All Hallowed�s Eve

� Copyright 2001 by Bram Ransey

Warning: This story contains content of a sexual nature which may be unsuitable for children, minors, and majors suffering from moral righteousness. It may also be illegal for you to read depending upon your community standards, majority status, and local laws. If any of the above applies, read no further, go elsewhere. If you are a minor, the following material may cause you to think beyond the small box your elders are trying to keep you in. This is dangerous. Since this material is corrupting when found on the Internet, I suggest you go to your local library and check out The Ninja by Eric Lustbader. His story is nothing like mine, but it has good sex scenes, and it's surprisingly easy to obtain. I found this out when I was cursed with being-too-young-to-think.

Notice: This story, while containing sex, is not a "wham, bam, what was your name?" kind of story. It develops slowly, perhaps painfully so. If you find yourself thinking, "Why don't they just drop this bullshit and screw?"I propose you find another tale, because this one will irritate the hell out of you.

The unfinished story below is copywrited by Bram Ransey , 2001.  It may not be distributed nor altered in any way without express written consent of the author.  For those not living in a litigious society, this means an OK letter with my valid, legal signature on it. 

Comments: That said, I hope you enjoy my efforts. And kindly make time to send constructive comments or just tell me that you liked it.

Part 2

VIII

My dreams are confused. Like every night since December, I dream of coming back to my apartment and finding Ellen. Yet I also dream of something else, a path down which I walked. It turns frequently, winding me around, turning back upon itself. Weird.

I wake up feeling empty, maybe it was the dreams.

To clear my head, I go for a walk. I head out the door still in a daze. My feet take me towards the university and its great walking paths. Winding up near the library, I remember I have to prepare for class.

In this section of the course I stress research. I want the students to be able to look at economic indicators and tell me what they mean for bellwether companies. For this week's assignment, my students will have to explain how specific companies responded to exchange rates over a specific period. In order to assess the answers, I have to do a good bit of the research myself, which means using the school's Nexis subscription.

Nexis has a wealth of articles from news sources and trade journals, current to date. It's uncut powder for an information junkie. When I enter the library, I decide to browse the stacks a bit. I used to just wander through libraries, picking up books at random and reading. I haven't done that in quite some time. I roam a bit, not finding anything that sparks my interest.

In my obliviousness, I practically run over student.

"Hi Bill."

It takes me a moment to realize who she is, "Heather, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You look so � different" She has a pony tail pulled through a ball cap, a jean shirt, and casual pants. Different, but nice.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure, I feel fine, why?"

"Well, you're so deep in thought that you nearly walk into stationary objects, and last night I could tell that part of you wasn't at the party with the rest of us."

"I have been a bit distracted lately. It's nothing."

"Ok. I was serious when I said I am a good listener. So what brings you here?" she asks.

"Oh, I'm preparing for this week's assignment. I'm having them use Nexis for research. So I have to do my homework first.

"Don't all the profs have access to Nexis from home?"

"Yeah, the school gives me dial-up from home. I actually started out on a walk this morning and ended up here. Since I have to do the research anyway, I figured I might as well take the time now. Maybe the library will inspire me."

"I know what you mean. Yet I don't think I'd come here if I could research while still in my pj's."

Now that's a visual. What am I thinking? "You really did get made up for the party, didn't you?"

"It was Sam's doing. I don't wear makeup very often, and never in those amounts. It was fun to dress differently."

"You did look great. So what project are you working on here?"

"Oh, I came to see if there were any more books from the same period and region as that first witchcraft book I found. There's only so much I could find on the Internet, and we have an outstanding occult collection. I'm trying to draw parallels among spells of the period. I figure I'll drive all the excitement out of witchcraft, like every other academic subject."

"No, it does sound interesting. I'd like to hear what you find, sometime."

"Yeah, maybe sometime. Well, we'd both should get back to work. I wouldn't want to be responsible for your students not getting an assignment."

"You're right. Good luck on the research."

"You too."

I find an empty workstation and begin to look up topics for my students. I spend most of the day there, until five or so when I get restless.

My concentration is shot, so I go home and eat. The restlessness doesn't really go away, but I manage to push it aside enough to design this week's assignment. Amazingly, I don't think of Ellen until I get ready for bed. Even my feeling unsettled cannot dispel her from my thoughts.

IX

It's strange how we never notice so many people until something calls our attention to them. I've probably passed Heather hundreds of times on campus and not known. Now it seems I cannot walk across the university's grounds without seeing her.

