**Authors Note**
Really want to apologise for the delay in updating, not had any spare time for writing, but this is a long chapter to make up for it. I hope you all enjoy...there's quite a bit going on in this one.
Massive thanks as usual for all your wonderful feedback, I'm humbled by your kindness and ecstatic to see this fandom still alive and thriving. BJ & Lydia forever!
One last thing, the song featured is "I don't know why (but I do)" by Clarence Henry, and the snake (all will be revealed) is a candy cane Corn snake, if anyone wants to look them up xD

*****************************

Hands thrust deep inside his striped pockets, Beetlejuice bounced excitedly on his heels whilst waiting for Lydia to return. Consumed with restless energy, he could scarcely contain his vivacity.
Things were going swimmingly. He never would've expected his current situation to play out like this, it was almost too easy. She was making it too easy for him.
A slow smile crept across his face as he conjured a generously sized black beetle, and proceeded to crunch on it distractedly, lost in his thoughts. Perhaps he'd underestimated the power of his magnetism. Clearly she was drawn to him like a helpless moth to a flame. And if she wanted to play with fire, then who was he to deny access? If she craved the flame's embrace, then she'd better be prepared to get burned. She was old enough to make her own decisions, even the stupid-ass ones...such as letting some young punk pop her cherry instead of calling on him to do the honours. But maybe there'd be other 'first's' he could be for her, and his imagination began running rampant. 
She'd been a confused young girl on the brink of adulthood when he'd first met her. Aged just sixteen, she was undeniably pretty with the potential to be a real stunner once she came of age. Now she'd blossomed into a fine specimen of a woman, and he felt like a complete tool for somehow failing to notice her fuller breasts, and curvier hips until now. Had he known of the treasures that lay hidden beneath those shapeless black sacks she slept in, he would never have gotten a moments rest.
His mind wandered back to the way in which her chest rose and fell rapidly as he'd approached her, and he subconsciously licked his lips at the memory. Surmising she was most likely a C-cup, or even if she was a B, he firmly believed that more than a handful was a waste. Either way, he would find out, and made a mental note to put his guesstimate to the test as soon as circumstances permitted.
It was bizarre how his attempt at intimidation had resulted in him making out with her like a freakin' hormone imbalanced teenager, but her unexpected initial reaction had led him to press his luck, and boy was he glad he had. There'd been no resistance, only reciprocated want, and now he was confident that he'd reach second base next time...and he'd make damn sure there was a next time. Once she got over her hang ups about him not being alive.

As he stood deep in contemplation, the sudden distant sound of his name being called made him physically jerk. Had he imagined that? No, there it was again....this time spoken with more conviction. For a moment he wondered if Lydia had decided to set him loose after all. She'd gone to the basement to develop the photographs she'd taken of him, after flatly declining his offer to accompany her. Much to his annoyance, he'd used up all of his energy reserves earlier by passing through the perimeter by himself, so he needed her to call on him as per usual in order to get out.
Hoping she'd changed her mind, and that she'd found the temptation of being alone with him in her dark room had proved irresistible, he strained to hear. Anxiously awaiting the the third and final call....
It came, and he felt the preliminary surge of energy consume every fibre of his being, as the gravitational pull sucked his form into the familiar spiralling, cyclone funnel. But as he transported, the sensation of being suspended in mid-air with no up or down seemed to last forever, which could only mean one thing...he was traveling a much greater distance than he'd anticipated.

As he materialised, his guts twisted into knots upon seeing his surroundings. Closing his eyes against the whipping wind, he struggled to catch his breath. What the fuck was this? He'd most definitely been summoned, but this was the last place he expected to end up. Perched on the ridge of a jagged cliff, with nothing surrounding it, he gazed down nervously at the vast expanse of foggy emptiness. Save for the 'lost souls' room in the hallway of the Neitherworld, this place ranked second when it came to afterlife purgatory. This was the Nether. Comprising of nothing but a solitary, high mountain that rivalled Everest or any other on Earth, there was nowhere else to go. This was a gaping primordial void in time and space, and it was common knowledge that if you were unfortunate enough to lose your footing and fall, or be stupid enough to jump, you'd fall forever. Continuously, for all eternity. This was as near to hell as it got. No burning pit of fire was necessary. Legend had it that the evil-to-the-core souls, the ones that repeatedly caused suffering to others in each lifetime, were banished here. Driven mad by isolation and despair eventually they'd take the plunge, and that was that.

