Coming Through Moonlight (Pt 2: The Sound on the Stairs)

When fantasies collide - paranormal erotica

This is a work of fiction that contains explicit sex scenes and strong language.  It is intended for mature, adult readers aged 18 and older.  Issues such as STD's and other risks of sexual conduct are, for the most part, ignored, which means this story is fantasy in that it takes place in a world where such complications do not exist. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2024 by Ema Stonig. All rights reserved.  Published by Avenue Oh ™

Coming Through Moonlight - Pt. 2: The Sound on the Stairss

(This is the 2nd of two parts. If you missed the first part, click here to find it.)

Headlights to a car Gracelyn doesn’t recognize slowly approach along the rutted driveway.  A non-descript small car stops behind Gracelyn’s rented Mercedes.  The engine keeps running and the lights stay on, shining across the front of Aunt Millison’s house.

Gracelyn watches.  And waits.  Although this isn’t really happening, is it?  This is a detour of the fantasy she fell asleep to.

She checks the time—just after ten, which is usually hours before she goes to bed.  But that’s her city life.  Here, how long has she been asleep?  Half an hour?

Outside, the car engine turns off.  The driver’s door opens, but the headlights stay on.  A woman gets out, her long hair loose across the shoulders of a stylish coat she wears over jeans.

Gracelyn gasps quietly.  It’s Beth.  As if her fantasy has summonsed her.

Standing alongside the small car, Beth flicks her thumb over her phone, the lit screen lighting her face as she looks uncertainly toward the house.

Gracelyn starts down the stairs, turns on the living room lamp.  Through the front window, she sees Beth, who seems uncertain she’s come to the right address.  Gracelyn opens the door and calls her name in tone she’s never used with her before, because she is not addressing her as an underling, but a lover.

“Gracelyn?”  Beth seems unsure the woman in the sleeping gown could possibly be the powerful person she works for, which suddenly makes clear to Gracelyn that Beth has not come here to seduce her, because this is reality, not a dream.

Only Gracelyn doesn’t want to be taken out of her fantasy.

Beth says, “You didn’t answer my texts, so I called, and when you didn’t answer I was worried.  Are you okay?”

“Yes.  Fine.”  Gracelyn feels cool night air come through her thin sleeping gown.

“I have your laptop.”  The driver’s door to Beth’s car remains open.

“You didn’t have to come all the way up here.”

“It was a good excuse to get out of dinner.”

In the quiet night, the sound of their conversation seems as if it will travel for miles.

“Come in, come in.”  Gracelyn suddenly feels like Aunt Millison, who always appeared at the door to welcome her when she visited.

With a hint of hesitation, Beth asks, “Are you alone?”

“Yes.  Of course.”

Beth reaches back into her car—a rental—and brings out Gracelyn’s laptop in its Tumi case.  She also has an overnight bag, and asks Gracelyn: “Do you mind?  I guess I’m kind of inviting myself to stay.  I can get a motel, though.”

“Of course you can stay.  Come in.”

Beth shuts the car.  Walking toward the house, she looks across open fields and all the sky, enchanted, but wary.  “Are there bears?”

“Yes.”

Beth walks faster, and as the younger woman comes into the house, the soft scent of her perfume, which Gracelyn has enjoyed countless times, intensifies Gracelyn’s desire to embrace her.  But she won’t do that.  Not until she’s back in bed and reality dissolves into the fantasy that leaves her free to pretend.

As Gracelyn closes the front door, neither of the two women notice the trio of cats watching them from the moon shadows alongside the barn.

“Have you eaten?” Gracelyn asks Beth, again finding herself saying something like Aunt Millison—not that she has much to offer as the pantry and fridge are no longer well-stocked, perishable items having been tossed out on her first visit after Millison’s passing.

“I had a protein bar in the car.”  Beth is trying not to be obvious, looking around the small farmhouse the way you do when arriving somewhere new—trying to associate the person you know with the place—but her eyes can’t seem to hide she’s taking visual inventory of the low ceiling, the cracks in plaster walls, the old wood plank floors, the few framed pieces of needlework on the wall, how the fireplace seems too large for the space, and the upholstered sofa and matching chairs with diamond tufting look like they should be dusty even if they’re not.

