Of course, it's time for a gentlemanly team-up

This wasn't much of a head-scratcher. As a self-proclaimed loser, I don't particularly have an interesting life. My usual daily M.O. consists of waking up, jerking off, searching for a job, failing, jerking off again, and then crying myself to sleep, only to do it again the next day. Any opportunity to break this cycle was too good to pass up. It isn't every day a spectral aberration of a nineteenth-century English highwayman offers you a deal to change your life. So of course I took it. Evil be damned.

"Alright... I..." I paused, my hand beginning to stretch toward the ghostly gentleman. "If I accept your proposal... what are the... um... expectations? Like... uh..."

"A wonderful question, my boy. It is quite wise to be cautious in such circumstances." The Gentleman Ghost's form seemed to brighten as his excitement grew. "There are but a few simple things I expect of you." He floated closer, the monocle still clutched in his spectral glove. "First, a modicum of decorum. No more of this... base vulgarity. A gentleman must carry himself with grace, even in the most dire of situations."

"Right, right. No more swearing." I nodded. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. I couldn't imagine my future without a good fuck or shit in my arsenal. Not to throw around willy-nilly, but to utter when the moment called for it.

"Second," the ghost continued, raising a second finger, "you shall assist me in my endeavors. I have certain... unfinished business in this mortal realm. Possessions, you see, that were unjustly taken from me in life. We shall retrieve them."

"You mean steal stuff," I said flatly.

"We shall reappropriate," the Gentleman Ghost corrected, his tone strained, "what is rightfully mine. And perhaps, along the way, we might find a few other trinkets that catch our eye. A gentleman has an appreciation for fine things, you must understand."

That was to be expected. This guy wasn't the most popular criminal around, but I believed I'd seen something on the news once or twice. He was a villain, despite what the posh personality might convey. Stealing just seemed to be what he did regularly. But I wasn't in much of a position to judge. Even now, my closet was home to some... many... a lot... of used women's undergarments. It wasn't something I was too proud of, but I'd accepted my perverted ways by now. I was pretty slick with my hands, too. It was a public building, with a shared laundry room. It wasn't my fault some chicks didn't notice one or two of their panties or bras missing. Well, actually they did, but they didn't have enough evidence that I was the one who took them to do much about it. Point was, it would be somewhat hypocritical for me to judge this ghost too much. It seemed we were both different kinds of bad.

Still, given his personality, I felt a bit uneasy about where this list of rules was headed. "And third?" I prompted.

"Third." The ghost's form shimmered, shifting from a soft white hue to a dimmer red, somewhat ominous. "You will help me obtain my revenge upon those... those uncouth ruffians who consigned me to that demon's gullet."

Ah. There it was. The revenge plot. Classic villain stuff. Even if it wasn't a surprise, a sinking feeling hit my stomach. I had always wanted to interact with heroes, get some good fap material in person. I did not want to be on the opposite side of their ire while doing it. More like a bystander. Or being saved. The dream was to be a witness to someone like Raven squatting down in my direct line of sight. Maybe I fall over, and she's running over to help, then has to dodge something, and that big perky butt in that tight leotard stretches right over my face, outlining her pussy and gray-skinned globes directly above my lips and...

Okay, yeah. That would never happen. But what's the point of living without dreams?

"Alright... so... that last thing should, uh... maybe we do that later?" I cleared my throat. Fighting the Titans wasn't high on my to-do list. Especially when he had already lost to them. I wasn't sure what I could do to improve his odds. The best thing would be to stall until I'd had my fun and he found someone better, or just changed his mind entirely.

"I beg your pardon?" The ghost responded in what I was pretty sure was an offended tone. The invisible head seemed to tilt in my direction. "My dear boy, revenge is a dish best served... well, you know the saying. And we must serve it post-haste. My spectral form is... unstable, to say the least. I require replenishment, and nothing empowers a vengeful spirit quite like a bit of good, old-fashioned payback."

"Look. I'm sure what you're saying is true and all. But. I mean." I scratched my arm, grasping at invisible straws. "I-I'm not ready, right? Like I don't know how to use your powers or anything. We're gonna need training."

