The Seahorse Inn

Daniel Becker felt a sense of foreboding as he walked down Beaufort Street. It was a quarter to ten on a Friday night when he turned the corner on to Morris Avenue. He slowed his pace, looking up at the night sky. A waxing crescent moon and hundreds of stars lit the purple canopy. Then Daniel's focus shifted down again to the road ahead of him. A few hundred yards in the distance loomed a large Victorian house with white shingles, blue trim and a wrap-around verandah with elaborate spindlework that faced the road. Daniel knew that this building was the cause of the growing uneasy feeling that he had. He drew in a deep breath and continued walking.

The house on Morris Avenue was now The Seahorse Inn -- a bed and breakfast run by Cassie and Gordon Ellison. Daniel had begun working there part-time in mid-March to earn some spending money while he attended Kenwick College. He was twenty, in his second year of a journalism course, and glad to be making some money.

When Daniel saw the ad in the newspaper for the job at The Seahorse Inn he hurried down to fill out an application that afternoon after his classes finished. Three days later he received a call from Gordon Ellison notifying him that the job was his if he wanted it. Daniel immediately agreed, and and was given three hours of work each Monday and Wednesday evening, washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen, as well as longer shifts on Friday and Saturday nights. It was during those weekend shifts when Daniel was the night porter at the bed and breakfast that caused him some trepidation, and despite having worked there for three weeks, it had not abated. If anything, it had intensified.

On Fridays and Saturdays Daniel began work at 10PM and worked until six the next morning, when Gordon, Cassie, and the other staff began arriving for work. Nothing much ever happened throughout the night, but someone still needed to be there in case a guest arrived, or one needed something, or there was an emergency of some sort.

During the week the night porter was an elderly man named Frank Richardson. He would spend the nights doing crossword puzzles, or reading novels by John Updike or Clive Cussler. But many times Al Conway, the cook at The Seahorse Inn, found Frank asleep in a wingback chair beside a large silk fern in the lobby as the sun was coming up.

Daniel had grown up in Welsford Cove, and spent all of his life there. He was very aware of the local history, especially of the house on Morris Avenue. In the eighteenth century the tiny seaport town he lived in was a stopping point for privateers, rum runners and buccaneers of all sorts. Back then, the house on Morris Avenue was the town's only brothel. Like all heritage buildings, it had a colourful past, albeit sordid, and even rather gruesome.

From the time he was a child, Daniel had heard the local legends about the house -- that it was haunted by the ghost of a prostitute, Beverley Sullivan. Although the accounts varied, sometimes placing her age at sixteen, other times nineteen, and her manner of death being either strangulation by a client, or suicide, the bottom line always remained the same: the restless soul of Beverley Sullivan still roamed the halls of The Seahorse Inn.

Daniel had always listened with wide-eyed fascination to these chilling accounts of Beverley's fate and her continued presence at the bed and breakfast, but he had also scoffed at them. They made for entertaining yarns, but his skepticism always won out over legends and superstitious nonsense, as he often called these ghost stories.

Once Daniel began working at The Seahorse Inn, and listened to the first-hand accounts and experiences of the staff, his skepticism waned, to be replaced by disquiet. As he approached the bed and breakfast that Friday night, his mind wandered back to his second week of work, when he had his first conversation with a a co-worker about Beverley Sullivan and the haunting at The Seahorse Inn.

The first staff member who imparted her experiences at the bed and breakfast to Daniel was Naomi Stanton. She was a pretty blonde woman of thirty-one years, with alert blue eyes and a perpetual smile. She worked as a waitress and chambermaid at The Seahorse Inn, and had done so for close to ten years. She struck Daniel as being a level-headed, intelligent, and generally calm person, so he was surprised when she began recounting her story.

"I know they sound like silly ghost stories that you tell around a Boy Scout campfire, but they're not, Daniel. They're real. Beverley's ghost is real." Naomi was sitting across from Daniel in the dining room one Wednesday evening after they had finished washing dishes. She took a sip of coffee from the mug in her hand and leaned forward, locking her eyes on his. "About a year ago, I was carrying a basket of laundry down the stairs, and all-of-a-sudden I felt someone push me, hard, from behind. I damn near fell down the stairs. I dropped the basket and had to grab onto the railing to catch myself. When I turned around, there was no one there." She paused a beat, then added "But that's not all."