"Beetlejuice?"
The gentle female voice cut through the sound of the howling wind that swirled around him.

Whirling around, he would've sighed with relief had it not caused his ancient lungs so much pain.
"Jesus Christ, Bella! What the fuck?"
He barked at her angrily.
"I mean, I know I'm dead already but if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to give me a fuckin' heart attack! What is this bullshit?"

"Will you calm down. You told me to contact you once I had some information for you."
She stated quite matter-of-factly, and her blasé attitude incensed him further.

Throwing his arms up and head back, he shouted into the dark emptiness above him.
"Calm down she says! Fuckin' calm down!"
His voice echoed around the abyss, and the petite blonde brought her finger up to her lip, as a gesture to silence him.

"Hush! You don't want to be heard-"

"Don't shush me, sister. Oh, and who the hell is gonna hear me out here anyway? Are you kiddin' me? No one hears your fuckin' screams in this hell hole, this is the shit nightmares are made of."

"Well that's the point, that's why I chose here."
She informed him, smiling triumphantly.
"But your voice is so distinctive, if by chance anyone were to hear, they'll recognise it's you. So it's probably best you keep it down just to be on the safe side."

"There is no fuckin' safe side here Bella, I can't believe you'd drag me here of all places. I mean, I know I said be creative when you contact me but this just takes the piss. You'd better have somethin' good for me, I tell you that."
He ranted, forced to remain still due to the treacherous crumbling rock beneath his feet. He didn't dare move, despite feeling the need to pace around.

"Well that's another reason why I decided to meet here. No one must know about this, Beetlejuice....I ran the girl's name through the system and I got a hit-"

"Who is she?"
He demanded before she'd had time to finish her sentence.
"Or should I say who was she?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. There are discrepancies with her file. There's no previous names, or dates. The only information was location, she's lived in Conneticut before."

"She? So she was a chick then? From New England?"
He swallowed, suddenly feeling quite bilious.
"Why isn't there more? How can she be on the system with all her personal information missing?"

Bellatrix eyed him curiously, as though trying to gauge his reaction.
"Someone must have tampered with the file. The data has been deleted or removed. I don't know who would do such a thing, or why, but it looks as though whoever did it didn't want her details being found."

Green eyes rounding in their dark sockets, Beetlejuice cautiously stepped towards her. No longer caring so much about the gaping chasm surrounding him.
"That makes no god damn sense, you can't just wipe someone's file. That's a serious, punishable offence, so who'd risk it, and for what? Why? Why her? This stinks. Somethin ain't right here Bella, I dunno what the hell's goin on but it fuckin' reeks."

"If you believe that to be so, then you need to do what you said and get the heck out of that house and away from her."

Shaking his head vigorously he turned away in order to avoid her eyes. He didn't want her eyeballing him like that. Although he, like her, possessed the power of telekinesis, he'd always been convinced she was also telepathic, and perhaps she just refused to admit her abilities.
"No. No no no, no can do. That ain't an option."

"Why? What is it that ties you to her?"

"Nuthin'"
He replied, a little too quickly and forcibly, which he immediately regretted. She was bound to notice his defensiveness.

Rolling her eyes, she placed her hand on his arm affectionately.
"I know you won't answer me plainly. But whatever it is that is holding you there, you need to be careful. If you've known her before then becoming entangled again might not be good for you."

"Let me just stop you right there, it's not her, alright Bella...Just because Lydia has lived in Conneticut before, and has ended up back there in this life doesn't prove shit, okay? So don't imply that she could be...her."

"You mean Lucinda?"
Bellatrix blurted, painfully aware of the way her brother visibly flinched at the mention of the woman's name.
"Beetlejuice....it was thirty four years ago, and you can't even speak her name."

"I can, I just don't wanna."
He retorted childishly, flaring his nostrils in indignation.

"You need to distance yourself from this girl."
She continued, ignoring the way he snorted rudely in response to her words.
"I'm serious, you need to leave before you become too attached."

"I ain't attached. Let's just say my time spent with her is an investment."
He grinned now, paying no attention to her disapproving look.
"Let's just say she's worth the risk."

