EDITED: 2015/04/24

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea and plot.

ORIGINAL A.N. The original idea for this story was inspired by a fic I read on winglin years ago, called "Truly, Madly, Deeply." I've also attempted to write this story once before for a different fandom, but found it inappropriate to continue. So this is my second attempt with this idea of a Midnight Maiden.

I wrote this a while ago, and am determined to complete it this time round. Tell me what you think.

Shadowing Phantoms

Chapter 1: Lusting Darkness

"Ugh. This place is atrocious," groaned a perturbed blonde, as she simultaneously stepped over a rotted table, whilst dodging a hazardous broken light bulb, dangling from what was left of the ceiling.

Her compact frame did nothing to help her maneuver through the deteriorating sorry excuse for a room- 'if it could be called a room at all.' Taking in the various pieces of furniture: the lawn mower, refrigerator, half of a washing machine; she firmly believed that in its past life the room must've served as a type of storage room. Although, the rusting chains hanging from the same ceiling, left little, or rather 'too much' to the imagination.

"Generations of 'working' girls have been shackled by those chains by any paying gent...or lady..." Her perfectly sculpted brows furrowed at the afterthought, visibly shaking her head to rid the image of herself bound by those chains from her mind. She was here on business, and so help her she will knock some sense into that Davies woman, as soon as she can find her. "Where's my cell phone..." she mumbled aloud rifling through her purse. Phone light was better than no light, and she was not going to risk getting electrocuted by flicking random switches on and off; what with loose wires and all that.

"Do not turn that on!" came a raspy growl.

The tiny blonde turned towards the furthest wall, she can vaguely make out a ratty mattress thrown carelessly against it. She could see the shadow of a person. "Leigh?" she called out to the figure, gripping her phone tightly, as if it were a stake.

"Just keep it dark," the other occupant responded. She heard a sigh. "Please. Just keep it dark." Almost a plea.

Brianne Giles, released the breath she didn't know she was holding, "Ashley, do you really think this is the best investment? With the money we're putting into fixing this place up, we'd be lucky to break even." Straight to the point, it's the only way to communicate with one Ashley Davies, "besides, I hear this place use to be a-" she paused, "you know, whore house." She half whispered, mock scandal evident in her tone. Clearing her throat, "From a marketing perspective-"

"I didn't ask for your perspective Brie," came the snippy reply. "I want the hotel built here."

"Surely that a place overlooking a lake or some type of waterfront-"

An eerie silence followed, causing Brianne to shift uncomfortably.

Another sigh disrupted the stillness. "This place has a lot of sentimental value."

That was more of an explanation from Ashley Davies, than Brianne ever expected. The woman just didn't explained herself. There was no speaking to Ashley once her mind was set. Ashley Davies gets what Ashley Davies wants. That much she knew. Brianne circled the chains, fingering it playfully, smirking at her friend, "What happened Davies, did you use to come here every day after school to have some old hen peck at your cherry? Spend your lonesome teenage lesbo years here because lesbians just don't exist in little Ohio towns?"

There was no reply. The brunette sat on the stained mattress, her head in her hands, trying to capture her past, recapture the ghost, recapturing the memory...this time not letting her go. She could still hear her voice, her smile, her expressions. Funny how the dark enhanced the other senses by tenfold. So much so she that she swore, she could still hear every sigh, every moan, every smile. The palpable lust still lingered.

"You're tense today," the words nibbling against the nape of her neck; fingers dancing across her naval, skimming teasingly by the side of her breast.

Ashley merely grunted in response, an unlit cigarette firmly held between her lips, her unclaimed arm reaching blindly for a light, trying to distract herself, to keep the trembling need to ravish, to possess, to own her lover yet again.

Ashley grumbled a curse under her breath as the fag was ripped from her lips. Defiantly, she pulled away from the weight of her human blanket to seek another fag on their makeshift nightstand – nothing more than cardboard box.

'There you are,' Ashley thought to herself as she held the zippo lighter in her grasp.

Light.

No light existed in their realm. It was unnecessary. Just as she placed a new cigarette between her lips she was pounced and pinned back onto the mattress.

"Wham bam thank you ma'am, an after sex cigarette is a little cliché, even for you Ash!" No one dared to call her by such an intimate nickname. Apparently, her midnight maiden didn't read the town bulletin. Clearly her new habit was unwelcomed.

Lips nipping her ear…a cold wet tongue... another cigarette lost in their endless abyss, Ashley bit back a moan. Wet kisses trailing across her cheek, teeth entrapping her bottom lip, "I never said I was done with you yet."

