THAT ALBINO VOYEUR by JBEdwards

Feature Writer:

Feature Title: That Albino Voyeur

Published: 11.02.2025

Story Codes: Erotic Fiction

Synopsis: A ghostly voyeur comes to life

Author’s Notes: This is my first foray into the Erotic Horror rubric. I hope you like it. I wish to thank my long suffering and always wonderful editor, Ken.

That Albino Voyeur

It was such an innocent beginning. My lover Carl and I came into some money when a dear relative died. We, but mostly me, were hunting for a home, having had enough of living in apartments. I found my dream home, an old house in southern Connecticut that dated back to 1775. Since it was now 2025, that made it 250 years old! The house had been well maintained. Its electricity had been upgraded to modern standards. The front door had low clearance, and Carl, who is six feet plus a little, had to tuck his head down to enter it. Colonials were shorter people, I guess.

As for me, I’m short like the colonials. Five feet two on a good day, and around 105 pounds. I always wear heels of course, which adds a couple of inches. I have skinny legs, skinny arms, and somewhat large boobs. I project a vulnerable, little girl aura, but I am 100% woman, having had an active sex life in high school and college, and especially with Carl for the last five years, three of them living together. He calls me his Sexy Suzy. I’m just Suzy. He also calls me his “little fuck bunny,” but I don’t like that nickname, especially when he uses it around some of our friends. My full name is Suzanne Delacroix.

Carl has proposed marriage a few times. I’m against it. I don’t want the state – or God forbid the Church — to intervene in our lives. I’ve seen what happens when people divorce. Carl and I are forever, don’t get me wrong, but you never know, do you? Let the state be the state, let the church be the church, and let us be.

Back to the house. We spent the next three months hunting for antiques to furnish it. Before long we had a spectacular home. I even found a colonial era painting in an out of the way antique store out in the Connecticut countryside. It had centaurs and water nymphs in a pastoral setting. We hung it over the fireplace. I’d enjoy looking at it for what seemed like hours on end. I had mystical thoughts. It was as if I knew some of the centaurs, and some of the nymphs, in a previous life. This was of course ridiculous, but I nevertheless could not stop myself from studying the painting.

When we closed on the house Carl secretly bought me a present to celebrate. It was a totally gorgeous antique necklace of (I assumed) gold plate, but it might have been 18 karat solid gold, interspersed with emeralds and rubies. One of the nymphs in our painting was adorned with a similar necklace; it looked like something out of the vaults of Bulgari. In fact, it was indeed made by Bulgari, as I later discovered. So what I presumed was gold plate was actually 18 karat gold.

As soon as the real estate agents and lawyers were gone, I stripped off my clothes, put the necklace on, and told Carl to make love to me and never stop. The necklace fell to between my breasts, and Carl sexily pulled it to one side, so it caressed and cupped my left boob.

“God, you look sexy,” he declared as he drove his hard cock into me. He fucked me. My man is a great fuck, as well as a loving, generous lover. I’m a lucky girl.

I wore the necklace every day. I usually wore it topless when at home, often cupping one of my boobs. Not that it matters, but usually it cupped my left boob. I felt special in it, almost mystical.

We were finally settled when I screwed up, big time. We had a party, using the excuse of Valentine’s Day, which was only a few days off. Carl bought top-shelf liquor for the occasion. Alcohol flowed a bit too freely. As it got late I realized I was drunk, but Carl was worse off. He had passed out still fully dressed and was snoring away in our double bed in the bedroom. Mike and Marsha were the last couple to leave, and only Philip and I were left standing. Philip and I had fooled around a bit years earlier, first in high school and then in freshman year of college. We had come awfully close to having full-blown sex, but I had never let it happen. Now we were alone in my dream house, with only a passed-out Carl to keep us company.

“Why does Carl call you his fuck bunny, Suzy?” Philip asked, not so innocently. I grimaced when he said that. Carl and his big mouth.

“Why do you think?”

“He’s so lucky. Hey, do you want to give an old man a treat?”

“27 is not old.”

“I’m 28 as of last month. I could use a treat.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“A little kiss.”

“Seriously? Just a kiss?” I didn’t trust Philip. He always wanted more. He always wanted too much. “Don’t you get relief from Stephanie?”

“Stephanie is history. We had a threesome with Mitch, and I haven’t seen her nor Mitch ever since. Not even for my birthday.” That explained why Philip came stag to my party. Philip seemed on the verge of tears. I wanted to cheer him up.

