Chapter 9

Five Years After Hurricane Katrina...

Michigan was so different from New Orleans. I had lived in Michigan for a while, but I had not been to Kalamazoo yet. My business partner and best friend, Carrie, booked the job for me. She was a business wiz and kept everything running smoothly- the office, the books, and even designed our website. She took care of the technical stuff while I did the 'ghost whispering' thing.

I was so thankful when she moved from L.A. to New Orleans with me after Christien and I got together. Then after Hurricane Katrina’s ghosts would not leave me alone, we relocated to Michigan. She came to Michigan with us. Christien set up his office and lab outside Flint, and I opened my office in the heart of downtown. I travel all over Michigan if the case is interesting enough. Carrie assured me this one was but she didn’t give me any specifics. I tried to assess a ghost situation myself before learning of outside details. I didn’t like any preconceived notions or expectations to cloud my judgment.

Christien has friends and business connections in Flint. He kept his Garden District home so we could go back from time to time, but full-time in NOLA had become too much for me. Perhaps in several years the trauma would settle down and the spirits could find some peace.

The drive to Kalamazoo was uneventful and the city itself unremarkable, even though it was mid-September and the autumn colors were beginning. Too bad it wasn’t a week or two later, I heard that’s when the color show would be in full effect. It was supposed to be quite beautiful. Having lived in warm climates all of my life I had yet to witness a full-on summer-to-fall color show or a Michigan winter- that I was not looking forward to.

Kalamazoo looked pretty much like every other Michigan city I’d been to so far. A mix of shiny new buildings stuck between historical buildings in various states of decay.

On the outskirts of town, the business districts had seen better days. You could tell some areas were poor. Closer to downtown the once-industrial buildings were in various stages of abandonment or gentrification.

The main strip of downtown Kalamazoo bustled with restaurants, shops, hotels, and other businesses.

My destination, a bed, and breakfast Inn, was on the outskirts of downtown Kalamazoo, in the “college town” area. As I drove, I took note of the numerous Victorians in all states- from boarded up and falling down to lived-in but long past their original glory to fully restored and beautiful.

I thought it pretentious that the Victorian I was heading to was called a castle. Yes, Victorians can be downright gorgeous, but worthy of the title castle? I had never been to one worthy of being called a castle, and I’d been to many, many Victorians. They were almost always haunted. You can’t accumulate that much history without holding onto at least one restless spirit.

Every city has buildings and locations filled with ghosts. Some were just more prevalent than others.

I once called New Orleans home. It is renowned as one of the most haunted cities in the United States. But the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Katrina more than quadrupled the number of lost souls floating around the city. They wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to help as many as I could, but they tormented me night and day, whether they meant to or not. Their lost cries, the pushing and prodding they inflicted on me once they realized I could sense them…I finally couldn’t take it anymore and left. Packed up my business and joined Christien’s friends in Michigan. Now they send ghost hunting and ghost banishing work my way constantly.

Like the place I was headed now, the owner was a friend of a friend, and she had spoken with Carrie about her unique need for my services. She owned Radcliff Castle, a Victorian built in 1895 that was being renovated and turned into a bed and breakfast. That’s all I knew. I never did background research because I didn’t like names or historical facts to influence my investigation until after I got a feel for the place and the spirits inhabiting it.

I spotted the sign for the castle and turned to drive up a steep hill. As the house came into view, I gasped. I suddenly understood why it was called a castle. The title was not pretentious at all. This was the grandest example of a Queen Anne Victorian I had ever seen. Made of sandstone and brick the building sported turrets and towers that gave it the unquestionable look of a castle, this was Victorian elegance at its finest.

I parked my car and stepped out. The late summer sun bathed the castle in its rays, a natural spotlight to showcase the beauty of the place. I stood there in awe, absorbing the feel of the place. History clawed at my senses, but I was seeking spirits, not the heaviness of the past.

Unease hung in the air, not an eerie vibe like most haunted places had but a weird vibe, it reminded me of nervous energy, the kind you get when you’re excited about something. It was intense, full of expectation, and need. Not the feel of your average haunted house.

