The Woman He Won't Talk About

This story calls in at a few stops before it gets to its destination, in other words it's a slow burn...

She was alone at the bar, she was gorgeous, shapely and blonde costumed in a long black layered lace dress that revealed an alarming quantities of her cleavage. I could see most of her full breasts when she turned to smile at me as I passed by her, on my way to order drinks for my friends. Instinctively I knew that she only had eyes on me ignoring everyone else in the place. It was Goth night. Her black choker set off the deathly white of her face. She turned away for a sip of her drink. I kept watching her. When she turned back to smile an invitation to me, her perfect teeth gleamed like jewels. Or maybe that was the play of the light from the candles sconced on the walls.

Did I stop to wonder why she was interested in me? Perish the thought.

+++

Doug, Jeremy and I joined the queue outside for Goth Night at Ghosts, a large old two-storey house converted into a nightclub. A shapely mannequin stood covered by a white sheet near us in the queue. Doug reached over and caressed her round, inviting bottom. Three gothic women lined up behind us and scowled at Doug, not that he cared.

"Bad things will happen to you," one of the weird sisters hissed at Doug while the other two giggled like the dress-up girls they were. They weren't bad looking so I asked them their names. "That," the vocal one growled at me, "will cost you more than you have." So I shrugged and ignored them.

The row of ghostly mannequins led towards the nightclub's entrance, warming us to the theme inside. Doug feigned to dance with the next closest one. "I wouldn't get involved with ghosts," Jeremy warned him. I smirked, Doug smirked too as he draped an arm around the mannequin to prove he wasn't scared or anything.

We moved with the queue closer to the entrance. A tall male mannequin loomed over us. "I'm not going to mess with that one," I clowned.

"Good idea, Blake," Jeremy observed dryly like he didn't think that I was joking. "They could come to life."

Doug eyed the male suspiciously refusing to look away until we had passed it. "Where's Trevor?" he wondered.

"Oh, he'll come," I replied. "He's always late." He was usually the life of the party.

The mannequin right near the entrance stood bold white and curvy, dressed in black stockings, suspenders, a corset and nothing else. She wore a blonde wig, long and straight. Her painted eyes were accentuated with black eyeshadow and her eyebrows were painted thick and black. She was an archetypal Goth, pretty much an example if any of the woman in the queue wanted for ideas. I smiled when I noticed the door girl very much resembled her too. We paid and entered down a dark passageway guarded by another two female mannequins both dressed in saucy black lingerie.

"Don't touch," I laughed.

Doug gave me his paternal look but ran his hand over a plastic breast. "For a price, Doug stated. What did he mean? "It used to be a brothel, Blake."

"I doubt that. This is a nice area," I retorted.

"Doug is right about the history, but I think we still should show some respect," Jeremy warned. "There are some weird stories about this place," he added with a knowing wink.

"I don't care, I'm going to have fun," I insisted. I had tried to dress Goth as best I could, black jeans, Cuban heels, a black coat and my darkest shirt. Perhaps I should have asked what stories.

Doug smiled at me. "You look pretty good," he laughed.

I cut at his feeble attempt. "I know. I do."

Doug shook his head. "Dressed to kill," Jeremy muttered.

Jeremy and Doug, well they hadn't really tried to look the part. I guess the best thing one could say was that they looked suburban. Maybe a Goth would think that my friends were playing at innocent boys in a dangerous world and show them some time. Maybe. We bought our first drinks at the ground-floor bar which had a nineteenth century saloon feel about it. You could talk and be heard since it wasn't that crowded. Taking a wide ornate staircase, we went up to the second storey where the music was loud, there were plenty of alcoves and other private spaces and the staff were skinny, dressed in black and disinterested. The main area, the dancefloor, was quite crowded with people who had come for the real party.

Since the blonde standing alone at the bar had her eyes on me, I walked over pleased that she did not shy at my approach. We shared some more smiles and admired each other's dress sense. "What's your name?" I shouted at my new friend over the NIN beat that filled the room. I was pretty sure she said Chlorine. I stared brazenly down her cleavage as I introduced myself. She noticed my interest and smiled, seemed to enjoy my appreciation of her display, and showed no qualms about me brazenly ogling her from very close indeed. I felt that if anything she was silently encouraging me. In fact, she reached for her cleavage and rather than close it, she spread the material a little wider, showing more of the white skin of her bosom. Perhaps even a glimpse of her areolae. But I worked out what she was drinking and bought her one. She sipped at her drink, kept it close to her lips when she wasn't drinking and swayed to the rhythm, smiled vampishly at me, as I swayed with her, closer yet, almost touching her but not quite.

