Silent Whisper (2 page)

I knew I was quite a distance from the highway that I’d slid off. The evening darkness blanketed the cemetery, and sheets of icy sleet continued to blow around my incapacitated SUV. There was smoke seeping out from underneath the hood.

I slowly took inventory of my body parts. Everything seemed to be attached. Some wetness trickled down the side of my face. I ran my fingers against my cheek, capturing the droplets of blood from a cut somewhere on my head. I realized it must’ve been my own ring that had cut it when my head slammed against my fingers that had been gripping the steering wheel like a vise. The top of my skull was pounding with the pain that came with having had it slammed against the roof of the SUV.

I unfastened my seat belt, moving mechanically; still very much dazed by the situation, unable to think clearly as to what needed to be done in order for me to get the hell out of this place and see about getting help.

That’s when I saw
her.
A young woman standing there all alone in the cemetery.

What the hell was she doing out in this brutal winter storm, wandering around in a freakin’ graveyard? It was beyond my comprehension, but still I was relieved that at least I wasn’t alone out here.

She was standing off to the right, about ten yards from where my vehicle had slammed to a stop against a stone mausoleum. There was a light-post behind her that was next to the empty parking lot. It allowed me to get a better view of her.

She certainly wasn’t dressed for this type of weather—no coat, no sweater, just wearing a plain black, tailored coatdress with hose and heels.

The fuck?

She beckoned for me to come over to her, which under the circumstances, I found to be a bit cheeky. After all, I was the injured party here, and it would’ve been nice if
she
had made the effort to come over to see if I needed help, or maybe call for emergency assistance. I wasn’t sure where the hell my purse had ended up throughout all of this.

I managed to push the car door open, and slid out of the seat, my feet hitting the wet, slippery ground. I was dizzy, but the chick continued to beckon me over, as if
she
were in a hurry to get somewhere.

Geez.

Maybe her boyfriend had ditched her by the side of the road, but damn she had to be freezing cold.

As I staggered closer to where she was standing, I could see that she looked to be in her early twenties. She had thick blond hair—it looked to be permed, because it was super curly, falling well past her shoulders. Retro chick, I guessed, but very pretty regardless.

“Hi,” I called out. “I kind of slid off the road back there and my car isn’t going anywhere for now. What’s your story?”

I saw her lips moving: but with the wind and the sleet, I couldn’t hear a damn thing she was saying.

“Say again?” I called out as I got closer.

She didn’t answer, but kept pointing to the headstone that she was standing next to, her hands still beckoning me to come closer. She wanted me to look at what was written on the grave marker apparently.

Seriously?

I did my best to squat down and focus my bleary eyes on the marker. There wasn’t a lot of light left, but enough filtered through from the lamp post that I could finally make out what was on it.

Karlie Lynn Masterson
Born
May 15, 1965
Died
May 29, 1987.

Okay.

Was this supposed to mean something? I looked back up to see a smile cross the young woman’s face as if I should totally understand what it was she wanted me to know, except that I didn’t.

“Look,” I said, my head still throbbing. “I
really
need to get some help here. I think I need medical attention. Do you have a cell phone, or can you at least point me in the direction of the nearest house or business?”

Her lips moved again, and I strained to hear what she was saying, but it was a silent whisper.

“What?” I asked loudly, “I can’t hear what you’re saying…”

“Let Dominic know,” she whispered. “Tell him everything.”

I
felt
her words more than I heard them as she walked closer to where I stood frozen in confusion.

“Okay, who the hell is Dominic?” I asked, “And what exactly is it that I’m supposed to tell him?”

This chick was seriously freaking me out.

She got closer and I couldn’t bring myself to move away from her. It was if some magnetic force had taken control of my body, and it was drawing her to me.

“You need to tell him how I died,” she whispered loudly enough that for the first freakin’ time I didn’t have to ask her to repeat it. I totally wished that I hadn’t heard it.

Holy shit…she’s a ghost?