I walked around the building cataloging details while looking for an entrance. I finally found a path that led to a long wraparound porch. The porch was quite lovely and contained small bistro dining sets, a nice touch for guests who wished to enjoy the open air.

I entered and walked up to a desk and rang the bell. While waiting, I glanced around. To my left was a formal dining room. To my right, I could see a bar and various doors and openings that probably led to a kitchen and other rooms. To the left of the desk was a staircase.

A busty blonde bustled in from one of the side rooms on my right. Her attire and demeanor were all business. She must be the owner, Barbara, who Carrie had spoken with on the phone. I introduced myself.

“LizBeth, thank you so much for coming. I’ve heard great things about you and your skills in communicating with ghosts.”

“Thank you, Barbara.” I got right to the point. “So have you experienced a lot of ghostly activities here?” I glanced around the castle; it sure looked like the type of place that would have ghosts. I could feel its history reaching out to me. I have been in many Victorians over the years searching for ghosts, but none this fancy. It was not truly a castle, at least not in an old-world European sense, but this is definitely what passes as a castle in the US. The over-the-top extravagance gave it royal appeal. Once it had been referred to as Radcliff Castle. Now Barbara simply called it the Castle Inn.

“Let me show you around a bit,” She gestured for me to follow her.

As we walked around, I paid close attention to the details. Sometimes the smallest thing could make a difference when it came to hauntings. Occasionally it was an object that was haunted and not the location. One never knew until immersing themselves in the haunt.

On the surface, the Castle Inn was in top shape. It appeared to have been completely restored and from what I could tell everything was original, from the elaborate trim and crown molding to the built-in buffet in the large formal dining room and the bar in the back. It was breathtakingly exquisite.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this job. I didn’t have many details. I was told she just wanted me to check out her new Inn for spectral activity. She probably wanted me to rid the place of the spirits that would scare away customers.

Before I could ask her not to give me too many details, she was already spilling information. It seemed to bubble from her.

“Rumor has it that the Inn was once a brothel, of course, it was simply advertised as a boarding house after Mr. Radcliff passed away. Stories swirl about this place. There were a lot of fights, several deaths…it all leads to ghostly tales, you know?”

I tried to interrupt, but she continued talking non-stop as we walked through the grand building, her pointing out various rooms and historically significant things as we went along. “I bought this Victorian from the great, great-granddaughter of the brothel’s madam. Can you believe the same family owned it for over 100 years? Amazing. It all started with the Radcliffs. The story goes that Mr. Radcliff built this big mansion in 1895 for his wife, the love of his life. A few years later he was killed over some gambling debts, and the widow was left destitute, she had to turn the Inn into a boarding house, renting out rooms just so she could afford to keep the place. But the rooms were mostly rented to lovely young women who had a lot of male visitors. And the parties they had…” she winked at me. “It must have been one wild whore house…the things I found in this place. Wow.” Her eyes were bright with excitement.

The mention of interesting historical items grabbed my attention. Antiques were one of my hobbies. Anything related to the past, to history. I loved it. “What kinds of things?” I asked inquisitively. I hated getting too many details before searching the area for ghosts but this info was too good to pass up. Plus I felt no ghosts, yet, just weirdness in the air, almost like an electrical current flowing freely all around me. I could practically hear it buzzing in my ears.

“Oh, very naughty things from the brothel. All kinds of lewd and lascivious objects, very naughty objects.” Her eyes glittered, and her grin was mischievous. My opinion was changing about her. At first, I took her for an uptight Inn owner, suddenly I was getting a new vibe. One I thought I was going to like.

I smiled slyly. “Really? Did you keep them?”

“Of course, they have a historical connection to this place. I had to. I created a room just for all the historical ‘artifacts’.” Her little air quote was emphasized with a naughty grin.

She led me to a small ladies’ sitting room on the second floor that was set up a like a museum of historical kink. I gasped. There were numerous sex toys and contraptions from the Victorian era. Unbelievably bawdy pornographic photos were hanging framed on the wall and displayed all over the room- everything from daguerreotypes and tin types to more modern style images. I had never seen such a collection of antique porn. “Are these images of the women that worked here?” I asked as I walked around studying each fascinating object in the room.