“You bailed on dinner with Jake?” Grace asks.

“I think I’m bailing on Jake.”  Beth is still looking around the house, not at Gracelyn in her sleeping gown.

“And how is Jake taking that?”  Gracelyn slides her computer bag from Beth’s shoulder and resists the urge to take off Beth’s coat and whatever she wears beneath it.

“He’ll move on,” Beth says, then, indicating her overnight bag, says, “I brought a wifi hotspot connector.”

“Thanks.”  Gracelyn takes a few barefooted steps to the dining room and leaves her Tumi bag on the table, which, along with four straight-back chairs, is all that separates the living room from the kitchen, the home’s main living spaces defined by furniture placement and the fireplace and stairs, not interior walls.

“Where should I put this?” Beth asks of her own weekend bag, her question posed as though ready to take instructions from her boss.

Only Gracelyn doesn’t want to be her boss right now.  Not that way.  The younger woman’s presence in this house, the two of them alone, so far away from everyone else, has Gracelyn on the verge of making what she knows could be a terrible mistake.  And yet she can’t seem to keep herself from her thoughts … but reminds herself to barricade them as no more than that … even as she becomes aware that her nipples are hard, and her pussy is getting wet.

“Put it anywhere,” Gracelyn says of Beth’s overnight bag, although she wants to know what’s inside it, what will Beth sleep in tonight, but instead of asking that, says, “Are you warm enough?  I turned the heat back when I got into bed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to wake you.  I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine.  There’s not much to do here after dark.  Millison wasn’t a TV watcher.  There’s only a small set in the kitchen and I cancelled the sat service after she died.  I get on a different schedule here.”

“Sure.  Sure.”  Beth still has her coat on, still holds her bag, and suddenly seems a little awkward, as if beginning to consider coming here was a mistake.

“How about some tea?” Gracelyn offers, again gliding close to Beth to smell her perfume before moving into the kitchen.  Flicking on the overhead light, she opens a wood cabinet by its plain round knob, the cabinet door worn from decades of Aunt Millison’s fingers performing this same task.  “There’s some chamomile or cinnamon-spice rooibos?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Gracelyn runs water into an old gooseneck copper kettle and feels a stir of excitement as Beth removes her coat.  Her assistant wears a thin cashmere sweater with a v-neck that reveals bare skin at her throat, and likely has nothing on beneath it other than a bra.  Beth always wears soft bras, not the kind that create a valley of cleavage.

Beth peers out the window above the kitchen sink, but there is nothing to see other than her own reflection.  “How long did your aunt live here?”

“Her entire adult life from the time she was married.”

“Wow.  I can’t imagine.”

Setting the kettle on the gas burner, Gracelyn leans a hip against the butcherblock counter, knife scarred from decades of use. “She was very comfortable here.”

Beth continues to try to look outside into the darkness.  “What’s out there?  It was so dark driving here.”

“Farmland mostly.  Some stands of trees in the valleys or where there’s a stream or rocks that’s no good for crops or cows.”

“I think I’d be scared way out here by myself,” Beth admits.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Gracelyn says, unaware two more cats are stealthily crossing the yard, heading for the barn.

The two women settle with their tea in the cozy living room, where a single standing lamp provides soft lighting.  Gracelyn sits at one end of the three-cushion sofa, thinking Beth might take the opposite end, but Beth instead chooses one of the matching chairs, although does so with a brief hesitation, as if having considered the sofa.  Which causes Gracelyn to wonder if playful, lustful thoughts might be hiding behind Beth’s innocent conversation … or is that just wishful fantasy on her part?

Beth asks, “What do you need to do here this weekend?”

“Not much.  I’m meeting the lawyer tomorrow.”

“About the feral cats?”

“That, and I’ll take him some of that paperwork.”  She nods over her shoulder toward the dining room table.

“I’ve never had to deal with anything like this,” Beth appreciates.  “The legal part of someone dying.  I remember it made my mother sad when my grandfather died.”

