Kaida appears to be haunted by unquiet spirits with very particulaar appetites... Trying to do a mature story without crossing that line into vulgar writing.
After the frustrating appointment with the doctor, Kaida met Neal for a beer at Wheelhouse Pub. It had the best view of the inner harbor and the wait-staff knew her by name.
Kaida checked her appearance in the window before stepping inside. She had shoulder-length black hair and enormous brown eyes over pale, pale cheeks. She wore a red sundress that was a little too bright for the day, but then, she'd been feeling fragile all week and wanted the attention. It put her in a position of power.
She'd wanted a public place to have it out with Neal. Public places meant less chance of a scene. It wasn't that Neal wasn't kind or wasn't considerate. He just... wasn't enough.
They had an active social life and had several mutual friends. Hell, they even looked good together. He was tall and muscular, complementing her lithe physique. But Neal just seemed so... intimately mundane. And more and more, she'd been craving adventure.
He could barely satiate her longings. When she'd wake up in the middle of the night, her body nearly on fire with desire, the only thing she could do was to fantasize herself to an unsatisfactory conclusion. Breaking up with Neal was simply a convenience to allow her to find other ways to meet her needs...
"I talked to one of the boys in Archives." Neal started off, even before she'd managed to make herself comfortable. "Did you know that your apartment used to be a brothel at the turn of the century?"
She hadn't. But the city had a lot of history and the neighborhood was one of those newly re-gentrified locations that had once boasted a higher class than resided there currently. So, it didn't surprise Kaida too much.
"So, I took the liberty of hiring a psychic investigator." Neal said, clearly misinterpreting her expression. She was interested in the history of the house, but it was an academic interest at best.
"I'm sorry," Kaida sputtered. "You did what?" Kaida gave Neal one of her best icy stares. "When is this crackpot supposed to be there?"
"Been and gone, honey" Neal grinned. "And yup, you are so haunted. Your apartment was one of the rooms they used for very special occasions. Total group things. Very kinky. A couple of guys died there in a fire in the early twenties. Supposedly, the madame tried to cover up a sailor who'd died chained to the bed."
Kaida shook her head. It was preposterous. But it explained a few things. In a city with an exceptionally low rental rate, she'd managed to rent the apartment with almost no fuss. They'd made love two, sometimes three times a night, and she often felt as if they were being watched.
She'd often found things in her apartment in places different from where she'd placed them. The television remote, her cell-phone, her vibrator.
More recently, there'd been the overzealous sounds of lovemaking coming from apartment 2C, and someone--she'd blamed Neal--had strewn the contents of her underwear drawer across her bed. Twice.
All of that could've been evidence of supernatural activity. Or it could be that her hormones were starting to catch up to her and Neal really wasn't keeping up.