It was a warm summer night, and you stand before your open window, 
looking down onto the street.  Your apartment overlooked the main 
street of this little burg where your work as a paranormal 
investigator took you.  A real shithole, but that's the life, isn't 
it.  That fucking X-files show makes it all look so glamorous, but 
mostly you deal with small town hicks who think they've seen Elvis 
porking their prize heifer, or that aliens are talking out of their 
cat's asshole, or some damned thing. 
    
   Still, it's the life you've chosen, and you wouldn't give it up.  
Because one day you know you'll find the one true thing, the sighting 
that makes it all worth while.  The Truth, as they say, is out there. 
   The streets are mostly deserted, which isn't surprising since it's 
3 am, and you can't sleep because this trip has been another ride down 
Elvis Lane, and the boss is gonna be pissed, and take it out on you 
again, because once again, there's no proof, and no prrof means no 
money when the various funds start digging measly little awards out of 
their too tight assholes, and handing the smelly wads over to 
whichever projects have produced the most "results", which usually 
means has kissed the most butt. 
   You sigh, watch the one inhabitant still out on the street.  She's 
easy on the eyes, that's for sure.  A leggy redhead, with hair going 
down to her butt, wearing tight jeans and one of those shirts that 
barely covers the breasts, and flaps in the breeze, almost showing the 
goods, but not quite.  Yep, easy on the eyes, that one is.  Sure wish 
she were up here, don't you? 
   Then she looks up. 
   I don't mean she looks up in your general direction.  I mean she 
looks right at you, her brown eyes locked on yours, like she was 
reading your soul.  And how do you know she has brown eyes?  She's 
three stories down and there ain;t no streelight, just a half moon and 
the stars.  But you know.  You shake your head, turning briefly from 
the woman, then turning back.  But she's gone.  Totally gone.  As in 
nowhere to beseen, anywhere on the deserted street in either 
direction.  Absolutely impossible.  But true. 
   You scan the streets, trying to figure out where she might have 
gone, when the smell of apples reaches your nostrils.  You frown, and 
lean out a bit to draw i a breath of fresh air, but no apple smell out 
here.  Shrugging, you turn around.  And there she is. 
   She is standing in the middle of the room, smiling enigmatically at 
you.  The door is still closed.  There's no way she could have gotten 
up three flights of stairs and into a locked room in that time, but 
here she is.  Watching you.  Smiling. 
   "Hi, can I help you with something?" you say, immediately cursing 
yourself silently.  But she only smiles and watches you.  
   "Are you lost?  Can I help you find someone?" 
   She shakes her head, and points to you. 
   "Are you looking for me?"  you ask, your heart beginning to hammer 
in your chest, and your cock slowly making the rise to full alertness. 
   She nods. And steps forward. 
   You smile back, still not sure this isn't a dream, but not really 
caring if it is.  
   "My name is Micheal.  What's yours?" 
   "Magenta." she says simply, her voice high and musical.   "And I am 
looking for you.  You are the one." 
   You still cannot figure this out, but your lower head is starting 
to do the thinking for you. 
   "You say you're looking for me?  Why?" you ask, heart racing. 
   "I want you to help me.  I want you to love me.  Will you help me?  
Will you set me free?" 
   "Free?  Free from what?  Are you in trouble?" 
   She laughs, a merry tinkling sounds, and says "Trouble?  Oh yes, 
Micheal, I am in trouble.  Or rather, I was...."  She turns slowly, 
and you see the bloodstained back of her shirt, torn in several 
places, and her back, covered in stab wounds, and she couldn't be 
alive, and she ISN'T alive.... 
   You awake on the bed.  Your clothing is gone.  The window is open, 
and a cool breeze flows over your hot flesh.  The girl, or whatever, 
is standing by the bed. 
   "I am dead, Micheal.  murdered by a brutal man who seduced me and 
then killed me when he couldn't complete the act.  I hounded him to 
death for his crime, and still I find no peace.  That is why I need 
you.  I need you to finish the final act of love.  And then I need you 
to send me home." 
   "Send you home? I mean, you're a great looking...whatever...but 
what does send you home mean?" 
   "You will know when the time comes, Micheal.  And then you must be 
brave.  But for now, you need only be loving."  So saying, she lifts 
her tattered shirt over her head, revealing her pert breasts, with 
their erect nipples pointing at you.  Her tight jeans slide off next, 
revealing her mound, already most and ready..   "Love me, Micheal..." 
  She steps towards the bed, and lies down next to you, her lovely 
brown eyes on yours, watching and waiting.  You reach a hand to touch 
her breast, and are not all that surprised that her flesh is cool to 
the touch. But her smile is warm and inviting, and she is so 
beautiful. 
   You lean towards her and give her cool lips a kiss, which she 
returns with passion.  Your hands move to her breasts, and run gently 
over her hard nipples, drawing a moan of pleasure from her.  Her mouth 
tastes wonderful, and she smells of apples.  Her skin, though cool, is 
soft and pliant to the touch, and your every caress draws new moans of 
pleasure from her. 
   Your cock is harder than it has ever been, and you cannot wait any 
longer, so you slide gently into her snatch, feeling her inner walls 
clutch at your manhood, her moisture coating your penis, as you slide 
further into her alive yet dead snatch.  You begin to thrust in and 
out of her, and she clutches your back, her nails clawing at you as 
she feels her passion building.  She is so hot and ready, who knows 
how long she has waited for this fuck to be complete?  And your own 
excitement is building faster than ever, too fast to be contained, and 
you feel yourself cum, as she jerks beneath you, her body lost in the 
throes of a powerful orgasm. 
   Sated,you lie aganst her warm flesh, lost in the heady glow of post 
sex bliss.  That's why it takes you a few moments to notice.  Her skin 
is warm to the touch.  You look up at her, and she smiles sadly at 
you, and runs her fingers through your hair. 
   "You're alive?  You're alive!" you yell, and move to hug her 
tightly. 
   But she raises a hand, and shakes her head sadly.  "No Micheal, I'm 
dead.  My body lives now, but I am dead.  I need to be free.  I need 
to die again.  Kill me Micheal.  Kill me and send me home." 
   You begin to protest, but somehow, the words die in your throat.  
You know its true.  She cannot stay here, she must go on.  And you 
have to send her. 
   Wordlessly, you pick up a pillow from the bed.  She nods, but you 
see the beginnings of fear in her eyes, and you know why she said you 
would need courage.  She doesn't want to die, but knows she must.  She 
might fight.  You will have to murder her, to set her free. 
   Acting quickly, you thrust the pillow over her lovely face, cupping 
it hard down either side of her head. You roll your weight onto her 
soft body, pressing her down, knees clamping over her arms before she 
can lift them.  She struggles desperately under you, and the motions 
make you hard and ready.  Her breasts jiggle as she fights.  You hold 
the pillow tight, and her struggles slowly begin to subside.  Her 
beautiful body spasms under you, her limbs jerking once, twice, ad 
then she is still.  
   You hold the pillow over her face for another couple of minutes. 
then take it off.  Her eyes are wide and staring, lovely mouth open in 
her desperate attempts to get air.  Her tongue protrudes between full 
lips.  You lean down and kiss the tingue back into her mouth, tasting 
her warm flesh, then you slide your engorged cock back into her most 
dead pussy.  You feel her hard nipples pressed against your body as 
you slide in and out of her lifeless body, taking your last pleasure 
from the beautiful ghost, Magenta.