She took a large sip of her drink which almost emptied it. Then she looked sort of guiltily at me and mouthed a "sorry".

"Why?" I asked her.

She put a gentle hand on my shoulder, a seductive first touch and whispered in my ear "I must go, please wait for me here, Blake. I will try to get back."

"But.." I started.

I felt the cold of her breath. "It's okay," she assured me as she placed her empty glass on the bar.

And like that I watched Chlorine sashay to the central staircase past a mannequin displaying a prominent bust under a short, risque white sheet as she exited my distraction. I rejoined my friends.

"Struck out?" suggested Doug.

"She'll be back," I boasted.

"What do you know about her?" Jeremy probed. "Does she have friends?"

I looked hard at him. "Jeremy," I exclaimed. But why was I so touchy about her?

Yet she was gone. So we did what we usually did, went onto the dance floor, to shake austerely to the music, the heavy deep beat and sombre ambience giving us licence to oscillate modestly, with minimum effort. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, sure that Chlorine had returned. I turned in hope. And saw that Trevor had arrived. Deflated, I tried to look pleased. Correctly dressed for the occasion, his cadaverous physique fitted his stovepipe pants and a long black jacket that may have been a frock coat, a white shirt with a black Western string bowtie. He bumped me in the side and looked over to smile at two women I hadn't noticed, who danced close to us. They smiled back at him, exclusively. Trevor smiled at the women and shrugged at me as he moved towards them.

"Don't you have woman trouble?" I shouted at him.

"I hope so," he shouted back. "But don't think she's coming tonight. Maybe." He greeted the women and danced with them.

"Which one?" I shouted, trying not let Trevor go that easily. I don't know why I tried to converse, since he couldn't hear me if he wanted to although only a few steps away. And predictably, Trevor just smiled. Maybe he didn't care if he was about to add to his complications. His hand was already on a thigh as both the women looked to him like he was the man they were waiting for.

I swayed with the remnants, trying to preserve some dignity, looking ironic as the song reminded me that she walked like an angel. To my surprise Chlorine was next to me as The Residents boomed the chorus. I smiled and asked her if she wanted another drink since her hands were empty. But she shook her head and immediately led me deep into the dancefloor. We danced close to each other, like that was all that mattered. I looked into her eyes which burned back at me. We had locked into something. My friends kindly stayed away. To my surprise she grabbed my hand strong and tight. The dance floor filled up around us, so I let strangers jostle us further away from my friends. I put my free hand on her thigh, sure that she knew what I was doing, that she was happy with my touch through the layers of lace. This brought her even closer and I felt that she wanted it as much as I did, her breath soft on my cheek.

We manoeuvred towards the DJ booth, past a tall grinning naked male mannequin who only wore a tall top hat. I edged Chlorine closer to an alcove that I knew. I gestured towards it and she smiled back, her blood red lipstick underlying her eagerness. We sidled that way along with the music. Then a step and we were alone and private. I didn't waste the time and pressed my lips to hers. She responded as I expected with the urgency of unlocking pent-up passion. I should wonder why her passion was me. But I didn't care, swept into the grip of her body. She still had my hand strongly clasped in hers. I was free to explore her, as she held the back of my head with her other hand. I reached into the folds that held her cleavage.

"Blake," she whispered, "be careful."

"Do you want me to do this?" I asked as I pressed a nipple between two fingers. "We've only just met," I added. I felt a need to check what was going on. She gave me a look and seemed to mouth 'only just met, really?' at me.