"Oh Beetlejuice, please tell me you're not....well, you know..."
She fumbled for words, as if reluctant to speak them out loud.
"...involved...with her. She's still living, you can't have a relationship with someone who's still alive."

"Pfft"
He scoffed, rocking back on his heels. Thoroughly amused by her horrified expression.
"Who can't? If she wants the ghost with the most then it'd be rude of me to withhold my services."

"Stop it! This isn't funny, bridging between the dead and the living isn't to be taken lightly. And you are already in trouble, do you really want to add seducing a living being to your rap sheet? Juno will have you up in front of the panel, and they could condemn you to be exorcised."

"Yeah but that's where the good old nuptials come into play. So what can they fuckin' do about it then? I'll tell ya chica, Jack shit. There's nothin' they can do. My ass is covered, and the curse will be non existent. So they'll have to catch me if they can."
Dissolving into a maniacal laugh, he didn't hear the sound of his name being called yet again.

"Oh Beetlejuice, tell me you haven't?....You've married her?"
She cried, accusingly.
"Do you really feel that strongly for her? And she for you?"

"No, it was two fuckin' years ago and it was more of a spur of the moment, bribery kinda affair."
He sputtered, his throat sore from laughing and inhaling the strange, cloying air.
"So spare me the lecture sis, I can handle it. She wants me now, I'm pretty much positive about that. All I gotta do is figure out how to break this shitty curse, 'cause it ain't no fairytale, kiss-of-true-love crap, because I've already tongued her face off and there weren't no magic beam of light or anything."

Openly cringing, Bellatrix brought the palm of her hand up to cover her face. Peering at him between her fingers.
"Oh my! It isn't that simple. She has to accept you emotionally, as well as physically. She needs to love and want you wholeheartedly. That's why it's never been achieved before. It's impossible. No living human could develop such a bond with one of us. It's better we stick to our own kind."

Feeing more than just slightly deflated, he didn't attempt to hide his disappointment.
"No shit, really? Agh fuck! I knew I'd have to turn on the charm and spend time with her but Jesus...that's deep. Not sure I can pull that off."
He admitted reluctantly.

"Well, you can't really get close to someone unless you're honest. Maybe you should try that. Have you even told her about the curse? No doubt you haven't. Avoidance might be your style little brother but you won't win a girl's heart by being slippery."
She advised kindly, shooting him a knowing smile.

"Win her heart? Give me a break, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm no Prince Charming."
He muttered dejectedly.
"And less of the little, just 'cause you made it out before me doesn't make you older."

Laughing now, she punched him playfully in the arm, and he reacted by pulling her into a bear hug.
"I love you Beetle."

"Yeah? Who doesn't? I'm a lovable kind of guy."
He sniggered, before falling silent....had someone just called his name, yet again?
Loosening his hold, he lifted his head. Desperately trying to hone in on the distance and the voice he could've sworn he'd just heard.

Sensing his sudden tension and confusion, Bellatrix instinctively took a step back from him.
"You're being summoned aren't you?"

"Sounds like it, but I can't focus with all this fuckin' wind. Shit I'm popular today. Still, they gotta say it another two times yet-"
No sooner had the words left his mouth, when the call came again, unexpectedly pulling at him from the inside out.
"Wait, what the?..."

"Just be careful."
She called after him, as his form began to fade, dissolving into a plume of green smoke.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say Lydia was disappointed when she returned and found him gone, was an understatement. In fact, she felt utterly crushed. After having struck a deal and, well....they'd shared a somewhat impromptu, intimate moment, the thought of which still made her pulse involuntarily quicken, but for him to just disappear without a trace, without a word of warning was just too much.

During his absence, she busied herself with school, and continued with her art project. Though having to study his photograph whilst sketching her drawing, was a bitter pill to swallow. He'd gone and left, despite her emotional declaration and pleading. And as she sat shading in the dark circles of his eyes with charcoal on the canvas, she felt more of an idiot than ever. She'd probably put him off with all her emotional drama, and a mixture of regret and indignation swirled around inside, making her feel sick to her stomach.

Amazingly, she managed to hold it together for the following few days. But then things seemed to come to a head, after a train wreck of a day. She found herself under fire from all directions, which resulted in her falling apart at the seams. Firstly, thanks to Claire reporting her, she was detained after school for having used 'foul language' and ditching afternoon classes. Then upon returning home she had to suffer a lecture from Delia, of all people...

