I was slowly awakened by the touch of a gentle hand. This gentle touch seemed to be carried over from a dream. I nestled deeper into the soft, warm indentation of my bed.

It was not unusual for me to have dreams of tender loving. I had memories from lost relationships, which sustained me through my loneliness. I was fast approaching my fifties. It had been almost five years since I had any kind of serious relationship, and so I decided that I really didn't need any man in my life. Things never quite worked out for me in that department, so it was through my own choice that I moved into the old house that I wanted to be my refuge.

My one marriage, though loveless, was a least lucrative.The marriage lasted seven years. It ended through tragedy for him, and a new life for me. Never needing to worry about a job, I left the city for a life of solitude for myself. I had my books and music for company.

Having moved into the old house not quite eight months ago, I was beginning to feel the loneliness moving in to surround me. When I awoke feeling a tender touch, it was a while before I realized that It wasn't a dream I carried with me from sleep.The caresses moved from my arms, around to my breast. Laying on my stomach, I thought,"how is this possible". The idea of being frightened just never occured to me. It was as if something in my mind told me to relax, "you're going to enjoy". WELL IT SOUNDED GOOD TO ME.

Light tender fingers lulled me back into a blissful sleep-like stage. Feeling both strange and admittedly a little bit crazy, I allowed myself this feeling of euphoria. After what seemed like hours a brush against my cheeks, followed by a light breeze across the bed told me it was over. Springing from the bed; I literally skipped into the shower, eager to face the day. I guess I was eager with the knowledge that Night follows Day.

The next day went without incident. It swiftly turned into evening. A nice hot bubble bath, and I was ready to hop into bed and wait. Disappointment began to overtake me with the thought that maybe I imagined the whole loving episode of the morning, when I felt the gentle breeze envelope the bed. Again the caressing hand ran up and down body. This night my whole being was being touch as if by a thousand tiny lips, that covered both my body and soul. HOW WONDERFUL I FELT.

Soon after I would begin to feel the small breeze across my body as I did my daily chores. I began to feel guilty at the idea that I was enjoying a ghostly lover, when I never enjoyed physical contact of any kind. It was more the companionship of men that I enjoyed, not the physical aspect of it. Now here I was looking forward to each night like an addict.

Shopping around the stores during the days gave me strong feeling of guilt. I thought the people I stopped to chat with could see behind the rosy glow on my face and knew I spent the evenings entertaining a ghost with an insatiable appetite.

My heart began to yearn for just one time to be able to reach out and touch and caress my generous lover. I would reach out, but was never able to feel any shape or substance. My hands would grow warm, almost hot. The breeze would blow into my ear, as if whispering a love tune. How I LOVED this ENTITY. All to soon, the years began to pass. The nightly visits began to come less and less frequently. I had already adapted myself to the fact that all good things come to an end.

Family circumstances forced me to take my twenty two year old niece into my home. Three weeks after moving in, I was awakened by her hysterical screams. She told me she was just falling asleep when she had felt hands caressing her body. I assured her it must have been a dream. Weeks later she had seemed to take on a new glow. Eyes always shining, lips always humming a tune. I knew that now my nightly visits would be NO MORE, that he was Busy Down The Hall........Ain't that just like a man?

Submitted by: Name Withheld
Background by: Nancy