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"Whorehouse on Haunted Hill"

Bethany Taylor pulled up to the driveway and looked at old
dilapidated house before her. The address matched the location given
to her in her e-mail, but the place looked like it hadn't been used in
years. As she watched, a shutter fell of the third story, twisting and
flipping in the wind before hitting the ground.

"Well, it's certainly a remote place to have a rendezvous,"
Bethany muttered. She stepped out of the car and reconsidered her
clothing. The e-mail hadn't specified if she should be dressed for
stealth, so Bethany threw on what she had available. Her darker
clothing had rips and tears from her last mission, so she was wearing a
pair of khaki slacks and a white blouse. On the one hand, the white
blouse did a great job of showcasing her impressive cleavage. On the
other hand, it made Bethany almost glow in the dark.

She read her print out of her e-mail again. The message was
simple. "Go to 2369 Harlot Hill Street. Seek out Mr. Thompson and
accept her mission. Go now." It was from the deployment address of
her employers, Diligent enterprises, and was marked urgent. Bethany
knew she was expected to act on the mission ASAP, so she locked up her
hotel room and took the rental car to this odd address.

Bethany had just completed a mission for her employers and was
surprised to get another mission so soon. The blonde wished she knew
more about what she needed to do, but then, handling surprises was why
they paid industrial agents like Bethany the big paychecks. She had no
idea of what she was going to buy after this mission, but she was sure
she would think of something.

The wind picked up as Bethany approached the building, whipping
her hair around her face. The moon ducked behind the clouds and
Bethany was plunged into darkness. She paused to allow her eyes to
adjust and that was when she noticed the candle glowing beside the

"Was that candle lit before?" Bethany asked herself. She
couldn't be sure.

She walked up to the door and knocked. The door creaked open,
apparently already open. Bethany shrugged and walked in. Mr. Thompson
must be expecting her.

The inside was far more impressive than the outside led one to
believe. The foyer was glowing with candles and was carpeted in lush
red. Paintings of nude women covered the walls and a candelabra
sparkled above her. From the hallway, laughter from several women
could be heard as well as a piano playing.

A sign hung above the doorway and it read "Welcome to Madame
Flower's Brothel of Excellent repute."

Bethany looked outside and didn't see any cars. "This is one
well hidden whorehouse." she remarked.

"Over here, Ms. Taylor," she heard from the winding staircase.
Bethany looked, but she didn't see anybody. The staircase was pretty
steep and Bethany assumed that she just didn't see the person in the
candlelight. There was something soothing about the staircase, from
the tastefully nude nymphs adorning the rail to the soft candles that
illuminated the area.

Bethany went up the stairs.


Amy Valentine brought her motorcycle to a halt a safe distance
away from Bethany. It wasn't easy following someone on a dirt road on
a motorcycle with your lights turned off, but then, that's why they
paid industrial spies like Amy the big paychecks. She didn't know what
her rival was doing here, but Amy was sure her employers, Paragon
Industries would pay a lot to find out. Amy could already picture her
residing in the Greek beach house she wanted to buy.

"It certainly pays to tap your enemies' e-mail," Amy said to
herself. If she hadn't of spied on Bethany's ColdMail account, Amy
would have never of known about this secret rendezvous. The agent just
hoped that Macrohard never upgraded their security to a high school

Amy watched as Bethany walked towards the abandoned building in
front of them. It was easy to see Bethany, her white blouse was like a
torch in the darkness. She wasn't dressed as sensible as Amy was. The
following agent was wearing black cotton from her long shapely legs to
her delicate neck. Even her long brown hair was concealed, tucked
under a black baseball cap. Amy didn't blend into the darkness, she
was the darkness.

She waited thirty seconds after Bethany entered the building
before moving up there herself. Amy moved silently and swiftly to the
porch. She could barely see the door because the clouds were hiding
the moon.

When she entered the building, Amy took out her special night
vision sunglasses. The foyer was pitch black before Amy's glasses
allowed her to make out some details. A thick layer of dust covered
everything, but Amy could barely read the sign that hung above the
doorway leading into a hall.