“I believe most of them are. Some have names and dates on the back or along the bottom edge of the images; some had dates and names written in the cardboard frames.”

“Extraordinary,” I murmured as I continued to look around the room.

Corsets, bloomers, and other unmentionables were displayed in glass cases hung artfully on the wall. It was a decadent display of Victorian-era sexuality. It is quite funny that historical accounts often lead us to believe the Victorians were sexually repressed prudes. The couples and groups in the photographs were anything but prudish…and the toys were quite ingenious. Many of the antiquities were quite raunchy. I loved it.

“Check out the bookcase.” She pointed to a small bookcase in the corner. I perused the titles pulling out a few to browse the pages. Several were illustrated manuals full of sexual positions, and naughty books full of hand-drawn and colored nudes. It was spectacular.

“What a collection. It’s marvelous.”

Barbara practically radiated excitement. “I know. It sets the whole theme of this place, what I envision it to become.”

I looked at her quizzically.

“I want this to be a sexual retreat. An escape where people can indulge in eroticism.”

“Oh, I think I’m beginning to understand. You want me to try and get rid of the ghosts, so it has a sexy vibe, not a scary vibe.”

Barbara looked away biting her lip, and I’m pretty sure she blushed, “Actually, I want you to try and get the ghosts to come out more. And indulge.”

“Pardon me?” No one had ever asked me to rile up ghosts and make them more active.

“You see…the ghosts here are rumored to be…well…very randy. There have been reports over the years of guests being aroused, fondled, and pleasured by people unseen.”

“And you believe this?” I asked. I had dealt with a lot of ghosts over the years- mad ghosts, confused ghosts, and mostly harmless apparitions but horny ghosts? Never, well almost never. Halloween was a different story. Ghosts tended to indulge in all kinds of fleshy decadence when the veil was lifted… and the one Halloween I spent in New Orleans…well, you can multiply that by…oh, I don’t know, like a thousand. That night was the most decadently debauched ghostly encounter I had ever had- and I didn’t even have sex with any of the ghosts. My vampire boyfriend whisked me away before I could be caught up in the spell.

It was the magic in New Orleans to blame for those ghostly encounters; most places didn’t have the kind of mojo a ghost would need for extended fleshy interaction…even on Halloween.

“I’ve only been open a few months, but I’ve been here two years- cleaning, renovating. A lot of people have stayed with me during this time. After their stay, one couple approached me cautiously and told me about their threesome…with one of the ladies from the brothel. Later a male friend of mine woke up in the middle of the night to find himself being stroked. This continued until he was satisfied. Very satisfied. He never saw the woman, but he felt her and claimed he could smell her perfume. Another man, also alone in his room, suddenly found himself with two young and attractive women pleasuring him in ways he had only fantasized about.”

“Sounds like a couple horny and lonely men with very active imaginations.” I still wasn’t sold on carnal haunts.

This time, Barbara definitely blushed. “I would be inclined to agree had it not been for the first account from the couple. And I have seen scantily clad women in Victorian-era garb running around the house late at night. One time during renovations I walked into a bedroom and a naked couple was going at it on a bed…that wasn’t there. I squeaked in surprise, and they disappeared.”

“Seeing remnants of the past are one thing, but interaction, especially the sexual interaction between spirits and the living, it is crazy. I mean, if it were Halloween yes, spirits tend to crave the flesh, and when the clock strikes midnight sometimes, they get their wish. But everyday interaction.” I shook my head.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve-” she stammered, “-I’ve not only seen the spirits but um, uh, I’ve had sex with them, too.” Now her entire body was flushed. It crept down her neck and across her ample cleavage.

“You had sex with a ghost?” I asked incredulously.

“The first time I had just stepped out of the shower. I was applying lotion, and I felt a nudge against my bottom. I looked behind me, but nothing was there. I thought I imagined things, you know, getting easily spooked being all alone in this place. I ignored it, bent back over, and continued rubbing the lotion down my legs.”