“It does make it seem like whoever died was just so many entries on a ledger.  Because it’s mostly about what they owned.  When their life was so much more than that.” Gracelyn sips tea from a porcelain cup that has survived from what was originally part of a set, then she draws her legs up onto the sofa and adjusts her sleeping gown when it twists about her thighs.

She finds it very pleasurable wearing this thin covering in Beth’s presence, for while it is not revealing—in fact, it’s almost homely—the thin fabric and pearl buttons serve as reminder of how very little shields her body from Beth’s eyes.

“It’s so quiet,” Beth says.  It only takes a brief pause in their conversation for her to observe this.  Beth is used to noise, having grown up in a busy New York borough, she now lives in a ground-level apartment not far off 33rd St., where activity from Georgetown bars often spills over well into the morning.

“The quiet doesn’t seem real sometimes either,” Gracelyn says and wonders if she should warn Beth about the cats.  But those cats are her fantasy, and tonight she imagines Beth will be all the fantasy she needs.

Looking at her assistant, Gracelyn thinks to herself, When we go upstairs, and you’re in the other bedroom, I’m going to wish I was naked on top of you, Beth, rubbing against you, and thinking about that, I’m going to make myself come.  But I’ll try to be quiet about it.

For Gracelyn, anticipating that moment becomes a pleasure unto itself as their conversation, like camouflage, conceals her desires.

Beth mentions her one-time interest in being a fashion designer—how she put together a portfolio and applied to be on Project Runway.  Learning that, Gracelyn imagines judging Beth’s designs, the way she sometimes imagines bringing Beth into her office, only when Beth asks in that eager way how she can improve, Gracelyn fantasizes telling her, “Just stand there, Beth, and let me look at you.  Let me look at you and think about you and make myself come.”  And when she pretends Beth tells her, “Isn’t that something a man would want me to do?” Gracelyn imagines she replies, “Yes, but not like this,” and pictures putting a hand in her panties, which makes Beth turn away, which is when Gracelyn asks, “You don’t want to see me?”  And what Beth responds in that fantasy is: “I can’t look.  Because if I do, I’ll want to go down on you.”

Thinking about that now, it’s all Gracelyn can do to keep from getting off the sofa and going to Beth, holding back her hair, and kissing her.  That urge grows even stronger when the two women go upstairs, and Gracelyn considers this may be the only opportunity she ever has like this with Beth.

Gracelyn shows her to Aunt Millison’s bedroom, where she switches on the nightstand lamp and turns down the bed.

Beth looks at how close the four walls are, how low the ceiling, how moonlight shines in through the front window.

“The bathroom’s just on the other side of the stairs,” Gracelyn says, wondering if she sounds as automatic as she feels, struggling hard not to succumb to her own urges.  She’s so close to Beth in the tight room she can feel her warmth, smell her perfume.  She wants to lift Beth’s sweater and unclasp her bra, fondle her breasts, kiss her neck.  But instead, she leads Beth along the short hallway to the bathroom.  “If you need anything, I’m right there.”  Gracelyn points to her bedroom, just steps away.  “I already took a shower, so it’s all yours.”

“Okay … thanks.”  Beth seems a little unsure, as if still trying to get her bearings in a new situation.  “I might read for a little bit.”

“Whatever you like.”  Gracelyn feels the last of her willpower slipping away, and if she doesn’t close herself in her own bedroom, away from Beth, she will, after two years of suppressing the urge, try to seduce her.  “Goodnight, Beth.”

“Goodnight, Gracelyn.”

Gracelyn no sooner shuts her bedroom door than she sighs and leans back against the wall.  She pulls open the front of her dressing gown as though it has been suffocating her, the little pearl orbs popping free of their buttonholes.  She takes deep breaths and lifts her gown, touches herself where she is so, so wet, and whispers, “Look what you did to me, Beth.  Look how turned on you’ve made me.”

She gets into bed and faces the window through which the moonlight enters.  She begins to touch herself, slowly … very slowly … but then … she hears footsteps in the hall … the bathroom door closes … the shower comes on … and she knows, just as the thin cotton of her gown was all that kept Beth from seeing her, now all that keeps her from seeing Beth are the old plaster walls and the solid wood door.

