The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was the worst possible luck! On my way to visit some friends in Augusta, my car ran out of gas. My ‘95 Mitsubishi Gallant sputtered and chugged, making it as far as mile marker fourteen before grinding to a halt. I pleaded, I begged, I threatened, I swore, but no amount of persuasion could make that hunk of junk move.

Great. Just great. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the interstate. It’s raining, its nearly sunset, and I left my damn cell phone at home. Just another PERFECT day!

I sat in my car for three hours, hoping against hope that someone would take pity and stop, and help a poor girl in distress. I wasn’t the type to put out to get what I wanted, but after three hours alone on the side of the road, I was about ready to suck off the first truck driver that stopped for a ride to the nearest gas station. As my usual streak of luck would have it, no one stopped. Hell, no one even drove by. If there was traffic out on this dark and stormy night, they weren’t traveling I-20 to Augusta, that’s for sure.

Finally, I could take it no more. Slipping on my raincoat, and taking my purse, I locked my car and began the long trek back along the road to the last exit I remembered, about five miles back. With luck, I could call a tow truck, and get back on the road in time to still make the party. Of course, after a five mile trek in the rain, I probably wouldn’t be in much of a partying mood, even if it was Halloween.

About an hour or so later I arrived at the exit, and made my way to the one small store at the turn-off. A gas station... not a name brand store, some place called Mr. Jack’s, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. I started to sprint the last few feet over to the store when I noticed the lights inside the store were off. The sign on the door confirmed my fears. Closed till 8 A.M. I glanced at my watch; it was only 7:45!

“What kind of gas station closes before 8 P.M.?!?!” I yelled to no one in particular. I was upset, of course. I wouldn’t be getting any gas from this store. Still, I saw an old fashioned phone booth on the corner, and walking over, I theorized that things still weren’t as bad as they seemed.

Then I picked up the receiver and disproved that little theory. The phone was dead. The steel mesh wire that connected the receiver to the phone had all but rusted, and the wires inside were frayed and broken. I’m no electrician, but at that point I desperate enough to try splicing the wires back together. No such luck. I sat down on the wet cement, trying not to cry. I was ready to give up all hope when suddenly, a faint flash of light caught my attention. It flickered, and I looked again, not daring to hope it had really been there. Darkness for a while... and then the light flashed again, brighter than before. Twin lights.

“A car,” I said, feeling a tiny glimmer of hope once more. I moved to the middle of the road, in plain sight, and began waving my arms wildly as the twin beams drew ever nearer. As the vehicle came into range, I was surprised. I saw now that it was an old car, an old ‘57 Chevy, painted a bright crimson red. It looked new, as if it had just been driven off the lot a moment ago. I have a thing for cars, and I could tell this one was a mint condition classic. As the car pulled to a halt in front of me, I found myself staring at the chassis, unable to look away at its perfect form. I was wondering where on earth the driver could have picked up such a jewel, when a voice broke my train of thought.

“Miss?”

I looked up, and suddenly, I forgot all about the car. The driver was a young woman, no, not a woman, a girl, a heart-faced pixie of a girl, barely twenty-one if she was a day. I’m only thirty myself, not much older than she, and I turn quite a few heads, but next to her I felt old and drab, a worn out old hag. She had shoulder length blonde hair, done up in an older style, like in pictures of Marilyn Monroe. She had huge lips, red and pouting, almost like a porn star, oddly out of place on her beautiful face, yet somehow fitting. She was a paradox, in a way; so sweet and innocent, a young waif of a girl, and yet at the same time she seemed to exude an aura of sensuality. Again, like Marilyn Monroe. A mixture of contrasts.

And then there were her eyes. No contrasts there. Two blue sapphires, twin pools of aquamarine, clear as the Mediterranean, deep and compelling, enticing, forceful... the kind of eyes that drew you into their depths, and swallowed you whole, leading you to drown in them, and never even dream of escaping—

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman—the girl said again, breaking me out of my introspection. “Do you need some help?” Blushing slightly, embarrassed to be caught staring, I explained my situation, and my trouble. “Wow! What terrible luck,” she agreed at the end. “Still, it seems to be turning for a change. You’re lucky I happened by. It’s Halloween night, you know, and most folks around these parts don’t venture out once the sun goes down. If I hadn’t seen you and stopped, you would likely have been here all night.”

