Chapter 27: Boosting the Output
Suzy’s fingers traced idle patterns on Elias's shoulder, her chest vibrating with a low, continuous chuckle. She watched Moonbeam’s hand, which was gently holding Elias’s, while her other hand casually batted his flaccid penis back and forth like a metronome losing its rhythm. “It’s so… floppy,” Suzy giggled, her voice rich with amusement. “Like a little windsock in a dead calm.”
Moonbeam smiled, her luminous eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued her gentle, playful tapping. “It’s had a very busy night,” she said, her tone dry and affectionate. “It deserves a rest.”
“Stop it, though” Suzy giggled, “you’re gonna knock it off.”
“It’s not going anywhere,” Moonbeam replied, her voice a contented murmur. She gave it another gentle tap. “It’s retired. For now.”
Across from them, Carissa was utterly engrossed in her own private ritual. She let a thick strand of Elias’s cum dribble from her lips onto her chest, watching it slide over her skin with rapt attention. She then scooped it up with two fingers, studying its consistency before slipping it back into her mouth with a soft, satisfied sigh. “It’s just so much,” she murmured to no one in particular, a delighted grin spreading across her face. “I can’t let any go to waste.”
Carissa caught him looking and winked, letting another pearlescent drop fall onto her collarbone. “What?” she said, her voice teasing. “It’s educational.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling. “I’m conducting important research on post-coital biochemistry.”
Suzy snorted, her body shaking with laughter against Elias’s back. “You’re a regular scientist,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Next you’ll be writing a paper.”
“Maybe I will,” Carissa retorted, popping her fingers back into her mouth with an exaggerated slurp. “The title will be ‘On the Sustaining Properties of Writer Jizz.’” Her grin was utterly unrepentant. “It’s a bestseller waiting to happen.”
“You’re such a freak,” Suzy said, her tone dripping with affection.
“You’re just jealous you didn’t get the final shipment,” Carissa retorted, licking her fingers clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue. She sighed, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss. “It’s different when it’s straight from the source. It’s like… concentrated you.” She looked over at Elias, her dark eyes sparkling. “All that writer-brain angst and cosmic battery power, distilled.”
Moonbeam gave Elias’s hand a gentle squeeze, her touch pulling his attention back to her serene face. “See?” she whispered, her voice for him alone. “Everything is connected.” Her thumb stroked his knuckles, a slow, reassuring rhythm. “You’ve woven us all together.”
Elias managed a grunt, too spent to form words. A deep, satisfying exhaustion had settled into his bones, but it was a good tiredness. It was the fatigue of a field after a storm, rich and replenished. He could feel the house around them, a silent, contented witness. The usual oppressive weight of the place had lifted, replaced by a gentle, humming stillness.
Moonbeam stopped her playful batting and simply rested her cool hand on his thigh. “The house is happy,” she said, echoing his thought. “It’s been a long time since it felt this… full.”
“I know I am,” Carissa purred, lying back on the rug and stretching like a cat. Her glow was a steady, satisfied pink. “I haven’t felt this solid since the Clinton administration.”
"I do have one concern," Elias said.
"What's that?" Moonbeam asked, leaning forward.
"First the good news," Elias began, "You're all still here. Even earlier today, after Suzy and Carissa had their big orgasms, they didn't fade away. The house is getting stronger."
"You're right," Suzy said, "In all the excitement, I didn't even think about that."
"So what's the bad news?" Carissa asked as a strand that was probably mostly saliva at that point dribbled out of the side of her mouth.
Elias watched the glistening strand trace a path down Carissa’s neck, a stark reminder of the raw, physical transaction that now fueled the very walls around them. He took a slow breath, the air still thick with their mingled scents. “It’s working,” he said, his voice low but clear. “What we’re doing here, the energy we’re creating… it’s stabilizing you. It’s even helping the Shadows in the corners, I can feel it.”
He let his head fall back against the rug, staring up at the dusty chandelier. “But I’m one guy.” A dry, weary laugh escaped him. “I’m not sure how much more of this… prolific output… I can sustainably muster. My body has limits, even if the house’s appetite doesn’t.”
A contemplative silence settled over the room, heavier than the dust.
Suzy was the first to speak, her practical tone cutting through the tension. “So we need a new battery?” She propped herself up on an elbow, her gaze sharp and calculating. “Or a different kind of fuel?”
“Maybe,” Elias admitted, his mind already turning over the problem. “The principle is sound. The connection, the release… it works.”