Her own fingernails marring the smoothness of skin against her lover's hip, to draw her closer or to keep her still, Ashley didn't know. Still her zippo in her grasp, cool against immeasurable warmth. Ashley engulf her lover in a sensual kiss, as she slid her palm with the lighter closer towards their faces. The cool metal expelling goosebumps in the wake of its journey up pass her lover's spine, arching past the curve of a breast, towards the landscape of her collarbone.

Ashley could already feel the frown marring those lips so engaged with her own. The lighter remained settled between them, "I want to see you." Ashley whispered in hopes, in plea.

Silence.

"Can I?" She made to snap open the zippo. Her left arm securing her hold on her nude lover. The lighter dangerously closer to the face she longed to see.

Ashley felt her disappear, a chilling stiffness replacing the tender warmth of the bod, the body that so easily became an extension of her own.

The second the cool evening air pinched her flesh; when the warmness dissipated, Ashley immediately whipped the lighter across the room. "THERE! It's gone! Don't go!" she blindly reached out to meet nothingness. She was quick, just out of reach.

Ashley despised the dark, but tolerated it, craved it because of 'her'. Because 'she' wouldn't have it, wouldn't have Ashley any other way. And Ashley craved 'her.' Needed 'her,' far more than any drug.

Tonight, Ashley felt her physically, she was insatiable but Ashley couldn't 'feel' her. Not completely, not wholly. She was desperate yet distant. She held back but wanted more. Ashley couldn't feel all of her, not tonight, not last night, or the night before.

She wasn't here.

Tonight was darker than usual. It was lonely, which made for desperate and sloppy sex. Restrained. Mere motions. An inexplicable dread had washed over Ashley, a silent desperation embodied her while she explored the body she knew so well, pleadingly with it, pushing it to its peak, pushing her 'to speak.'

The security was in jeopardy. And she needed to salvage it but couldn't. It was unsalvageable. Inevitable. Ashley was frustrated.

Ashley opened her mouth to call a name, but no words came. She knew of none. None to describe, to identify this bedmate, this piece of her. The simplest thing, and yet-the one person who made her life bearable had no name. No face. "Where are you going?" Ashley petulantly asked, listening to the ruffling of clothes being hazardously pulled on, arms roughly punctuating through non-cooperative sleeves, the zipping of jeans.

Not gauging any response, anger replaced her restlessness. It wasn't fair. She clearly knew who Ashley was. At first it was alluring, making love in the dark, never knowing who it was that brought her to the peaks of pleasure, lost in lust. Uncontrolled passion. A freedom of sorts.

Now, now all it felt like was a power imbalance. An imbalance that left Ashley vulnerable. This girl held Ashley in her palm. She knew Ashley in all possible ways.

"I could've lit that lighter anytime! I didn't have to ask!" Ashley declared. Wasn't that enough? Respect. As curious as Ashley was, she never forced anything onto the other girl. The temperature was plummeting, much like the unease in her stomach seemed to. She could tell by the lack of ruffling that she was already fully clothed. "Listen to me when I'm talking to you!" Ashley demanded, stomping her foot for good measure. Ashley was not happy. Most people hung onto her every word. Ashley Davies was not one to be ignored.

"Quit being such a brat, Ashley."

Her name. It wasn't fair. It only fueled Ashley's temper.

"I won't come and go as you please."

No one forced her to be here. It was her choice. Ashley couldn't force her if she wanted to.

"I'm not your little whore!"

Ashley smirked bitterly, at the word, whore. Others touched what was hers'; others saw what she couldn't see. "You prove that point so well by coming to me every night for a good fucking. We both know those johns of yours don't gives a rats ass about your pleasure. A whore like you needs more to be remotely satisfied."

*Smack*

The sound echoing an eternity before Ashley registered what had just happened. Nobody has ever, ever laid a finger on her. The uneasiness erupted tenfold, encompassing her whole being. She could feel her lover standing there just as stunned as Ashley herself was. Ashley could feel the anger, could imagine the hurt and anger in her eyes, overwhelmed with angry tears.

"I..." Ashley Davies did not apologize. Ever. Curse her pride. But she wanted to know those eyes.

She felt her lover turn away once again, to leave.

Ashley did not want her gone. She needed her warmth tonight. Every night.

She stopped.

Ashley grew hopeful.

"I didn't want to say goodbye like this Ash."

Goodbye? They've never said goodbye to each other. She'd always just leave whilst Ashley slept, whilst Ashley dreamt of waking the next morning, imagining the natural light illuminate her lover's face.

Her blood ran cold.

Ashley leapt towards the retreating form pinning her against the wall. Her bare breasts pressed upon the stranger's back. "You're not allowed to go," Ashley panicked burying her face into her mane, as she inhaled her scent. "I forbid goodbyes between us. You're mine. Mine. You are mine."

"I'm not yours Ash," her voice cracking. "I never was."