“Really? Glad I caught you, then,” I said, brushing back a strand of wet dark hair. “I don’t see what the big fuss is, though. It’s JUST Halloween. Its a holiday for kids to go trick-or-treating, yanno? No big deal. It’s not like the boogey man roams around searching for souls to take, or something.”

The girl laughed. “Yes, I know, it’s ridiculous. But, well, this town in kind of stuck back in the past. Ghost stories have more weight and merit here than in places like Stonehenge and Loch Ness. At any rate, I have nothing to fear from whatever stalks the night.” She gestured to the passenger side door. “Hop in. I’ll take you someplace to get some gas, and let you call your friends and tell them you’re safe.”

“Great! Thanks a lot,” I said, climbing into the car. I smiled at her, and she smiled in return, locking her baby blue eyes with mine again. I felt dizzy for a second, as if the world had shifted, and a familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach made my vision swim. The girl was speaking, and I had to blink and shake my head a bit to understand her.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I said, ‘Too bad the kids are all staying inside tonight.’ It’s a pretty nice night to go trick or treating.”

I frowned. “Nice night? What do you mean? It’s raining cats and dogs out here!”

The girl laughed. “No, silly, I mean NOW. Sure, it was raining a bit before, but it’s long since cleared up.”

I started to argue, wondering if I had gotten into the car with a nut or something, but then I noticed that the rain no longer fell. I glanced at the windshield, and the ground, and they were both dry, no sign of rain at all. The pavement was completely rain-free, not even dark from soaking up the water. I noticed with a start that even my clothes and hair were dry. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. “I could have sworn...”

“That’s okay, Becky,” the girl said soothingly. “You probably just lost track of time while we talked. It happens.” She looked at me with those clear blues and winked. “Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. I thought I really SHOULD be worried about something like that. It takes a long time for rainwater to evaporate, or be soaked up. For all that heavy rain to have simply vanished, for the ground and car to dry, for my clothes and hair to dry out, all without my noticing, was something I REALLY should be worried about. Still... what she said was true. We’d been talking... hadn’t we? It’s easy to lose touch with reality a bit when you are involved in conversation. I don’t need to worry about it.

“So, Becky, tell me all about yourself. Your likes and dislikes, how things are going for you, what you do for a career... everything! I want to know all about you.”

“Well,” I started, then stopped. “How... how did you know my name was Becky?”

She laughed again. “You told me earlier when we were talking. My, you certainly are forgetful, Becky.”

I blushed. Now that she mentioned it, I did remember telling her my name. “Oh, sorry. I guess I must just be tired out from this long day. I’m usually more attentive that that... um, uh... say, did you tell me your name? I’m sorry if I forgot it, but, like I said, its been a long day.”

“It’s Liz. Short for Lisabeth. And don’t sweat it. Just sit there and relax, I’m taking you someplace where you can rest.”

Her smile warmed me more than a hundred sunrises. It really wasn’t like me at all. I felt myself becoming more and more attracted to this girl, this virtual stranger every second. Outwardly, I’m an outspoken, opinionated, domineering she-bitch, that speaks her own mind, but inside, I am a shy girl. I have a steady boyfriend, and while I experimented a bit with bisexuality, I found that I preferred what hung between a guy’s legs to the tender warm and knowing caresses of a woman. Just a preference. So... why was this little slip of a girl making me feel so warm and fuzzy inside?

The car went over a patch of bad road, jolting me again from my thoughts. I glanced up out the window, and noticed that we were passing the last trailing lights of a large city. “Hey!” I said, turning to the rear window at a gas station we had just zoomed by. “We’ve gone back the town, and we just passed a gas station! Where the fuck are you taking me?”

Liz just shook her head, and replied in a calm, clear, soft voice. “Becky, please, just try and relax. You really are excitable, you know that? And forgetful. We just settled all a moment before, remember? I said that its too late to make it to your friend’s party now, and that even if you got your car up and running tonight, you’re too tired to make it all the way to Augusta. I suggested that I take you back to my house and get you warmed up, and out of those damp clothes, and let you spend the night there. You agreed, saying it was a good idea. Don’t you remember?”

I frowned, doubt clouding my face. I had been losing time the past few hours. I really was worn out from this day. And her argument made a lot of since. The sky was dark, and the moon was beginning to rise. If I tried to finish the last leg of my trip, I’d no doubt fall asleep and run off the road. I agreed, after all, it was a good idea.

