Ghost of a Slave

Gerard Cane had waited a better half of his lifetime, twenty five years to be exact, to purchase the timeless Virginia plantation that had once belonged to his ancestors during the days of slavery.

It was a beautiful two story manor. The main floor with its big wrap around porch, and on the second floor, there were French doors from the master bedroom that led out onto the widows walk. There was even a small stream to look out upon in the backyard.

Now that the restorations were complete, Gerard made himself quite a dinner in celebration of his new home. He steamed fresh broccoli, baked New England potatoes, and grilled a porter house steak for dinner. The meal was complimented with a cold stought beer and completed with a slice of homemade apple strudel.

Gerard read old newspapers, and spoke to old townspeople, introducing himself as Jerry the architect. Not everything he read or heard about the old plantation was good, but there were secrets in every family tree. He still chose to make his home there in hopes of forging lifetime friendships, securing a wife, and raising a family of his own.

Jerry kept thinking of the one rumor involving his oldest traceable ancestor, Monsieur Lucier, and his true love for a slave girl. Monsieur Lucier was said to be the white slave owner, having passionate transgressions with a black beauty field worker, Magdalene Stone.

Jerry had his old coffee mug he brought from back home, in Chicago. It had lasted through his undergraduate studies at Binghamton, and his post graduate history degree at Stamford. As he walked up his replica of the staircase in ‘Gone with the Wind’, he sensed something behind him, and he turned around quickly but nothing was there. He could have sworn he saw a shadow, but immediately dismissed the notion, and continued on to the master bedroom, with his whiskey laced coffee.

Out of sheer exhaustion Jerry was asleep minutes after his head hit the pillow, but his sleep was restless. He dreamt of a young, dark skinned girl with hazel bewitching eyes, shaped like almonds. Her charcoal skin was smooth and rich with color, her lips full and soft, she had refined features, but her hair was coarse. This girl could not be older than twenty, but her hips were wide, her ass was round, and her breasts were plentiful.

In what Jerry would later that morning believe to be a dream, he watched as an older black woman put a cream in the young girl’s hair, as the girl appeared to complain. As he witnessed this, the girl’s dress was riding up her thigh, and he found himself wishing he could see under her thin cotton dress, between her thighs and into this beauties forbidden spot. Just then the sunshine came streaming into his bedroom with an unearthly force that woke him, the new master of the house.

As Jerry went down his new grand staircase, he smelled coffee brewing in his kitchen, he wondered who was in his home, and he quickened his pace. As he approached the kitchen’s doorway, he slowed down, his intruder was a young dark skinned black girl, and she could be no more than the age of twenty.

“Excuse me.” No response. “Miss, can I help you?” The girl then turned to face Jerry, and with a smile she nodded towards the kitchen table. This girl had eyes of embers. Jerry reluctantly took a seat, and returned a half hearted smile. He looked wearily around the room, as the young girl brought him a steaming fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mug; the same mug he could have sworn was still upstairs on his night table. “Call me Malia,” she finally spoke. “Well, Malia, my name is Jerry and this is my home, how did you get in here? And how long have you been here?” “I arrived this morning, by bus. I traveled a day and a half when I heard, this plantation was being reopened. I was hoping there may be an open position for a cook, housekeeper, or handy worker.” “Oh. Ah. Malia you say, well actually, I’m done building for now, so I’ve dispatched the workers that were here.”

Malia continued to smile, and placed a hearty breakfast down on the table in front of him. Jerry smelled a faint scent of almond as she placed the plates before him. He looked down, and couldn’t help but smile, everything was oddly cooked, just the way he liked it, right down to bacon crispy around the edge but soft in the middle. Jerry took a small forkful, and said, “Maybe a part-time cook.” Malia retorted, “Why? Do you eat only part time?” Well at this point he had to laugh a hearty laugh. “Ok Malia, what are you charging for your services?” “What are my services to consist of, sir?” Just as the conversation was really getting started, the house telephone rang. The town’s only shop keeper had news that some of the supplies he had ordered had arrived. Jerry needed to go into town to pick up them up.