My week is busy, meeting with clients, writing research reports, and preparing for class on Thursday. Despite all the work, I find it difficult to concentrate at times. Going out Saturday has unsettled Ellen's ghost. She haunts dreams I cannot remember and flits about the edge of my consciousness during the day. At least I don't see her everywhere I turn, just this nagging feeling at the back of my mind.

Walking back to my car after Thursday's class I run across Heather. "Hi." she says. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You looked disturbed while you were walking."

"I have been a bit troubled lately, but I actually feel quite well right now."

"Well, I wanted to know if you'd like grab a bite to eat � to make up for embarrassing you at the party."

"That's very nice of you, but you don't have to."

"I want to, really. Humor me."

"Sure, where were you thinking?"

"There's a little restaurant out on Darrow. They serve great steak and have an excellent wine selection."

"Sounds like a plan. Are you ready now, or would you like me to pick you up?

"Pick me up about 6:30."

That gives me enough time to go home and get cleaned up. I change into jeans and a sweater, getting rid of that noose I have to wear to impress my clients. I take a moment to throw the coins, read the I-Ching. Chun, Difficulty at the Beginning: the present is a time of chaos, the superior person requests assistance and brings about order.

The coins also denote lines that waver, which form a second hexagram, Hsien, Influence. Influence is achieved by the masculine taking the initiative, yet remaining beneath the feminine. I understand Chun, my mind is in chaos. And maybe Stace is right, maybe I do need some help to bring some order back into my life. But Hsien, that's a bit too cryptic for me. I still don�t quite get the idea behind wavering lines anyways.

My time to ponder the mysteries of the I-Ching is up, I need to get moving or I'll be late. The drive is quick, and I have no trouble finding her place though it's still light out.

X

Heather is waiting outside when I arrive. She's wearing a flannel shirt unbuttoned to show a hint of cleavage and jeans that only accentuate her curving hips. Her hair is pulled back loosely, framing her face. It's a simple outfit, but I can't help watching her walk up to the car. She gets in and we drive off. Darrow isn't far from her place. When we get there, she directs me to alley parking.

We walk to a set of stairs leading down below street level. The sign above the door names the restaurant as Gilbert's One-Eyed Dragon. It has a nice setting, a series of small tables set in alcoves leave room for only a line of two-person tables down the middle. Obviously, they don't get large parties. The hostess seats us in a corner alcove and hands over the menu.

When the server arrives, Heather stops me. "We'll have a bottle of Merlot. I'll take the Cajun pepper steak, done medium, still a little pink, with the Caesar salad. He will have the same, bloody but warm in the center with the Caesar salad."

My mouth must be open, because Heather looks at me and says, "I've been here a few times. They make great steak, but you have to be explicit about how you want it. That is what you wanted, isn't it?" She smiles.

"Yes, but, how did you know?"

"I watched you, I could tell. It helped that you were practically salivating over the thought of a rare steak."

"Are you saying you read my mind?" The concept is unsettling, and alluring.

"Let's just say that you are � expressive � in your thoughts sometimes." She looks up at me with those saphire blue eyes. "Don't worry about it. I don't want to explore the veracity of psychic phenomena. Tell me how your assignment went."

"I only gave it to them this week., so I won't know until next Thursday how good it was. But I think I came up with some interesting questions, ones that will help the students with the concepts of this section. I find that real-world research is always better than assignments out of some text. It gets them to think, and to understand that life is messy, not clear cut like some made-for-instruction case. It's actually funny, I do a lot of similar research for the companies we counsel. The goal is to eventually teach them to do this research on their own, much like my students. I'd make them all just take the courses, but company executives wouldn't stand for that kind of treatment. So we charge them more to be spoon fed."

"The executives don't really need to be taught economics, do they?"

"Actually, some really could stand a refresher course in basic econ to dispel all the pop internationalism they've absorbed. But more than economics, what my students learn is research and analysis: How to get information on real events and then understand the importance of that information as it pertains to your organization."

The arrival of our steaks breaks up my one-sided ramble. Mine is delicious, warm through the center and bleeding all over the plate. "So speaking of research, how is yours going?" I ask.

"Really good. I am looking at how witches, seers, and mediums set up their environments and how that correlated to their effectiveness with clientele. Of course, I'm analyzing all my findings using contemporary social and psychological theory. The hardest part is getting an accurate representation of how these people worked hundreds of years ago."

"I can relate. My own academic research compares the exchange of services throughout history with today's international economy. There has been much work on the historical exchange of goods, but services are much more subtle. Like you, I have to discern what people's everyday lives were like. I look at what kinds of services they might have needed from outside communities, how that commerce took place with barter. I would like to see some of your assessments and compare them with my findings on everyday life at that time."