"Holy crap," Daniel hissed, feeling his pulse outrun his skepticism. "What else happened?"

"Well, one morning I was changing the sheets in number 11 -- they say that used to be Beverley's room -- and I felt something... not like something touched me like on the stairs, but, I dunno... a presence. It was like a cold breeze went right through me. Not washed over me like a normal breeze, butright through my body. It almost felt like an electric shock. It scared the bejesus out of me." Naomi's eyes danced around as she tightened her lips. "Ever since then, I won't go into that room alone," she added in a somber tone.

"Have you ever seen her?" Daniel asked.

Naomi gave her head a shake. "Her ghost, you mean? No -- thank god," she said with a laugh. "I'd quit on the spot if I did." She gulped down the rest of her coffee, then gave a suspicious look left, then right before leaning closer. "And all that talk about Beverley killing herself, or being murdered by a john is bullshit," she said. "She was murdered by Agnes Cahill, the madame who owned this place."

Daniel was intrigued, and leaned closer to Naomi, resting his forearms on the table. "How do you know?" he asked, lowering his voice like she had done.

"My great-great grandfather owned the tavern here back then," she said, then gave him a weak smile. "He also spent a lot of money at the whorehouse. He knew what really happened to Beverley, and the story was passed down to his son, and so on, for generations. Beverley was pregnant by a wealthy sea captain. He had promised to marry her, and I guess Agnes was jealous, or didn't want to lose her best customer, so she murdered Beverley."

"But... how did she get away with it?" Daniel asked with a puzzled look.

"Agnes said she died having an illegal abortion -- it happened a lot back then, unfortunately. Everyone accepted the story because it was plausible. Besides, she was just a whore, so it didn't matter anyway." Naomi shrugged, but there was indignation in her eyes.

"God, that's so sad," Daniel said.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. "I guess that's why Beverley is still a restless spirit today; justice hasn't been done. Most people don't know the truth, but maybe that's all she wants so she can be at peace." Naomi paused and cast a wary look around, then in a hush said "If I show you something, do you promise never to tell Cassie or Gordon that I showed you? They don't want us talking about this with anyone."

"Yeah... of course," Daniel readily agreed. "What is it?"

"Follow me."

Naomi hurriedly lead Daniel out of the dining room and into the lobby, then up the stairs to the second floor. She reached in the front pocket of her black slacks as she walked and brought out a brass key fob with a cluster of keys attached to it. When they reached the door with 11 on it made out of brass she pushed a key in the lock. It clicked, and she slowly opened the door.

"Come on," she said in a hush, gesturing with her head.

Daniel followed Naomi inside the room and looked around. "I've never been in here before," he said.

"I only come in when I have to," Naomi replied. "Even guests don't like this room."

Daniel knit his brow and stepped closer to her. "What do you mean?" he said.

"We never tell anyone about this room, or what happened here, of course, but over the years we've had guests who've come down the next morning asking if they could have a different room that night. They've said it was cold, or that they couldn't sleep because they had nightmares, and most say it's spooky, or something like that," she said.

"Now that's strange," Daniel said.

"You're telling me," she said. "There was even this one lady who swore that the next morning the window was open, even though she was certain that she had left it closed the night before."

Naomi walked over to the opposite corner of the room, beside the bed. She crouched down and begun tugging at the light blue carpet to reveal the hardwood floor beneath it. "Come see this," she said, looking up at him.

Daniel walked over to stand beside Naomi. He peered down at a dark stain on the hardwood floor that was normally covered by the carpet.

"This is the blood stain from where Agnes murdered Beverley," Naomi said, craning her head up to Daniel. "Pretty gross, huh?"

Daniel could feel his heart beating faster as he surveyed the large, dark, circular stain on the floor. A chill ran up his spine as he tried to imagine what might have happened there all those years ago. Then he raised his eyes slightly to Naomi. In addition to her tight black slacks, she was wearing a white blouse. He had noticed her unfasten a button when they were washing dishes earlier as she complained about the heat. Now Daniel noticed that he could see down the front of her blouse a ways, just enough to give him a good view of her round breasts quivering inside a white bra. His cock stiffened and began to push out at his black slacks as he stared at her firm mounds and imagined cupping them in his hands.

