The Shadowman: An R-rated Ghost? Story

Friday. 10:10pm 10/26/02

I first noticed The Shadowman several weeks ago.

He wasn't there every night, at least not at first . . . but…as time went on… I realized that he was there more often. . . just a shadow figure. . . disappearing into the darkest corner behind the bushes. . . but, each time I saw him, he seemed to be growing ,as he crept closer and closer to my window.

The first time I saw him out there, I wasn't even sure what I had seen.

I had simply glanced toward my bedroom window as I turned off my lamp for the night, and suddenly there was a quick movement in the shadows at the rear of the patio. Since the patios in my complex have no back fences and open up into a lightly wooded field, I had occasionally seen people walking by or running after their dogs. Thus, I just gave myself a little shake, pulled my sheet up to my chin and turned over to face away from that window as I fell asleep.

The next week, I seem to catch that same shadowy movement almost every time I turned off the light. I began to suspect that I was being watched.

At first I was frightened, not knowing who or what kind of person was watching me . . .but there was also certain intrigue as well, a slight rush that came hip to hip with the fear.

A number of the "Bodice Rippers" I am so fond of reading, have scenes where the hero secretly watches the lovely heroine as she goes about her daily life or slept innocently beneath a lacy canopy . . .obveously, there is something about that idea that has some kind of universally naughty allure !

Of course My Shadow/man wasn't getting much in terms of interesting action . . .as far as I could figure, the most he had seen was me striding through my bedroom in my old college to-shirt on the way to the kitchen for a snack or the to the master bathroom - in other words just some nipping out and a lot of naked leg! I figured he must be pretty desperate to keep coming back for that. I actually felt a little sorry for him.

Last week, the situation changed . I still wasn't even sure there was anyone out there to enjoy it. I mean when it came down to it, all I really saw was a quick movement, that seemed to be in the general shape of a man, that I caught out of the corner of my eye. I am sure that if I had called it in, the police would have laughed at me.

After moving in, I had learned quickly that anyone passing by the back of my patio could see directly into the far side of my bathroom when I left the door open. As I said, people didn’t happen by very often, but I’d always been very careful to close it as a result, even when I was alone. However, last Monday I took a shower, instead of the nightly baths I so loved, and I intentionally left the bathroom door open . If there was someone there, I knew he couldn't see the shower, or even me getting in or out of it.

But, when I was done that night, I put my t-shirt on right over my wet body and let my hair make huge damp circles over my breasts.

Grabbing a bath towel, I stepped just outside the door and into the bedroom . Backlit, I stood sideways to the window. Leaning over, head down, I began toweling my hair, a black cut out of jiggling breasts and taunt legs. The t-shirt was clinging to my breasts like wet paint, and the cool breeze from the window made my nipples into marbles. I wondered if he was there . . .watching.

After a few minutes, I turned to face the bathroom again, and bent over to give my hair a final toweling my legs slightly apart. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror, lost my courage and quickly switched off the bathroom light.

As I ran to my bed, I thought I saw the Shadow/man darting out of sight.

It took until Thursday before I could work up the courage to go any further, but I was sure I saw him each of those nights and he seemed to be slightly closer than he had before.

On Thursday, I decided to give him a treat.

I guess I had a bit too much to drink when I was out with my girlfriends . . .at least that’s what I going to blame it on. Alcohol tends to make me lusty, and maybe a part of me was wishing that one of the men who had bought me a drink earlier in the evening had been more worthwhile.

Once again I turned on the bathroom light and left the door open. However, this time, I stood directly in front of the vanity mirror and slowly undressed for the night.

Literally in the spotlight, I slowly removed my necklace and each earring, laying them neatly beside the sink. I vaguely remember pulling my blouse loose from my skirt and slowly unbuttoning it, one button at a time, beginning at the bottom. The soft blue fabric slid open across my black silk camisole, and I let it slide softly down my arms and onto the floor, shrugging my shoulders. The wide black leather belt came next, and I wrapped it around my wrist as I raised both hands up toward the ceiling . . .for a minute it looked like I was wearing some kind of leather cuffs and I laughed as I dropped it to the floor as well.

Pinching the lace along the bottom of my camisole, I raised its hem up and over my face, dropping it to the floor as well. I can clearly see myself standing there wearing only my bra, panties, garters, thigh highs and heels - like one of those old fifties pin-ups! Reaching up I unpinned my hair from its braid, letting it fall over my shoulders. Un hooking the front closure , I let my bra slide down my arms and join the rest of my clothes.