"Oh, pish posh." The Gentleman Ghost shooed away my concern with a wave of his transparent hand. "I have possessed and piloted the bodies of brutes and simpletons far less... astute than yourself. It is a simple matter of focus and will. The power is mine; you are merely the vessel. And-"

An idea came to mind, and I spoke without thinking. "Isn't it gentlemanly to plan ahead? To ensure one's victory with proper strategy? Instead of just rushing in with some brute and losing again?" My stomach turned. I had to correct myself quickly to avoid offending him further. "I mean, you lost to them with a possessed speedster and a possessed alien. And that's a lot better than a... me."

Better than this thing having a conniption. To my surprise, the ghost didn't seem angry. Instead he stroked his invisible chin, the monocle balanced perfectly on the desk. "Hmmm. The boy has a point," he mused. "A gentleman is not merely a brute. He is a strategist. A thinker. A master of the chessboard, not merely a pawn." He floated toward me, his spectral form seeming to grow slightly more substantial. "Perhaps you are not so much a simpleton as I first presumed."

"Right... yeah." I breathed a sigh of relief. "So we train. You teach me about your powers; I teach you... uh, my... powers...? And maybe we find some... easier targets. To build up my confidence... a-and your energy." I added the last part before letting the sentence sit.

"I suppose we may keep things... posh." The Gentleman Ghost said after a few moments of humming thought. "We shall begin with a simple test, to see whether you are even... capable. Whether you can follow instruction. And I should at least determine whether your vessel is fit for my purposes."

Great. I'd bought myself some time.

"So... what's the test?" I asked, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. This was it. I was about to get superpowers. Maybe I could finally live out my dream of being a hero. Or at least a perverted version of one. Or... honestly, I'd probably be more of a villain, considering the things I'd done without powers.

"Patience, my boy. Patience is a virtue. Is that not what you told me?" The ghost floated over to the window, peering out at the city. "First, we must establish our connection. Before we partake in any arrangements, I must add there is a fourth expectation you must understand."

"Oh, here we go," I muttered.

"You will be required to adhere to the principles of a true gentleman." The Gentleman Ghost spoke with a raised finger as his ghostly form floated throughout my messy bedroom. My home was a rather messy one-bathroom unit on the outskirts of Jump City. It wasn't much, but it was the best we could afford without any real form of income. And by we, I meant my parents. I was basically coasting off their funding, with the guise of attending higher education being their only requirement. It was a pretty nice apartment, despite being rather small, but I knew my parents expected me to pitch in. Without much money of my own, that might at least cause my accountant of a mother to look in. If she looked in, I was more than definitely going to lose my parental funding. For an abundance of reasons. One of which was the apartment owner of the building, Mrs. Higgins. Or Mrs. H, as most called her. She was a stern, business-savvy woman in her late thirties, owning multiple apartment flats, with a nose for trouble and a particular distaste for me. She had a log of all my caught misdeeds, and I was currently on one of my last strikes. If she found out I was harboring all the women's missing clothes, or any of the candid pictures on my photo reel, she'd have my head on a platter. Or worse, call my mom.

The ghost circled the room, his transparent form passing through piles of clothes and empty pizza boxes. "This... hovel... is hardly befitting a gentleman. We must rectify this immediately. Tidiness is next to godliness, you know."

I stared at him. "You want me to clean my room? That's the fourth rule?"

"It is not a rule, my boy. It is a way of life. A gentleman's abode is a reflection of his inner self. And your inner self, I fear, is in dire need of... polishing."

I sighed, running a hand through my messy hair. "Look, I get it. You're old-school. But I'm not exactly a 'gentleman' type. I'm more of a 'grab life by the tits' type of guy. Literally, if I could."

"Vulgarity aside, I understand your... predicament." The ghost's form phased through the door to my closet. "But this is not merely about cleanliness. It is about discipline. About focus. Without discipline, you will never harness my power. Your mind is a cluttered mess, much like this room. And a cluttered mind cannot channel spectral energy." He returned through the door, this time holding one of my... acquisitions. A lacy black thong, the crotch still faintly darkened from whoever had worn it last. "And what, pray tell, is this?"