“Y... ye... yeah. Yes, I remember now. I’m sorry, Liz. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t seem to think straight.” Embarrassed yet again, I looked down at the floor. How could I have even been suspicious of Liz? She was such a wonderful and kind person, helping out a complete stranger, and offering to take me to her house to rest. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t bare to look her in the face.

“That’s okay, Becky, really it is. I want you to look at me for a moment, really LOOK at me.” Timidly, I raised my eyes from the floor, and glanced at her, my eyes immediately locking onto hers. I felt that same sense of vertigo, then euphoria, as a smile worked its way back on my lips again. “That’s better,” Liz cooed softly, letting her voice drop low in a soft seductive way. “You should just lie back and rest for a bit, Becky, just close your eyes for a bit and rest. I’ll handle the driving, and I’ll take you where you need to go. All you have to do is just relax and rest.”

I felt myself getting sleepy, sleepier than I had ever been in my life. My eyes locked onto hers, those deep blue pools, and I was unable and unwilling to look away, but I felt my eyelids beginning to droop despite themselves. Her voice flitter through my mazed mind, and I found it hard to distinguish between her voice and my own thoughts.

“You really ARE tired, you know... you should rest.”

I was soooo tired. My eyes were just slits now, but I could still see her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes. Glowing...

I am so, so tired. I should rest now.

Clear as the Mediterranean, clear and inviting...

I should just go ahead and relax, and let Liz take me where I want to go.

So deep... clear... bottomless pools, sucking me into their depths...

Just rest, and drift off to sleep...

Sliding under, going down deep...sinking in slowly...

Drifting off...to a deep... deep...

Going under, in those fathomless pools for the last time...

Sleep.

I drifted off into blissful oblivion.

I was dreaming. I was in a house, a large Victorian style manor house, dressed in my maid’s outfit, awaiting my Mistress’ return. I sighed with pleasure at the thought of her. My poor Mistress had widowed young, when her husband had drowned at sea. He had been a wealthy man, and had left his widow a sizable estate, a thriving business, and many loyal servants, like myself. The Mistress had been despondent over the death of her husband, whom she had loved with all her heart, and had begun to shut herself away from the world as a whole, fearing she could never love again.

Then, I had shown her that love was indeed possible.

I had seduced and finally won the heart of my Mistress, helping her heal her broken heart, and leading her back into light once again. She was once again the happy carefree woman that everyone loved, the belle of the entire town. Eager young men began once more to seek her hand, to desire her companionship, yet my lady kindly, but firmly, turned them all away. She had found a lover, one that filled the hole in her soul, and she in turn, filled the missing part of my own.

Then, the dream rolled on. One rejected suitor, angry and despondent at being turned away, slipped past the gate and into the house one evening. He watched from a window and my lady and I pleasured each other, delighting in the ecstasy of each other’s touch, of the feeling of one’s bare womanly flesh caressing the other. Unbelieving, then angry, the man stormed away, but the sound of his passage caused me to see him before he left. I told the Mistress, that we had been discovered, and we both became afraid. The year was 1860, and such activities were viewed as evil, and sinful. Indeed, we feared for our very lives, and rightfully so, for within the hour, an angry mob bearing torches had assembled outside the gates.

The other servants tried to stop them, bravely standing by their beloved Mistress, but the crowd would not be denied. Breaking down the gate, the charged the house, pulling the both of us from the house, kicking and screaming. I feared not for myself, but for my Mistress.

“Please!” I begged pitifully, struggling to break free and run to my Mistress’ side. “Please! Let her go! She is innocent! I did this, I seduced her! If you must punish one of us, let it be me! Please, not my Mistress!!”

“Silence, whore!!” the parson bellowed, backhanding me to the ground. “You shall both face judgment for your evil sinful ways! Wretched bitches! Evil whores of Satan! Congressing with each other in a sexual manner! SHAMEFUL!!” The crowd began jeering and taunting, while the parson’s men fixed a noose around my neck. My lady was being bound, hand and foot, and tied to a stake being driven into the front yard. “The two of you shall be sent back to hell from whence you came!” the parson continued. “The servant girl, a mere minion, will die quickly, a blessedly merciful end. Your wicked Mistress, however, shall suffer before she dies. We will burn her at the stake!”

“NOOOOOOO!!” I screamed, jerking, kicking wildly, struggling to get free, desperate, needing, needing to be free to save her. The men were too many and too strong, and in the end I just hung there in their arms, sobbing helplessly. My Mistress, tears running down her face, had been quiet through all of this, but as they raised the torch, she spoke out loud and clear.

