EXCERPT (must be read to enter the contest)
Estella cleared her throat, pushed back her shoulders, and plastered a smile on her pale face before turning to YOU. “So...Lucy tells me you’ve come for a spot of entertainment? How about something to indulge your darker side? Yes, I do believe that will be fitting. Tea?”
She positioned herself on her beloved red chaise lounge, poured tea into a dainty, chipped china cup, and waved YOU in closer.
***
“One more word from you and I swear I’m gonna lose it,” Lindsay muttered through gritted teeth, barely hanging onto her last drop of patience. Debra, her MidNight co-host and nemesis wouldn’t shut up, intent on hogging the camera, as per usual.
MidNight had transformed Lindsay from a jittery legal assistant into an almost famous TV presenter and ghost hunter. It was the last job she’d ever expected to have, or love. And best of all, the show had actually helped her face her fears: the dark and her own shadow. If only she could conquer Walker, her longtime just-good-friends buddy who operated camera number one—night-vision filming on the move.
He’d put his equipment away for the night and watched the end of the live show from behind the main camera. He scribbled something on a white card and held it up. Lindsay, take a deep breath. Only sixty more seconds of airtime.
Knowing Walker was on her side renewed her patience a little. She pulled herself together and shot a teeth-smile toward Debra.
Debra.
The bimbo knew nothing about the paranormal and thought an EVP meter was a “flux capacitor ghost-catching thingamabob.” A dumb fake-blonde fresh out of acting school. Maybe it’s actors I have a problem with? Nah. She’d known others, but Debra was the only one she ever wanted to smack over the head with a clapper board while shouting “cut the bitch.”
“We’re out of time. From the York Castle Prison, it’s good night from me and good night from Debra. Wishing you all sour dreams and hoping the bed bugs bite...hard.”
“And we’re out.” The show was now off-air.
Walker cheered, his whoop void of excitement. “And yet again, we didn’t catch anything. Surprise. We’re in the most haunted city in the UK, and we’ve got nothing. Not even in a thousand year old castle turned prison where people died
heinously. Dick Turpin, the highwayman, didn’t even make an appearance to hold us up. It’s a joke.”
“One of these days, we’ll experience something so supernaturally spectacular it will beat the skeptic out of you...maybe even leave bruises.” She made a beeline for Walker.
So did Debra.
“Whoa, ladies.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
“Fun-ny. I was about to ask if you needed help cleaning this place up.”
“We have guys for that.” Debra flicked her luscious locks back, and they naturally fell into a super-perfect Kelly from Charlie’s Angels style. “More like she was hoping for a shag. Sorry, Lindsay, but Walker is taken.”
Lindsay formed tight fists, and her shoulders rounded slightly. “I don’t think so. He wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
“I beg to differ.” Debra pouted.
Walker grabbed Lindsay’s arm and dragged her along the darkened, narrow corridors and into a deserted jail cell. Moonlight streamed through the small box window above, giving only a glimmer of light and setting shadows dancing on the walls as he moved.
“Walker?”
“It’s not what you think.” He ran a hand through his thick, dirty-blond hair and frowned.
“If you’ve poked her, it’s exactly what I think it is.”
“Debra and me, it’s just—”
“La. La. La. Too much information.”
“Not enough, if you ask me.” Debra popped her head around the corner, slunk into the room, and held up a huge ring of ancient iron keys. She selected one and locked the heavy door behind her. “I’m happy to share. More than happy.”
“I know.” Walker grinned then shook his head and glanced back at Lindsay with a pleading expression and puppy-dog eyes. “But I don’t think Lindsay is.”
“You figured right.”
Debra dropped the jailer keys—they fell to the floor with a heavy clank—then caressed the curves of her tits and tiny waist with her hands. Sensual. Wanton. Lindsay wanted to mirror her movements, to touch her own curvaceous body.
A threesome? With the one woman in the world, she hated more than Marmite? Smelly yeast. Perfect comparison to Debra. Why was she turned on by a yeast infection? Ew.
“Don’t be such a bore, Lindsay.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, if it’s like that.” She headed for the exit, her head in all kinds of confusion. Here Walker was, offering himself on a plate to her. But the side dish left a lot to be desired.
“No. It’s like this.” He grabbed her shoulders, spun her, and rammed her against the hard stone wall. Rough nooks and crevices scraped at her back. And then he kissed her.
