An Erotic Cornish Haunting

One day in the small Cornish village of Polmarrin a beautiful woman staggers into the Five Bells dressed in a white cotton dress and soaked from head to foot in seawater. Randolph Tremaine recognising her as his wife’s best friend rushes to her aid but it soon becomes apparent that this is not her. This woman who somehow knows him soon disappears again in the strangest of circumstances and so begins a string of amorous visitations and mysterious occurrence’s that not only involve him but also his wife Becky and her best friend Josie. Randolph has a lot on his plate as he becomes embroiled in a menage of both real life and supernatural seduction that has his head spinning as he seeks to understand what is really happening. This romantic erotic story will have you tingling for more as slowly but surely matters evolve to a quite unexpected conclusion that will still leave you wondering at the real truth of it all. The TOC may not be perfect adter conversion, but the chapters are all there.

It was around 6.30pm when the clientele of Five Bells suddenly fell silent. An unusual occurrence for such a busy place but then so was the reason for it to happen. When the doors flew back with a loud bang, that was the first reason for the absence of chatter. When a beautiful woman walked through the door; that was the second reason, for she was wet through from head to foot. Her long, dark hair was plastered to her pretty, though pale face. Her white cotton dress was similarly soaking wet and was wrapped around her truly sensual body like a tight shroud. Her nipples were hard and clearly outlined by the clinging material of the garment, that due to its wet transparency, showed her long legs beneath its clinging surface. Men looked up and stared in surprise at such a desirable vision, for such wanton displays of feminine sensuality just didn’t appear out of the blue in the small Cornish tourist village of Polmarrin. This wasn’t the French Riviera both in climate or fashionable terms. Women dressed like this were only seen on TV or in fashion magazines and so this trembling vision of feminine beauty caused heads to turn and the odd quiet whistle of appreciation as well as surprise. Randolph Tremaine however was not awestruck; he rose to his feet in alarm, his chair crashing back onto to the wooden floor of the establishment as he grabbed his fur-lined jacket and rushed across the room. “Josie? What the hell. You’re soaked through. What’s happened for god’s sake?” The woman seemed to sag a little as he wrapped his jacket around her so as to protect her from the men’s prying eyes and she shivered, then smiled before closing her eyes and nearly collapsing to the floor. “Damn,” he muttered, as he caught her up and carried her to a little nookery which had more comfortable seating, and once there he laid her down and shouted for a brandy which might help revive her from the shivering fit she’d then gone into. He’d hugged her to his body to transfer heat. She’d felt cold, really cold and he’d wondered if she had been in the sea because the sky outside was clear and absent of any trace of rain. He also thought he could smell the salty scent of the ocean on her breath.