"This hole of Sin is Condemned by the Ladies of Proper Morals."

"Proper morals?" Amy asked herself. "Sounds like a fun bunch."

Her musings were interrupted by a sound from the stairs. It
sounded like a taunting laugh. Amy pulled out her pistol and cursed
silently. She must have been discovered!

The brunette ascended the stairs cautiously, looking to salvage
what she could from her blown cover.


Bethany reached the top of the stairs and found no one waiting
for her. She almost went back down but she heard two women talking in
a room next to the landing. The agent figured she could ask for
directions and find Mr. Thompson quicker. As she approached the room,
she realized it was talking she had overheard but moans. Slightly
embarrassed, Bethany still looked in.

The room was decorated with an underwater motif. The walls were
sea green, and the large bad was shaped like a clamshell. Two women
were sitting on a bed. They were wearing old-fashioned gowns, full of
lace, ruffles and cleavage. Their skirts were pulled up to reveal
elegant garter belts, white hose and naked sexes. A man was kneeling
in front of them. He had his hands between both their legs and was
creating their moans the old fashioned way; he earned them.

"Excuse me," Bethany said when the women looked up at her. The
women smiled. The man never turned around, as he was too intent on the
beauty before him.

Bethany closed the door and turned around. None of the doors
were closed in the hallway. As Bethany walked past them, she could see
acts of debauchery out of the corners of her eyes. Although she saw
dozens of women and all of them engaged in sex, none of them were nude.
All of them wore the same exquisite style of gowns; appearing as if
they were extras from a 'Gone with The Wind' revival.

"Up here," Bethany heard behind her. A staircase she hadn't
noticed before was visible in soft candlelight. Eager to escape the
endless moans of the hallway, she climbed the stairs.


Amy's glasses glowed as they tried to compensate for the complete
darkness of the second floor. The carpet was old and crackled under
her shoes, which made it hard for the agent to sneak quietly. Several
doors were fallen in the hallway, adding to the decrepit feel of the

She looked in one doorway for Amy, and saw a collapsed clamshell
bed. A shelf holding various seashells had fallen over and littered
the floor with debris. On a slanting table, Amy saw the moth eaten
remains of a gown.

"What a dump," Amy whispered.

The careful agent checked each room. All she found was more
debris and other signs of disuse. Amy kept an eye out for Bethany, but
she found no trace of the blonde. In fact, the dust on the floor was
so thick, she was certain that no one had been up here in years.

She was about to go downstairs when she saw the flicker of
candlelight coming from a side room. Amy approached the room
cautiously and peered in. Inside was a four poster bed that was still
intact. A row of curtains dominated the far wall while a shattered
dresser had possession of the near wall.

Amy stepped into the room. She could have sworn there was
candlelight coming from here, but she couldn't find any light now. She
checked the room twice to make sure there wasn't a secret passage
leading out. It was another futile search in an already frustrating

"Damn it, I wish something would just happen!" Amy cursed.

That was when the door slammed.


Bethany reached the third floor and the sights before her took
her breath away. The hallway was lit with lamps but it was also lit
with the beauty of a score of paintings. A beautiful painting of a
woman was hung every few feet and each painting carried a small name
under it on a brass plate.

The blonde walked down the hall, marveling at the detail and life
in each painting. Each painted woman was vivid and real, and each
woman bore a knowing smile. It was a sinful smile as well as holding
confidence. Bethany knew these women were most likely prostitutes, but
they all had a noble air.

At the end of the hall was one last painting. It was of a
beautiful blonde who stood defiantly beside a horse. Her dress was a
deep purple but her spilling cleavage was alabaster. Her smile was
more of a smirk, daring the viewer to give her a reason to unleash her

The name under the painting said "Rebecca Bethany Taylor."