We kissed. While we kissed Philip somehow got my sweater off. He was hunting for the clasp of my bra when I broke the kiss and pushed him away. “This is not cool, Philip. This is my home, and Carl is down the hall in bed.”

Philip had always wanted more than I was willing to give. He hadn’t changed.

“Let’s go outside. It’s a nice evening.” Philip suggested.

“It’s freezing outside.”

“Your guest bedroom has that big window with a view of your garden. We can watch the birds. Want to show me?” The guest bedroom was far from the master bedroom where Carl was passed out.

“It’s night. The birds will be asleep.”

“There’s always the owls,” he said as he took my hand and led me to our guest bedroom. He remembered where it was from the home tours Carl had given early in the party.

Had I not been so drunk I might have seen what Philip had in mind. I was too proud of our new home. I wanted to show it off. I turned on the outside lights and let Philip lead me down the hall to the guest bedroom. My bra was loose but instead of refastening it I just shrugged it off. Philip had seen my boobs in high school and college, and they’re the same boobs they’ve always been. I rationalized being topless in front of Philip. His smile at seeing my boobs took up most of his face. His shirt was off at this point. I’m not sure when that happened.

He took me in his arms, hugged me gently, and he kissed me again. His kisses were much better than those of his I remembered. I loved the feel of his chest hairs on my boobs. My nipples were hard. My necklace was hanging down, between my boobs.

The drink plus Philip’s caresses of my boobs while he gently and lovingly kissed me were my undoing. He led me to the bed and we both fell onto it. Not a word was spoken as he removed my skirt, my two-inch heeled pumps, my leggings under my skirt, and finally – yes – my lace, bikini-cut panties. As I had taught him to do years ago, he expertly caressed my pussy, paying especially close and tender attention to my clitoris. He had improved, too, since those early days: his long fingers inside me curled up and found my G-spot. Soon he had me so excited I climaxed, pushing him away as it was just too intense.

After a good climax, I always feel like my vaginal canal resembles a vacuum. As we both learned in high school physics, nature hates a vacuum. I could tell Philip was going to fuck me.

“No, Philip. No penetration that way,” I said weakly, but trying to make my voice firm.

“Why not? You let Mark, Seth and even Roger enjoy you. Why not me? You know you like me better.”

“That was years ago. I’m with Carl now and no longer free and easy with my body. We’re not making love, Philip. Those days are gone.”

Actually, I had neither Roger nor Seth fuck me. I had bought them off with blowjobs. Mark was another matter. Mark wouldn’t take no for an answer. All that was back in high school.

Philip was not convinced. I continued. “You’re my closest friend. Sex will kill that. Once we do it we’ll always want to do it again. And we will. I can’t let that happen; I treasure our friendship too much.” I couldn’t reveal the real reason I insisted on no sex. No sex in the sense of fucking, anyway. I suppose Philip’s fingering was already having sex.

“So you won’t let us make love because you like me too much?”

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy.”

Philip stopped talking and once again gave me oral, which is my biggest weakness. Over my weak protests and declarations that I was committed to Carl, who was sleeping down the hall, Philip finally got what he had always wanted, as he slipped his lovely, hard, throbbing penis inside me, filling the vacuum, pleasing both the laws of physics and my erotic center. He entered me as if his hard cock had always belonged inside me. He pumped away, fondling my boobs as we fucked. He ejaculated inside me, even as I climaxed a second time. It was a wonderful climax.

It was right after I climaxed that I screamed. I suppose Philip thought it was a scream due to my orgasm, but it wasn’t. I screamed because I suddenly realized we were being intensely watched. Not only watched, but it was a strange yet familiar man watching us, standing right there in the guest bedroom. He had a particular focus on me. Philip knew something was wrong as I kept screaming, trying to cover myself with the sheet, while trying to get out from under his huge body.

Philip got off me. I was too shocked to speak, so holding a sheet over me I just pointed at the strange, naked man. The man must have been an albino or something because he had no color at all. It was as if I were living in a color movie but the naked stranger was in black and white. Mostly white. His face had no discernible expression.

Philip looked puzzled as I screamed and continued to point. I was hyperventilating.

“What are you pointing at, Suzy?”

Was he a moron? I was naked and vulnerable, full of Philip’s cum, and here was this naked, albino strange man obsessively staring at me. The albino was mute and expressionless, except for his eyes. It was his eyes that were the most frightening. The albino’s cock was rigid. I didn’t notice it right away. Why wasn’t Philip alarmed, too?

I calmed down enough to speak. “A man is staring at us. He watched us fuck. He’s naked and has an erection.”