"Actually, I've been testing my theories. You have been an unwitting guinea pig, I'm sorry to say. The best way I know to test whether something could have actually worked is to try it out now. The times are different, but people are still superstitious. I'd say my performance at the Halloween party was a success."

"Really, and just how is that?"

"I clearly made each participant act in a manner contradicting with how they would have chosen."

"So what's the modern analysis of the environment you set up?"

"You'll have to wait until I have a draft finished. I would like your opinion on what I say about people's lives, though."

"What about the 'magic spell' you cast for me?"

"That was just some fun. I found the spell during my research and found it interesting."

"Well I must tell you that I have yet to meet a woman and suddenly realize that she's my true love. I don't know what that does to your research."

"Nothing. It was more of a side project."

"Maybe it's because I don't believe in true love." I grin.

"I doubt it, though I would like to find out why you're so disillusioned."

"I don't think I'm ready to discuss that."

"That's OK, I have a medium's set up I'd like your view of tonight."

"So the truth comes out. This meal wasn't an apology, it's a bribe for me to help you with your research." I joke.

"Think of it as an exchange of goods and services." She smiles back. Her eyes sparkle and I'm suddenly aware of her presence. Not just this person I've been conversing with, but the physical presence of this attractive woman.

The meal has long since been finished. There is a slightly awkward debate over the cheque, but we eventually split it. My practical side notes the reasonable price.

I drive us back to Heather's place.

XI

She lives in the upstairs apartment of a double. In the odd style of the neighborhood, she has a turret (like a castle) for one corner of the second floor. It's big enough for Heather to make a separate room, to where she leads me. In the center is a table with a crystal ball on it. Candles encircle the edges of the room, which Heather proceeds to light.

"This is the setup I found referred to in several books. I want to know if it would have worked."

"I didn't research fortune tellers, but it looks like it could be accurate."

"No, silly. I want to do a reading for you. Sit down while I finish lighting the candles. There's also the customary drink. Do you like port wine?" She lights a small urn containing incense and then leaves the room.

"Sure. Is it drugged?" I joke.

"No. It doesn't even have to be alcohol, just something that relaxes the client." She calls from the living room.

She brings back two goblets with a deep red port wine. It's very good. The candles light up the room. Heather sits across from me.

"I want you to place your hands in mine." I comply, keenly aware of her touch. "I need your consent for this to work. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." I assent. The smoke from the incense creates a pleasant haze.

"Good. Now look into the crystal ball. See the light from the candles reflected in its depths. See how it sparkles and flashes. Look deeper into the crystal at the lights. Watch the lights taking you deeper and deeper into the crystal. Feel yourself drawn into the crystal, to where we see your fortune. The lights travel further and further into the crystal. You follow the light into its mysterious depths�" Heather's voice fades a little.

"You are floating in the crystal. From here we can see your future. I see your future haunted by your past. It's sad, lonely. You are engrossed in your work, but it leaves you unsatisfied. You push the feeling away, ignoring how it eats at you. The past that haunts you is a woman."

"Ellen." I hear someone say.

"Yes, Ellen. She haunts you. The light takes you to the time just before she began to haunt you. You are able to watch what is happening without it upsetting you. What do you see?"

I hear a voice talk about that night, just before Christmas. Ellen was my roommate. We knew each other since we were both in undergrad. She came from a horrible family life and I helped her through some of it. Going away to college was probably the only thing that saved her. Removed from her father's sexual abuse, she was able to survive, and even thrive. Summer and winter breaks were the hardest, but she made it through.

We went our separate ways for a few years. When I got this job at the university, she was working on a master's degree. Just like old times, we got an apartment together and split the rent. She seemed like a much happier person, overcome only occasionally by fits of depression. She decided to go to Christmas, to see her family for the first time in years.

After Christmas, she seemed really depressed. I tried to get her to talk, but she wouldn't open up. I had a date that night, with Kim, my latest in a long string of short-term girlfriends. We knew we weren't marriage material, but the sex was good, and we were lonely. I told Ellen I could cancel, but she told me not to. Stupidly, I went over to Kim's. We fucked like bunnies until early morning.

About three in the morning, I went home. I wanted to make sure Ellen was OK, and frankly Kim and I didn't like waking up next to each other. Like I said, we weren't marriage material. As soon as I walked in the apartment, I knew something was wrong. Ellen had left too many lights on, leading to her bedroom. I opened the door and saw her there, lying on the bed in a pool of blood. I ran to her to check for a pulse, nothing. Grabbing the phone by the bed, I dialed 911. The paramedics confirmed it, she was dead, had been dead for hours. She slit her wrists while I was screwing my girlfriend.