"She was your great-great-great grand aunt," a voice said behind

Bethany turned to the voice she had been hearing all night. The
man was older than she was, but not by much. He was wearing a formal
suit of black with silver linings. His hair was curly and dark while
his eyes were bright and friendly. Laugh lines framed his face though
there were a few frown lines as well. A dark top hat adorned hi9s head
but he swept it off as he bowed.

"Mr. Thompson?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you for coming," he said. "I was hoping you would
have Rebecca's curiosity and spirit."

"You sound like you knew her," Bethany said.

"I did," Mr. Thompson answered. "I had made plans to have sex
with her the night I died. I had a fatal heart attack while I waited
in the lobby. It was terribly disappointing."


When the door slammed, Amy was quick to react. She rushed to the
door but the door was stuck fast. Kicking the door had no effect. For
some reason, the rotting wood absorbed all the force her powerful legs
could exert.

"She's a bad girl!" a whispered female voice said beside her.
Amy spun and aimed her gun but no one was there.

"A very bad girl," another feminine voice agreed.

"Yes, she came here to steal something from Becky's girl,"
another voice said.

"Ms. Flowers will know what to do!" yet another female voice

"Show yourself, skanks!" Amy snarled.

The agent felt the temperature in the room drop as if an air
conditioner kicked on. Her gun was wrestled away from her hands by
unseen forces before she could react. Amy kicked the empty air with a
nasty kick but she connected with nothing.

Before she could do anything else, the curtains came alive. They
flew from the wall and wrapped around her chest. With her arms pinned
to her sides Amy was helpless as she was picked up into the air.

"You girls were right," she heard an older female voice say.
"This one is a bad girl."

"Fuck you!" Amy said defiantly. In response, her pants were
pulled off her legs. Now the agent was nude below the waist except for
her white cotton panties. A slender board levitated from the wreckage
of the dresser and Amy groaned, as her body was turned around in mid-

"Over the years, I've found one thing that always works on bad
girls," the voice of Ms. Flowers said in the dark room. "And that's a


"You seem to accept that I am a ghost fairly well," Mr. Thompson
said. He came closer and Bethany could smell his cologne. It reminded
her of pine and streams.

Bethany shrugged. "A ghost is a better explanation than a
whorehouse filled with customers but without cars or modern lights.
What happened here?"

"Oh, I died of a heart attack," Mr. Thompson explained. He
brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I was the lone ghost here for
awhile and when the brothel was closed by the wives of the town, I
thought I would die again of loneliness. Luckily, as the former girls
of the brothel got old and died, their spirits came back here."

"They're all here?" Bethany asked. "Even my great-great etc?"

"No," Mr. Thompson sighed. "She married, and her spirit moved
elsewhere. To most of these girls here, the brothel was the only
family they had. I spent so much time here; I considered it my home
too. Rebecca must have found happiness elsewhere, leaving me to long
after her for years."

Mr. Thompson stepped closer and his hand moved to hold Bethany's.
Bethany found his hand to be surprisingly warm and gentle. She
wondered what kind of man Rebecca must have found to leave this man

"You, Ms. Taylor, are the exact image of your ancestor," Mr.
Thompson continued. "I don't know if you are her reborn, or just an
amazing likeness. Either way, I request your services."

Bethany shook her gaze from his intense eyes. "How can I help

In answer, he kissed her. Her lips barely felt his. It was just
a feather light touch on her lips and tongue. His hands went to her
hair, and it felt like a breeze was running through her.

"I meant it more as a question, not a proposal," Bethany

Mr. Thompson chuckled but he didn't stop. He reached down and
picked Bethany up by her thighs. His kisses might have been spectral,
but his grip and his strength was very real.

"not that I'm complaining," Bethany added.



"Ouch!" Amy yelled again. The swinging board was relentless.
Her legs kicked and flailed but the floating curtain kept Amy suspended
in the air for the entire punishment. Her buttocks were burning from
the spankings but the board didn't seem to care.

"All right, all right!" Amy screamed. "I'll be a good girl!"

The board paused in the air.

"Apologize for having a chamber pot mouth," the voice of Ms.
Flowers demanded.