“Where?”

“Right there!” I pointed at the man.

“I’m sorry Suzy, but no one is there. It’s only the two of us in this room,” Philip said, in the reassuring way a man speaks to a hysterical woman he’s just fucked. If there even is such a way to speak.

“What do you mean, no one is there? Are you nuts? Are you blind?” I was shouting. I got out of bed, no longer caring I was naked with my new necklace dangling between my boobs.

Even though I was naked, I walked over to the man, trying and failing to look threatening. “Introduce yourself, you perverted voyeur.”

I was close to the albino; close enough to reach out and touch him. I felt cold, colder as I got closer to him.

“Who are you? Why are you here, in my home?” I asked, and I thought I saw a flicker of emotion on his face, but otherwise, he had no reaction. I played with my necklace. “You’re staring at my necklace. Or is it my boobs? Do you like the way the necklace cups my left boob?”

I detected a subtle hint of a smile flash across the albino’s stony face. He was looking more familiar. Then he vanished, and I fainted.

**

“You had a vasovagal syncope,” the nurse told me when I awoke in a bed at the Yale New Haven Hospital.

“What?”

The nurse explained that vasovagal events such as mine, more commonly known as fainting, could be brought on by excessive drinking, dehydration, or a sudden shock, such as Philip had described to her, or a heart arrhythmia.

What she said was, “Alcohol consumption compromises the maintenance of arterial blood pressure.” She explained further. She said a sudden shock such as seeing what Philip had described as my “imaginary naked albino” peeping on me, could also cause a sudden drop in blood pressure. Luckily, I knew enough for that to make sense.

I wondered just how much Philip had told her while I was unconscious. The nurse told me my clothes and belongings, including my purse, were in the locker in my room. I looked alarmed. Being quick, the nurse also told me, “Your Bulgari necklace is in the hands of your husband. No worries, my dear.” Philip must have told a white lie to them that Carl and I were married.

“Can I see my husband?”

“I’ll ask them both to come to your room.”

“Both?”

“Yes. They’re nearby in the waiting area. I’ll get them. You need to rest and rehydrate,” she said, as she gestured towards my IV. She gave me the remote for the television mounted high on the wall facing my bed. “Push this red button if you need one of us nurses to come help you.”

**

Both Carl and Philip were loving and kind. Philip had told Carl what happened. I wondered if he had included my infidelity. I didn’t ask. Carl wanted to know about the imaginary albino watching Philip and me “copulate,” as Carl put it. So, Philip did tell him. He probably also told the nurse. Maybe he told CNN.

“I guess it was a hallucination,” I said, not knowing what else it could be.

“Philip didn’t see the albino,” Carl said, meaning yes, it must have been a hallucination. “Has this happened to you before?”

“No, never.”

“It was probably the booze plus I assume you climaxed with Philip. Is he the first, or have there been others?”

I couldn’t believe Carl was raising this topic in a hospital room and – especially — in front of Philip. Strangely, though, both Carl and Philip seemed calm. “All your work colleagues over in Greenwich, of course,” I said, out of anger.

“One at a time, or all at once?”

I didn’t answer that. Carl can give as good as he gets. When I was released with a heart monitor, in case I had arrhythmias, I was told not to drink booze nor have sex for at least the next 24 hours. Carl teased me that I’d have to refrain from sex for a day and a night – could I handle it?

Carl has a way of withdrawing when he’s upset, so the ride home was quiet and calm. It was much too calm, almost catatonic. I wasn’t ready to explain myself, so I welcomed the quiet. We slept together that night. I cuddled up to Carl and played with his penis, but it stayed soft. Carl’s penis never stays soft when we’re in bed. Finally, Carl said, “No sex. Remember?” As I cried myself to sleep, I thought about the albino. I was sure I had seen him before, but I had no idea where or when.

The next day I slept late. Carl had left for work, and I had the house to myself. I was at loose ends. I wondered if masturbation was included in the “no sex for 24 hours” instruction. It probably was. I decided teasing myself was okay, so I walked around the house topless. Carl had put my gorgeous Bulgari necklace in a bureau drawer. I found it and wore it, as I found wearing the necklace comforting. I checked myself out in our bedroom’s full- length mirror. My body was a treat for an albino voyeur.

I had asked Carl to tell me how he found the necklace and why he bought me such an extravagant gift. He said he was strangely drawn to it, and once he found it, he felt compelled to buy it for me. He hoped I liked it. I told him I loved it. I did, too.