Liar! Ashley wanted to scream. They belonged to each other. They were made for each other. They needed each other. Ashley needed her. Ashley gripping embrace tightened, holding on to the only thing keeping her sanity intact. "Please…"

"Look Ash," steeling her will. "This…was fu…but," she pulled her wrist free from Ashley. "Someone's waiting for me."

Ashley felt her chest constrict. Cruelly reminding her the reality of the situation, who 'she' was.

Or rather who Ashley thought she was.

Abandoned for a john.

Slight and bitterness suffocated her. She didn't catch the waver, the hesitancy in that voice she adored so much.

And she was gone. Her midnight maiden disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.

"Ashley?"

Ashley looked up to the sound of Brie's voice. Brianne's voice was distinctly different from the husky warmth that consumed her nights. For a fleeting moment her deceptive mind could almost mistake Brianne's presence to be her.

But Brie wasn't her. Her frame too petite, her presence anxious, hurried, on a schedule. The tone of her voice was an octave higher, lacking the natural sleepy yet homely gruffness.

"Asshhhhyy..." Brianne drawled, her name in a sing song voice. Brie, her marketing director, her consultant, her best friend, her rock.

Ashley frowned, her nose crinkled in distaste at the pet name. "Do not call me that."

"What's wrong baby?" She felt the mattress shift, as Brie placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

It felt wrong having another person touch her.

Especially here, in the presence of 'her' ghost, 'her' memory, their memory. Ashley moved from the attempted embrace. "This isn't going to work," she declared.

"I knew you'd see it my way!" Brianne exclaimed. "I'll call up Glen tell him to cancel the meeting and we'll look up other locations on a lake or beach..."

"That's not what I meant... " Ashley chastised before Brie got carried away.

Brianne's excitement died, midway through her rant of lakeside views, and bikini clad women, "A nice mountain then! With attendants dressed as park rangers! In short shorts! And hats! Oh leather short shorts and mounty hats!" She equipped herself with a pout instead of a frown hoping that it'd win her friend over.

Ashley smiled. Brianne Giles, can stand toe to toe with the most ruthless tyrants in the music industry, men twice her size in height and width, reduced to mere children with a flicker of her piercing green eyes. But mention even the prospects of leather or women, or leather clad women, Ball Bustin' Brie will voluntarily drown herself in her own saliva and succumb to a comatose state. Lost in her own goddamn fantasies for hours. Ashley was impressed by Brie's attempt to talk her out of her choice of location. Ashley expected Brie to encourage the restoration of the old whore house.

"It's not going to work Brie. I can't see your infamous pout, its dark." Really. Brianne can be such a child, a pouty starving child intent on wreaking havoc on Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, or rather Pervy Patty's Pussy Palace.

"I give up. What did you mean then?" Brie dramatically sighed.

"This room isn't big enough. It's too cramped," Ashley motioned around the room. "The entire building is too cramped. It's falling apart. Everything has to go! We'll make it big. This'll be the grandest suite, once construction is completed." Ashley declared, coming to terms with her resolve. "Forget restoration. I want this building demolished by Wednesday, and ground to break by the end of the week."

"Ashley! That's insane. We haven't even decided on a design. We haven't hired contractors for the demolition, or construction. I really think we should discuss this with Glen and Kyla before..."

"Make it happen," Ashley responded, as she made her way towards the door, pulling out her designer sun glasses, to defend against the natural brightness of sunlight.

"Ashley!" Brianne called again stomping her foot out of frustration.

"Move it Giles, we've got a press conference to attend!" was the distant beckoning of the Davies heiress.

"Miss Davies, you've a lot of history in this town. Not all positive. Why here? Why now and why a hotel?"

"What no foreplay? Still straight to the point I see," Ashley smirked at the red head, rewarded with a slight blush followed by an eye roll. Tracy Luvins was hot. Even hotter pissed off. Apparently, the redhead was now the head news anchor, reporter, and weather specialist at the local news station. "Still riding stick, Trace?" Ashley asked. In high school Tracy embedded her heterosexuality bluntly to evade Ashley's advances.

In true ex-cheerleader fashion, Tracy rolled her eyes. Of course she was accustomed to deflecting the charms of this particular Davies. In high school, Ashley Davies was ever persistent to bed her. "Miss Davies, the question." Girls would throw down just to receive attention from a Davies girl, any Davies girl. If things had been different, Tracy would've jumped at a chance to have Ashley Davies jump her, but things had been different, and bedding Ashley Davies would've cost her another go with another Davies. It wasn't worth it back then, but now seeing the sexy cocky brunette again, she had no qualms if Ashley Davies was still interested.