"Uh..." I felt my face flush. "Laundry?"

The ghost's invisible head seemed to tilt. "Laundry that you wear upon your head? I have been inside your mind, boy. I know what you do with these... trinkets."

"Okay, look, we all have our hobbies," I mumbled, snatching the thong from his spectral grip and stuffing it into a drawer. "But what does that have to do with me learning to use your powers?"

"It is hardly trivial to focus when one's abode smells of a woman's nether regions," the ghost retorted, causing my jaw to slacken in disbelief.

I smirked. "I don't know. The scent of used women's musk hits pretty well. I can get high off that shit." On instinct I took the used thong out of the drawer again. The lace was still a little stiff where it had dried against someone's skin. I pressed the crotch to my nose, gave it a long, satisfying sniff, then returned it. "Ah..."

"Did you just..." The Gentleman Ghost muttered, shaking his invisible head. "Good heavens. I do have my work cut out for me."

"I was just... uh..." I stammered, realizing that instinctual act probably wasn't the best to perform right in front of the damn ghost of gentlemen. "Inspecting for quality."

"This is worse than I thought. The boy is a hopeless cause." But then he seemed to reconsider. "However... perhaps this... this could be beneficial. No one would expect a gentleman to arise from such... depraved beginnings. Your imprudent nature might make one mighty mask." He floated around the room again, his spectral form trailing behind him. "But we must start somewhere. We will begin with a simple exercise. Something to test your... potential."

"Nice, okay, so a test...! Um. So." I looked around the room. "How do we start?"

The Gentleman Ghost turned to me, one hand extended. "Why, with a simple gentleman's handshake, of course." This guy was a ghost. I wasn't really sure how he expected me to actually shake his hand, but I wasn't about to ask questions. Before our hands could meet, though, he added, "Oh, pardon me. I neglected to mention-be sure you are wearing the monocle, for this to work."

"Oh... uh..." I looked from the ghost to the monocle on the desk and back again. "Okay." I reached over and picked it up, feeling a strange coldness emanating from it. It felt heavier than it looked, as if it held some unseen weight. I placed it carefully over my right eye, fumbling with it for a moment before it clicked into place, feeling surprisingly secure.

"There now," the Gentleman Ghost said with a note of satisfaction. "Now we may proceed."

I extended my hand, and for a moment our fingers touched-his icy and insubstantial, mine warm and very much solid. A jolt, like a ripple of energy but colder, shot up my arm. It didn't hurt, nor feel pleasant. It felt like... wind, if anything. And suddenly I felt... well, I felt like air. Floaty and... transparent. More pressingly, I also saw myself. Like, I saw me. From across the room. I turned my head, expecting a mirror, but I saw myself standing there with a dumbstruck expression on my face. And... I was also... floating. Right beside myself. I could see the monocle sitting on my own face-or the face of the me I was looking at. Raising my hand to my transparent face, I didn't feel anything...

Wait.

"Oh, splendid, splendid! It worked quite well." I heard my own voice speak through my body.

"AM I DEAD!?" I shrieked, my voice echoing strangely, as if I were speaking from inside a tin can.

"Calm yourself, my boy. You are perfectly alive. Merely... ethereal for the moment." The Gentleman Ghost, now in control of my body, walked over to the closet and opened it. "My word," he muttered, rummaging through my collection of... souvenirs. Bras hooked over hangers. Thongs knotted together like trophies. A half-crumpled pair of pantyhose that still held the shape of someone's thighs. "This is... quite the assortment. You truly have a... discerning eye for lingerie. The smell is more than modestly musky, to say the least; the scent of multiple women's privates mixes into quite the aura." He raised a bra to his face-or my face-and winced at the aroma. Clearly someone didn't have taste. That was Mrs. H's from last week, the underwire still bent from how heavy her chest was. It had been so hard to get that without being caught; she was like a wolf. That smell had made me come on instinct, with the added mix of a picture I snagged of her downblouse from over her shoulder while she was distracted on the phone-one pale swell spilling the cup, the freckled top of a nipple just in frame.