Carissa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her earlier playfulness replaced by a focused intensity. “Do you have another idea?” she asked, her dark eyes locked on him.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Suzy’s face. “Does it involve that cute delivery driver, Ashley?” she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The one who blushes every time she hands you the groceries?”
Elias couldn’t help but laugh, the sound rough in his throat. “No,” he said, though the idea didn’t feel entirely alien. “Not specifically her. But the general concept you’re probably suggesting… that might be the direction we need to go.”
Moonbeam, who had been quietly observing, shifted beside him. Her cool hand still rested on his leg, a grounding presence. “Ashley?” she asked, her tone not jealous, but deeply curious. “Who is she to you?”
“Who is she to you?” Moonbeam’s voice was soft, but her gaze was intent, searching his face for any hint of evasion.
Elias shifted on the rug, the rough fibers scratching against his bare skin. “Ashley? She’s just the delivery driver from town,” he said, shrugging a little too casually. “She brings groceries every Thursday, that’s all.”
Carissa let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh from where she lay, the sound echoing faintly in the vast room. “Oh, please,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “That girl practically vibrates when she sees you. Her cheeks go all pink, and she stumbles over her words.” She wiped a stray strand of hair from her mouth, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “It’s not just friendly, Elias. She’s got a full-blown crush.”
Moonbeam considered this, her head tilting as a faint, knowing smile touched her lips. “A living connection,” she murmured, her voice almost wistful. “It might be good for you, Elias. To remember what it’s like outside these walls.” Her cool fingers brushed his arm. “Sex with a living person… it could ground you, feed you in a different way.”
Elias felt a flush of heat rise up his neck, mixing with the lingering exhaustion. “Things aren’t even remotely to that point,” he insisted, his voice tighter than he intended. “We exchange maybe three sentences a week. It’s nothing.”
Carissa’s grin widened, sharp and playful. “I’m not so sure,” she said, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, too. You’re not as oblivious as you pretend.”
“You’re not as oblivious as you pretend,” Carissa said, her grin sharpening.
Suzy’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, and she snapped her fingers, the sound oddly solid in the dusty air. “Hey, it’s Wednesday evening,” she announced, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Ashley always drops by with the groceries tomorrow around noon.” She looked between Carissa and Moonbeam, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “We should all get a good look then, see what all the fuss is about.”
“Perfect,” Carissa agreed immediately, nodding with enthusiasm. “Front row seats to the Elias and Ashley show.” She winked at Elias, who felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
Moonbeam’s serene expression didn’t change, but her gaze held a thoughtful depth. “That could be… informative,” she murmured, her voice a soft contrast to the others’ eagerness. She then turned her attention fully to Elias, her head tilting. “But earlier, you mentioned you had another idea. A plan.” Her cool fingers brushed his arm again. “What did you mean?”
Elias looked at their expectant faces, the weight of their unified attention pressing down on him. He pulled his hand away from Moonbeam’s, sitting up slightly on the rug. The earlier warmth he’d felt was rapidly cooling into unease. “Actually,” he said, his voice dropping, the words feeling heavy and reluctant. “I’m not sure I want to tell you anymore.”
“I’m not sure I want to tell you anymore.”
The air in the grand salon went still, the playful energy evaporating like mist. The dust motes seemed to freeze in the dim light.
“Why not?” Carissa asked, her voice losing its teasing lilt. She sat up fully, her expression sharp and focused. “You can’t just say that and clam up.”
Suzy leaned in, her chestnut hair brushing his arm. “Yeah, come on, Elias. Spill it.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious, pinning him in place. “What’s the big idea?”
He looked away from their intense stares, focusing on a patch of peeling floral wallpaper. The words felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. “It’s just… the house needs more power, right? A stable source.” He dragged a hand down his face, the stubble rough against his palm. “My idea was… we get more batteries.”
Moonbeam was silent, her luminous form the stillest of all. She just watched him, waiting.
“More… living people?” Carissa finished for him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You mean, like, bring them here? For us?”
Elias nodded, the motion feeling heavy. “Yeah. To… commune. With all of you.” He finally met their eyes, his own filled with a grimace. “I even thought of a guy I know from college. He’d probably be game for something this weird.” A short, harsh laugh escaped him. “But it feels wrong. It feels like I’d be pimping you out.”
The crude word hung in the air, ugly and final.
Suzy’s eyebrows shot up. “Pimping us out?” she repeated, her voice a mix of shock and something else.
“That’s a pretty gross way to put it,” Carissa added, frowning.