I put my hand up to my forehead, feeling the blood oozing out of the gash on my scalp. How hard had I banged it? Was I hallucinating here?

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” I continued, trying my damnedest to get my feet to move, “I think I’ll pass on that. None of this makes any sense at the moment, and I’d really like to get the hell out of here.”

I tried my best to move away from her, but whatever magnetic force was at play here, wouldn’t let me budge. She came even closer to me, and I felt the warmth from her radiate into me. It was then that I heard her whisper, “Move over, I’m driving.”

I felt an immediate lightness envelop me as her body physically merged with mine. I felt my own body shiver and convulse at the intrusion, but there was no pain involved whatsoever.

Unfamiliar warmth filled me entirely. I could feel a very strong tingling sensation as it did, causing me to blessedly become numb to the pain that I’d been feeling in my head since the accident. Then the heaviness of her possession settled in as if it belonged there.

Suddenly, I could no longer feel the elements of the wind and the sleet that had been assaulting my skin. I was shrouded in silent darkness as my body sank down into a comfortable slumber where there was no longer any pain or confusion.

I was no longer in control of anything, but I wasn’t afraid at all. Instead I felt the clear realization of a new purpose seeping into my consciousness, erasing all the data banks belonging to me, and replacing them with something else…with someone else’s data banks. I somehow had the knowledge as I slipped into this strange abyss, that when I came out of it, I would be someplace else…would be someone else…and it would no longer be my life anymore.

January 9, 1986
Chester, West Virginia

“Karlie, you’re up,” Lana called out from the hallway. “It’s tall, dark and deadly again, requesting you for the night. Lucky you,” she said, snapping her gum. “Why the hell do I always get stuck with the friggin’ weirdoes?” she commented, shaking her head and flopping down on one of the over-stuffed chairs.

I shrugged as I got up from the sofa in the ‘Ladies Parlor’ as it was called, and gave her a wink on my way out. She was probably the closest thing I’d ever had to a best friend.

“Hope you land a better one tonight, sweetie,” I remarked. “And if not, make sure he’s missing a gnad before he leaves.”

I could still see the hint of a bruise on her right cheekbone that her make-up didn’t quite cover. Her john had gotten a bit rough with her the other night. That was always a risk in our business. It had never happened to me yet, and God-willing it wouldn’t.

“I hear that,” she replied with a meek smile.

As I walked out to the reception area, I shivered inwardly as I spotted “Nick.” I wasn’t sure if that was even his
real
name. Most of the johns that visited Mountain Belle’s Lodge, a whorehouse if you will, used only first names, and they were probably fake ones at that.

“Hey handsome,” I said with a smile, walking up to his tall, muscular frame, brushing his arm with my hand.

He was sinfully gorgeous which made me wonder why the hell he felt like he had to pay for pussy in the first place. Hell, I’d fuck him for free just to brag that I had.

His mouth curved slightly, giving me a smile, while his rich voice acknowledged me with a word, “Karlie.”

I watched as his dark brown eyes flickered over me; and I sensed he approved of the clingy black dress I had chosen for this evening.

He ran a hand through his wind-tousled dark hair, turning toward the staircase that led up to our rooms. He knew mine by heart.

I followed him silently up the carpeted staircase as I always did, checking out his backside appreciatively.

He worked out. That had been obvious to me the first time I had enjoyed his naked body against mine. His sinewy muscles had flexed powerfully as he fucked me from behind, the mirrored wall of my room capturing it in full definition. I was awestruck; totally turned on by watching this man fuck me raw. Hearing his breath catch in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his hoarse moans as he emptied his climax into me.

His sheathed cock had been mighty impressive as well. The thing about Nick that was so different from the other johns I fucked was that he actually
cared
about making sure I was pleasured. That was novel in this business.

He also started paying for the entire night. He’d done that around the third time he’d visited Belle’s. That wasn’t common practice here, but hell, it was his $600 to spend any way he wanted.