“You may destroy us both, you may kill us, but mark my words, you will NEVER destroy our love! With my last breath I curse you all for this thing you do! We harmed no one, only sought the comfort of each other... a pox on you all for what you do!”

Then, before me eyes, they lit the fire. My lady screamed as the flames rose, slowly consuming her. Then, I felt the rope about my neck tighten, as the end around the tree was pulled, and I began to gasp...

...Awakening with a scream, as Liz shook me gently awake. “Becky? It’s okay. We’ve arrived. We’re at my home, Becky. It’s alright.”

“G...ggg...ggg...ggooddd!!” I managed, trying to contain my shuddering enough to draw breath. I had never been so shaken and scared in my entire life. The dream had been so real...

Then I felt Liz’s hand on mine, and my eyes found hers once more. “It’s okay, Becky. It was just a dream. A nightmare. It can’t harm you. Just relax, and forget about it. It’s just a dream. Only a dream.”

“Only... a dream?” I became aware of my surroundings again after a moment, and memory returned as well. The car. Out of gas. The rain. A good Samaritan. “Liz,” I said with relief. “Oh, God, that was the worst dream I ever had.”

“Well, I’m glad I woke you up then. C’mon, let’s get you inside. Maybe after a good night’s sleep in a real bed, you’ll be able to dream without nightmares.”

We left the garage, and I got the chance to see Liz’s house. That was my first shock of the night. When she had said house, I thought, you know, a house. Not this. “Liz,” I asked softly, “is this your HOUSE? It looks more like a MANSION!”

The petite blonde giggled. “Well, I guess it’s kind of big. A gift from a very wealthy relative that passed away a while back.” She looked down at the ground for a moment, and I felt bad for even bringing it up.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. So... do you live here all alone, or does the rest of your family live here too?”

“Actually, its just me and the servants now. I have no family living, at least none that I am aware of. Still, with an inheritance like this, you’d think if I had a relative or two, they’d be here hoping for a hand out or something.” She giggled again, sounding very much the young girl. “Come on, I’ll give you the ten cent tour.”

“Alright,” I said, glancing about the place. It had a strange feel about it, as if I had been here before. Of course, I’d never been here in my entire life, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was familiar. I paused and frowned as we passed a small patch of brown withered grass. “Hmmm? What’s this?” I asked. The rest of the lawn looked impeccable, as well kept and clean as would expect from a manor house with servants. That one bad spot seemed oddly out of place. “I think you should have a talk with your gardener,” I quipped, smirking.

“Wouldn’t do any good,” Liz said, continuing on to the house. “That one spot’s always been like that. Nothing will grow there, no matter how much fertilizer you put down. Strange, isn’t it? Maybe all those rumors about ghosts and stuff are true after all?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Liz stopped and pointed back at that grassless spot. “Legend has it that a woman was killed on that spot long ago. A crowd of people formed a mob and tossed her out here, beat her, then tied her down. She was burned at the stake.”

I think my heart stopped for a moment then. “D-d-did you say... BURNED... at the stake?” Shadows of my mostly forgotten dream flashed before my eyes again.

Lisabeth merely laughed. “Oh, don’t take it too seriously. It’s just a legend. Most likely, there’s some metal deposit, or some kind of contaminant or something in that spot. Do you really believe a dead woman’s ghost would have nothing better to do than hang around and make the grass NOT grow in one small patch of land?”

She had a point, I suppose, but I wasn’t so sure. I’d normally never much considered Halloween as anything but another dreary day, an excuse to buy way too much candy and give it out to complete strangers. Now, as I walked into Liz’s house, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Thanks a lot,” I said to Liz as I finished the bowl of clam chowder. “That was the best chowder I’ve ever had. I really should thank your cook, she’s excellent.”

Lisabeth smiled. “I’ll be sure and tell her you said so. Now, shall we head into the study? I’m sure you’d like to call your friends now and let them know you’re alright.”

Friends? What friends? Time rewound in my head a bit, and with a start I realized that I’d forgotten all about the party I was supposed to be going to.

“OHMIGOD!” I yelled, getting to my feet. “You’re right! Shelley and Jimmy must be going crazy wondering what happened to me!”

I picked up the phone and dialed the number. “Hello?” Shelley’s voice, tinged with worry. I tried to steady myself and sound reassuring.

