"Who do you suppose he is?" Mrs. Redding whispered from the shadows.
Puffing on his Tabaco pipe Bernard thoughtfully replied "I believe he is Lady Davenport's grandson, nephew, or something to that effect,"
"Must you blow that retched smoke in my face darling? I swear even in death you can't give up that horrible habit of yours," Mrs. Redding scolded fanning the air in front of her.
"Hush now Jaqueline, we don't want to wake the boy," Mr. Redding whispered.
Hearing what he thought was voices talking Donovan sat straight up in bed. His eyes searched the darkness for any clue of somebody's presence but found nothing. Thinking he must have been dreaming he lay back down and went back to sleep.
"That was close," Mr. Redding sighed.
"Oh Bernard you worry too much for your own good," his wife replied. Grabbing him by his smoking jacket she whisked him through the closed door. Once in the hall way the two continued their conversation.
"I worry because he just woke us up and I do not want him to call somebody in to rid him of us. Where would we go then Jaqueline?"
"Oh dear, do you really think he could have seen or heard us talking? I mean come on we are spirits here," Jaqueline pointed out. Then a look of sheer horror crossed her chiseled face. She turned to face her husband asking, "Oh my stars, you don't suppose he woke they woke the others as well do you?"
Placing his hands upon her shoulders Bernard smiled down at his wife.
"I would say the chances are slim that they haven't. If we are awake again you can bet they are too my dear," he pointed out.
"I was afraid of that," Jaqueline replied with a heavy sigh.
The Redding's were a middle aged socialite couple that had passed away in the old house long before Lady Davenport had acquired the property. The couple moved in to the mansion in the late thirties after it had gone up on auction for back taxes. Mr. Redding had been a successful corporate attorney while his wife dabbled in real estate and ran several charitable organizations.
According to local papers the Redding's died under suspicious causes. Some believed the live maid had poisoned them, while other rumors suggested it was a love affair gone wrong. The rumors claimed Jaqueline Redding had come home to find her husband banging their live in house keeper and she poisoned him. Unable to deal with the guilt and the grief she then poisoned herself. The local authorities were never able to determine what happened the night the couple died and the mystery has never been solved to this day. The others the Redding's had been talking about were other spirits of those unfortunate enough to have died in the house over the years.
In the fifties, a young college cheerleader named Brook Spears and her Jock boyfriend Vincent Peters had snuck into the mansion through an open window to party and fornicate unaware that the old house had a new owner who happened to be home at the time. The house being as big as it was allowed the young couple to go un-noticed for several hours until all hell broke loose; leading them to their deaths in a series of unbelievable circumstances.
With a joint in one hand and a bottle of cheap whiskey in the other Vince and his hotter than fuck girlfriend set off to explore their new playground. They casually roamed from room to room admiring the craftsmanship and the attention to detail in the construction. That only lasted for a short while until Vincent lit up the joint and passed the bottle. They couple did find it odd that for being an abandoned house it looked awfully well kept. Brook decided there must be a care taker looking after it so they had better be care not to get caught.
Brook was a beautiful and voluptuous blonde. Being only five foot two, having a twenty-two-inch waist, and a 36 DD cup, not to mention an amazing ass meant that Vincent had his work cut out for him. She was smart young lady and could have any man she wanted, and Vincent knew that. Brook like many young women her age at the time was more concerned about partying and exploring her sexual desires than she was into her studies. She knew with a body like hers she didn't have to focus on her education; she could use her body to get what she wanted or needed.
In contrast Vincent was of African American decent. He was an all-star college basketball player with a 3.8 GPA. Vincent was what Brook referred to as a black stallion. His six foot four-inch frame, athletic build, and a ten-inch penis proved to be more than little miss Brook could resist.
Stoned and buzzed out of their heads the two walked the corridors of the old mansion halfway looking for a place to fuck. While they walked, Vincent decided it would be cool to clue Brook in about the local folklore surrounding the old estate. He informed her according to local legends the house was built back in the late sixteen hundreds by two female cousins who were believed to have been witches.
The girl's families were said to be original settlers in the area they all had died one by one of mysterious and questionable causes. Having no family left but each other the cousins combined their acquired wealth and built the massive estate just outside of town so they could go about their lives without having to worry about nosey neighbors.
"Oh please Vince, you don't really expect me to buy all that bullshit do you?" Brook snorted. "This is Salem Massachusetts after all and there is a witch story for every house and building in this town," she pointed out.
"It isn't bullshit babe, I swear;" Vincent insisted. "In fact, the folks that live in and around this area claim this mansion is cursed houses not only the spirits of those witches but many other spirits as well. It is said that those who trespass are cursed to die in this house," Vincent stated in a rather candid voice.
"Vincent, you talk too damn much," Brook teased grabbing a hold of him by the breast of his leather jacket; locking in a deep kiss. Now pinned against the wall Brook could feel a door knob poking her in the back. Without turning around Brook reached for the knob behind her. Turning it she lightly kicked her leg backwards and popped the door open; pulling her black stallion inside.
"Jesus, look at the size of this library!" Vincent gasped; his mouth hanging open. "There are books from floor to ceiling and rows upon rows of more books," the jock continued. He was so memorized he had not noticed Brook had completely stripped and was now laying bare back and bare assed on a massive desk just a few feet away.
"Hey lover, why don't you come check out these shelves," she teased sitting up and shaking her tits at him. That was all it took to get the randy jock's attention and before she could say much more he had his face buried in her breasts. "Oh yeah, baby that's the ticket! Now put that extra-long tongue of yours to use where it really counts!" she ordered.
"Don't mind if I do," Vincent happily replied. Dropping his drawers so he could free his raging hard on Vincent sank to his knees, and went to town; stroking his cock and grabbing an early lunch.
**********
Meanwhile in another wing of the house the current owner; by the name of Ricky Fisher had company of his own. His boyfriend had left for the weekend on a business trip leaving him to his own devices. Ricky had ran into a hot young man by the name of Phil Stevens at the local market. Phil was smitten with Ricky immediately. He had never run into a ginger as smoking hot as the one he was eyeballing now. He loved the paleness of Ricky's skin and how it was lightly kissed with tiny freckles. Just the thought of touching the man's milky white skin made Phil's cock jump. He wasn't sure if it was Ricky's hungry eyes, the brilliant smile he was flashing in his direction, or the raging hard on the man was sporting in the produce section that reeled him in but Phil was now a sucker trapped on Ricky's line.