"If we're not careful, there's gonna be another stain on the floor in a minute, huh, Daniel?"

Daniel felt panic welling in his chest as he tore his eyes away from Naomi's breasts to meet her gaze. She was wearing an enticing smile as she stared at the front of his slacks. Then she ran her tongue over her lower lip and pulled the carpet back in place. She got to her feet and took a step closer to him. Her eyes shimmered brighter than he had ever seen them before as they ran up and down his body.

"So, I take it you're more interested in my tits than poor ole Beverley Sullivan," she cooed, then gave him a sly grin.

"No... I... I'm sorry, Naomi," he stammered, wrestling with his tongue.

Naomi giggled, seeming amused, and maybe even a little aroused by his timidity. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders, then ran them down his muscled arms. Daniel glanced down and felt a sharp pang of guilt when he noticed her wedding ring. But when she held him by the waist and pulled him closer so his hard shaft was pressed to her, his guilt was superseded by arousal.

"Oh... don't be sorry, Daniel," Naomi said as her voice grew velvety soft and soothing. She moved her hips slightly, rubbing herself against his erection so it grew harder and thicker. "Don't you want to have some fun?"

Daniel felt himself being slowly pushed back towards the bed until he felt the edge of the mattress on the backs of his knees. He nearly stumbled, but reached out and held on to Naomi's waist to steady himself. His cheeks felt hot and his cock throbbed as it tented his slacks and pushed against Naomi. He listened to her silky voice and gazed into her dreamy eyes.

"Yeah," he croaked, his voice thick with arousal.

Naomi took his left hand in hers and placed it on her breast, pushing down, so his palm sank into her firm flesh. His fingers curled around her mound and he began to squeeze. It felt quite a bit larger than he had imagined it, he thought to himself as he began to fondle her. Her nipple stiffened against his palm and he ran his thumb over it, then gave it a pinch. When she let out a throaty moan he pinched harder, then began to knead her breast.

"I saw you looking at me earlier in the kitchen when I undid a button," she said with a foxy grin. "Were you hoping I'd undo a few more?" Her moist lips curled into a smile as she pushed herself against his hand, encouraging him to grope her.

"Uh... yeah," he replied, smiling bashfully.

Naomi reached out and placed his other hand on her left breast, observing the look on his face as he felt her. "When Gordon hired you, I knew that you and I were going to have fun," she said in a husky voice.

"You did?" Daniel raised his eyes from her chest and gave her a blank stare.

"Yeah... I did." She gave him a tight-lipped smile as she nodded. Her eyes were narrow slits, but still smoldering. "You're really cute, and I noticed how you looked at me sometimes when you thought I wasn't looking."

Daniel felt a little abashed by her comment, but knew that it didn't matter, given the circumstances. He squeezed her breasts harder, pushing them up and together so her cleavage appeared at the top of her blouse. He stared at the deep cleft between her round hills, imagining his hard cock sliding between them.

Just then, the sound of someone closing a door down the hall echoed. Daniel and Naomi froze in place, then both gave a nervous glance towards the door. She stepped away from him then went to the door to peek out. A few seconds later she silently gestured with her chin for him to follow her out of the room.

When they got down to the lobby Daniel and Naomi found Frank Richardson sitting behind the front desk, his head buried in a copy ofAtlantis Found. Without saying a word, she quickly went to the kitchen to get her purse, then returned a minute or so later. By then, Daniel was making awkward conversation with Frank. From the corner of his eye he watched Naomi as she walked to the door. As she grasped the knob she looked back over her shoulder to give him a smile and a wink.

"Watch out for that girl -- she's a heartbreaker," Frank said dryly as the door closed, not lifting his head from his book.

Daniel smiled to himself as he climbed the steps of the verandah, still thinking about his encounter with Naomi weeks ago. There had not been a repeat of that, not yet, but he hoped that there would be someday. He liked Naomi a lot, and had to admit to himself that it was more than that. He was probably developing a crush on her.