"Don't you have any friends at that school of yours, Lydia?"
She chirped, waylaying her in the hallway.
"You need to get out more, and spend time with friends who...well, who are alive for one thing! Not that I've got anything against Barb and Adam but you should be out socialising. When I was your age I was a social butterfly, I was in demand."

"Yeah? What went wrong?"
Lydia retorted sardonically, instantly regretting it as her stepmother practically jumped down her throat.

"Don't take that tone with me young lady. I am trying, trying to offer you guidance here. You're no better than a hermit, hiding up in that room of yours day in day out. It's a wonder you've not gone crazy."

"Delia, I'm happy being a hermit. I'm sorry but I'm never going to be some socialite type. That's just not me."

"Happy? Happy? Are you mad? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Panicked by this, Lydia spun around on the stairs to face the red haired woman. Trying not to focus on the bizarre glove-headband that adorned her head. Did she know something? Why was she mentioning her mirror?
"What has my mirror got to do with anything?"

"Your face Lydia, have your seen that long face of yours? You can't possibly be happy. If you ask me you're more miserable than ever, and that's saying something."

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Lydia continued on her way upstairs.
"Well I'm perfectly happy being miserable. At least nothing's changed."

"But when you were seeing Brett you were happy."
Delia harped on, oblivious to the way her footsteps slowed on the stairs.
"Can't you two work things out? I could call his mother and-"

"No!"
She cried, aghast. The very thought made her want to vomit blood.
"Brett made me miserable, I don't want him in my life. I don't need anyone to make me happy."
Faltering slightly as her traitorous mind wandered back to Beetlejuice for a split second, she shook her head as if to rid herself of her unwanted thoughts.

Eager to reach the safe haven of her room, she was utterly astonished to find Barbara waiting for her on the top landing, looking decidedly vexed to say the least.
"Um, hi Barbara. Is everything okay?"
She ventured nervously. Sensing impending trouble.

"I don't know, you tell me?"
She responded curtly, and to Lydia's horror, produced her sketchbook in the manner a lawyer would a piece of damming evidence.

Lydia froze, her eyes darting between the pencil drawing of Beetlejuice's face which smiled up at her from the page, and her surrogate mothers, who was staring at her hard. Awaiting her response.
"You've been in my room?"
She yelled, unable to contain her annoyance.
"And you went through my things?"

"I was worried about you."
Barbara fired back, her tone firm.
"And I've good reason to be it seems. Lydia what is this?"
She waved the book around, holding it by the comer as though she might catch the plague from the offensive material it contained.

"It...it's just a drawing."
She stated weakly.
"What's the big deal? I was stuck for ideas for my art project."
At least that was the truth, but it didn't make her feel any better. She could see how angry Barbara was, though she was doing a good job of containing it.

"But why in the world would you draw...him? Lydia, Adam and I could've helped you with your art project. Why do this?"

"What does it matter, really?"
She challenged, tilting her chin upwards slightly.
"Delia made a sculpture of him, so what's wrong with me doing a drawing?"

Barbara looked shocked now, and seemed temporarily lost for words. Squaring her shoulders, Lydia prepared herself for the worst. She felt terrible for upsetting Barbara, and the only reason she didn't make more of a fuss over the invasion of her privacy was because of the guilt she carried.

Meanwhile Barbara was struggling to process all the thoughts that were rapidly unfolding in her mind. Sceptical by nature, and now having been put on edge by Juno's ominous words of warning, she hadn't been able to stop herself searching Lydia's room. And the drawings she found, shook her to the very core. Seeing that fiendish man's face again, so well captured too, brought everything back, and made her wonder how Lydia had remembered every detail so clearly. She took this as an indication that he must be playing heavily on her mind, which wasn't a good thing at all.

"Lydia, honey...you shouldn't be thinking about him. He's evil, and he's in the past. You really need to move on and forget all about him."

Swallowing down the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, Lydia nodded meekly. The words resounding in her ears. Yes, perhaps it would be for the best if she just tried to forget all about him.
Eager for the unpleasant confrontation to be over, she muttered an apology and in an attempt to convince both Barbara and herself, she took the sketchbook from her gently and set about tearing out the pages, ripping the drawings to pieces in a show of determination.
"Forgotten about."
She declared, keeping her voice as steady as possible as she collected up the shreds from the floor.