"Right, me and this town. I don't have the greatest reputation here. Hey you went to school with me, you knew me during my fuc—" Ashley had to bite her tongue, she looked at her publicist, who was silently threatening her with his piercing blue eyes. "This town brings back a lot of bad memories, but at the same time, it's a cornerstone of my youth. Not that I'm old," cue the Ashley Davies nose crinkle, reporters swooned, "This town helped shape me. I know now that I can't escape the past. No one can. We all need to face our ghosts sometime." Ashley spoke directly into the camera. "Come back!" her eyes tried to transmute. "The Davies have lived in this town since our founding fathers found it," Ashley reminded the redhead. "I don't see that many villagers with pitchforks barring my return."

"Why a hotel? Accommodation and hospitality, not really your forte, is it," Tracy responded, the Davies fortune primarily rested in old money. Money that has always been in the family, just there at their disposal. They've always been 'the' wealthy family. Generations survived off pure luck and whimsical investments here and there. Holding shares in production studios in Hollywood, a few shares in pharmaceuticals companies, even a few in publishing. Smart investments, pure luck and the Davies charm go a long way. Of course their wealth wouldn't last forever, considering the latest generation pre Ashley Davies, dwindled away at the family fortune at an alarming rate. It threatened the position the Davies clan held in high society. Everyone was waiting for the crash of the clan. Until Ashley Davies, 1/3 of the Davies fortune, took it upon herself to delve into the Entertainment Industry, starting her own recording label. No longer were the Davies silent passive investors, but involved, vicious, persuasive and successful, at least so far.

"It's a beautiful town Tracy," Ashley replied. "The townsfolk are all pretty damn decent. It's a getaway. Away from the big cosmopolitans. I think a lot of people would pay good money to come out here to get away. It'll be good for the town's economy, increase business, what with the jobs, the hotel will produce, and our clientele will surely adore, this quaint little town."

"And the location?" Tracy interrogated. This is what Ashley was waiting for. The biggest controversy, who in their right mind would build it over a whorehouse.

"The location has history. It has character. It's interesting," Ashley answered evenly. "I don't see anything wrong with the location. We own the land anyways."

"Are you saying that Voluptas was funded by the Davies?" Tracy asked, the journalist inside her began to take over. A story linking the Davies to Voluptas would sell. Heck, it'd be a feature on Oprah. The title screamed at her, Davies Pimping Local Girls!

Ashley bit her bottom lip, trying to form a response. "Voluptas, has been around for generations."

FOR GENERATIONS! Tracey smirked. Ashley met her eyes.

"Voluptas in its original state was merely a gentleman's club. When we, Davies, leased the land that was the business plan. Generations go by some mismanagement and hundreds of other investments, we merely forget who we do/did business with." Kyla Wood-Davies, another 1/3 of the Davies fortune took a stand beside her sister. She usually made it a point to keep out of the public eye, opting for law school instead of her childhood aspiration to be an actress like her mother.

Tracy frowned, not buying that excuse. The other reporters all begin to jot in their notebooks, detailing Kyla's rare public appearance addressing the press.

"What are you going to name the hotel?" came another figure in the press.

Ashley met Glen's eyes dead on, and smirked as she recognized the panic in his eyes. She refused to call her hotel something lame like, Ashley's Inn, or Cupid's Castle, although she did like Brie's suggestion The Island of Lesbos, but she doubted that would go over well.

"We're still in the process of-"

"Voluptas." Ashley smirked with a smile. She swore she heard Glen cursing as the press simultaneously roared with questions. Her hotel, her resort, was taking the name of its previous owner. Ashley Davies was naming her hotel after a whorehouse. Who else but, Ashley Davies, would do that? She could feel Kyla's disapproving glare. She waited for the crowd to calm down. "Voluptas, was the Roman name for the goddess of Sensual Pleasure. We all know the history of Voluptas prior to today. But by this time Wednesday the old Voluptas will be in pieces. A new one shall be built in its place. Get your minds out of the gutter people. My Voluptas will bring a whole new meaning to sensual pleasure. It will appeal to all of the senses. In a month's time, no one on this planet will not know what Voluptas is. Just wait and see."

Ashley slipped her designer sun glasses on again, and exited townhall, leaving Glen to deal with the press filled room and Kyla to wallow in her own displeasure. Ashley Davies gets what Ashley Davies wants, and Ashley Davies is going to bring back her other half. Ten years is far too long, to be torn from such a critical part of herself.

"She'll be too curious not to show," Ashley mused to herself as she drove out of town in her rented black BMW.

Preview Next Time

"Make sure she's classy this time Spence. The last one was too trashy, even for me. And no more hookers, Spencer. You hear me? It was hard enough getting rid of that rash!"

So tell me what you think.

*ShyGirl1988