He worked a full day, ending it with good meal again, consisting of a tasty steamed fish and vegetable dinner, with sherbet for dessert. As he headed up to bed, he thought about Malia. For the time being she was secured in the guest house. Jerry laid his head to rest, and quickly he was asleep…

This time in Jerry’s dream he was staring through a small hole in the side of a barn, watching what he believed was an ancestor, an overlord sorting through the female slaves, for obvious sexual pleasures. There were actually two older gentlemen, and they looked through all the women from as young as fifteen to as old as sixty. These two men felt their asses, squeezed their breasts, and one of them even had a light skin girl kiss his privates for everyone to watch; they picked her along with two others high coloreds to work in the main house.

The next morning Jerry had a quick cool shower and headed happily downstairs for breakfast. While having his breakfast, he could smell Malia’s almonds scent mixing with his bacon. Malia said, “Pardon me sir.” But as she leaned forward to clear a few dishes from in font of him, she caught Jerry staring at her cleavage. They both smiled, he thanked her, and then hastened out the door to work for the day. The sooner he got through his day, they sooner he could enjoy his night, and he was beginning to look forward to his dreams…

A very pale young man, maybe eighteen years, went reluctantly into the barn. There was that very same black girl from the first dream, now her hair was straight, and she sat a little taller, as though she aged since his last dream, a few nights earlier. The young man was now considerably older by his height in Jerry’s dream, and had been pushed by his elders to go into the barn, to seek out his own personal slave. He spoke softly, and only to her. “Girl, what’s your name?” The others looked around at one other in a confused state, usually slave’s names were not asked. “GinnyMae, sir.” This young man was full of surprises; he dropped to one knee, and caressed her breast gently, until her nipple began to harden through her thin cotton dress.

When GinnyMae whispered softly, “Oh, oh please.” The other girls began to whisper and back away in fear. That young man was enjoying himself; he placed his other hand on GinnyMae’s knee and slid it right up in between her thighs. GinnyMae threw her head back, and held on tightly with both hands, to the bale of hay she was sitting on. He worked her nipple and her clit until they were raw with passion, and when she could take no more, he took one final tweak of each and felt her juices pouring out from between her legs. He reached for his pocket hankie, but not before tasting the juices on his hand; then he left.

The next morning Jerry had a quick cool shower, and again he headed happily for breakfast. While having his breakfast, Malia said, “Excuse me sir.” As she once again leaned forward to clear a few dishes from in font of him, she caught Jerry staring at her cleavage, but this time she remarked, “Does the master see something. . .” but before she could finish her sentence, Jerry’s face flushed for many reasons, and he responded, “Please. Call me Jerry, never that.” Malia nodded quietly and thought better of her question, and cleared the table without further conversation.

That night Jerry could barley finish his dinner Malia spent all afternoon making, right down to homemade chocolate cake with icing from scratch, but he did give her a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. While taking the stairs two at a time, he thought about the peck on Malia’s cheek and his cock twitched to life. Then he wished he had kissed her heaving cleavage, now he was fully aroused.

Jerry figured maybe a cool shower and off to bed. Jerry got in the shower and realized his bar of Irish Spring soap had been replaced with a soft soap in an almond scent, the same scent he smelled when Malia was around. As he washed and considered what he should do about the growing desires he felt for a woman he barely knew, his cock was at full staff again. He began to wash his hard on, but the scent of the soap, and the lather was only making things worse. Now he was stroking with a rhythm, and he had a picture of her in his head, and in the last moments of his sexual throes, the image of Malia and the image of the girl from his dreams seemed to be the same person. He growled as his eyes flew open, and his semen shot everywhere. Jerry quickly rinsed off his body and swung the shower stall door open, with urgency; the bathroom was the only room he renovated in a present day theme. He thought he had heard a giggle when he growled, but he was alone in the master bath. He toweled off and went to bed naked.