Fluffy waves of hair covered each breast, but my nipples still managed to push their way through !

I admit it, by this time I was more than damp . I started vogueing in front of the mirror and then lifted my left foot up onto the counter and caught a whiff of my own passion. I swear I heard a sigh as I unhooked my left stocking and began rolling it down my leg. I took a minute to stare outside, but there was nothing to be seen.

Certain I was alone, I may have let a finger stray for a moment as I removed the right stocking, but I left my foot on the counter as I slid my hand between my legs. The straps of my empty garter bounced against each thigh. I was thinking that it was too bad the Shadowman was only in my mind, because if he had been real, he’d have been getting a good view I arched my back and watched myself in the mirror.

I was just lifting my hand toward my mouth when I heard it again! That sigh! It seemed like it was right in my room!

I froze and then whipped around to survey the room. There was nothing. Oh there were shadows of course, there are always shadows at night, but I could see that there was no one in my room.

Adrenalin had damaged my mood somewhat and I unbuckled my garter belt and laid it on the counter more quickly. Stepping back a bit, my breasts and hair swung free as I bent over and stepped out of my panties. I took another quick glance at the window and then slowly perused the room again.

Turning off the lights, I stepped into my bedroom confident that even if there had been someone outside, all he could see me was maybe a smudge of white skin against my darker sheets as I turned them down.

Laying on my back, knees up and apart . . .I continued to pleasure myself. I swear the evening had suddenly gotten warmer as the breeze through the window slid across my skin like heated breath, but as I raised my hips toward the ceiling, the only moan I heard was my own.

Exhausted, I lay still for several moments and then got out of the bed and took one more long look out the window-wall.

I must have pressed my body against the cool glass, because I could see my whole body, like a silvery outline on the window when the sun came up Friday morning. Like I said, I was pretty drunk or I’d never have done such a thing .

Thankfully my brain was still working to some extent, because the window was locked tight and the bar firmly in place when I woke up. Last night was Thursday again, and the Shadowman has been with me every night!

On Saturday, I woke up and thought I saw him at the window. He was so close I swore I could see his profile drawn like ink against the moon - it was like he wasn’t even attempting to hide anymore! Then he was gone.

Was he a dream? Just a shadow I didn’t recognize half asleep? I don’t know. All I know is that he seemed to be in my room after that. I’d just seem to suddenly wake up, and I’d feel someone watching me. I’d look around and some times I swear I saw something, but….

On Monday and Tuesday , I kept a new nightlight lit in the bathroom, but both mornings I woke up and swore I smelled a man in my bed. That slightly salty tang that’s all male, whispering out of my mattress and sheets and then it was gone! Last night, I said the hell with it. I was too exhausted to be scared anymore.

I did go out and searched my patio before I took my bath. I actually searched the whole apartment and double checked every lock. Then I took a bath with a large glass of wine and threw on my old t-shirt. All this lack of sleep and freaky smells was taking a toll, so I admit I did take a single Somenix to help me sleep.

It must have worked because I know I slept and I had a pretty wicked dream too.

The Shadowman came and this time he was pretty clear.

Oh, he was still a black shadowy figure, but I had no doubts he was a man.

In my dream he gently teased me, sliding his fingers up and under my t-shirt with feathery softness. His cool fingertips danced across my stomach and ribs, until my breasts were swollen and my nipples ached they were so hard and tight. I put them between my ownfingers, thumbs stroking them like two tongues . . .and I imagined him out there watching, touching himself, and wishing it was me.

I dropped one hand down to my hips and then between my legs, listening for that sigh and I swear I could feel his eyes on me, tracing the same path as my own fingers, imagining himself there.

I don't know what changed, but I was so cold by the time my head was tossing upon the pillow. The dark shadow fell on and around me,  and then the alarm was ringing and it was morning!

After I took my shower and the sun was starting to shine through my window . . .I saw the dusty print of a large masculine hand on the wall , it was as if someone has braced themselves above my bed leaning over it. Grabbing my pillow, I caught that scent again.

Burgler, dream, ghost ? Only the Shadows knows. And does it really matter?

I slept better and woke more content than I have in months.

I don’t know I know what it was, but I know what I want . . . and tonight, when I get ready for bed, I think I’ll put on that lacey black nighty I bought a couple years ago, and maybe I’ll change the sheets as well, so he‘ll know he‘s welcomed. . .and then I’ll wait . . . wait for The Shadowman to at last gain substance!

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