clapped him on the shoulder. "Ma'am." He bowed courteously to Mrs. Cloverdale. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you, General," she replied as she took Martin's proffered arm.

The queue moved steadily forward, the majordomo announcing each party and couple. It came to their turn. "Captain and Mrs. Cloverdale!" the man called, and they entered the ballroom. Within, the crowd was hundreds-strong. The presence of so many people and the heat from the gas-lit chandeliers high overhead made the huge room quite warm, in spite of the cold of winter. Snow flurries whirled past the tall windows through the indigo backdrop of night, each flake caught for a moment in the yellow light spilling forth. An orchestra played elegantly on the stage, and waiters moved smoothly through the throng to serve drinks and refreshments.

Captain and Mrs. Cloverdale circulated, seemingly unaware of the incredulous passengers riding in their minds. Martin's initial panic subsided, to be replaced by strong excitement. He fervently wished he had some means of recording all he saw and heard. The whole experience was quite beyond anything he'd ever encountered.

As the orchestra struck up a lively reel Martin grinned and swept his wife onto the floor with dozens of other couples. "My, but they're playing all our favorites tonight!" she laughed as he led her in the dance. Her voice was a husky contralto with a Maryland twang, her laugh a pleasant throaty little chuckle.

"And you're the belle of the ball, Claire!" he replied and grinned.

They whirled around the floor, lost in the pleasure of the music and the moment, delighting in each other's company. And then the dance ended and the dancers applauded the orchestra. As Joseph and Claire turned to walk off the floor, they came face to face with a very angry man.

"Traitor!" he hissed through clenched teeth. The first syllable was drawn-out by his strong Southern accent.

"James!" Joseph stepped in front of Claire as if to protect her. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to give you some news, brother. Our father is dead!"

Martin felt his host reel back in shock. The stranger's face flushed a deeper crimson as he looked him up and down with contempt. "He died on the field of Fredericksburg last year. The news just reached me here. He was wounded badly in the third assault, but a damned Yankee still shot him down like a dog! Father would be turning in his grave to see his eldest sporting that damned coat!"

"Steady, son!" The stocky figure of the general interposed, pushing his way through the gathering crowd of onlookers. "Let's cool our heads now, you hear?"

"You go to hell, Yankee!" The man shook his fist in the general's face. "This is between me and my former brother here. Look at you, you damned treacherous scum!" He reached out and slapped Joseph's uniform with open contempt, then he turned to Claire Cloverdale and his eyes bulged. "And you've placed Mother's necklace around the throat of your fine Yankee whore, you bastard!"

Joseph/Martin's fist lashed out of its own accord, striking James square on the jaw. He fell back, limbs flailing to crash in a sprawling heap. The crowd gasped and stepped back. "Enough!" Joseph stood over him with his fists clenched. His breath was quick, ragged. "I'm mortally sorry for father's death. You know that, in your heart. You're angry, upset. Yet you will pay my wife due respect!"

"You're no brother of mine!"

James came up from the floor with murder in his eyes. At that moment two officers took a hand, rushing forward to seize and drag him back before he could reach their comrade. James struggled furiously in their grip.

The General gestured brusquely. "He's under arrest! Take him away!"

The two officers twisted their captive's arms behind his back and frog-marched him from the chamber. "Hurrah!" James struggled in their grip. "Hurrah for Dixie! Hurrah!"

A door slammed, and the rebel cry was cut off.

The Senator bustled up, his face red. "Damnation!" He looked around and bowed. "Begging your pardon for my intemperate language, ladies, but it makes my blood boil to hear that vulgar Secessionist cry here in our city. I'm especially hurt that it should be directed at a fine, upstanding young man like Captain Cloverdale here. A young man who, like so many of a just and righteous mind, has given up his home and birthright to fight for the Union.

"Hear me, ladies and gentlemen!" He warmed to his theme and exploited the moment like any good politician. "This dreadful war has torn families asunder! Father fights against son, and, yes, brother against brother." He nodded gravely. "Yet the blood of our soldiers, whatever or wherever their birth, stirs to the clarion call of our cause! They hear the call that summons all good men to preserve the Union, founded by our forefathers many years ago on the principles of Liberty and Justice for All..."

"Joe, take me away from here," Claire whispered as the diatribe got into full swing, the audience hanging on the Senator's words. "That fight, your brother's foul words, have left me quite ill!"

"Let's go to our room, my darling," Joseph said soothingly. "The Senator, bless him, has no need of us here!"

He took her arm and led her from the room, unnoticed by the majority of the crowd. The elevator boy was by the door, where he had been avidly watching the proceedings, and he hastened to operate the elevator for them. They rode up two floors, and made their way to their room.

* * * *
Inside, private at last, Claire put her arms around her husband and held him tight. "I do worry so, Joe!" she whispered.

"About what, my dear?" he asked softly, breathing the scent of her hair.

"About you; about this war. I fear..."

"That I won't come back?" He smiled gently. "I have to serve, Claire. I must do my duty, to preserve the country I believe in. You know that." She sniffled and nodded dolefully.
He touched her cheek. "Yet I will come back, I swear, from whatever distant field I serve in."

"Oh, Joe!" She clung to him, her body shuddering with emotion.