Which is when the cats begin to screech.

The shower water shuts off abruptly.

Gracelyn bolts upright and looks out the window toward the barn.  The sounds are sharp and violent, not just one or two aggressive cats, but as if the entire clowder has raised in revolt.

The volume rises and the pitch intensifies, each feral scream cutting through the night as if spurred by a vicious swipe of claws or gnashing of teeth.

“Gracelyn?” Beth sounds frightened outside Gracelyn’s door.

“It’s okay, Beth.  It’s just the cats.”

Beth, unnerved, lets herself into Gracelyn’s bedroom.  Wrapped in a pink towel, she covers her ears.  “Those aren’t alley cats,” she knows from growing up in Brooklyn.

“It’s the barn cats.”  Gracelyn gets out of bed and puts an arm around her assistant, has her sit on the side of the bed with their backs to the window.  “It’s okay,” Gracelyn comforts, aware that her sleeping gown is open from the neck to the waist.  “It’ll stop soon.  I should have warned you.”  She gently rubs a hand across Beth’s bare shoulders, above where the towel wraps around her.  “It’s okay.”

The fighting in the barn continues, louder and more ferocious than Gracelyn has ever heard.

Beth keeps her ears covered and leans against Gracelyn.  “It so awful.  What are they doing to one another?”

Which is when the last of Gracelyn’s inhibitions melt away and whispers to Beth, “They’re fighting over me.”

“What?” Beth looks at Gracelyn with alarm, as though she couldn’t have heard that correctly.

“It’s just a fantasy.  This is all just a fantasy.  This entire night.  You being here.  It’s not real.  It’s just my fantasy.”

Beth begins to protest, but Gracelyn holds her closer and touches her fingertips to Beth’s soft mouth.

“Tell yourself that: that this is all just fantasy.  The cats are fighting over me.  Once it’s quiet, you’ll see.  He’ll come up here for me.  The winner of the fight.  He’ll come up here to fuck me.”

Beth gasps.

“But he won’t be a cat.  He’ll change into human form.  A big man.  With a big dick.  A hard dick.  And I’ll lie back and open my legs for him and let him fuck me.”

“You can’t—”

“That’s my fantasy.  It’s happened before.”

“You’re scaring me.”

Gracelyn keeps Beth close when she feels her move to pull away.  “You don’t need to be scared.  Because this isn’t real.  It’s just a fantasy.  A dream.  It’s make-believe.”

Beth whispers, “What will happen to me?”

“Hide,” Gracelyn tells her.  “In the closet.  Right there.”  She nods to the narrow door.  “Stay inside until he leaves.”

“Hide with me.”

“No—he’ll look for me.  He’ll find me.  Because I want him to.  I want him to fuck me.  He fought for me.  Now he can fuck me.”

Beth shudders.

“I’m already wet for him,” Gracelyn confesses.  “But he’ll go down on me anyway.  Not to make me wet for him.  But to make me come.”

The sounds from the barn stop abruptly, the way cat fights end when a victor dispatches its foes.  The night falls back to silence.

Gracelyn softly says, “Hide, Beth.  You need to hide.”

Beth gasps when she hears wood creak.  Someone—something—on the stairs.

“He’s coming, Beth.  Hide,” Gracelyn urges.  “Now.  Keep the door closed.”  She gives her assistant a firm push.

The presence on the stairs is coming closer.

Beth rushes to the closet.  The aged hinges creak as she opens the door.  As she squeezes inside, she sees Gracelyn lay back in bed and lift her sleeping gown to her throat.

The sight of Gracelyn naked is shocking to Beth, as is how Gracelyn opens her legs and reaches her arms above her head, hands grasping the bed posts, positioning herself to be fucked.

Beth feels for a handle to pull the door closed, but there is nothing inside the closet to grip.  She digs her fingernails into a contour of moulding and manages to shut the door most of the way, but there is still an inch-wide gap that lets her see into the bedroom.

Beth’s pulse beats fast and hard as footsteps stalk slowly up the stairs and start along the short hall.  The bedroom door opens, and the man comes in.  Beth gasps at the sight of him.