A note she left described in terrible detail how her father raped her at Christmas. She vowed she would never let that happen again. I keep thinking that if I had pushed her to open up, she might still be alive. If I hadn't been so consumed with my own superficial relationships, I might have seen some signs earlier. Ellen was one of the few people I thought I loved, truly loved. It may not have been the true love of fairy tales, but I thought we connected on a spiritual level. Seeing her there, drenched in blood, while I smelled of sex, it ripped my heart out. That connection I thought I felt was a lie, and what connection there was, I killed with my self-absorption.

Out of the fog slips Heather's voice, "Bill, you don't have to feel guilty any more. You could not have prevented Ellen from taking her own life. It is perfectly natural to mourn the death of a loved one, even to feel guilty at first. You have mourned Ellen for nearly a year, you have felt the guilt. You are done with these things. When you wake up, you will feel much better. Ellen may enter your thoughts from time to time, but she will cause no great distress."

"Now, Bill, I need to talk you on a different level. The conscious Bill will continue to think about what I told you about Ellen. The more you think about it, the truer it will become. The conscious Bill will stop paying attention to my voice until I say the word 'William.' You will stop listening � now."

I hear some murmuring, but I can't really make it out. It's not important anyways. I think about Ellen, how sad I am that she's gone. I've been feeling guilty about her death, but I realize now that I am not responsible for it. It makes me feel better, though I am still a little sad �

"William." Heather's voice cuts through my thoughts. "When I count to five, the lights will take you back out of the crystal. You will remember telling me about Ellen and everything I said about her. You will wake up refreshed, more focused, relaxed, with greater concentration, and a sharper memory. You will not remember anything else that may have been said. Follow the lights out of the crystal, one � two � three � four � five."

"Wow." I shake off the drowsiness. "Thank you, I think. But you didn't really read my future."

"Your future was too tied in your past. I had to free you from you past before I can read your future."

"So your theory is that fortune tellers hypnotized their subjects and caused their foretelling to come true?"

"Not exactly. I think the fortune tellers put their subjects, and themselves, into a suggestible state. It made the fortune tellers more aware of their clients' reactions to their probing. And the clients were more willing to tell the truth about what they expected and hoped for. A little mutual hypnosis, and the seer and client are both convinced of the fortune's authenticity."

"Why did you do this? Did Stacy put you up to this?"

"No, it was my own doing. You needed help, and I had the opportunity to offer some assistance. I'll admit, there were other reasons too. You may not believe in psychic activity, but you were giving off waves of cold and pain so strongly I could have pointed you out blindfolded. Besides, how am I to convince you that true love exists while you're feeling guilty?"

Suddenly, I notice that I'm not in the room with the crystal ball. I'm lying on a couch. "That still doesn't answer why. Don't tell me this is still making up for embarrassing me at the party. And how did I get to the couch?"

"I think I'd better show you, torpor."

Wha? Blackness, floating, peaceful.

Murmuring.

Rising. Following the lights back down. Rising and falling �

"Awake and alert."

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"Do you feel better?"

I pause a moment. "I feel great. What did you do?"

"I strengthened some hypnotic suggestions. I really do want to help you get through your loss. You've suffered enough on her behalf. I used hypnosis to put you in a restful state and then associated specific words so you can recall that state when you're feeling troubled."

I sit quietly, taking it all in.

"It's unrealistic to expect you'll be instantly OK with Ellen's death. You'll be reminded of her from time to time. It has even affected your work, from what I can tell."

"You're right. I have had a very difficult time concentrating. It may sound silly, but I haven't dated because every time I think of going out with a woman I think of how I left Ellen to die. I never again went out with Kim. You really have helped me out, I can't believe I can talk about this so calmly. The sadness is there, but in the background. It doesn't overwhelm me like before."

"When you do feel taken off-track, you can use these words: Center will relax and calm you. Focus refreshes your concentration. You can say the words aloud or in your head, either will work. Try it."

"Center." I feel tension drain from my body. "Amazing, how did you do this?"

"A combination of hypnosis and what is know as neuro-linguistic programming. NLP associates mental and physical states with special words or phrases. By recalling the phrases you can recall that state. It's very useful when the world intrudes upon your peace of mind. Speaking of peace of mind, to fully banish Ellen's ghost, you need to be intimate with someone."