Pulling her into a hug, Barbara rubbed her arm gently with her hand comfortingly.
"It's not that easy, I know. What he did was bound to stay with you, but you will get over it sweetie."

If only she knew, Lydia thought. She'd never forgive her. She was offering comfort, presuming she was figuratively haunted by the ghoul who had frightened her, when in reality he'd affected her in a completely different way. She was more spellbound than traumatised. And she'd never be able to admit it, to anyone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Later that night, she took it upon herself to creep downstairs undetected, and entered her father's study. He was in there, lounging in his comfortable wing-backed chair, talking excitedly on the phone to that incredibly irritating woman, Jane Butterfield.
Smiling broadly, engrossed in his conversation with the real estate agent, Charles Deetz acknowledged his daughter with nothing more than a mere nod of the head, as he continued to discuss the details of his latest business venture. From what Lydia had gathered, it was something to do with buying one or two of the houses in town and converting them into apartments to lease out. However, she and her dad had agreed on one thing, that was if Otho had any involvement in the interior designing, then Mrs Butterfield would struggle to find tenants to occupy them. 

Under the pretence of borrowing his 'Hits of the 50's and 60's' CD, whilst he was distracted she had no problem at all slipping open his antique drinks cabinet, and sneaking back out with the first bottle she laid her hand on. Which happened to be an expensive black label whiskey. She didn't make a habit of drinking alcohol, and when she did, whiskey most definitely wouldn't be her first choice. But tonight she didn't care. She wanted to relax. Relax and forget.

Changing into one of her many black nightshirt's, once back in her room she put on the CD. Thankful that her father had finally converted to discs rather than using cassettes, she flicked through the tracks until one distinctly upbeat R&B song caught her interest....
"I don't know why I love you, but I do. I don't know why I cry so, but I do...I only know I'm lonely, and that I want you only. I don't know why I love you, but I do...."

Swilling back the whiskey straight from the bottle, she did her best to ignore the way the liquid burned her throat. It felt like swallowing hot lava, but she persisted. Taking regular gulps whilst playing the song on repeat....

"...I can't sleep nights because I feel so restless, I don't know what to do I feel so helpless...and since you've been away, I cry both night and day, I don't know why I love you but I do..."

Closing her eyes, she muttered to herself under her breath.
"Damn you Beetlejuice."

A few minutes went by, and she sat listening to the words that rung out from the speakers, as if taunting her...

".....Each night I sit alone and tell myself, that I will fall in love with someone else...I guess I'm wasting time, but I've got to clear my mind. I don't know why I love you, but I do."

Suddenly it dawned on her that she'd spoken his name. She'd said it once, all she had to do was say it two more times. Twice more and he'd be with her. Then she wouldn't be alone.
But no, she couldn't possibly call him back again, she shouldn't want his company. The inner battle raged on within her for a little longer, until she finally gave in to the terrible temptation. Even if she just gave him a piece of her mind for abandoning her, that was a valid enough reason to summon him, wasn't it?
She rose from her chair unsteadily, feeling quite woozy due to the drink, took another long swig, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and took a deep breath...
"Beetlejuice....Beetlejuice."

For a moment nothing happened, and she didn't know what to do or think. Then the temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly, and in the blink of an eye he appeared. Tugging the grimy cuffs of his sleeves down into place, his form hadn't even fully materialised, when she threw herself at him. Small wisps of green smoke still radiated about him, as he stood silently for once, stunned by the way she had enveloped him with her arms.

"Beetlejuice!"
She exclaimed giddily, smiling up at him fondly. Suddenly unable to suppress the joy she felt at having him return.
"I missed you. There see, I said it."

"Yeah, and you also just said the B word again, so if you ain't careful you'll miss me some more 'cause you know what happens when you wear my name out."

Pulling away, she surveyed him closely. Wondering for the umpteenth time why she found him so inexplicably appealing rather than appalling.
"You left, I thought we had a deal. Where did you go?"

"Hey, the deal still stands. I was called away. What can I say, I'm a popular guy. But I'm back now thanks to you. Damn you must've missed me to call me."
His keen eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the bottle of whiskey and her bleary eyes.
"Shit, this is classic. I'm gone five minutes and you're driven to drink...shucks babe, did ya really miss me that much?"