I stopped with confusion for a moment and stared at her encouraging mien. But I couldn't see anything to worry about in her demeanour, mind I wasn't looking for any reason to stop. I released my other hand from her grip to massage the side of her hip, reaching to the front of her thigh and start of her pubic area. I kissed her. Chlorine shifted her leg minimally to allow me freer access and I accepted the invitation to explore her mound through the layers of lace. I felt her garter belt and her panties. I caressed a breast in my other hand, wondering what it looked like completely bare. She pressed into my body until we broke our kiss for a moment. I lifted her skirts so that I soon was gently touching her through the transient material of her panties. We lusted into each other's eyes. I ran a finger along the outline of her slit and she responded with a kiss that felt deeper than any I had ever tasted before.

But this couldn't last, the two of us in the semi-privacy of an alcove that was only a step away from the openness of the dance floor. Chlorine gently removed each of my hands, holding them in hers. Apologetically she stopped me with a sorry look in her eyes.

"I have to leave you for a while, Blake," she told me urgently. "But don't be sad, my man, I will again be back with you. As soon as I can." She gave me a lingering kiss and left me alone again. Alone, my thoughts were a mess. I didn't understand her and worried whether she would ever let me. I had access to her body but not to her mind. I took a moment to recover wondering what I wanted from this mysterious woman, as I wandered Ghosts hunting for my friends. Or looking for her. I found my friends near a bar on the ground floor where we could actually talk in normal voice, not to have to shout.

Jeremy looked at me with some concern. "You've been gone for hours," he exclaimed. Had I? My eyes widened. I checked my watch to confirm that he was joshing. Smiles all round.

Jeremy and Doug both nursed beers. Trevor was nursing a tall curvaceous blonde. She was not one of the two dancefloor women. Trevor introduced her to me as Caris as she tightly gripped him. She looked resplendent in a strapless black dress that corseted tightly before flaring. The black stockings and Docs matched perfectly. Caris, one of his girlfriends, I recalled. I spluttered my name to her, still lost, a little.

Doug felt he had to speak to me, find out. "How are things going with..."

"Chlorine," I provided.

Caris chortled. "Are you sure that's her name?" she asked me.

I faltered. "I think so." I thought for a moment. "It will do."

"What after all is a name but an arbitrary label?" Doug rejoined. Thanks, Doug.

"Where is she?" Trevor asked.

"She said she'd be back soon," I countered, shrugged. "Women." I tried to shake my head like it was no big deal. Like I wasn't constantly wondering where she could be or what she was doing and whether she would come back to me. As if my friends couldn't see through me. I started to worry that they might pity me.

"Men," Caris decided, staring hard at Trevor. Presumably some things were known that had to be resolved. Doug told me he would get me a drink. Trevor held Caris in a strong grip that she clearly enjoyed. Like relationships were easy when you were together in the same place.

Doug called me over to the bar while he was ordering so that we were away from the others. He nudged me as we watched Trevor reach across Caris's thigh to caress her through her dress. Caris gave him encouragement to continue. "I saw you in the alcove," Doug confided. I looked at him wondering why he was telling me. "It's not as private as you might like to think," he continued. "Don't worry I wasn't right up behind you." Doug gave me a serious glance. "There's something about her. I just have a feeling. Something's not quite right."

Since Doug was pretty thoughtful, I had to explore. "So what are you suggesting? I can look after myself." Trevor and Caris were kissing, only concerned with each other.

Doug smiled at their goings on then shook his head at me. "I don't know. Chlorine, if that's her name, seems determined in a way I don't quite, I don't know. There are secrets about her. The disappearing. The way she came onto you, like she had marked you for some reason. Unusually forward with you. Think about it. Is she real? Are any women you know like that?"

I looked at Caris and thought about it. Sure women did not normally throw themselves at me the way that Chlorine had. But she knew what she wanted when she came onto me. I told Doug what I knew. "We talked for a moment and she was right into me, almost immediately. She lets me ogle her. She lets me do anything to her. And she kisses like nothing I have ever known. And the disappearing thing. There's only one possibility."

"Yes?"

"She's a ghost. One of Jeremy's stories."

Doug shook his head. "Obviously. That would explain a lot and give us all a great amount of comfort. But there may be other possibilities."

Jeremy poked in at that moment, and Doug filled him in on my hypothesis. "I think you're right, Blake," Jeremy stated flatly. "Clearly ghosts don't exist. But if they did, they would look like her and have names like Chlorine. And you can tell she is from another era. So she is probably a part of this house's eerie history."