I suppose I was tempting the albino to reappear by parading half-naked around my new home. I was disappointed when he didn’t appear. I was sure I had not hallucinated, but my certainty was beginning to ebb. As I walked around the house, cleaning up after our party, the necklace began to vibrate gently. Okay, this was weird.

I was in the kitchen, fixing myself a light lunch, when the albino reappeared, staring intently at either my boobs, the necklace, or both. Once again, the albino was naked and had an erection.

“Hello,” I said, this time much more composed. The albino was silent. Instead, he began to walk away and gestured for me to follow. In the living room, at the masonry fireplace, he pointed to a spot where the stones met the wall. I gave him my best puzzled look. He was insistent, or as insistent as a deathly cold, naked, mute albino can be. I examined the area intensely. Tapping on the wall led me to believe there was a hidden compartment. If there was one, however, how to open it stumped me.

He indicated via gestures that I should masturbate. I didn’t see how that would open a secret compartment, but it seemed harmless except for the nurse’s instructions to avoid sex for a day. I decided she meant sexual intercourse, not self-fondling, which in retrospect is just stupid. Maybe the albino just liked to watch women masturbate. Anyway, I did it, and I had a lovely climax while he watched. I came surprisingly quickly – maybe it was a new world’s record. Dammit all – it worked! As I climaxed, a little door opened. This would make a great party trick.

As I sat I took out the contents of the cabinet and had a look. I fainted again. I woke on the floor, still all alone. I sat up. I gradually rose to a standing position, staying still until the room stopped spinning. There was a knock at the front door. We really needed to fix the doorbell. I grabbed a robe to cover my naked torso.

“Hello, Philip. What brings you here? Don’t you have to work?”

“I’m on my way back from work. The markets were crazy today in Asia, so I basically worked all night. I wanted to stop to check up on you. Great outfit, by the way,” he said as he stared at my naked boobs peeking out from my robe.

“I’m glad you stopped by. I want to show you something.” I led him over to the fireplace. “I found some photos tucked away in a secret compartment.”

Philip looked through them. “It’s all the same people in the photos. One of them is you, right?”

“Wrong. I’ve never seen these photos. There’s also Polaroids from the 1980s, but I’ve put those aside.”

“How do you know they’re from the 1980s?”

“The woman’s hairstyle, mostly. Plus, they’re Polaroids, which dates them somewhat. I can’t tell by the woman’s clothes because she’s not wearing any.”

“I’ve got to see those! I didn’t know there were pictures of you naked.”

“It’s not me. The woman looks like me, granted, but I was born in 1998. She can’t be me.”

“Does she have a mole on the underside of her left breast, like you do?”

I blushed. “Yes, she does. It’s uncanny, freaky, how much she looks like me.”

“She’s your doppelganger, even if it was before you were born.”

“Maybe so, but I’d never pose for some of the pictures she did. That’s for certain.”

“The pix certainly are provocative. Is that a Doberman?” I knew he’d focus on the bestiality picture. “I wonder who took them,” Philip said.

“Her lover, I’d guess. He’s my albino, as you can see in the pictures of them together.”

“I’ve not seen your albino, and the man in the pictures with you – I mean her – is no albino. He’s quite handsome.”

“Yes, and he’s clothed, not naked with an erection!”

Philip studied the pictures. “Suzy, her resemblance to you is uncanny. The pictures are of you. Hey, in the Polaroids you won’t show me, does the woman have a birthmark near her, uh, pussy, like you do?”

“I didn’t look that closely,” I said; but yes, she did. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Where is that coming from? Anyway no, of course not. Can I trouble you for a glass of water?”

“How rude of me, not to offer you a drink! Is water your preference? We have 1792 Bourbon and of course ice cubes, for example.”

“A drink would be grand. Thank you.”

“Ice? On the rocks?”

“Yes.”

“Be right back.”

Philip took the occasion to look for and find the sexy Polaroids. He was amazed at how much the woman resembled Suzy, and he had no idea she liked to suck cocks so much. What a treat a Suzy blowjob would be! Best however was Suzy and the man engaged in all kinds of sexual acts. He wondered who the photographer was, who had to be there to take the pictures.

“Your bourbon, Philip,” I said, putting the glass near his right hand.

“Won’t you please join me?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, I’m afraid.”

“This is delicious bourbon. Have a taste.”

After three glasses apiece, Philip seemed okay, and I was plastered. At that point, he showed me his favorite of the Polaroid pornographic pictures. He wanted us to reenact it.