The young man walked in the barn but this time his ebony maiden was standing in a group of girls conversing. Jerry tossed restlessly in his sleep. Everyone stopped talking in the barn when they realized the young man had returned. He walked up to the girl and reached for her hand, she was about to pull away, when one of the elder women said, “Magdalene! You cannot refuse a master of the house. He is the overseer.” He looked from the old woman to the young girl, in surprise by the new name, and asked, “Again, I ask what your name is?” “GinnyMae Magdalene Stone.”

Jerry whimpered, and rocked in his sleep. And so the girl took the young slave owners hand reluctantly. He pulled her close to his young, strong body, and he kissed her softly at first, but when she wouldn’t open her lips for his tongue, he applied pressure. The younger girls were ushered out of the barn into the fields, by the women. As the same old woman was leaving, Magdalene heard her whisper, as if to herself but loud enough to be heard, “I wish I had had someone to kiss me so, in my lifetime, now I’m old and no one kisses me.” Magdalene in acceptance opened her lips, but she did not have a chance to return the kiss, or catch her breath, he had already pulled away, and was turning to leave the barn. Afraid of consequences, the young slave girl cried out, she cried out for him, “Master! I am sorry, don’t go.” Magdalene was opening the top of her dress to expose her breasts, and Jerry’s dream was coming more and more into focus, when the young man swung about in a fury, that scared her terribly, as he shouted, “Don’t ever call me master. My name is Gerard.” Jerry woke up, sitting straight up in his bed.

Jerry didn’t even want coffee, much less breakfast the following morning, all he wanted was her to be gone, and him to be left alone, in his new home. All of this was way too weird for him, and now he was second guessing, sinking his life’s savings into this plantation. Jerry got as far as his car when he heard Malia calling and running after him. He jumped in his vehicle and locked the doors, but she got to his car before he could drive off, he rolled down the window. “Your breakfast, you didn’t even have your coffee.” Malia was breathing heavy, and he refused to look at her. “Malia I appreciate your services, but you are no longer needed here. I left an envelope on the front hall credenza with severance pay in cash. I am so sorry you came all this way, for nothing. Goodbye.” Off he drove, with no actual destination on a Saturday morning.

When Jerry came home, he didn’t even look towards the guest house, he opened the front door to the main house, and when there was no wonderful aroma of baking goods, and no sweet smell of almond, he presumed she was gone. He went to the kitchen, pulled out a full pitcher of fresh cold milk, a tall glass, and the other half of the chocolate cake; along with one fork.

Thirty minutes later, dishes in the sink, he went up to bed. Jerry was already undressed and in bed, when he got back up, just to check the soap in the shower. Yes, her soap was gone, and his Irish Spring returned, she was gone, just as quietly as she had come. Jerry glanced in the bathroom mirror just as he turned off the over head light, but he quickly turned the light back on, in fear of the image he thought he had seen in the mirror for that one brief second. Jerry could have sworn he saw himself as a young man, dressed as the young man in the barn with Magdalene, but when the light came back on, he was his aged self and still very much alone.

This time in Jerry’s dreams, the girl stayed in her bed all day in fear and sorrow, and when the overseer came, the other girls said she had a fever and could be contagious, Magdalene was left alone.

Jerry went to church the next morning and to the diner for breakfast and dinner, that day. He read most of the day. Most of his following days were quiet, and his nights were restless or sleepless. One day he stopped at the small market in town, and while purchasing supplies, he noticed one bottle of an almond scented soft soap on the shelf; he placed it in his basket. When he reached the counter, and placed his items for packaging, the shop keepers wife picked up the soap, looked at the bottle, smiled, and said, “I thought that lovely girl from the culinary school bought all of these.” Her husband came over, an older gentleman, and put on his glasses; he looked at the bottle too, and said, “Oh I remember her, a beauty. But she said she left one behind in case any one else wanted to indulge in the wonderful romantic scent of almond.” Jerry smiled sadly, paid the bill, and went home.