"Hey! Get out of there!" I tried to shout, but my ethereal form just drifted aimlessly through the air despite my motions. How the fuck did he move around so freely? "That's private stuff!"

The Gentleman Ghost in my body chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound I had never heard from myself before. "Private stuff? My dear boy, nothing is private when we are sharing a body. Now, let us see what we can do with this..."

He-my body-held up a red lace bra, a particularly fine specimen I had acquired from the laundry room of the girl who lived in the apartment above mine. The cups were still a little stretched from her. As he held it, the bra began to shimmer, and a spectral glow emanated from it. Then, to my astonishment, the bra floated into the air and began to dance.

"What the...?" I stared, my ghostly jaw agape.

"A simple demonstration of spectral manipulation," the Gentleman Ghost explained, my body's hands gesturing gracefully. Then, with a wink, it suddenly flew into my dirty laundry basket. "Now, while I am a sophisticated gentleman of crime who would never suggest returning your own stolen property, it would not harm you in the slightest to, at the very least, run these through a wash. Or better yet, throw them out. I can see you having a bit of a problem if you are caught."

Before I could respond, a heavy knock echoed from the apartment door.

"Mr. Stockman! I know you're in there! Open this door right now!"

Mrs. H.

My ghostly form froze, and I could feel a surge of panic wash over me. "Oh shit," I whispered.

"Stockman! I've got reports of missing clothes again! Under subsection C-8, I am using my authority for an impromptu inspection!"

"Oh dear. Speak of the devil. It seems we have a visitor." The Gentleman Ghost in my body rolled my eyes with a smirk on my face. "Well. This is a predicament. But fear not, my boy. This is a perfect opportunity for you to learn. Consider it a test. Simply possess her. In your new form, it should be quite easy."

"I-I don't know how to! I don't even know how to move!" My spectral form panicked, flailing about in the air like a broken kite.

"Well, of course. You are no longer bound by the laws of physics. You are a being of pure thought and energy. Just... will it. You must want to-"

The knocking grew more insistent. "Stockman! I'm counting to three, and if you don't open up, I'm coming in with my master key!"

"Shit! Shit! Shiiit!" I panicked, looking between the door and my body, which seemed entirely unfazed by the impending doom. He didn't understand how much I needed this apartment. Mrs. H could make me homeless by simply saying the word evicted.

"First of all, language." The Gentleman Ghost, my body, walked casually toward the door. "Oh. And do be quick about it. I am quite sure you are on your final strike with this woman, and it would be such a shame to lose this... delightful hovel."

"One... two..."

"Oh, for goodness' sake." The Gentleman Ghost in my body sighed, then looked toward the door. "Must I do everything myself?" He raised my hand to the monocle over my right eye. It glowed with a white energy.

Just then there was a click. "Three!" Mrs. H boomed, and the door swung open. There she was: a stern, formidable woman with her red hair tied back in a tight bun and a notepad in her hand, ready to document every infraction. The white blouse was a size too honest for a chest like hers; the buttons pulled just enough that the shadow between her breasts showed when she breathed. The pencil skirt hugged her hips like it had been tailored to punish anyone standing in her doorway. She took one step inside and froze, seeing my body in an absolute mess of a room, a smirk on my face, followed by the waft of women's undergarments. "Wh-! What- Mr. Stockman," she said, her tone dangerously low. "I trust you have a good explanation for why you're just standing there smirking like an idiot while you-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence.

The glowing monocle created a flash of light that flashed in her direction. I didn't know what happened, but I could only stare as I watched the attractive yet stern redheaded, top-heavy landlady standing there with an appalled look, her eyes wide with shock. Then her body went rigid, and her eyes fluttered. Her shoulders jerked. Those heavy tits bounced once, hard, as she stiffened into a rigid posture-the blouse tightening across them, one button threatening the thread. The notepad slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. Her piercing blue eyes glowed with the same white aura, then snapped back to normal, with only a softer white glow emanating from them.