He is naked.  Strong.  With broad shoulders and long, uncombed hair.  His cock juts out hard with wanting.  And then, behind him, a second man.  And she hears Gracelyn groan, “Oh, my God.  My God.”

Because there have never been two of them.

The first into the room eases onto bed between Gracelyn’s spread legs and begins to lick her pussy, his tongue long and wide like all the others have been, the meaty presence of it spreading her, licking up and down, up and down, then it curves into a stiffer shape and penetrates her, fucks her.  In and out.  In and out.  His tongue slides over her clit and makes her moan with pleasure.

The second of them stands perfectly still, his cock jutting out.  He watches the first go down on Gracelyn, but at the same time is positioned to watch the closet, his tensed muscles making clear he is ready to lunge into action.  He knows someone is in there and is waiting for them.

Gracelyn calls out to him, “I’ll suck you.”  She wants to protect Beth.  “Put your cock in my mouth.  Right here.”  Being licked herself, she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue.  “Let me suck you.  I want to suck you.”  She does want that hard length through her lips, going in and out of her mouth.

But the second man stays where he is.  Waiting for Beth.

He’s going to fuck her, Gracelyn realizes and grips the bedposts hard.  He’s going to fuck Beth.  He’s going to take away her pink towel and fuck her.  And I’m going to watch.  I’m going to watch her get fucked while this other one licks me.  And I’m going to come.  God!  I’m coming right now.  “I’m coming,” she cries, eyes pressed shut.  “Lick faster.  Faster.  Lick it, lick it, lick it!”

Her orgasm is electrifying, a rapid sequence of eruptions, one after the other, increasing in intensity that all at once spill over and leave her breathless.

The man who licked her off positions his powerful body on top of her, angles his cockhead for her entrance.  Pushing forward where she is slick and hot, he opens her up and Gracelyn moans with each inch of hard cock that goes straight into her.

She keeps hold of the bedpost and wraps her legs behind his.  And lets him fuck her.

The second man watches her get fucked, but also watches the closet, still waiting for Beth.

Gracelyn gasps, “Tell your friend I’ll fuck him.  You know I will.  You know I want to.”

The one fucking her kisses her to silence, his tongue, still tasting of her pussy, easing into her mouth.  He is a big man, but gentle.  Slow.  Steady.  Still bracing his elbows alongside her so as not to make her take all his weight.  All his cock, however, he gives her.  Over and over.  In and out.

“Tell him,” Gracelyn sighs between kisses.

The one fucking her just keeps fucking her.  Keeps kissing her.  And the one watching keeps watching … and waiting … for Beth.

Gracelyn moans, “Did you both fight for me?  Is that what happened tonight?”

He doesn’t speak.  None of them ever speak.  They just fuck her.

“The two of you,” Gracelyn imagines.  “A team.  You fought all the others.  You fought to see who would fuck me tonight.”

His slow, constant, firm thrusts—minutes now—have her on the verge of coming again.  She feels it.  Stronger than the first one.  Building.  Intensifying.  So strong … it’s going to be so strong.  So good.  “Okay,” Gracelyn cries out.  “Now.  Right now.  Faster.  Faster and harder.  You’re making me come.  You’re making me come again!”

He strokes his cock as hard and fast as she wants it, thrilling her to orgasm, making her scream her own feral cries as she tightens her legs around him and shakes the bed by the posts so hard it feels as if she might break the old wood.

And then she releases.  The joy so intense she goes limp and is splayed out beneath him, arms and legs spread as she breathes deeply.  And he’s still fucking her.

Gracelyn groans loudly.  He’s not finished with her.  But he fought for her, so she gives herself to him while the other one—the one watching—waits.

Coming twice has wiped Gracelyn out, but she needs to protect Beth.  “Tell him I’ll fuck him,” she again tells the one already in her pussy.  “Whenever you’re finished, I’ll fuck him.”  Although she’s not sure she can.

The one on top of her is moving slowly and deeply again.  Wants to make her come again.  To take every last bit of her.  To exhaust her.