"Five minutes? More like five fucking days!"
She cried incredulously, quite forgetting herself and letting her emotions get the better of her.

"Whoa, easy tiger, you'd better watch the bad language, I might find it arousing. I didn't realise it was five days, okay? Someone calls, I gotta go, and I lose track of time-"

"Who called you?"
She was asking now, in spite of herself.
"Was it someone you know?"

"Yeah, Bella. I've known her my whole life."
He replied with a sly grin, anticipating her next response.

"Bella? Oh, right...a woman. So, wow you've known her all your life. That's a long time. I take it she's a ghost too?"

"Uh huh."

"Right..so, how do you know her? I mean like, is she a friend or..."

"Or what?"
He persisted, quirking a pointed eyebrow.
"What are you gettin' at? You trying to suss out if I've been sleazing it up with some other chick? That's cute babe, real cute."

Her porcelain face reddened considerably, and she attempted to look nonchalant.
"No, I was just asking that's all."

"Yeah you're curious. I know, you keep telling me. But there's nothin' wrong with admitting you're jealous. And you can rest easy, I ain't been screwin' some hot snatch behind your back, I'm a married man."
He chuckled, conjuring a cigarette and a match.

She watched with avid interest as he struck the match against the zipper on the front of his trousers, and blushed again when he looked up and caught her watching.
"The cage door ain't open and the beast is asleep, so there's nothin' to see here baby. Sorry to disappoint ya, but you're safe...for now."
He grinned at her, flashing his crooked teeth.

"You're such a perv. As if I'd want to...ugh, anyway I'm not jealous."
She insisted, as she hastily turned the music off, and flicked her small, portable television on.

"So, what did you do, call me here to watch TV with ya? 'Cause I gotta say, I can think of better things we could be doing."
He took a long drag on his cigarette, and absentmindedly blew a procession of smoke rings into the air above his head.

Ignoring his remarks, she leaned on her elbow against the bedpost.
"Neat trick. Can you breath fire too?"
She quipped.

"I can do pretty much anything, smart ass. I already told you that. What do you want free entertainment? I'll show ya some real neat tricks if you want, but you've gotta do somethin' for me in return...you gotta entertain me."

His comment was heavy with suggestive promise, and she felt the all too familiar sensation of her heart beginning to race. Feeling brave due to the false courage the alcohol had given her, she ran her hand through her raven hair, and held his gaze.
"Okay...only if you can impress me though."

"Impress? Sure, I can do that. No problem."
With an abrupt flick of the wrist, he suddenly produced a single pink rose. Bounding over like an excitable puppy, he bowed from the waist, then straightened to proffer the rose to her.

Taken aback by this out of character, romantic gesture, she fought to keep her expression impassive. Gingerly she took hold of the stem, their fingers accidentally brushed and bang! There it was. That unmistakable spark she always felt each time they came into contact. And it was unnerving to say the least.
"Well, that was unexpected.."
She dead-panned, indicating to the flower.
"But I have to say it's a bit clichéd and-"
Before she could finish, the rose suddenly transformed into a small, pink coloured snake. Wriggling rapidly between her fingers, she had to juggle it between both hands to keep a hold on it.
"Agh! Beetle-"

"Hey, hey! Less of the name calling."
He hissed, clamping his hand over her mouth to silence her.
"And if you're gonna scream, do it quietly. Don't wanna attract any unwanted attention from the stiffs upstairs."

"I'm not going to scream, I'm not afraid of snakes, BJ."
She managed, once he'd removed his hand from her face.
"I'm more afraid of losing it, if it gets loose then that will attract unwanted attention."

Scrunching his face as though he'd just caught the scent of something vile, he stared at her askance. Not caring that she was still struggling with the snake.
"What the hell did you just call me?"

"Um, BJ....well they are your initials aren't they?"

"They're also the initials for Blow Job."
He snorted, as he continued to drag on his cigarette, shaking his head in apparent disgust.
"Fuckin' BJ, I mean c'mon....really?"

"Look if it stops me saying your name then who cares, right? Now do you think you could maybe help me out here, please?"