“Hey, Shelley, its me, Becky. Sorry to make you worry like this but—”

“Becky! Oh my Gawd, where ARE you girl? I called your home phone, your work phone, your cell phone, and no answer! We were about to call out the marines! Where are you?”

“It’s okay, Shell, really,” I said, trying to explain before she could ask me even more questions. “Look, I had a little car trouble on the way there, but a very nice young lady stopped by and took me back to her place to spend the night.”

Silence for a few seconds, then, “WHAT did you just say?!? Took you home to spend the night?”

I laughed, despite myself. “No, no, Shelly, not ‘spend the night’, not in the way you mean! I meant, she took me to her house so I could rest, dry off from the rain, and call you guys so you wouldn’t worry. It’s too late now to make the long drive, even if I did manage to get the car back running again, so Lisabeth convinced me to stay the night here at her home instead of renting a motel.”

“Oh. Well, are you SURE you’re alright?” Shelley asked again. “I mean, you are there with a stranger, planning to spend the nigh. For all you know, she could be a nut, some escaped loony, or an escaped serial killer. Becky, are you sure you wouldn’t be better off at a motel or something?”

“Relax, will ya? I’m fine, really. Liz has been a perfect hostess, and a good friend. I only wish you would get the chance to meet her, she’s really great.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure, then okay. I guess we’ll see you in the morning sometime, when you get back on the road again.”

We said our goodbyes. Shelley was doubtful, I could tell, but at least she knew I was not dead on the side of the road. Besides, when I showed up there in the morning, safe and sound, she would see that she had no reason to fear.

Liz is my friend. I trust her completely. I have nothing to fear from her.

“Everything alright?”

I started, jumping slightly as Liz’s voice sounded behind me. “Oh, sorry, you scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Liz lifted her leg. “Bare feet,” she said with a smirk. “With the fireplace going, and the thick woolen carpets, its very comfortable. And it lets you walk around as silent as a ghost.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. “Um, interesting choice of words, Liz. Anyway, Shelley and Jimmy were a bit worried, but now that they know I’m okay, they are fine. Guess all that is left now is to have someone tow my car in and fill it up with gas so I can be off in the morning.”

Liz looked down at her feet, as if disappointed. “Yeah, you’re leaving in the morning, huh?” she said in a soft voice. Then she brightened, and grinned at me again. “Well, in the meantime, we have the rest of the night together, so why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and I’ll show you around my home.”

I slipped on a warm robe similar to the one she now wore, and followed my lovely hostess. The house was a lovely as it was huge. Decorated in a rather antiquated style, though. I wondered if the relative Liz had inherited from had been an art collector or something. If she ever, heaven forbid, needed some fast money, she could sell off some of her furniture.

Liz was a delight. The longer I spent in her presence, the more attractive I found her to be. Every time I glanced into her beautiful blue eyes, I felt like I lost a little more of myself. I found myself growing wet between my thighs. I wanted her, badly. I wanted Liz more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. But at the same time, I was confused, unsure of myself. Where were these feelings coming from?

I think Liz knew of my distraction, of my feelings, and delighted in them. Her smile was just as wide and free as before, but I could swear it was just a bit taunting now. “And finally,” she said, leading me into the Master bedroom, “in here. There’s a picture I want you to see.” My eyes glanced up at the mantelpiece, and I received my next big shock.

There, on the wall, was a well-done portrait of a young lady, dressed in late 19th century garb. She was sitting in a chair similar to one I’d seen back in the study, and she was holding a small dog in her lap. Not unusual in an old manor house filled with antiques. The unusual part was the FACE of the woman in the picture. The face of the woman in my dreams.

Liz’s face.

I glanced at Lisabeth, and at the picture again, and slowly things started to come together in my mind. The woman in the painting, the Mistress of the manor, was most likely Lisabeth’s great great grandmother or something. It had to be. Except for the different style of hair, and the clothing, they looked exactly alike. And I could tell by the relatively dry oils used to create it that the painting had been done long long ago. But... how could she be the woman in my dreams? Could this house be the same one I had dreamed of as well? I had never seen Lisabeth before this night... so how could I have imagined all of this so perfectly?

“It’s not a dream, Becca,” Liz said softly, coming up behind me. I turned and found to my surprise that she was now naked. “Now was what you had in the car, a dream. Well, not EXACTLY a dream. Not as you know it. It happened.” Her deep blue eyes sought mine again, but I turned away, fearful, needing to understand what was happening, not wanting to get swept away again.