He kissed her, his hands wandering of their own accord to hold and embrace his wife. She sighed deeply and melted against him, a warm, lively human being he felt so damn lucky to have. Then, somehow, the laces of her dress were undone, his fingers untying the cords almost of their own volition. Claire pulled the heavy fabric from her shoulders, letting it fall to one side, and following it with the cumbersome hoops of the crinoline. She stood before him in her most intimate garments, a bloom coloring her cheeks. His eye was drawn to the tight knot of curly hair between her thighs, showing dark and clear against the pale fabric of her crotch-less pantaloons. They had been married only a few weeks, and Joseph marveled at the way she still flushed with pleasure and a becoming shyness as he gazed upon her.

Her flush grew deeper as he stepped close, slipped one hand around her waist and the other between her legs. Claire gasped as his fingers slid slowly over the melting softness of her pussy lips, feeling the warmth, the wetness of his wife's response to his touch.

She fumbled with the buttons of his tunic, her usually delicate fingers turning rough with urgency, until she pulled it from him and flung it away. His pants followed the tunic to the floor, and then they set about the combinations, giggling at the awful garment even through their mounting lust.

Joseph writhed out of the combinations, shedding the cloth like a chrysalis, and stood, feeling mighty proud at his physique. Claire's face wore the look of wonder and pure glee he now associated with their most intimate moments; the look of a woman not long out of virginity who was discovering all the pleasures of sex. She trembled as she wriggled and pushed her way out of her chemise, pantaloons and stockings, her gaze flickering between his face and his tumescent cock.

At last she was naked, her face and throat flushed dark in the dim lamplight. The lamp cast planes of light over her breasts and belly and thighs, and deep, mysterious shadows haunted the folds under her full round orbs and between her thighs. Joseph stepped close, embracing her, reaching down to pull his penis up so it lay pressed between the softness of her belly and his harder, more muscular one. Her wonderful breasts pressed against his chest, fat round pillows of delight he loved to touch and squeeze and taste and suckle upon.

Then Claire's lips were on his, her hands clutching his head to pull him down, her tongue sliding between his lips to twine and dance in his mouth. Her breath was hot on his face and growing steadily more ragged as her passion mounted. Joseph cocked an eye towards the bed to get his bearings, and steadily pushed her back toward it until the backs of her legs hit the edge of the high bed and they toppled onto it, giggling and clasped together.

He lay upon her then, hands wandering, feeling and savoring every square inch of her wonderful curvaceous body. She was pliant in his arms, flexing and sighing and moaning as he touched her, kissed her lips, her cheeks, her throat, then down, down to her full breasts. Her moans reached new heights as he pinched her nipples, hard. It was something he had learned inadvertently the second night they had spent together as man and wife. Where he had thought he had done harm, she had responded with unexpected pleasure.

Claire responded now, clutching him, holding him against her, as she writhed to position herself directly under him. His cock dragged across her belly, through the wiry hair of her pussy, and dropped between her thighs. Her legs twined themselves around his hips, and he could feel her heels pressing into the taut muscles of his butt.

"I want you inside me! Now!" She moaned.

He chuckled. "I believe I can oblige you there, madam!"

She took his hand and wrapped the fingers around his shaft. Together they guided it to the sopping wetness of her quim, and Joseph entered her.

Much as he wanted to plunge fathoms deep into his wife, he found enough resolve to heighten her pleasure. He entered her a little way and then withdrew, using his hand to slide the head of his cock up and down her soft inner lips. Claire moaned and writhed. He gave a snort of teasing laughter and entered her again, moving in a little further, then out once more.

"Ohhh! Damn you, Joe!" Claire's face was swollen with pleasure and she looked at him with an expression in which pleasure, hunger and reluctant amusement mingled.

He winked, and entered her again. Cruelty could only be taken so far. He slid deep inside her until his balls smacked lightly against her butt. Claire's legs tightened convulsively around his hips and her arms crushed him against her. She breathed deeply in contentment, and kissed him, long and tenderly. "I love you, Joe Cloverdale!"

"And I love you, Claire."

He began to ride her then, long, slow, deep and leisurely thrusts, each stroke using the whole of his shaft. Claire's soft moans of contentment gave way to little cries of pleasure, as she nibbled his lips and ears. Joseph could feel her breasts moving against him, her thick teats brushing through the hair on his chest, as they rolled and swayed in time to his thrusts. His own passion was rising now, and he leaned into Claire with a growing urgency, spurred on by her cries of encouragement. Her juices slicked his cock and coated his groin as he pushed deep into her, her pussy mashing against his loins as she matched his rhythm, her hips bucking hard to meet his. Claire's tight pussy clasped him convulsively, each muscle spasm coming faster and faster, and faster, until she screamed with release.

Joseph winced as her nails raked across his back, but the pain and his wife's cries served to topple him over the edge. He groaned, long and deep, as he spent inside her, his cum flooding her, mingling with her juices in the ultimate act of their joining.

All through their love-making, Martin was an astonished and totally embarrassed passenger in Joseph Cloverdale's mind. As Joseph gazed lovingly into his wife's eyes and smiled at her in post-coital bliss, Martin could see an equally astonished and embarrassed Claudia looking at him from Claire's eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so to the questions - what makes the paranormal/supernatural so sexy to you? Has anyone had an encounter with a sexy ghost?

If you want to take part, say "sexy spooks" somewhere in your post and I'll pick an answer at random to receive a free download of Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts! I'm in a different time-zone here in the UK, so I'll announce the lucky winner tomorrow. Good luck!

Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts

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http://ajays-blog.blogspot.com