It wasn’t like he wanted to fuck all night either. I mean, we’d hit it two or three times, but then he’d pull me against him and we would sleep. Like a couple; like the way he probably slept with his wife back home, wherever that was.

Yeah, I knew he was married because he didn’t bother removing his wedding band.

Ever.

What was the point? Most of the guys that visited Belle’s were married. A lot of them were miners who didn’t feel like driving to wherever their homes were. They stayed in the line shacks that the owners of the mines provided through the week, and then visited Belle’s for liquor and female companionship until they went home on the weekends.

Nick was different. He wore expensive suits—probably had them custom made in London. But even his casual attire was obviously high end. His nails were neat and well manicured; his teeth were perfect. He never discussed what brought him to these parts for a week out of every month, but it was a welcome reprieve for me when he did, because he would spend his nights here.

With me.

He opened the door to my room, and I followed quietly behind him. Once inside, he tossed his jacket onto the chair and loosened his tie.

“Here, let me,” I said, walking up to stand in front of him. My fingers finished loosening his tie and I removed it, tossing it on the chair with his jacket. He watched me through shuttered, thick lashes as I unbuttoned his shirt, helping him out of it.

“I’ll get the rest,” he said, brushing my fingers aside as I started to unbuckle his leather belt. “Get yourself naked and on the bed,” he instructed, his brown eyes locked with my blue ones.

I nodded, pulling my dress up and over my head, unhooking my front-clasped bra and letting it fall to the floor.

Within moments we were on the bed, limbs tangled together, lips touching lips, and tongues swirling in matched rhythm.

Nick rolled off of me onto his back, pulling me up onto his naked torso. I reached for the foil packet and sheathed his erection, lifting myself up and over him. His hands braced my hips, lowering me gently down onto his rigid cock.

“Mmm,” I moaned with the pleasure of his fulfillment. “You feel so good, Nick,” I whispered as I moved up and down on him.

I was totally getting caught up in the rhythm of our fucking, not prepared for what he said next.

“I don’t want you fucking anyone else anymore.”

I stopped mid-stroke, temporarily hauled out of my fuzzy fuck-pleasure by his words to see if he was actually serious. The look on his face said that he was.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered, his hands once again bracing my hips as he rolled me back and forth, and up and down on his erection.

My mind was in turmoil and to be honest, I don’t remember anything after that until I heard him moaning my name as he finished. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, so I guessed we had been at it for a while.

He lifted me off of him, tucking me under his arm protectively.

“So we’re clear on that?” he asked, his tone very normal and authoritative.

I looked up at him, my hands clenching the bed sheet under my chin. “No, Nick, I’m
not
clear on that. This is what I do. This is how I make a
living.
I mean, you get that, right?”

He looked at me warily. “You no longer
need
to make a living like this. I don’t
want
you making a living like this. I have a better opportunity for you.”

There was something in his tone; something that told me that he’d given this some thought and that gave my interest level a shot in the ass.

“I’m listening,” I replied softly.

“I own several dog tracks, horse tracks and gambling establishments throughout West Virginia and a casino hotel in Atlantic City. I’m headquartered out of Camden, New Jersey, and I make my home in nearby Cherry Hill.”

“Okkaay,” I replied, not sure where this was going. “So, you want me to go to work for you at a casino? A racetrack? A brothel?”

He gave me a glare, which was so not like him to display facial expressions, with the exception of when he climaxed; then he was totally readable.

“If I had a brothel in mind, I could simply leave your ass here in the sticks. No, I want you near me. Accessible.”

“And how would I earn my keep?” I queried, knowing the answer before he gave it.

He frowned, and for a moment, I actually believed I might’ve caught him off guard.

But not for long.

“By being…
accessible.
To me.”

I sat up, still clutching the sheet against me.

“So, you’re taking me away from all of this…
debauchery?
Only to become your private…
whore?”
I asked, my eyes flashing.

At least they
felt
like they were flashing. I mean, I actually couldn’t know that for sure.