“What do you mean, it happened? What’s going on, Lisabeth? And my name’s Becky, not Becca.” I glanced at the painting again. “I want some answers, dammit! Who’s that in this painting? And how the hell did I see her in my dreams.. or whatever it was? Just who the hell ARE you?!?”

“Becca, look at me, please,” Liz pleaded, softly, and I nearly turned, to lose myself in her captive gaze and her warm soft voice, but I held firm. “Becca,” she tried again, but I refused to turn. Finally she sighed. “Okay, then, BECKY. I’ll try to explain. The woman in the painting... and the woman in your dream... they’re both... well, me.” I did look at her then, in disbelief. “I know its hard for you to believe, Becky, but that was me, a long long time ago. You dreamed about the past, about our life together long ago. We were lovers, and we were murdered by that mob of religious fanatics. I don’t know how, or why... maybe that heartfelt declaration of our undying love carried more weight that I could have hoped. For whatever reason, I returned. I came back from the dead. I came back for you, my love, my loyal Becca.”

I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. Either this woman was a ghost, or she was completely nuts. I was really regretting not taking Shelley’s suggestion to stay at a hotel now.

“You are her,” Liz continued, moving over to the opposite wall. “You are Becca, reborn. I don’t know why you came back as you did, or why you don’t remember everything like I do. I only know that I’ve been searching for you for an eternity, and this night, on the side of the road, I finally found you. Oh, Becca,” Liz sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. “Please, don’t reject me, after everything we’ve been through! Please... search your heart. You know it to be true.”

What could I say? Her words struck a true note in my heart. They touched a core in me so deep I never knew it existed. Could it somehow be true? It was illogical, improbable, impossible! And yet... deep down, in my heart or hearts, I yearned for her.

“Becca,” Liz called softly, reaching out a hand. Timidly, I stepped forward, walking with her over to the opposite wall. She gestured to another oil portrait, smaller, but just as old. My third shock of the night nearly unhinged me. There, on the wall, was a picture of a young woman, a servant girl, in a French maid uniform. I looked at her face, a hand going to my mouth, to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. The outfit was something I’d never worn, and the hairstyle was atrocious, but without a doubt, the woman was me.

Me.

In a picture more than a hundred years old.

I started to shake then, clutching my arms around myself, trying desperately to keep my mind from unraveling. I felt like I was going insane. My world, my past, my job, my childhood... had all this been a lie? An illusion, a fantasy cooked up by my brain? Or was THIS the illusion, the fantasy? Was I still asleep? Why I unconscious, lying in a ditch somewhere back on the interstate, hallucinating all of this? What was reality and what was fantasy?

“Please,” I said, sinking to my knees. “Please, I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Liz came to my aid. Her slender warm hand gripped my own, lifting me from the floor, gently leading me to the bed. Her blue eyes sought mine, and this time, I plunged right in. She smiled softly, but I was already gone, lost in that beautiful, warm safe place behind those warm, soulful eyes. “Becca,” he voice sounded, from someplace far away. “Becca, listen to me, and I will help you. Listen to me, and believe. You helped me once, long ago, when I needed you... now let me help you. Open yourself to me.”

I obeyed, longing for the escape, needing to be safe and secure. She spoke again, but I could no longer hear the words...

...and then I opened my eyes, finding myself naked in bed with Lisabeth, and pulled her tighter against my naked body, blissfully happy, weeping tears of joy. I remembered, now, remembered who I was, who I had been. “Oh, Mistress Lisabeth,” I cried, clutching her to me. “I’m so sorry... so sorry. If not for me, you would never have been taken! Your death was all because of me. Please... forgive me!”

“My sweet Becca,” she replied, caressing my heated flesh, making me writhe, “dearheart, you gave me love. A part of me died when Jacob drowned at sea. I thought my life had ended. I tried to close myself off to the world. But you wouldn’t let me. You forced me to live again, you showed me what love really is, and you filled the empty place in my heart and soul. I don’t blame you for what those people did to us... I blame THEM. They were too self-righteous and too high minded to leave us in peace. But they are gone now, dead and buried a hundred years. Now, there is only us. You and me. You came back to me, Becca, and we’ll never be apart again.”