"Fine, fine. I'll lose the snake. Figuratively speaking that is, can't have the mega bitch pissing her pants if she finds it slithering through her laundry."

"No, don't get rid of it...I like it."
She smiled, admiring the pinkish pattern which was in sharp contrast to the strange chequered black and white of it's underside.
"I'd like to keep it, but I don't know where I'd put it."

Surprised by her reaction to the snake, he obligingly conjured a small vivarium on her nightstand, complete with the necessary set up.
"There...consider it an anniversary present. Are you drunk? Because most chicks don't dig snakes, or lizards and those kinds of critters. Hell, how's about I get you a tarantula for your birthday?"
He sniggered, looking on as she hurried over in order to deposit the reptile into it's new home.

"A tarantula would be great, thanks."
She replied, without even a hint of sarcasm detectable in her voice.
"And I'm not like most girls...I just panicked for a minute, he moves so fast I was worried I might drop him."

"He's a she, and corn snakes are like that, move faster than an Olympic runner on crack. Especially the young un's."
Having joined her at her nightstand, they stood side by side, shoulders touching whilst observing the small creature.

"She's so pretty...."
Turning to look at him, she smiled a slightly drunken, yet genuinely warm smile.
"Thank you...I mean, I know you were probably trying to freak me out, but you've impressed me."

"Yeah? Well you liking it has freaked me out. I should've juiced you a black rose, then you'd have ended up with a rat snake, or Mexican black. Not as pretty or easy to keep as..."
His words trailed off as he noticed her gazing at him, and the closeness of their proximity.

Boldly she inclined her head towards his, and placed a gentle kiss on his sallow cheek. He never moved, and when she leaned away, she could see the bewilderment in his face.
'Wow, you really are drunk. What was that for?"

Frowning slightly, she indicated towards the snake, now slithering around inside the vivarium.
"For the present."
She supplied simply.

"Ah, well this is kind of awkward you see, because I was gonna ask for a kiss in return for the trick. So what'cha gonna do for me now, huh?"
His voice dropped to a low rumble, which made the hairs at the nape of her neck rise, but not due to fear.

"Well, I...could...I mean, well what do you want me to do?"
She babbled feebly, her alcohol-fuddled mind refusing to work as it should.

Taking one final drag on his cigarette before juicing it away, he gazed at her through half-closed lids, his wide, manic grin adding to the surreality of the entire situation.
"What d'you think?"

Overcome with madness, she gave in to impulse and did what her sober self would never dare do. Gripping the front of his jacket in determination, he put up no resistance as she pulled him roughly to her, and standing on tip-toes, crushed her lips against his.
He immediately responded, kissing her back feverishly, clutching her firmly by the waist in a vice-like grip.
He tasted like treacle and cigarettes, a strange combination that she didn't find off putting at all. To the contrary, as she felt the muscles of his thighs pressing against her own, for a moment she thought she might actually swoon, like one of the characters in her books.
His lips were demanding, his tongue reaching into her mouth, fighting her own for dominance, and when at last he stopped, it left her gasping for air.
"We do this.."
He growled against her ear,
"...and you're fuckin' mine. You got that?"

And then he was on her, and she felt herself tumbling backwards onto the bed, with him atop her. The breath hitched in her throat, at his weight bearing her back against the soft mattress. Trapped against the solid wall of his chest, exhilarated fear coursed through her. He may have been physically cold to the touch, but a feverish heat now radiated from her. How was he able to raise her temperature so much? This was insane. Insane and terrible. But she couldn't fight it any longer. No one thrilled her like he did, she didn't know what he planned on doing to her, but she was only terrified of coming to her senses and not allowing him to do any of it.

He was waiting for her to tell him to stop, and was astounded when that command never came. He could feel her trembling against him as he ranked above her, his hands roaming downwards, dipping beneath the material of her nightshirt.
Well she wanted it, she was going to get it. He thought to himself with a twisted smile. Time for her to discover why he was the ghost with the most.

She held her breath, and perceptibly jumped at the touch of his cold fingers on her bare thighs. Purposely dragging the tips of his pointed nails along her skin, she shuddered at the surprisingly sensual feeling. And then he was brutalising her lips again, kissing her ardently whilst his hands seemed to be everywhere at once.
The dual erotic sensations made her head spin, as one hand roved upwards over her stomach, then rib cage, she felt his thumb brush against the underside of her breast and quivered. Simultaneously the other hand hovered over the thin material of her underwear. Shivering with anticipation, she found herself silently willing his hands to do their worst. She craved his forbidden touch, and she'd never felt so turned on before. Brett had never made her feel like this, and any sexual encounter she'd shared with him, now paled in comparison.