"Now. Was that so difficult, my boy?" Mrs. H's mouth said, her own voice, her own tone, though in the clear mannerism of the Gentleman Ghost. "A simple split possession of will. Quite trivial, no?" She walked over to a mirror and looked herself over, turning a slow side profile. The skirt outlined the thick curve of her ass; the blouse did nothing to hide how her chest sat heavy and high. She whistled. "Good heavens. I can see why this woman is so often in a foul mood. One's back must be killing one." Then she patted her own generous bosom, giving one breast a testing squeeze that made it spill against the fabric. "But I can see why your carnal desires have you in a chokehold. A lesser soul would certainly fold under the pressure presented."

I was too stunned to speak. That was it? He just... possessed her? And I was still floating here like a useless, transparent balloon, watching my landlady manhandle her own chest like it was a curiosity in a shop window.

"Very well, Mrs. Higgins," the Gentleman Ghost in my body said with a smirk, walking over to the possessed Mrs. H. "Why did you so brazenly barge into my friend's abode?"

"Why, thank you for asking, good sir," she said, her words oddly refined for the sharp woman. The landlady was very attractive. Her red hair, blue eyes, and freckles made her stand out. She had that authoritative yet alluring look that could make any man, myself included, weak in the knees. She had that curvy MILF look going on-narrow waist fighting a chest and ass that didn't care about her professional wardrobe-and I'd spent many a night fantasizing about her. And now she was standing there, possessed, a puppet for a ghost, and I was still a useless floating idiot.

She continued, "My arrival was simply a matter of business. As I so rudely declared before I was... interrupted, I have been approached with numerous complaints concerning a string of stolen... articles of clothing." She gestured toward my open closet door, a knowing look on her face. "And I have every reason to believe our dear Mr. Stockman here is the culprit. A final strike, I am afraid. Eviction was, as they say, on the docket."

"Is that so?" my body said with a grin. "Be a dear and tell me more about all the 'missing clothes' reports." The Gentleman Ghost in my body gestured toward her with a wave.

"Well, my lovely gentleman. As I said. It would appear we have suffered a string of... shall we say, delicate thefts. Lingerie, primarily. From several of our female tenants."

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Mrs. Higgins. You see, those... articles... are simply a part of my... extensive... research." The Gentleman Ghost, in my body, winked at me-or my ghost form.

Mrs. H's possessed body bent to pick up the notepad. The pencil skirt went taut across her ass, the seam straining as she folded at the waist, thighs pressed together, blouse hanging just open enough that I could see the pale inner curve of both breasts and the edge of a beige bra fighting to contain them. She stayed down a second longer than she needed to, as if Ghost were taking inventory. She straightened, tits settling with a delayed bounce, and tapped the notepad with a perfectly manicured nail. "And all evidence, flimsy though it may be, points to this young man's... proclivities."

"Oh dear. Do you hear this?" my body said to me, a mischievous grin on my face. I was still a bit too stunned to react to what was going on. My ghost form didn't have blood, but something in me still tried to get hard anyway.

Then the Gentleman Ghost in Mrs. H's body turned to my ghost aberration. "The lad does appear to be in rather a pickle."

"This poses a particular problem," My body rubbed its chin.

"Quite so, I am afraid." Mrs. H nodded. "And I, as a business-savvy woman and proprietor of this residence, do hold the power to... evict." She reached a hand into her cleavage like it was a pocket. Her fingers disappeared between those heavy breasts, fishing, the fabric denting around her knuckles before she pulled out a pen warm from her skin. With a click, she held it over her notepad. "As my own terms state upon the signature he signed, I hold the legal right to authorize immediate eviction for any reason I deem warranted after a written warning has been set." With a flick of the notepad, she revealed the page to the room. "As you can see here, I hold three previous signed warnings for Mr. Stockman. One more would see me signing just there and rendering the boy homeless."