“No, Philip. I told you that you’d keep expecting sex if I had surrendered that last time. I also told you it was a huge mistake. You’re always going to want to get into my panties. Well, it’s not going to happen,” I said, in as firm a voice as I could manage.

“What about your imaginary albino? Doesn’t he like to watch? We could give him a treat.” There was mischief in Philip’s eyes. He was making fun of me. I got angry.

At that moment my memory of the albino returned. All sorts of memories were flooding back. It was like I was receiving a fire hose of centuries of memories. It was overwhelming my brain, but suddenly, I saw everything. I understood everything.

“The albino’s name is Henri. Only Henri can do those things with me, but never in his albino state. No way I’d let you do them.”

“Are you okay, Suzy? You do know Henri doesn’t exist.”

“That’s Henri in the pictures. He wasn’t always an albino.”

“You’re not making sense.” Philip was becoming nervous on my behalf. He clearly thought I was crazy. Poor man.

“You shouldn’t have come back today, wanting to seduce me again. It wasn’t smart, Philip. You’re giving Henri the chance to … well, to … you don’t want to know. You should go. Now.”

“Should I call a doctor for you?” Philip asked.

I laughed. “Want to fuck me one more time? My albino Henri likes to watch. You do know, however, that I love and am committed to Carl, right?”

Philip’s eyes twinkled with excitement. My eyes doubtless looked sad. I hated to do this to Philip, my best friend, but rules are rules. “No, Philip, we can’t fuck like in that picture. Tell you what, though. There’s a 30- minute delay before you become an albino like poor Henri here. If you like, you can watch me fuck Henri instead of fucking me yourself.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Suzy. Are you high? Drunk? Stoned?”

“I wish I were, but no. Do you know how to use an SLR? Good. It’s fully charged. Have fun. Okay, Henri. Go for it!”

Over a matter of a few minutes, Henri returned to his natural coloring, a blend of white and brown. I undressed completely, except for my necklace which caressed my left boob. Henri’s beautiful but now flaccid penis got hard. It was erect. I got wet looking at it, remembering the ways we had made love over the centuries. I had thought Henri was gone forever. I was thrilled to have him back, but my thrill was tempered over what we were doing to my innocent friend Philip. He was an unwitting sacrifice for the greater good. It’s the way of the, well it’s just the way things are.

Philip looked gobsmacked. He didn’t know if he could believe his eyes, as Henri and his magnificent naked body became visible to him. Once Henri’s transformation was complete, he embraced me. Our naked bodies touched, really touched, for the first time in well over a hundred years. God almighty it felt good. Henri’s hands began to caress my ass, then my boobs, then my pussy. He tested the water and determined I was ready. I had always got wet quickly for Henri.

Henri must have somehow led Carl to find and then to buy the necklace. The emeralds in the necklace had made Henri visible to me, and now the rubies were allowing Henri’s transformation back to flesh and blood. It was key too that I was wearing the necklace against my bare flesh. It had been a long time since Henri was last in my life. I had missed him constantly. Carl and some of the others before Carl were wonderful, but nobody could compare to Henri. Sadly though, I needed Philip’s unwitting sacrifice for the transformation. It could have worked with Carl, I suppose, but I could never sacrifice Carl.

**

For the first few hundred years Henri and I had lived in the Aquitaine region of France. The first time I was 17, almost 18, Jacques Delacroix proposed. He had no choice because the marriage was arranged. Henri the Viscount came to fetch me once word of our pending nuptials got out. Our local lord wanted to see me. Everyone knew why: droit de seigneur. My mother prepared me for the event as best she could. Henri de Blancfort prepared me further as we walked to the lord’s chateau. The lord had him witness all of the young brides-to-be losing their virginities to the lord.

Henri told me what to expect. Henri explained all sorts of aspects of the sexual act that my mother never said. He told me that it was important that the lord think I was enjoying the sex, whether I was or not. He had told me to moan and when to do it. He told me to raise my hips to meet the lord’s thrusts. He taught me how to fake an orgasm, in case I didn’t get a real one. He learned I didn’t know what an orgasm was, so he licked me down there and used his fingers until I experienced one. Boy, did I experience one, too! I wanted my first time to be with him, but Henri told me it was important that I remain a virgin for the lord.

My deflowering, with Sir André of Aquitaine, the lord of the manor, went okay. I was lucky Henri had coached me so well. I didn’t climax, but I faked a climax brilliantly, according to Henri. It turns out I really liked having sex. My hips raised of their own volition to meet the lord’s thrusts, and after the first moan escaped my lips I continued to moan without even thinking.