But Moonbeam shifted, her movement drawing all their attention. A strange, soft light was growing in her eyes, something beyond mere luminescence. It was the flicker of a forgotten emotion. “Elias,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the room. “No one has ever asked us.”
He blinked. “What?”
“No one has ever suggested that we might have a say,” she continued, her gaze drifting over Carissa and Suzy, including them in her revelation. “In who comes here. In who we… commune with.” She looked back at him, and her wide smile was back, but it was different now, tinged with a profound, aching wonder. “In all the years, through all the people who have passed through these walls, no one has ever thought we might want to choose.”
The silence that followed was deep and resonant.
Carissa’s frown softened into contemplation. She glanced at Suzy, a silent conversation passing between them in a look. “She’s right,” Carissa murmured, almost to herself. “It was always just… what happened to us.”
“This would be different,” Suzy said, her voice gaining a new, speculative energy. “We could… I don’t know. Interview them?” A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “See if they’re our type.”
Moonbeam reached out and placed her cool hand over Elias’s. Her touch was solid, real. “Your idea isn’t gross, Elias. It’s the first truly kind thing anyone has proposed for us in a very long time.” She squeezed his fingers. “You’re offering us a choice. That’s far, far better than anything we’ve ever known.”
Elias let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The tight knot of guilt in his chest began to loosen, replaced by a cautious, dawning sense of purpose. They weren’t revolted. They were considering it.
The weight in Elias’s chest didn’t vanish, but it shifted, transforming from a leaden block of guilt into something lighter, more manageable. He watched their faces—Suzy’ speculative grin, Carissa’s thoughtful frown, Moonbeam’s serene wonder—and felt the strange reality of his life solidify around him. This was his inheritance: a crumbling mansion and a council of ghosts planning their dating lives.
“So,” Carissa said, breaking the silence with a clap of her hands that made no sound but sent a ripple through the air. “A recruitment drive.” Her eyes glittered with a mischievous light. “We need to establish criteria. Ground rules.”
“Obviously they have to be hot,” Suzy declared, leaning back on her palms and stretching her legs out. The faded fabric of her bikini bottom strained slightly. “That’s non-negotiable. I didn’t die to spend eternity with some schlub.”
“It’s about energy, Suzy, not just aesthetics,” Moonbeam chided gently, though a smile played on her lips.
“Says you,” Suzy shot back, wiggling her eyebrows. “Your guy’s a lanky writer with perpetual bedhead. You’re clearly not prioritizing a six-pack.”
Elias ran a self-conscious hand through his already-disheveled hair. “Hey.”
“She’s not wrong,” Carissa added, giving him a once-over that was more appraisal than insult. “You’re more of an acquired taste. Like a bitter, complex espresso.” She grinned. “But your battery life is impressive.”
Moonbeam’s smile faded slightly as she watched Elias. He was trying to play along, but a tightness remained around his eyes, a hesitation that hadn't been there before he’d mentioned his plan. He’d said he felt like a pimp, but his discomfort seemed to run deeper, specifically tied to one part of their earlier conversation.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the first grey light of dawn was beginning to bleed into the darkness. Thursday. Grocery day.
Then it clicked into place, the connection so obvious she was surprised she hadn't seen it immediately. His reluctance wasn’t just about the moral ambiguity of his idea. It was about the specific, living person they’d just been discussing. He’d quickly denied any interest in involving Ashley, but his protest had been a little too forceful.
“Elias,” Moonbeam said, her voice soft but cutting through the girls’ debate about preferred body types. “Your hesitation… it’s not just about the principle, is it?” She waited until he met her eyes. “You don’t want anyone to think that if Ashley were to spend time here, it would be for her to...commune."
Elias nodded.
Elias nodded, the motion tight and reluctant. He couldn’t hold Moonbeam’s gaze, instead focusing on a water stain spreading across the ceiling like a faded continent. “It’s different with her,” he muttered, the words feeling inadequate. “She’s just… normal. She has a life out there.”
A life that didn’t involve spectral roommates or cosmic energy transfers fueled by orgasms.
Carissa’s eyes widened as Moonbeam’s meaning sunk in. “Ohhh,” she breathed out, drawing the sound into a long, understanding sigh. She looked from Elias’s pained expression back to Moonbeam. “You don't want to bring her here to get ghost-handled.”
“It’s not that,” Elias started, but Suzy cut him off.