She stopped and squirmed a little. “After I applied lotion to my backside, I felt a penis slide across my buttocks, nudge into my crevice and push against my opening. I freaked out and pulled away. Again nothing was behind me. Then I turned and looked into the full-length mirror beside me. A gorgeous man was behind me, his very large, very erect penis standing proud. I don’t know what came over me, but I bent over and offered myself to him. As he slid into me, the room swirled and filled with mist. Voices whispered to me. I could feel caresses everywhere on my body. He continued to thrust into me. It was so…it was like nothing I ever experienced before. I came over and over. My knees were shaking, and my legs were threatening to give out when I felt his orgasm. Then, poof, he was gone.” Her bottom lip was trembling, and I could see her trying to refrain from squeezing her thighs together. Barbara was becoming very aroused just talking about the encounter.

It was getting very hot in the tiny little room filled with sexual items. I was getting very hot. I couldn’t believe it, but I was being seduced by the thought of spectral sex. I stifled the urge to fan myself.

“Have you had any other encounters?” I asked. I suddenly wanted to know more. In great and explicit detail.

She giggled. “Oh yes, he’s been back several times. Sometimes he brings a female friend, or two. I never imagined anything could be so erotic. The orgasms are like magic.”

“And you want me to convince the ghosts to come out and play more?” I was beginning to think this job was going to be a lot of fun.

“Yes, with guests. I think the shades have become used to me, and they know I enjoy them but they are still very shy around guests, sometimes too shy and quiet. I’ve had several people pay a lot to stay in here in ‘the haunted brothel”. They want the ghostly experience. But they are very disappointed when nothing happens.”

“So people want to have sex with ghosts?” I wondered absentmindedly if there were any bad side effects from getting amorous with an apparition.

“Yes, spectrophobia is becoming quite popular. I can see why. It’s amazing.”

“Spectrophilia? There’s a word for it?” Wow, I was behind in my ghost-hunting research if I didn’t even know there was a word for ghost sex.

“Oh yes, a word for it, websites about it, lots of chatroom talk, too. It’s becoming the new ‘thing”. I belong to the Official Association of Spectrophiliacs. There’s a waiting list for the Inn once I officially open for guests. They are dying to get in here and have amazing ghost sex. If you get the chance while you are here, you should try it. I guarantee nothing could ever compare.” At that point, Barbara did fan herself.

I doubt that ghost sex is that great. What I witnessed in New Orleans had been spectacular, but they weren’t technically ghosts at the time. They had been fully corporeal after the veil had lifted. Anyway, I had great sex all the time. My vampire boyfriend knows how to rock my world. Woo, nothing can hold a candle to what a vampire can do when it comes to sex. My vamp is a rock-solid male with centuries of skills, an exquisite sexual appetite, and enough sex magic and pheromones to spin me into a seductive surrender in 2.2 seconds. Not that he even needed the magic and pheromones, those were just fun bonuses.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said with a grin suddenly wishing Christien was with me so I could drag him to our room. I couldn’t wait for him to join me.

“So, you’ll take the job?” She looked hopeful.

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot. It sounds a lot easier than my normal gigs. Most of the time I have to rid a place of spirits which can take elaborate research and a lot of convincing to get them to move on, sometimes even an exorcism. You just want me to let them know it's okay to come out and play.”

“Yes, heavy emphasis on the coming part. Ghostly orgasms will make you see stars.” The look on Barbara’s face convinced me that she would be heading to her room for some boogieman banging once we were done talking.

“Great, I’m in.”

“Wonderful, let me show you to your room. It’s in the tower. The room has had a lot of spirit sightings but no physical contact. It was once part of Mr. and Mrs. Radcliff’s adjoining suite of rooms but later was sealed up into just one room. There is a shy doxy that haunts that room. She is petite and very busty. I catch a glimpse of her occasionally, but she never comes out to play with any of the guests. Hopefully, you can change that.” With a smile, she turned and left me at the doorway to my room.

I watched as Barbara quickly headed down the hall and enter a room at the far end by the stairs. Within several minutes, I heard some murmuring followed by moaning. My hunches were right. Barb called her ghostly boyfriend for some naughty nookie.

This was going to be an interesting job.