Following Henri’s instructions, the rest emerged naturally. I lubricated generously, and Sir André played with my boobs as he fucked my brains out. I repeatedly glanced at Henri while the lord’s wonderful cock took me to heaven, and seeing Henri there hastened my journey. The lord then gave me to the Viscount Henri. It turned out Henri too had enjoyed every young woman in the lord’s duchy, all before their fiancés had the chance. He was tender, sweet, and experienced. It was easy to fall for him, and I think most of us young brides did. I know I did.

I knew that, once married, I could let only my husband enjoy my charms, except for the lord. He would send the Viscount Henri to fetch me whenever he felt the urge to enjoy me again. I became one of his favorites and he sent Henri often. Henri would always watch us and then take sloppy seconds. Henri gave me my third and fourth orgasms of my life during one of those episodes. He taught me how to teach my husband Jacques to give me orgasms too.

Jacques was astute and learned quickly. Henri and Jacques convinced one of my friends, Madame de Chabot, or Vivienne to me, to help Jacques tone his technique. Henri watched and gave pointers. Jacques was too possessive to use me in front of Henri or to let Henri use me at all. Vivienne didn’t mind the sex, as long as her husband didn’t know. Under Henri’s watchful eye Vivienne taught Jacques well, and my home sex life improved immensely.

Bishop Michel Savane got upset at my promiscuity with the lord and with Henri. The bishop was fine with droit de seigneur, but once I was married, he disapproved of my so-called cheating. It was not like I had a choice where the lord was concerned. I could cheat with the lord or refuse. If I refused, I would be banished, or decapitated, or be burned to death at the stake as a witch.

I consulted with Megara, a wise and pretty woman in Bordeaux, who was rumored to be a witch. She fixed things so that if a man gave me trouble, he would become a ghost. I never thought it would happen to Henri. As I learned centuries later, the only way to return to the living was to find another person to replace you as a ghost. It was something like a Law of Conservation of Ghosts. Also, I kept being reborn. That is how I lived for several centuries and was yet only in my twenties. Megara’s magic outlived her. She was pretty and sexy, but when she forgot to fake an orgasm for Bishop Savane, he burned her alive at the stake. It was horrible.

The bishop then turned his attention to me, since the lord recommended me. I almost never forgot to have an orgasm with him, real or fake. Poor Henri no longer got to watch, nor to receive sloppy seconds.

One horrible time I had a migraine headache. The bishop always fucked me without foreplay, but it was of little matter since I lubricated easily. This time, however, I was stone dry. Usually, when I was dry and the bishop fucked me anyway, I would get wet rather quickly. I’m not sure how the headache factored in, but I remained dry throughout the fuck. I was in such duress between the migraine and the brutality of the dry fuck that I forgot to fake a climax. It didn’t help that Bishop Savane squirted inside me so quickly, leaving me little time to fake appreciation.

The Bishop was upset. Before he could tell his servant that I was a witch and must suffer the fate of Megara and others, he became a ghost before my very eyes. As he became a ghost, Megara returned to the living. I was in such a state of shock that I fainted. It was my first vasovagal episode. There would be many more over the subsequent centuries.

When Megara returned, back in the 17th century, she explained to me the importance of emeralds and especially of rubies. I now think that is why the Bulgari necklace played such a key role in the resurrection of Henri. The emeralds summoned the ghost, and the rubies enabled the ghost’s return to the living. I have my wonderful lover and life partner Carl to thank, ironically, for giving me the necklace and thereby enabling the return of my centuries-old true love, Henri de Blancfort.

Luckily, Carl and Henri became friends quickly. They had long talks, and finally came to the conclusion that neither man minded sharing me with the other. Henri, a Viscount of the 17th century, adjusted to the 21st century remarkably quickly and easily.

Sometimes Philip watches the three of us when we have some bedroom fun. Only I can see him, wistfully watching, naked and in an albino state. He’s invisible to Henri and Carl and everyone else. It makes me sad to see him like that, but I’m forever grateful to him for the return of my Henri. Like Henri before him, Philip is doomed to live in the fourth dimension, or wherever ghosts dwell, at least until some lucky girl exchanges her lover for Philip, even if it takes 100 years.

Each year on All Saints Day I enter a church, either Catholic or Episcopalian, and I light a candle for the soul of Philip and say a prayer: May the light of the eternal Vishanti bathe the ghost of Philip, and may the omnipotent Oshtur grant him wisdom and strength!

THE END

 

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