Gracelyn feels herself let go.  She’s at that wonderful edge where sex has pushed beyond its boundaries.  An overload of pleasure that will take days to recover.  Just keep taking it, she tells herself.  Just keep taking this majestic fucking cock.  Keep taking it.

Inside the closet, Beth can’t read Gracelyn’s mind.  All she sees is Gracelyn taking more cock than Beth can imagine.  Beth pushes open the door and firmly says, “She’s done.”

“No, Beth!” Gracelyn warns, but the words are smothered by the tongue of the one fucking her.

The one who’s been watching pounces.  He jerks off Beth’s towel, throws it aside, leaving her naked as Beth screams, but not in surrender.

Beth attacks.  She reaches behind him and grabs what Gracelyn sees is the remains—or the start—of a tail.  Just above the man’s ass, as if his conversion from feline to human form wasn’t complete, is the nine-inch length of fur Beth grabs hard.

The man howls as Beth uses his tail to throw him as if he’s weightless, heaving him toward the opened door, where his form changes from man back to cat then dissolves entirely once across the threshold.

The one fucking Gracelyn becomes still, looking at Beth.  His cock remains deeply inside Gracelyn, but being stared down by Beth, his erection begins to slacken.

Beth is positioned to fight.  Tensed forward.  Knees bent.  Hands ready to punch or grab or tear or whatever it takes.  “She’s had enough,” she tells the one on top of Gracelyn.  “You won her.  She’s let you fuck her ... that’s her fantasy.  But now … she’s mine … because that’s my fantasy.”

The cock that was so long and hard, becomes flaccid and slips out of Gracelyn’s pussy.  The man backs away as Beth lays naked on top of Gracelyn, and tells her, “You’re mine now.”

Gracelyn gasps, her legs still spread, feeling Beth’s pussy against hers, the sensation so different but just as intense as having that cock inside her.

Beth kisses her.  “I’ve wanted this since the day we met.”

“Me, too,” Gracelyn sighs, but Beth kisses her to be quiet.

Beth is in charge.  “The whole while you interviewed me,” she tells Gracelyn, “I thought, please don’t hire me.  Please don’t.  Even though I wanted the job.  Because I wanted you more than the job.  And that could only be trouble—for both of us.”  Beth fondles Gracelyn’s breasts and says softly, “Now these are mine.”  Then slips her hand onto Gracelyn’s pussy.  “And so is this.  But only when we come up here.  To this house.  Because this is just a fantasy, right?  Just make-believe.”

Gracelyn nods.

“Make me come?” Beth asks—a lover’s request, not a demand.

Gracelyn nods again.

Beth turns onto her back and has Gracelyn go down between her legs.  Being licked, Beth runs her fingers through Gracelyn’s hair and looks at the man standing naked in the corner, watching.  But he was never part of Beth’s fantasy, so she blinks, and he’s gone.  Because Gracelyn is hers now.

“Just like that, Gracelyn,” Beth sighs.  “That’s good … just like that.  Oh, yeah.  Nice and slow.  I like it nice and slow.  And you have to do it until I tell you to stop … okay?  Do you understand?”

Gracelyn, licking Beth’s very sweet pussy, nods.  And keeps licking … until Beth let’s her stop.

The next morning, in the “funny” lawyer’s office, the man takes notes as Gracelyn tells him she wants to buy the farm from her Aunt Millison’s estate.

The lawyer says that’s not a problem so long as she’s willing to pay the appraised value, which Gracelyn says she will.

The lawyer agrees to draft the contract of sale and says if she’s able to stay until Monday afternoon, he can have the documents ready for her to sign, at which point Gracelyn looks at the young woman with her—who she introduced as Beth—and asks her to check her schedule for Monday.

As if she has her boss’ calendar committed to memory, Beth says they can stay as long as it takes.

The lawyer lets them know this simplifies matters and will help get the estate closed sooner.  “Of course,” he wants to make clear, “this would mean the feral cats in the barn are your problem.”

“Yes,” Gracelyn confirms, “we’ll take good care of the cats.”

Which wasn’t exactly what the lawyer meant, but in all the years Millison Kulp lived there alone, she never seemed concerned about the cats either.

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