It was a late Friday night, and Jerry was lying awake in the dark when he heard a noise outside his bedroom window. He got out of bed, and went quietly to the window, in the darkness. It was a car pulling up at the guest house, he watched in silence from the window. A slender figure unlocked the front door with key and went inside. The shadow was back out of the house with what looked like a book, in a matter of minutes. Before the person could get back into their car, Jerry shot their front tire out with his rifle. And there was a female cry fin the darkness!

Oh God, he thought as he remembered Malia, and ran downstairs and through the front doors in his boxers and wife beater undershirt. As he got closer, it was Malia, in a little yellow printed sun dress, it stopped mid thigh. Jerry was lost in the moment, until she screamed at him and pointed at his gun, “Are you crazy?! You could kill someone or hurt yourself!” Angry at this point he yelled back, “You’re trespassing! Again!” Malia stormed past him, and straight into the main house, but before she could dial for help, he grabbed the receiver out of her hand, and slammed it back down on the telephone base. They glared at one another, until she realized what he was wearing, and then she turned slightly, and spoke in a more controlled tone, “I forgot my book for school, so I borrowed my roommate’s car. I figured I would grab my book, and drop your key in the mailbox.” He started to speak and she raised her hand to stop him. “The book is in the car, I did not mean to keep the guest house key, I was upset when I left and I forgot to leave the key. The key is in the guest house on top of the envelope with my so called severance pay.”

“Why didn’t you call first? Why didn’t you keep the money? Why should I believe you?” Malia thought about it for a moment, and then calmly replied, “Call? I don’t have a number and this is not a date, sir. All I have is my pride; therefore I don’t care if you believe me. Right now I need to call road service.” Jerry grabbed her arm, but held her gently, as her eyes widened. He said quietly, “I’m sorry. How about you stay the night, you can tell me about school, and I’ll change your tire in the morning. I would never have thought you could yell, like that.” And he smiled. Now she smiled, and said softly, “You’re not my boss anymore, and you shot at me, and that’s why I yelled.” He pulled her gently towards him, and there was only a slight resistant, so he tugged a little harder, and she smiled, “I’m sorry too.” Jerry’s hand immediately slid up her thigh, and to his pleasant surprise, Malia was not wearing panties. Jerry twirled, and rubbed her clit until she sprayed her juices on him, moaned, and collapsed in his arms.

He let go of her waist, but when she looked at him he said, “I’m going to close the front door, before some wild animal wanders in here. Besides, you’re cold too.” Oh man he thought, as that second comment came out, he knew she would know that he was referring to her engorged nipples. He trotted to the front door and locked up, and returned but she had not forgotten his off handed comment.

Malia, “I’m not cold.” “Ok whatever you say, I’m cold, and I’m standing around in my underwear.” But now that she had his attention, she kept going, “My nipples are hard, just as they were hard most mornings when you came down for breakfast, you noticed and yet you never commented.” Jerry stopped walking towards the staircase but did not turn around, he just questioned calmly, “You coming? There are more bedrooms upstairs, not as comfy but ok.” Malia followed but kept speaking, “And as soon as you started to notice, you sent me away, like an unwanted servant.” Jerry kept walking to the staircase. Malia continued, “Or the time I came up for your coffee cup and I heard you in the shower…” Jerry stopped briefly, half way up the stairs, but still he was not going turn around, he was busy rolling his eyes in the oh god I’ve been caught feeling, “You can have my bed. I mean, since I did shoot out your tire, which by the way was my target, not a human being.”When they reached his bedroom door, she reached out and caressed his right butt cheek. Jerry turned around to face her, and she was already on tippy toe, he bent down and kissed her firmly, and she moaned softly. As she aligned her body with his, she whispered, up into his ear, “I’m only staying here if you’re going to be next to me, master.