The lobby of The Seahorse Inn was quiet and dimply lit as Daniel stepped inside. He walked along the plush, forest green carpet towards the front desk. Behind the desk he saw a familiar face -- a woman with auburn hair that hung just past her shoulders and hazel eyes -- but he was still somewhat surprised to see her sitting there. She looked up from some paperwork and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi, Daniel," Cassie Ellison said with a warm smile. "Alison had to leave early because she couldn't get a babysitter, so I decided to stay late and get some paperwork done."

Alison was Alison Morgan, one of the other women that Daniel worked with. Normally she stayed for a couple of hours after work in the kitchen was finished to tend the front desk until Daniel arrived. It had become their routine to chat for a while after he arrived and before she went home. He liked Alison, and also found her very attractive. Unlike Naomi, she was single, and despite her being close to ten years his senior, Daniel had hoped that they could someday become more than friends or co-workers.

"You should have called me," he said. "I could have come in early so you could get home."

"It's no problem," Cassie said. "It gave me time to catch up on these bank statements." She turned and put the manila folder in front of her in a filing cabinet, then got up from her chair. "We've only got three rooms occupied, so it should be a quiet night, but call me or Gordon if you need anything," she said.

"Okay, thanks, Cassie."

Daniel walked around to the other side of the desk and slipped his jacket off. He hung it up on a coat tree in the corner, then looked Cassie over. It was then that he realized how horny his thoughts of Naomi had made him. His erection was threatening to tent his jeans and he hoped that Cassie didn't notice. She was wearing a long maroon skirt and a navy blue top with six buttons down the front. The top looked small on her, and Daniel stole a glance at her chest, noticing how much more buxom than Naomi she was. He cleared his throat, then turned sideways to her, avoiding her eyes.

"Well, I suppose I should be getting out of here," she sighed. "It's been a long day, and I can't wait to get home and relax."

"I bet," he said.

Daniel took a step aside and peered out towards the lobby as Cassie got up and went to the coat tree. He wasn't paying attention to her. In fact, he was deliberately forcing himself to not look at her. His erection was beginning to wilt and he was relieved for that. Then a few moments later as she turned and slipped her jacket on she bumped into him. Daniel felt a sudden rush of excitement as her breasts rubbed against his arm. He flinched and recoiled, then snapped his head around in surprise.

"Oops... sorry," she giggled. "Gordon's always telling me that I'm going to knock somebody out with these things one of these days." She rolled her eyes and let out another chuckle.

Daniel gave a short burst of nervous laughter, then instantly regretted it. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush.

Cassie zipped her tan suede jacket up part-way, then gave him a comforting smile. "It's quite alright, Daniel. Just because I'm your boss doesn't mean you have to be overly formal with me."

Her reassurance made Daniel feel better, but it also surprised him somewhat. It wasn't so much the words, as the way she said them and the look on her face as she spoke that caught him off-guard, and sent a thrill through his chest that ended in his groin. He gave her a bashful smile and nodded. "Okay... thanks," he said.

Cassie looked down at her chest for a long moment as the corners of her mouth turned up, then she raised her eyes. "I mean, it's not like it's a secret that I've got big boobs," she said with a self-conscious smile. Colour had risen in her cheeks and there was a playful glint in her eyes as she spoke. Her voice had a sultry quality to it that Daniel had never heard before, but liked a lot.

"No... uh... I guess not," he droned, feeling his eyes stray down towards her bustline again.

A teasing smile adorned Cassie's pretty face as she stood there for a few seconds while Daniel admired her full breasts. Then she zipped her jacket up the rest of the way and said "I suppose I should be getting home before I get myself in trouble." She let out a enchanting laugh as she began walking towards the front door. "Give us a call if there are any problems," she called out as she opened the door.

Daniel let out a long sigh as he slumped down in the grey upholstered swivel chair behind the front desk. His hand wandered down to the front of his jeans and he rubbed his cock through them as he closed his eyes, recalling how nice Cassie's breasts looked and felt against him.

The building was dead quiet now, and soon Daniel could feel an almost eerie gloom fill the silence. Forcing himself to not dwell on unpleasant or disturbing ideas, he reached into a cupboard beneath the counter and brought out a paperback book that he had left there. It wasThe Pilgrimage by Paulo Coehlo. Reading was not just a way for him to pass the long nights; it was a way to keep his mind occupied so he did not dwell on the chilling stories about Beverley Sullivan.