Spectrophilia... Read at your risk

Pheep! THIS IS ADULT. AND ITS ALSO GHOSTLY. SO TREAD ON YOUR RISK.......

He stopped the car and looked out the into the street. His car is parked in front of another mini car and a biker' dream motorcycle; the cherry red shaded Ducati monster. He smiled as he looked at that; imagining himself mounting that with him humping it over the long stretches of the road. He could feel himself aroused at the fantasy. Then he heard the rumbling of the evening skies which tell him its time to move on. He took one last look into the side mirrors and then stepped out of his car.

"Damned!' He stepped onto some red blots on the street. In this area, it can mean either blood or some leftover cherry pie filling. He rubbed the soles of his shoe against the pavement and walked to the stairs leading to the basement level where a bouncer stood guard. You would be surprised to see one here considering that this place ain't marked on any tourist must stop by or had queues of waiting patrons. Nevertheless, he stepped down the stairs and faced up to the burly muscled version of an adonis standing there.

"Name?" The bouncer dressed in the dark shirt over the biceps with matching pants gives him the once over.

"Dark Wanderer 66 and 6." He told his assumed name which made of his height and length. The bouncer repeat the name to his comms and then got the acknowledgment back. The bouncer opened the door with his palm print for him. The scene that unfold to him was no secret agent's operation chamber but a sleazy place for the misfits. There was the music made up from the screams and moaning of the bondage participants in the background, to the depiction of the end of the world drawn on the walls by some poetic artist with the decor to matched. Red and black settees with glass tabletops laid on slaves crouched down on their four limbs. The waitresses are dressed to bite; red corsets with g-threads and webbed stockings. Everyone drooling to be licked but he had to settle on a dark corner with a wooden table.

"Hello Wanderer, do you need a drink?" The lady in red leans over and this place must be gravity free as nothing seems to pop over. "Or is it me you are looking for?"

"A Bloody Mary and dropped the cherry in for extra." If its weird place, you can only call for the weird concoctions. He has been patronizing this joint for sometime and the score line reads as high as the Premier league playoffs. His drink came with the pouting look of Red but he was looking at the dark brazen long legged one at the bar who was eyeing him. He caught her wink and slide down on his seat with his legs opened. She floated over and sat down next to him.

"Hi, my name is Elvira. I know yours; 66 and 6." The siren was dressed to kill; a dark purple low cut high side slit dress that cover only the upper thighs. She placed her right hand fingers on his left thigh and squeezed tight. "You have a better place than this. My coffin is with the laundry service. There was too much stains there."

"No, I don't do in coffin. I am taphophobia ( fear of coffins.) but I do have a wide bed stacked on top of four coffins. Its my way of overcoming that phobia." He smiled at her and offered her his cherry in the drink. She took and sucked it into her mouth. There was some of the cocktail dripping of the corner of her mouth.

"The night is early and we got a long one coming."

Soon they were at his place; a high end apartment on the twentied fifth floor, just below the penthouse. A matter of affordability against preference. The place was decor like any other apartments but the bedroom was a place to exercise the limbs. There were mirrors all around and there was the bed; red silky sheets with the skin of the tiger grazing its sides.

"Mirrors? I love them." She cooed out her reply. "I like to be reflected on when I am impaled...."

He looked at his collection of mirrors; all polished and without a blemish on it. He looked at her as she stepped out of the dress and climbed on the bed to lie on her side with one leg drapped over the side. He tore at his clothes and presented his full body to her.

"Hold that pose, darling. The stake needs to be waxed." Its his fetish to masturbate in front of the mirrors. She did not stopped him as she reclined back to self indulge. He soon had his fetish and stepped over her.

"Let me accomplish the final touches, my dear." Their act was all night and by morning she was gone. He got up to see the cherry fruit twig on the pillow. There was a note.

"If you need me, leave a note at my grave. Its reference on the back of this note. XXX"

He got up to picked up the address book. He threw it into the wastebin. Guess he won't need it anymore. He found his true partner to share his fantasy; a seductive ghost. I wished I had been more informed on his phobia; Spectrophilia, I would had scouted Hell for the right girl. I hate to lose my clients to other dimensional seductress. Its bad for my pimp reputation.

( Spectrophilia is sexual attraction to ghosts or sexual arousal from images in mirrors, also the phenomenon of sexual encounters between ghosts and humans. They also like to masturbate in front of mirrors. )