Page 12 of A Guide to Ghosting (Monsters of Moonvale #3)

11

I guess jerking someone off as a ghost really takes it out of you, because it’s dusk when I come back to consciousness after drifting off last night once the shocked high of what I’d done wore off.

I hate when I lose time like that. As much as I’m not a huge fan of being a ghost, being sucked off to a void where time can pass me in the blink of an eye terrifies me. How long will it be until that’s the majority of my time as a ghost? Until I close my eyes and years go by before I manifest again? What’s the point of existing at all if that’s the case?

I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. That fucking vampire Vincent was supposed to be my source of afterlife knowledge and now I’m stranded, as clueless as I was before I met him, but with significantly less to my name.

He only told me the bare minimum—spirits exist, but we’re anchored to a spot that was meaningful to us in life, so it was important to secure my property for my well-being. Vincent said he knew all kinds of tricks to navigating the living world as an undead being, but didn’t want to “overwhelm” me with details until we got done with the more pressing job of making me a new identity. He told me I was lucky he stumbled upon me because he was one of the handful of paranormal beings in Moonvale.

Ugh, looking back, it’s so easy to see that he was manipulating me, but at the time, I felt like he was my savior. Who’s to say if any of it was accurate? I haven’t found anyone else that can see me, but surely there’s got to be other undead out there. I just have no clue how I’d find them. It’s not like there are undead forums where I can ask my ghost questions. Well, other than the ones that are run by roleplayers.

Ugh. Nothing like a reminder that I have no idea what’s in store for me as a ghost to destroy the post-orgasmic thrill I was riding last night.

I got myself off twice more once I got back to the closet, my whole body alight with sensation as I remembered Noah’s face twisted in shocked pleasure as he came like a geyser. A perverted part of me wishes I’d scooped up some of his cum and brought it back with me as a treat for later, because it tasted better than anything I’ve experienced since death. My ghost self is a freak, I guess.

I’m not sure what the morality of giving a guy a spectral handjob is, since his consent was iffy at best, but after what happened, I’m not sure I even care. It was too exciting to feel bad about it.

Does that make me a terrible person?

Next time, it won’t be that way. Noah knows I’m real now. He’s fully capable of telling me to stop or moving away from my touch. It’s up to him to decide if he wants it. If he doesn’t, I’ll… Dammit, I’ll be very disappointed.

I may hate the guy, but I want to do it again. It’s not that shocking that I was into it. Hate fucking is a thing—all that pent up frustration and high tempers. And the fact that he was so submissive under my hand, god, that made it even better. It was like I was proving how pathetic he is, and that I’m the one in control now.

Yeah, ghost me is for sure a freak.

At least it makes the afterlife more interesting.

A quick check of my texts shows that Noah never messaged “Jessie” again after our pre-jerkoff chat. I can’t decide if that pisses me off, or if I respect that he didn’t text another woman less than 24 hours after getting a ghost handjob.

Shit, did I fuck up my catfishing scheme by doing that last night? Will he stop talking to Jessie now that he knows he has a ghost girl to hook up with?

If he doesn’t stop talking to Jessie, it’ll confirm how much of an asshole he is and how much he deserves what I’m doing. He’s not in a relationship with her, but it’s common courtesy not to sleep with someone else when you’re acting like you’re totally smitten with the girl you’re chatting with, isn’t it?

Maybe that’s where I went wrong when I was alive—I expected courtesy from men instead of being a realist about the selfish shit most of them get up.

I send a quick text to Noah to see what he’ll do.

Jessie: Well, have you been a good boy for me?

A few minutes pass, and I’m tempted to leave the closet and go find out what’s keeping Noah from responding, but I make myself stay where I am. I don’t need to go full rage ghost and knock things out of his hands like I’ve done before.

Noah: Uh, I’m honestly not sure.

Huh. I didn’t expect that. As much as I want to be pissed at him on Jessie’s behalf, if I’m being honest, getting off with a spirit is kind of a gray area.Especially since it happened so unexpectedly.

I decide to press him with my reply, hoping I don’t come off as too interrogative.

Jessie: What’s that supposed to mean? Were you naughty?

Noah: No. Well, I guess it depends on what your definition of that.

Noah: Do you really want to know? I know we’ve been flirting, but I don’t want to be that guy that sends sexual stuff way too soon.

Damn, is he actually going to confess to getting off with a ghost? I’m not sure if I should be impressed or horrified that he’d admit that to the woman he’s texting.

Jessie: Tell me.

Jessie: It’ll help me determine if you need to be punished.

He’ll interpret it in a sexy way, but I’ll be using what he confesses to help decide how brutal I’ll make things when I ghost him.

Noah: I jerked off after we talked.

I frown down at my phone.

Jessie: That’s it?

Noah: Well, yeah. I mean, I had some fucking weird, vivid dreams when I passed out from uh, coming really hard, but I don’t think you’d care about that.