My heart melted with her words. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted, and as we made love, I felt lighter and lighter, as if the entire world itself was drifting away. Epilogue:

Shelley and Jimmy Smith stood next to the highway patrol, teary-eyed, confused, and saddened. Officer Bill Roberts took down their statements, and tried to comfort them as best he could. The rest of the police force was working on retrieving the body from its resting place, but it was slow work. The rains the day before had lasted through the night, on until the early morning, turning the ground into a wet, muddy, soggy mess.

“I tell you officer, this can’t be right!” Shelley was saying to Officer Roberts. “This is Becky’s car, yes, and... and... I guess we’ll see when they bring up the body if that is her or not. But even if it is, then whoever killed her must have dumped her back there after she’d had her way with her!”

Bill sighed, shaking his head. “Ma’am, please. I know you are upset about your friend, and that’s understandable, but I can only go by the facts in this case.”

“We are TELLING you the facts, Sheriff!” Jimmy blurted out. “We talked to her last night, about nine o’ clock to say she was fine! She said someone picked her up from the side of the road and had taken her to her house to spend the night. And wherever she was, it wasn’t raining. You can call the operator and get a confirmation of the phone call, if you like.”

“We’ll look into that, sir,” the officer said, writing on his pad. “And sir, I’m not the Sheriff, I’m Officer Roberts.” He turned to the men, who had finally recovered the body. “Okay, my men have the body up now. I know this will be difficult, but I’d like you both to take a look at the body and confirm that it is your missing friend.”

Shelley and Jimmy moved closer. Shelley gasped, and turned away, clutching Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy turned to the Officer and nodded grimly. “Yeah. That’s her. That’s Becky alright.” He took a deep breath to steady himself and asked the Officer. “So. Do we know how she died? Was it foul play?”

“We can’t rule that out, but I’d say, most likely, no.” Everyone turned to the man kneeling at the body. “I’m Jeff Coltrane, the county coroner. I’ll know more after I do a proper autopsy, but I’m pretty sure the cause of death was drowning.”

“Drowning?” Shelley and Jimmy asked in unison.

The coroner sighed, pointing down at the ditch the body had come from. “Yes. Poor girl. Looks like she got out of the car to walk to the nearest exit, slipped on the mud, and fell down into there. There’s a bruise on the side of her head, and she was lying next to a heavy rock, so we can assume that the fall knocked her unconscious. The water level’s down now, but during that downpour last night, I’d say the water reached halfway up the embankment. Yeah, she was knocked out, and drowned in that ditch, never coming to. Time of death, some time between 6:30 and 6:45 P.M.”

“But... but that can’t be!” Shelley protested. “She called me last night around nine o’ clock! I talked to her! She said a stranger picked her up on the side of the road... some girl named Lisabeth Myers. She said—”

“Wait! Did you say Lisabeth Myers?” Everyone went silent, and Shelley and Jimmy found themselves the center of attention. “Ma’am, is this your idea of a joke? If so, its in really bad taste.”

“Her name was Lisabeth Myers. I wrote it down to be sure. Why? What’s wrong with you people?”

The policemen looked at each other. After a moment, Officer Roberts pulled Shelley and Jimmy aside. “You must be mistaken, miss. I don’t know where you heard about the local legend in these here part all the way from Augusta...”

“What legend?” Jimmy asked, irritated. “What is this all about?”

“You really don’t know?” The Officer considered. “Okay, well, there’s a story around here that this used to be a big town back a hundred or so years ago. There was a wealthy couple living not too far from here, Jacob and Lisabeth Myers. Jacob drowned at sea, leaving his vast estate to his young wife, Lisabeth. A few months later, one of the local boys, who was in love with Lisabeth, came to court her, only to find her in bed with her maid. Back in those days, the thought lesbians were in league with the devil, or worse, witches. For whatever reason, Lisabeth was burned at the stake, and her maid was hanged. With their her last breath, Lisabeth cursed the town for their actions. Strangely enough, a fire broke out about a year later, the anniversary of that very night, and wiped out the town, killing most of the townspeople in their sleep.”

“God, that’s awful,” Shelley said, clutching Jimmy a little closer.

“Yeah, well the legend goes on to say that Lisabeth came back, and that she still walks around, searching for the spirit of her lover, the maid. A lot of hogwash, if you ask me, but the older town folks still believe it.”

Jimmy felt a prickle at the back of his neck. A morbid sense of curiosity made him ask, “Um, officer, do you happen to know what the maid’s name was?”

“Yeah,” he replied as he made his way back to his squad car. “Her name was Becca. Interesting coincidence, huh?”