Gail was growing both desperate and horny. The house remained depressingly quiet for roughly the next three months. She wondered–would that one wild fantastic night be it? She might have been loath to admit it but Gail wanted more.
Nearly another month passed. Still nothing. With every passing day, Gail became less sure of him ever returning. Deciding she needed to increase her knowledge of the supernatural, Gail started doing some research into the spirit world, leading eventually to a small bookstore in the downtown section of picturesque Wilkesbury, Connecticut.
Wilkesbury was a good thirty minute drive from her hometown of Maylock but it turned out to be well worth it. The bookstore, and its positively ancient proprietor, Ms. Olga Krapchuck was a priceless gem.
She took Gail across the street to a local café for tea and after she told the old lady the barest outline of how she thought she was being haunted by her son, Olga looked at her and cackled in her somewhat broken English. “Me thinks you leave out saucy details Ms. Gail. Maybe embarrassed hmm?”
“Yes,” Gail responded in quiet surprise. Indeed, Gail left out much in her story, especially, most especially that is, the sexy stuff, but somehow this stooped over, white haired lady, in her all black dress and black shawl, who looked to be not a day younger than ninety at the very least, knew there was more to Gail’s story than what she told.
“OK. Ifs you want my help you must tell all, but not to me. I’m . . . at presently . . . much too deeps into another case. Hmm, similar to yours. Pretty local lady being haunted by her boy. You could waits for me to solve her case, but . . .” She shrugged her shoulders before adding, “Might take a whiles . . . and Olga senses you are desperate for closure.”
“I am,” Gail said.
“Well if that be the case I have someones else who could help. Hopefully, rights away.”
“Who?” Gail asked hopefully.
“My great granddaughter, Katrina, but if she to help yous, you must . . .” Raising one gnarled finger up, Olga waved it in the air at Gail, “Tell my great granddaughter everytine . . . no matter details cause embarrassment or not. Katrina powerful witch, aye not as powerful as Olga but still . . . she no judge you.”
The next day, Gail was sitting across the table, in the same café, from Katrina, spilling all of her secrets.
The witch looked more like a classic country school teacher in Gail’s mind, right down to the vintage black horn rimmed glasses she wore on her creamy white, somewhat, plain face and her dark flowing pleated skirt hanging coming down past her knees, matched with a loose fitting plain white blouse.
The glasses, along with her hairstyle, blond, short and permed, looked like they came from a bygone era. The fact the middle aged witch wore no makeup was plainly evident, but still, Gail found her to be not at all unattractive.
After hearing all of the story, right down to the sexy details of what happened on that fateful last night roughly four months ago, Katrina paused for a long moment as she peered at Gail over her glasses. “Based on what you have told me you are being haunted by more than your son, Gail. There is, I strongly suspect, a demon involved. There is no spirit powerful enough, at least not so far as I have ever seen or heard, and trust me I have heard and seen plenty, on its own, who could turn himself into a mist like that and . . . you know give such pleasure.”
Gail face flushed red as she recalled the encounter of the ghostly spirit of her son turning into that luminous mist and then slipping inside of her panties . . . before making her orgasm so hard.
“A demon? You mean like . . . like in those movies, like The Conjuring?”
“Hmm, not exactly. Demons in the movies are made evil to sell tickets, but not all demons are of the evil variety . . . well at least not in my opinion. I now you have questions Gail but let me explain my opinion fully so just hold them until I am done.”
“Sure,” Gail said as she tried to relax while preparing herself to hear the worst while hoping for the best.
“So based on what you told me . . . if you left nothing out.”
“I didn’t Katrina. Really.”
“Good then I am fairly certain a demon has attached itself to your son and is guiding his actions. I perceive there to be four possibilities here. One, the demon haunting your son, aiding you son in his misadventures is of the voyeur type. That is they like to whispers naughty suggestions or deeds to their host, the host in this case being your son. The host, in almost all cases, will be compelled to follow the suggestion and commit the naughty act while the demon sits back and observes as things unfolds. Two, the demon attached to your son has taken him over completely and, in a sense, mimics your son in all aspects, thus fooling the victim, that would be you Gail, into believing the interactions taking place are between you and him, while in reality it is your son helplessly watching as the demon pretends to be him. Third, the demon is actually inside your son and controlling him . . . like some kind of mischievous puppet master . . . into committing naughty little acts with you, Gail. The fourth and final possibility is the demon is not limiting themselves to only one of the three possibilities I have just outlined, but instead is practicing all three of them from time to time as they see fit.”
Gail took a deep breath before speaking. “Number two sounds really scary. I mean if that . . . that was not him I . . . did that with . . . my God.”
Katrina reached over and took Gail’s hand into hers. “Don’t consider that Gail. It will be easier that way for you. It was your son that night . . . it’s only moving forward we must consider the second possibility.”
The witch’s warm, soft hand, combined with her kind words, was reassuring enough where Gail allowed herself to relax again.
“OK so speaking of moving forward what do you suggest? It’s been so quiet since that night. I fear he is gone.”
“Doubtful. I imagine whatever has attached themselves to your son knows or senses your growing frustration, your growing need to want contact again, and is simply biding their time. Simply put, the more desperate you become for contact the more easily they will be able to get what they want from you.”
“And what do you thing they want from me, Katrina.”
“I think they have shown that already Gail.”
Gail sighed knowing the witch was right.
“So if he is not gone what then do you suggest I do?”
“Have you considered moving. That might solve the issue.”
“I don’t want to move. I want . . . I need closure. I need to apologize to him. To make him understand.”
“If you won’t consider moving and truly want another . . . hmm encounter, a chance to apologize maybe, then we must invite contact. The sooner the better.”
“How do we do that?”
“Invite me over to your house and I will hold a séance and try to contact the demon, maybe speak to him, and see what I can bargain for you.”
“Consider yourself invited Katrina. When can you come by and . . . ahh how much should I pay you? I don’t expect you to do all this for free.”