Wait. He thinks that what happened with me was a dream?

What the hell? Is he just saying that or is he serious? He’s denied that I exist until now, so I suppose it makes sense, but come on! I had my hand wrapped around his dick. He felt me!

I shove up off the floor of the closet and storm out of the guest bedroom, only to freeze when I find an overnight bag on the bed.

Oh crap, Emma’s here this weekend. Good thing she wasn’t in the room. Seeing the closet door fly open would’ve scared the shit out of her.

With more caution, I creep out into the hallway and toward the living room, guided by dim light and the murmur of Emma and Noah talking. A moment later, my phone vibrates against my palm, and I almost drop it in surprise.

Noah: Jessie, you still there?

I lean against the hallway wall and take a deep breath before replying.

Jessie: Yeah, I’m here.

Noah: Good. I was worried I’d scared you off.

Jessie: No, I was just processing. You really came that hard thinking about me?

Noah: Yeah. You got me really worked up.

Jessie: Because I told you to be a good boy? You like that, being told what to do?

Noah: When it comes from you, absolutely.

There’s a moment where I feel a flutter of excitement in my gut at the idea that I’m special to Noah, but I quickly squash that pathetic response.

He doesn’t like me. He likes Jessie. And maybe even that’s not real. After all, I felt like there was a connection the last time we talked, and look how that ended up. For all I know, this is how he talks to every girl.

Jessie: Sure. Tell me that again after our first date and maybe I’ll believe you.

Noah: Oh, trust me, I will.

Trust me . My jaw clenches as I fight back the urge to curse him out. What an asshole.

Jessie: Hmm, we’ll see.

Jessie: So how’s the visit with your sister going?

Noah: Not great. She’s convinced my house is haunted and took a gift I got her as an invitation to conduct a seance.

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline and I rush to the living room to find confirmation that indeed Emma is setting up what looks to be some sort of magic ritual. She’s got the furniture all cleared to the sides of the room and has drawn a circle in chalk on the hardwood floor, with votives placed around the perimeter. There’s a book next to where she’s bent over scrawling more designs onto the floor, which she keeps checking to see if her drawing matches what’s written there.

Noah sits on the couch against the wall, and he frowns down at Emma for a moment, then turns his attention back to his phone.

Jessie: Wait, what? You never said anything about living in a haunted house!

Noah: Because it isn’t haunted! Yeah, there’s been some weird shit going on, but I’m chalking that up to me not getting out of the house enough.

Jessie: If you didn’t think the place was haunted, why would you give her a present that would somehow help her conduct a seance?

Noah: I don’t know! I thought she’d see it as a nice gesture, not turn my living roomupside down for her “magic ritual”.

Jessie: If you don’t believe in ghosts, then why do you care if she tries to contact it? Won’t that get her off your back about it?

Noah rubs a hand across his face, his expression a mixture of weariness and tension.

Noah: It’s complicated. You’re probably not going to want to talk to me if I admit why it bothers me.

Jessie: Try me.

He releases a gusty sigh, and for a second I feel bad for him. It’s clear he thinks whatever he’s about to say is going to ruin his chances with the woman he’s chatting with.

Noah: If you insist.

Noah: I haven’t been doing well for a while. Mentally.

Noah: I spent the past few years really stressed and on the verge of a mental breakdown, but I pushed through because I had to. Now that I’m able to stop and have downtime, it’s like it’s all come crashing in.

He hesitates, and I watch as he types and pauses, the three dots on my screen appearing and disappearing multiple times as he battles with what he’s going to say.

I can’t imagine what it would be that he’s so worried about. Mental health struggles aren’t a reason to reject someone outright, especially if he’s open enough to discuss them with a potential partner.

Noah: I think I’m losing my mind. I keep hearing and feeling things that aren’t there.

He pauses and considers, a tortured look crossing his face before he continues.

Noah: I have these images in my mind, these memories of something that happened, but they’re impossible.

Noah: If Emma does this seance, and it doesn’t work, which of course it won’t, it’ll be further proof that I’m crazy. That terrifies me.

He glances down at Emma again after he sends that message and when he sees she’s not looking, he swipes away a tear.

Well, fuck .

You’d think I’d be happy. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To get revenge for how he treated me. But there’s a difference between catfishing someone and making him think he’s losing his grip on reality. It’s no fun to fuck with someone who looks so broken.

Noah: I understand if you don’t want to deal with shit like that. I thought maybe it’d go away after we started talking and I wasn’t as alone with my thoughts. But after last night, I know that’s not the case.

It takes me a while to figure out how to proceed. I need to do something to get rid of that—pardon the pun—haunted look on his face.

Jessie: Have you considered the possibility that there is a ghost?

Noah scoffs and scowls at his phone.

