Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures) Read Free Page A

The priest and his followers spent some time calling for Monroy to come out and own up to his sins, but when he didn’t, they went in and searched the house. I gather that the present policemen stopped the mod from actually setting fire to anything.”
    Suzy found herself liking this Monroy. In her mind, she could see him uncork a bottle of red and start painting with a sardonic smile on his lips while the mob barked outside his home. She felt a sudden pang of worry that the mob had found him and killed him.
    “What happened to him then?” Suzy asked. “Did he go to jail?”
    “They never found him,” the woman said.
    “What?”
    “According to what the priest wrote down later on, they found a painting, still wet, and half-finished glass of wine next to it, but no Monroy. They believed he’d escaped through a rear window.”
    Hah! I knew there’d be wine, Suzy thought, happy the strange painter hadn’t been caught. Somehow that would have cast a gloomy shadow over her stay. A bad sort of gloomy.
    “Speaking of amenities, there’s no kitchen either,” the woman continued, “so you’ll have to resort to the snack machine across the street or a diner. I’d suggest you go soon, before they start to close,” the woman added, eyeing Suzy’s slim frame with a frown.
    “I’ve got plenty to eat right here,” Suzy said and prodded her back pack with her foot. “Chocolate bars. All a woman needs. By the way, if I go out, is there someone on the night shift?” Suzy asked, not wanting to be locked out when she returned from her club raid.
    The woman smiled. “I am the night shift. Just look after yourself. This city is full of odd people and places.”
    Suzy didn’t tell her that those were the ones she’d be looking for. “I’ll be fine,” she assured.
    “Well, then, I’ll leave you to yourself.” The woman rubbed her hands. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be by the desk down in the hall. There are no phones in the rooms, but there’s a payphone by the desk downstairs. Check out’s at twelve noon. Please set your clock. A lot of people tend to sleep late here.”
    Yes, mom. Suzy smiled and took the key from the woman’s extended hand.
    As soon as she’d left the room, Suzy promptly threw herself on the bed. New Orleans ! Sure, maybe it was just one night, but she’d spend it in a gothic mansion that had been inhabited by a pagan cult. Or something close to it. Very nice.
    But first she’d have a look at what the city had to offer. She upended her backpack on the bed and sorted though the mass of things she’d forced into the bag, brushing aside her make-up kit, clothes, a tube of Concrete Hairgel that she trusted to keep her hair spiky all through the night, more clothes, Charlaine Harris’s latest novel, a tattered Emily doll, even more clothes, until she found what she was looking for: The map she’d grabbed at the airport. She played with the ring in her lip while she poured over the layout of streets and alleys, realizing that the hostel couldn’t have been better located: All the places she’d jotted down in her notebook were within walking distance.
    She glanced at a massive watch on the wall, its pendulum swinging in slow, heavy arcs. The dull tick tocks seemed too slow. Maybe time slowed down in here in respect of past events. If so, all the better; then there’d be more time to play.
    And it wasn’t that late yet. Suzy glanced at the bathtub and flexed her shoulders. Maybe a quick dip before she headed out, to ease her back and clear her head? And her clothes felt seriously icky after the flight and a few hours of summer warmth. Yes , she thought. Just a quick bath, then I’ll be off.
    Her leather pants stuck to her legs like a second skin, but after some effort she peeled them off, then padded naked to the bathroom, twisted the aged tap and popped what she hoped was a tube of bubble bath into the tub. She waited for it to fill up and then slipped into the hot water.
    The