"A grave situation indeed," my body said. "But perhaps... a compromise can be reached." It walked closer to Mrs. H's possessed form, and my ghostly self felt a strange mix of fear and arousal as I watched my body get close to her-close enough that if I'd still been in it, her chest would have been an inch from my shirt.

"I believe it would be quite fair if I were to forget I ever heard that warning, and instead simply scribble nonsense upon that sheet and discard it. In return, my good friend here shall be... a much more... responsible... tenant from this day forward." Mrs. H's possessed mouth said. Then paused, "Oh ballocks, I spoke through the wrong body. Excuse me."

Clearing her throat, the action making her cleavage jiggle, she resumed their conversation. Mrs. H walked over a few steps, then turned around to face the spot she was just at. She made a show of seeming to consider her own words from before for a moment, and responded to herself, as if she had a choice. "A pity. It would seem my records are... incorrect." With a flick of her wrist, she began to scribble on the paper. Every stroke made those heavy-set tits jiggle inside the overworked blouse; the pen bounced slightly with them. I'd always been a boob guy, and hers were... impressive. A perfect set of melons that I'd spent many a night fantasizing about, now moving because a Victorian ghost was using her hand. "I suppose you are right; I should just simply forget why I was here. Silly me."

She then walked back over to where she was before, then turned to talk to herself, "Indeed. Silly you. I'm just a foolish landlady."

Her legs brought her back to the other side again. "Foolish landlady indeed you are."

Immediately, Mrs. H moved back to the other spot again. "Oh. I must say," her body said, her hands ceasing to scribble, "it is quite difficult to write up close with these... ahem... 'melons'... in the way." She glanced down at herself, almost amused, and gave the underside of one breast a little lift with the back of her wrist so she could see the page.

She moved back over to the other spot, talking to herself again. "No wonder the dear boy has a hard-on for you-er us... Oops~!"

She returned to the previous position again. Her hand very clearly began to scribble a mass of nonsense, ruining the whole page. "I appear to have mistakenly added these false warnings! My apologies, Mr. Stockman. I shall be sure to amend my records." She tore out the sheet, crumpled it, and tossed it into the trash can. The motion made everything up top surge again.

"Capital! Excellent work, my dear Mrs. Higgins." The Gentleman Ghost in my body clapped my hands. Seemingly done having the curvy landlady talk to herself. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have much to discuss."

"But of course." Mrs. H's possessed form nodded. She dropped her pen back between her tits, pushing it down until it vanished into the warm crease, then turned on her heel and walked out of the apartment. Her hips swayed in a way that was distinctly un-Mrs. H-like, the pencil skirt eating the movement of her ass with every step. "I shall be sure to forget this ever happened." She paused, hand on the door, glancing back just long enough that the blouse gaped again. "Oh. And a little tip, my boy." Her eyes looked up to my floating ghost figure. "Erasing memories is far more energy-efficient than implanting them. And... with that. A good day to you both." With a final wink, she shut the door gently, leaving me in stunned silence.

Through the thin door I heard her voice pick up exactly where it had been cut off, same snap, same Mrs. H, none of the polish.

"-while you live like a pig in this sty. I will not have..."

A pause. Heels shifted on the hallway carpet.

"...Stockman?"

Another pause. Softer, confused, still sharp.

"I... already closed the door?"

Fabric rustled. I could picture it too easily: her tugging the blouse back over that heavy chest, smoothing the pencil skirt down her hips like she could iron the sway out of it, fingers brushing the warm place between her breasts where a pen no longer was. A small, irritated breath.

"Waste of a trip. If I catch you with those clothes, Stockman, I swear..."

The heels clicked away down the hall, each step still doing that unfair thing to her ass whether she remembered why she'd been in here or not.

The Gentleman Ghost, in my body, walked over to the trash can and picked up the crumpled paper. He uncrumpled it and showed it to my ghost form. "See? Problem solved. Now was that so hard?"

What the fuck?