Noah: Really? I tell you I think I’m going insane and you’re asking if I believe in ghosts?

Noah: Ghosts aren’t real.

I type back a hasty reply, feeling oddly indignant. Dude, I showed you how real I was last night!

Jessie: How do you know that?

Noah: Are you serious? You don’t strike me as the type of person who would argue in favor of ghosts existing.

It’s a fair point. I need to be more careful or he might get suspicious.

Jessie: I’m usually not. But we’ve been talking and you seem pretty damn sane. Probably a douchebag, but not out of touch with reality.

He snorts as he reads my reply, and Emma turns to give him a confused look. He shoves the phone away and gestures for her to keep going, but pulls it back out as soon as she turns back around.

Noah: Thanks?

Jessie: You’re welcome.

Jessie: Now stop freaking out. Maybe your sister will summon a ghost. Most likely not, since I don’t think that’s something you can just do on a whim. If nothing happens, that doesn’t mean you’re crazy. Yeah, you should probably go see a therapist about the stuff you mentioned, but everyone could use a therapist.

Noah: Oh, I know. I booked an appointment as soon as I could.

Jessie: Good.

I wonder if I should leave it at that, but can’t help finding out if he’ll actually confess to what he did with me.

Jessie: I have to ask… what happened last night that made you think you were imagining things?

Noah: Shit, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but I need to talk to someone and I can’t tell my sister.

Noah: I felt a hand.

Jessie: A hand?

Noah: On my dick. While I was jerking off. I stopped, and it moved my hand for me. I felt body weight against me, and I swear something licked me. It felt like I could almost hear someone talking to me.

Noah: Please don’t block me. Or do. It’s probably for the best not to talk to me anymore if I’m hallucinating hand jobs.

I smile at his message, despite myself. God, this guy is making it really hard for me to hate him right now.

Jessie: There are certainly worse things to imagine than a ghost getting you off.

Noah: It’s not funny!

Jessie: I’m not joking! What if… what if it is a ghost? Or if not a ghost, what if it’s your mind giving you something you need? You said you’ve been stressed and isolated. Is it really that horrifying to let yourself imagine some sexy ghost fun?

Jessie: I mean, I’m a little jealous it’s not me, but we can’t go on our date for at least another week, so I don’t know. Maybe let the ghost/your mind help you out until then?

There. That’s the perfect solution. I’ve given him the go ahead to have weird ghost sex before he meets Jessie so I can experience the rush of being with him like that again, and I’ll still be able to get my revenge without completely destroying him.

Noah snorts and stares at his phone in bemusement for a few seconds before replying. As I watch his shoulders relax, I know he’s on board.

Noah: Okay. You’re right. I’m freaking out for no reason. There’s nothing wrong with having an overactive imagination.

Noah: Thanks.

Emma sets the chalk down and wipes at her brow, turning to Noah with a big grin that morphs into a scowl when she sees him on his phone. “Put that away! It’s time to get started.”

Noah: Sorry, gotta go. Looks like Emma’s ready.

Jessie: Promise to message me if the ghost shows?

Noah: Of course. I’ll let you know if I have any more encounters, even if it doesn’t.

Noah: If you want me to.

Jessie: Yeah. I’m bored, and it’s kinda hot knowing what your brain will conjure for you. I’ll find out how much of a freak you are.

Noah: Hah, don’t get your hopes up.

“Noaahhhh, get off your phone before the candles burn down too far,” Emma whines.

Noah: Talk to you later.

He sets his phone down on the couch, the tension in his posture that was present a minute ago almost gone now. When he smiles at Emma and goes to sit beside her on the floor, interlacing his fingers with hers and giving her hand a squeeze, there’s a matching contraction in my chest, knowing I helped him feel better. Followed by a simmering heat in my low belly at the thought of what we might get up to together, now that he’s not going to hold himself back.

I know I should be more careful. That fucking Noah is not really a great way to get back at him for how he treated me. That I shouldn’t care about how he feels. But I guess I’m not enough of a monster yet to cling to my anger in spite of his clear mental struggles.

Either that or I’m bored, and touching him was the most exciting thing that’s happened since I died.

The “seance” that Emma does is surprisingly elaborate, with chanting and incense waving that makes Noah have a coughing fit. I stand in the center of the circle, in case the spell is legit. I don’t like the idea of being forced anywhere.

There’s a small part of me that’s disappointed when she finishes reading and nothing happens. The candles don’t even flicker ominously. I guess I could’ve blown on them or knocked something over to make it a little more exciting for them.

I still could do something. But what?

My eyes land on Noah’s phone on the couch behind him. I gingerly move over to it and snag it. I’ve noticed before his lock screen is disabled, which I take advantage of, opening up the notes app and quickly typing something for him while he’s distracted.

I’m not sure if it’ll help make him feel any less crazy, but it could lead to a lot more fun when he finds it.