" I suppose that makes sense. That will be a big step."

"Are you attracted to me?" Heather asks, smiling coyly.

Even in the muddled winter of my brain, dawn comes eventually. "What?" I take a quick inventory of my feelings, uncertain about what I find. "Well, yes, I am attracted to you." But you also scare the shit out of me. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be intimate with anyone." Not even you.

"Oh, I think you might be mistaken, William, I think you are very attracted to me. I think you're trying to ignore the arousal that's growing with each passing moment. William, you are feeling quite horny."

She's right. I am attracted to her. I'm having difficulty pushing those feelings aside. The more I look at Heather, the more I hear her voice, the sexier she gets. She steps out of her chair and kneels down next to the couch, looking at me with sparkling blue eyes. I cannot help but notice how her flannel shirt parts at the top, giving hint to the swell of a breast.

"William, be intimate with me, tonight."

Unable to speak, I kiss her, tenderly. The fire inside me rages, but I use the words, center, focus, to take things slow. My breathing slows, I direct all attention to Heather. Her lips are soft, full, and yielding. I kiss again, paying particular attention to her reactions. I'm acutely aware of her every movement, every nuance of her body. We kiss again, more forceful this time, and I hear her breathing quicken.

Taking the cue, I slide my hands around the back of her head and kiss with even more vigor this time. Heather's mouth opens, inviting me. I move my kisses to her cheeks, then to her neck. Again, I start softly while working my way down her neck with increasing intensity. Listening to her breaths become gasps, I quickly find the right pressure to use in my bites. She likes me to bite just above the shoulder, with almost enough force to leave a mark.

Heather grips my arms tightly, nails digging through my shirt, as I nip her shoulder again. Bringing my hands around to the front, I unbutton her shirt. Pulling the shirt from her jeans, my hands graze her belly and elicit a sigh. I continue to kiss my way to her breasts. Freed from her bra, the nipples stand out tightly. I take one in lightly, rolling it between my teeth while my hands move to her jeans. A moan escapes her lips in response to me pulling on her nipple. My lips travel back to her shoulder.

Still entwined, we rise so I can remove her jeans and panties as well as my own clothes. We switch, Heather on the couch, me kneeling on the floor. Heather is beautiful. It's almost if she hides her body behind the bulky shirts and jeans. Her beauty leaves me speechless. I kiss from her shoulder down her arm, paying extra attention to the insides of her elbow and wrist. Her other hand behind my head tells me I'm doing something right. My one hand caresses her hip, the other, a breast. I stroke, brush, touch, and trace her body. My mouth and hands are everywhere, I gauge her reactions and adjust accordingly.

Heather cries out and her hips shift forward when I kiss her belly. Slowly, I make may way downward. I reach her mound and her thighs open. I lightly kiss her nether lips. Parting them with my fingers, I stroke her nub with my tongue. Heather's moans become more rapid. I kiss again and wet my fingers with her juices. I slide my fingers in and out, in rhythm my tongue. Curling my fingers towards me, I suck her nub and she trembles.

Her cries and moaning become more frantic. I kiss, lick, suckle, and stroke. My curled fingers rub inside and her thighs quiver. Suddenly, Heather bucks against me, cumming. She cries out, thrusting fiercely against my mouth. The bucking of her hips begins to subside.

As she comes down from the orgasm, I slow a bit, then renew my caresses. The intensity builds quickly, then Heather stiffens, cumming again. I repeat my actions, slowing down and rebuilding to a crescendo. Over and over until finally, I'm so hard I can't hold back.

I slip on a condom, rising up. Our hips meet and I slide inside her. I can feel the ridge of my cock stroke the entire way as I pull almost completely out and thrust back inside. My fingers pull at her nipples, teeth nip her shoulders as we couple. Heather moans in time with our bodies. As I feel my orgasm begin, I hold it at bay. My cock expands with the tension, causing Heather to gasp anew. I hold the orgasm until it overtakes me. I crash into her, hips moving involuntarily, feeling the orgasm throughout my entire body. Gradually, we slow down. For the first time since we began kissing, I look into her deep eyes.

"What did you do to me?" She asks.

"What do you mean?"

"That was incredible. How did you do that?"

"I listened to your body. Did I listen well?"

"Oh yes."

"Would you like to do that again?" I ask, still hard with desire.

"You're kidding."

In response, I scoop her up and take her to the bedroom. We begin again and again, until we eventually fall asleep, entwined.

All Hallowed's Eve
� Copyright 2001 by Bram Ransey
http://www.asstr.org/~mac_Heath