As if sensing her need, he carefully placed his index finger against her, the simple touch brought her hips up, but he held her firmly in place, persisting as he gently dragged his finger along the centre of her most intimate area, before gliding it diagonally in a slow, circular motion across the surface of her panties.
To her shame, she moaned into his mouth, much to his amusement.
He ceased his tantalising assault on her lips, and buried his face against the curve of her shoulder, smiling sinfully. He could smell the intoxicating scent of her fear, combined with something else....arousal. Feeling the soft swell of her breast against his other hand, he was unable to resist the urge, and gently clasped it in his palm.

Under normal circumstances, she ought to be screaming for help, but instead she had to bite her lip hard to prevent herself screaming from pleasure, as he gently caressed her beneath the material of her nightshirt. His skin was rough on hers, adding to the sensory overload, and as his thumb and forefinger found the soft nub of her nipple, teasing it so it rose to greet his touch, she almost flew off the bed. His other hand was far from idle, as he relentlessly continued to stroke, and rub against her, before slipping his fingers beneath the soft cotton, dipping down to meet with their wet, warm target.
She choked out a stifled gasp.
"Oh god!"

"Nope, just me."
He retorted dryly,
"But as good as, baby."

The tightening she felt deep inside increased, and her entire surroundings fell out of focus. The outside world ceased to exist, as the pure, unadulterated pleasure began to consume her. Unlike her ex boyfriend, who's caresses were rough, hurried and clumsy in comparison, Beetlejuice's expert touch was not that of a novice. He was precise, surprisingly gentle and gloriously skilled. And needless to say, as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to control herself but failing miserably, it didn't take long before the inimitable, sweet tension she felt building, erupted in an earth shattering climax.
She let out a strangled cry, clutching his shoulders tightly as the wave of euphoria swept her away, threatening to drown her.

"That's my girl."
He whispered hoarsely, before pressing a kiss to her burning forehead.
His trousers had grown increasingly uncomfortable and tight around the crotch area as a result of his own arousal. Her breast felt hot and heavy in his hand, and his other was now damp, along with her underwear, due to him having skilfully pushed her into sweet oblivion. The feeling of satisfaction and empowerment was heady indeed, but he'd already decided he wasn't going to fully take advantage of the situation. She had been drinking after all, and he wanted her to be stone cold sober when he took her, in order for her to fully enjoy the ride, and to guarantee her willingness. He knew how getting wasted could impair one's judgement. So his own maddening want and need would have to wait...for now.

He released her from his clutches, crudely licked his fingers before coarsely wiping his hand on his suit, and then rose from the bed. Tugging at his trousers and willing his erection away, he conjured a lit cigarette and picked up the bottle of whiskey.

Lydia sat herself up slowly, legs still trembling, she blinked at him through the post-orgasmic haze. Crippled with embarrassment, she also felt a slight twinge of shame. How could that have happened? She'd never experienced anything like it, even when touching herself, which she had on occasion. The intensity of what he'd done to her was mind blowing. He, of all people...had proved that sexual contact wasn't completely overrated after all. But now what? Where on earth did they go from here, she wondered.

Striding back over to the bed, he flung himself down heavily beside her, nonchalant as though nothing had happened. Taking the cigarette from his purple-tinged lips, he offered it to her. She accepted it gratefully, taking a long, hard drag on it as she watched him glug from the bottle.
Spluttering suddenly due to the strength of the cigarette, he patted her, albeit unnecessarily forcefully, on the back.
"Ugh, what are these made from? Dynamite?"

"Asbestos."
He joked.
"I smoke roll your own, uranium rods."

"They might as well be."

Passing her the whiskey, she raised the bottle to her mouth and took a sip, it's contents immediately setting her mouth on fire.

"So.."
He reached out unexpectedly and carelessly pulled her to him, almost causing her to spill the drink all over herself. He held her tightly, bringing her to rest back against his chest, and she stared up at him wide eyed.
"D'ya wanna watch TV now?"