"So you can possess people without even being in your ghost form?! B-but if you possessed her... how were you still controlling my body?" I had been shoved back into my own body after that little fiasco, the ghost now floating in my room again. My mind was reeling from the experience, and my dick was hard as a rock from seeing Mrs. H all possessed and compliant-blouse strained, hand in her own cleavage, that skirt working overtime. It was a fantasy come true, and I wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"Oh, please. A split possession is child's play for a specter of my caliber. It is a matter of dividing one's focus." The Gentleman Ghost floated over to my desk, picking up a framed photo of me and my mom. "I can multitask. Something you, my boy, seem to struggle with."

"I..." I started, but my brain was still trying to process what had just happened. "I saw the monocle glow. Was that part of it?"

"Ah! Now you are using your intuition. You see, the monocle acts as a... bridge, if you will. A focus point for my power. That demon girl, when she devoured me, inadvertently left me a trace of her own power-something that makes me quite stronger than before. I am not yet certain how, but I am sure the Titans' magic has something to do with it." He set the photo down and floated toward the window, looking off in the distance toward the T-shaped tower. "Spectral beings such as I are very absorbent. She did not fully finish me; as such, the remainder soaked up her own mystical magic and adapted itself for potent potential." Floating back over to me, he gestured to the monocle in my hand. "With it, you become a conduit. A vessel for my spectral energy. When in your normal form, you can perform certain acts, such as the split possession you just witnessed. Possession without leaving one's own body is quite the skill to wield, no? Though for now we must focus on you. You were... useless. Utterly and completely useless. You were floating there like a... a... I cannot even think of a proper simile for your ineptitude. You were a ghost, boy! You could have done something! Instead you merely stared at her bosom like a common street urchin."

I wanted to argue, but I felt I should just take whatever he had to say and avoid upsetting the Gentleman. "Sorry, I-"

"Sorry only goes so far. If you fail to adapt, you shall fail to be useful to my plans." He interrupted. "But I am a man of second chances. So let us try again, shall we? I believe I should provide you with a simple task." He raised a gloved finger. "But first. Monocle." He pointed.

"R-right." I obliged, placing it over my right eye. The world seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then I felt that strange floaty sensation again. My perspective shifted, and I was once again looking at my own body, now standing with a smug look on its face.

"Now, for your test. Something simple. Something... small. Just possess me. Kick me back out of your body." The Gentleman Ghost, in my body, grinned. "A simple task, even for a novice such as yourself. Show me you can take back what is yours. Now go on. Shoo. Out with me."

I floated there for a second, my ghostly mind racing. Possess him? Kick him out? How the hell was I supposed to do that? He was a ghost. A powerful one, at that. And I was... well, I was me. Useless. "How...?"

"How? How? You are a being of thought and energy! You are no longer bound by the limitations of your fleshy prison. Walk into me. Focus your intent. And go in. Right in. It is quite simple, really." My body crossed its arms. "Now go on. Before I lose my patience."

"Okay... focus. I got this." I said it more to myself than to him. I closed my ghostly eyes, took a deep breath I didn't need, and pictured myself... going back. I pictured my consciousness as a tiny little ball of light, and I pictured it flying back into my body, pushing the ghost out. I opened my ghostly eyes, and... nothing. "Shit."

"Language. And did you even try?"

"Dude. I am trying. I don't know what I'm doing here!" I said, still stuck floating in place. "This is like, your thing. Not mine. All you said was just focus and do it."

"I believe you are simply not trying hard enough." The ghost in my body sighed. "Besides, I am unsure what else to say. I simply do it. It is not necessarily rocket science. But, hmm..." My body walked over to my bed and sat down. "Perhaps you need a more... tangible incentive. A motivator to get your spectral rear in gear." He hopped off my bed. "So here it is!" Clapping my hands together, he looked up at me. Pointing to his right eye, he said, "Possess me before that thing there runs out of power, or you shall find yourself trapped in that form... forever."

My stomach dropped, or at least the ghostly equivalent of it did. "Wait, what? Forever? You didn't mention anything about that!" I shrieked, my spectral form jittering in panic.