Amy hovered in the air. Her ass was a bright red and her legs
were exhausted from kicking. Sadly, he bad attitude was still intact.

"Fuck off and let me down!" Amy snapped.


Bethany was pinned against the wall by Mr. Thompson. He dipped
his head down and kissed her shirt but she felt his mouth on her skin!
She wasn't sure at first, but as he kissed further down and licked her
breast, she knew for sure. His intangible mouth was kissing and
sucking her skin underneath her shirt.

Mr. Thompson pressed forward and Bethany cried out. He had
entered her, and both their pants were still on. It blew her mind, but
the solid feel of his cock dispelled her fears. Bethany squirmed as
her sex was opened inside her panties and she moaned as her thighs
tried to grip around a person that wasn't there.

"Finally!" Mr. Thompson groaned. Years of denial caught up to
him as his hips pumped against her. Bethany cried out as he slammed
into her, her buttocks bouncing off the wall like a perverse metronome.

"Buddha! Didn't you screw any of the other girls?" Bethany asked
as her sex was pummeled.

"There's just something about the living," Mr. Thompson gasped.

"There's something about the dead," Bethany gasped. Her body was
shaking from the frenzied thrusting he was giving her. Dust fell from
the ceiling as their bodies collided.

His cock was so cold inside her, but the heat of their friction
warmed her. She clenched so many times, but was never able to clasp
his sliding cock. It was frustrating and intoxicating at the same
time. No matter how hard she arched, no matter how much she moaned,
she couldn't control how much of him was in her, and she wanted more.

"Yes! Dear God, finally yes!!!" Mr. Thompson yelled.

Bethany shuddered as his cock released ice-cold semen inside her.
She shivered in his arms as the cold seeped into her bones. Shaking,
she moaned as he withdrew, cheating of her own orgasm.

"Sorry," Mr. Thompson said. "Like I said, it's been a long


Amy's ass was beyond burned and was deep into inferno.

"Say that you are sorry," the voice of Ms. Flowers demanded.

Amy spun in the air. Her legs were too tired to kick. Even at a
pause like this, Amy's ass was still flinching instinctively. Through
out it all, she never saw her spankers or the owners of the voices.
All she did see was that board spanking her ass over and over and over.



"Well, glad I could help, I guess," Bethany said as she stood up.
Her panties were soaked and her knees were shaking.

"Wait, I almost forgot," Mr. Thompson said. The smile on his
face explained his faulty memory. "Reach behind the painting."

Bethany moved the painting off the wall, and was surprised to see
an old-fashioned cubbyhole. Inside was a small bag. It jingled when
she picked it up.

"I was here when Ms. Flowers hid it," Mr. Thompson explained.
"She left it there in case Rebecca ever came back. Apparently, Rebecca
left so quickly, she never received her last wages."

Bethany opened the bag and whistled. Inside, was a sparkling
emerald necklace. The gems caught the candlelight and reflected it
onto Bethany's smiling face.

"She also thought it would look good on you, or Rebecca as the
case may be," Mr. Thompson said.

"Damn, maybe I'm in the wrong business," Bethany said.

When she didn't get an answer, she noticed Mr. Thompson was gone.
The candles also winked out and she saw the true brothel for the first
time. Mostly, it was dark.

Bethany clicked on a tiny flashlight she carried on her key
chain. There was no sign of her ghostly lover, and quite frankly, the
place looked like a dump. She removed her foot out of something sticky
and headed back for her car.

"Just like man," Bethany sighed. "Wham, bam, fuck the living and
they're gone."

Later, as the blonde got into her car, she thought she heard a
yell. Bethany shrugged and started the car. There was no one out here
for miles.


"Are you going to apologize or not?" the disembodied voice of Ms.
Flowers demanded.

Amy considered. At this point, it was just a matter of pride.
It was true that her ass felt radioactive at this point, but what was
pain compared to the shame of admitting defeat?

"Go suck Casper," Amy said between clenched teeth.



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