“No, she’s right, it totally is.” Suzy sat up, crossing her legs and adopting a surprisingly serious tone. “But listen, if we’re actually talking about your plan—bringing in other people—then it’s all about disclosure and consent, full stop.” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “We had, like, a million campus orientations about this. You can’t just spring a haunted sex cult on someone.”
“Especially not someone you’re crushing on,” Carissa added, her voice softening from its earlier teasing. “The only way Ashley, or anyone, would ever be involved like that is if they knew exactly what was happening in this house and actively agreed to participate. No creepy surprises.”
“Considering how adorable she is, we probably shouldn’t count the possibility out,” Carissa joked, a slow grin returning to her face. “Maybe she’s into weird shit. You never know.”
Moonbeam shook her head, her long hair swaying like wheat in a nonexistent breeze. “The living world isn’t always so big on free love the way we are in here,” she reminded them gently. “Their rules are… different. More complicated.” She placed a calming hand on Elias’s knee. “Protecting her isn’t a weakness, Elias. It’s a kindness.”
The truth of it settled in the room, a sobering counterweight to their earlier wild energy. This wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about ethics, a concept that often had a different meaning within these decaying walls.
This wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about ethics, a concept that often had a different meaning within these decaying walls.
The weight of that thought pressed down on all of them, silencing the playful banter. Dust motes drifted silently in the weak dawn light filtering through the grimy windows.
Then Carissa snapped her fingers, the sound surprisingly sharp. “Wait a minute,” she said, her eyes widening. “Ashley's friend that was with her last time.”
Elias looked up, pulled from his grim thoughts. “You mean Sally?”
“Right,” Carissa continued, her voice gaining speed. “The one with the purple streaks in her hair. The big smile.” A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “I saw her face when Colin walked by her. Everyone else was hiding. She was smitten.”
"She did ask about Colin," Elias remembered. "She must have a thing for big century-old Irish guys."
“Oh, absolutely,” Carissa said, her eyes glazing over with a theatrical sigh. “Those big, work-roughened hands? I bet he could just… I don’t know, fix things.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “All kinds of things.”
She then leaned forward, her expression shifting from lustful to shrewd in a heartbeat. “But that’s my point. It’s not just about us girls getting our batteries charged.” She gestured vaguely toward the darker corners of the house, where the male presences usually lingered, silent and watchful. “What about them? Tucker’s been pacing the same patch of hallway since 1987. Colin just stares out the window. That’s a lot of stagnant, grumpy energy festering in the walls.”
“It’s for the good of the house,” Carissa pressed, her voice dropping to a pragmatic murmur. “Balance, right? Everyone gets a little action now and then. It can’t just be the Elias Thorne show forever.”
A new silence fell, this one charged with a different kind of potential. The idea hung there, vast and complicated.
Suzy’s eyes darted toward the archway leading to the main hall, a slow, calculating smile spreading across her face. “You know,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “We should probably get a second opinion on that.” She tilted her head back and called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous room. “Tucker! Get your ass in here. We’re having a board meeting.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air in the center of the room began to shimmer, like heat rising off asphalt. A form coalesced from the gloom, pulling substance from the dust-thick air. It was Tucker, his shaggy blonde hair and Motley Crue t-shirt looking more solid and defined than Elias had ever seen him. The energy from the night had given him weight, a presence that was almost entirely physical. He scratched his stomach, looking around with a confused scowl. “What’s the big idea? I was listening to a damn good cassette.”
“We’re expanding the brand,” Suzy said, grinning at his substantial form. She gestured around the room. “We’ve got a proposition for you.”
Tucker’s eyes, a surprisingly clear blue, narrowed. “Yeah? What kind of proposition?”
“How would you feel,” Suzy began, drawing out the words for dramatic effect, “about the possibility of inviting living, breathing women to come here. To partake in the act of… energizing the house.”
Tucker stared at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence stretched for three full seconds. He then blinked, and a slow, dawning comprehension broke over his features. “You’re talking about fucking, right?”
“Bingo,” Carissa said with a snap of her fingers.
A wide, genuine grin split Tucker’s face. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a low whistle. “Are you shitting me?” He looked from Suzy to Carissa to a faintly blushing Moonbeam, his excitement palpable. “You mean, for real? Not just… watching the writer over here get all the action?”
“For real,” Suzy confirmed. “If we can make it work. If we can find people who are… amenable.”
“Amenable,” Tucker repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth like he was tasting it. He laughed, a sharp, joyful sound that seemed to startle the dust in the room. “Shit, yeah. I’m amenable as hell.” He punched a fist into his other palm, the impact making a soft, solid thud. “Tell me what to do.”