He laughed. "Of course I did not, you dolt. I believe it was a given. The monocle is the anchor. Without it, you would be lost. A disembodied spirit, doomed to wander the earth for eternity. A fate worse than death, I assure you." My body plucked the monocle off my face and held it neatly between two fingers. Like dropping a coin worth millions, he placed it on the nearby desk. "Godspeed. I would move with haste. You have five minutes before the energy in it depletes."

"What? Five minutes! That's not enough time! I-"

"Oh, I am only jesting." He continued to laugh in my body, heading toward the door. "You do not have five minutes."

That made me relax somewhat. It was just another one of his mind games. I could feel the ghostly equivalent of my blood pressure lowering. "So what, there isn't a charge or something? Like-how much time do I actually have?"

Hand on the doorknob, he turned to me and shrugged. "Truth be told, I am not too sure myself." With a twist and a click, he opened the door. "But I suppose we shall find out." And with that, he walked out of my apartment. Oh shit.

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked, watching my body walk out into the hall.

"To fetch a cup of coffee. I do believe a good walk will do us some good." He stretched, then looked left, then right. "Perhaps I shall go say hello to the neighbors, provide some gentlemanly greetings. And perhaps... 'reappropriate' a few more... souvenirs." My body knocked on the door across the hall. "But do not worry. Without the monocle I shall not be able to use any of my powers in your frail, ability-free body... thus the monocle should not drain as quickly. But if you see your projection flickering, that means you are running out of time. I would suggest you make haste and reclaim your body before that happens." He turned to knock on the neighbor's door again. "Make me proud, my boy."

"Shit! No! Don't commit crimes in my body! DON'T!" I tried to flail my arms around like I was swimming through the air, but it didn't work. Right. He said my physics wasn't bound to this world. Of course it wouldn't be like water. "At-at least use the-" I was going to suggest he at least have the monocle in his possession so if he got into trouble he could use his powers to get out. But if that would drain it quicker and shave off time, it wasn't worth being stuck like this forever.

He ignored me, and I saw the door open across the hall. My neighbor Jenny-the cute twenty-odd-year-old with a tendency to wear those tank tops and short shorts, especially in this summer heat-answered the door. The tank was thin enough that the outline of her nipples showed when the hallway AC hit her. Her eyes widened, then she glared as she saw me standing there.

"Oh... ugh. What do you want, Stockman?" she said, her tone dripping with annoyance. Probably because I stared at her a lot. And she was sure I took her panties, but wasn't able to prove it... which I did do, but the fact that she had no proof was what annoyed me and made me stare at her hot body more.

"My dear Jenny." The Gentleman Ghost, in my body, said with a suave smile. "It is such a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. I was hoping I might have a word with you." He leaned against the doorframe, a move I would never have the confidence to do. "Perhaps... over a cup of coffee? I find myself in need of some... stimulating conversation."

Jenny's annoyed expression faltered, replaced by confusion. "What? What the fuck, Stockman? You're being... weird. Mrs. H kick you out yet? You trying to butter me up or something? Save that for her; it's not gonna work on me. I hope she boots you. She sounded mad."

"I have never felt better, my dear. In fact, I feel like a new man." My body took a step closer. Without warning he reached out for her hand and gently brought it to my lips to give it a kiss. "So. What do you say? Coffee?"

For her part, Jenny was frankly shocked. She was in stunned silence for a good few moments, only for her face to redden as she snatched her hand back. The tank shifted when she yanked away, one strap slipping half an inch down her shoulder. "Ew! Stockman, get the hell away from me! If you don't get out of my face, I'm calling Mrs. H!" With a solid slap to the cheek, she slammed the door in my body's face.

"Ah. A fiery one. I do like that in a woman." The Gentleman Ghost said to me back in the room, before turning and walking away from her door. He stopped at my apartment door and leaned in. "Good luck to you, my boy. Tick-tock. Tick-tock!" he said with a wink, before closing the door on me.

Left alone in my own apartment, I was now panicking in earnest. The world outside my window seemed to taunt me with its normalcy, while I was trapped in this... this state. I tried to phase through the floor, to go down and chase after him, but I still didn't even know how to move.

Shit.