"Sentenced to wander between life and death for all eternity," Doug added, keeping his face straight. I shook my head at both of them. And took another sip of my drink.

++

The night dragged on. Tired of head throbbing music, we stayed downstairs, the five of us, not saying much. I watched the Goth humanity slink around us in twos and threes. Without the loudness of the upstairs dancefloor, they looked out of place. Trevor tried to put his hands on Caris when she returned from the bathroom, but now she was having none of it. "Let's dance," Trevor decided. I murmured some agreement and downed my drink. Jeremy and Doug were ready.

Caris noticed us. "I guess that's why you brought me," she smiled wickedly at Trevor. She thrust out her breasts, back to her sex goddess role. She squared her shoulders and led us proudly towards the staircase to the dancefloor.

So we trudged up the stairs, pushing past the punters who had set up in groups on the landing. Once again us boys danced together but not together. Caris danced close to Trevor and whispered something in his ear that must have been a saucy promise to judge from his wide grin. We were crowded on the dancefloor, so I bumped Caris a few times. She looked at me with sympathy. Then suddenly I felt a sudden iciness behind me. I turned and there stood Chlorine. Caris regarded her and gave me look that said 'you luck boy'. Chlorine gripped me like no one else was there. She seemed more determined than before, like her concerns were now resolved. She danced right up close to me, matched my every move. Soon she pressed her body against mine, confirming her intent. She leant over and whispered in my ear "We need to continue." She turned away and led me by the hand, towards the alcove. But a couple had taken our place, entwined exactly as Chlorine and I had been. Clinging to me, she pushed on past them to an even more secluded niche.

We wasted no time. There was no need for permission. Her lips were on mine and then in mine. She held me by the back of my head in both hands then she slid one hand down to my thigh and straight to my already hard cock. I resumed where I had reached before, my hand on the front of her panties. This time she thrust back immediately into my hand as if we hadn't been apart for more than a moment since the first alcove. I slid my finger into her slit as she unbuttoned my pants. I was hard and she was wet. I realised when a faster, more urgent song came on that the music was pounding as loud in our niche as it was on the dancefloor, driving our actions. I saw the lust on her face as she impaled herself on me and thrust to the music. I thought I saw something red in her eyes but it may have been reflection from the Exit sign. She clung onto me, clung tight as I pressed into her, raw and hard and desired, determined to make this something special. I had little control over our frenzied love making. She thrust down hard and up, like she was trying to draw some essence out of me. As she forced her lips hard into mine, I couldn't see, only feel how we were joined, how she hungered in my mouth and engulfed all of my cock like she might never let me go.

I opened my eyes, having squeezed them shut to enhance my sensations. Chlorine stared at me intently as she thrust to my thrusts. "Don't speak," she mouthed, "don't say anything." I understood and obeyed and gave her everything, to show her that I wanted her as much as she wanted me. I felt transcendent, like I had located some part of my true self inside her. I understood why she didn't want me to try to express myself with words as we continued to fuck ourselves and each other as the music grew louder and more frantic. Words were useless, wasted. We groaned together, again and again. I felt her tense up, then she was coming and then I was close and then I was there too.

I gasped for air as we came down and parted from each other. Chlorine straightened her dress and combed her fingers through her hair looking lustfully at me like things had only just started. Buttoned up, I moved towards her. But she gestured me back. "Don't say anything," she insisted. "I have to go. But I will find you. Understand, I will always find you again." I propped myself in the alcove, spent.

And she was away, gone.

++

Doug found me first. He had serious concern in his eyes. "We have to get you out of here," he blurted, and I could tell from his intensity that it was no joke.

"What's going on?" I demanded as he turned urgently. I followed, sure that I would not like the answer.

"That girl you were with. When you were with her I was talking to a man. A man who had come upstairs looking around the dancefloor." Doug looked so worried I didn't say anything, just let him continue, although I realised I knew what he would say. "A man, a stocky strong angry man who couldn't find his girlfriend."

"You mean?" My eyes widened.

Doug nodded. "He said that he saw her earlier with someone. He said this someone was wearing a dark coat and black jeans. He said his girlfriend likes to tease him by flirting with other men since he won't dance with her."