When Cheerilee awoke the next morning, he was gone. Light streamed in from the window, at just the right angle to shine on her and wake her up at the right time – about 6:30, in fact. The place where he had lain on her bed was cold, without even a depression to indicate he had been there. He had also taken the trouble to make the bed behind him, setting the covers in order such that it was nice and orderly… and also, that it appeared that he had never been there in the first place. He was good at cleaning up after himself, often leaving nothing but memories.

Cheerilee sighed and stretched before getting out of bed and onto her hooves. She began her morning routine, eating breakfast, then brushing her teeth, then grooming herself to look composed enough for school (on some nights after he visited, this was a difficult task), all while planning her day. This was made somewhat difficult by her fatigue and last night’s passion, though after several nights of this she was learning to adapt. Barely.

By the time class for the day began, she was prepared and at her desk, as cheerful and eager to teach as ever. She didn’t let her lack of sleep stop her or even slow her down from doing what she loved. If her students suspected something was amiss in her nights, they did not show it, though over the past couple weeks she’d had a couple of comments as to her evident lack of sleep. But she still had a smile on her face, as happy to perform her vital role as always.

Still, she was somewhat… distracted. It wasn’t enough to interfere with her work, at least not to a noteworthy extent, but when she had a moment to herself she would sometimes get lost in thought, thinking about him, and how her situation had come about. And when none of her students were looking at her face, she allowed her thoughts to venture into territory that made her blush.

Because of the infrequent nature of these moments of introspection, her thoughts were scattered. In no particular order, memories of her nocturnal paramour came to her, mixed with the questions about him that that she could ask but he would never answer. He never spoke at all, though he clearly understood her when she spoke. He certainly didn’t seem to mind the various gasps, moans, begging, or combinations thereof, that emerged from her mouth when it wasn’t occupied by his tongue. At any rate, he never said a word, or indeed made any sound that might require a voicebox. The most sound he made was in the throes of passion, when his breathing would grow heavy and an occasional gasp would escape his lips. She wondered if he even could speak.

His silence only added to his air of mystery. He was more elusive than a ghost. His hoofsteps made even less sound than his breath, and he could blend into the shadows seemingly at will. He left as little trace of his presence as possible. And nopony seemed to even know of his existence. She had made discreet inquiries as to a possible dark batpony with his cutie mark in the area, but nothing came up. Perhaps sometime, during the weekend, she’d expand her search to neighboring areas, to find out just who this dark stallion was.

He himself gave few clues. Aside from his skill at stealth and lovemaking, and his enigmatic schedule, there wasn’t much she could glean about him. On the one hoof, this mystery and alien nature of his made her wary, but it also was… oddly exciting. The whole thing was like something out of an erotic fantasy novel. She hadn’t heard of things like this happening before. Yet despite this, despite his stealthy and untraceable nature, she knew her ghost lover was very real. For a few days she had wondered if he was just an intense dream, but he persisted. Erratically, chaotically, but he had returned many times. She still wasn’t sure what to think or feel about that.

Her thoughts and feelings towards him were as mercurial as he was, and conflicting. The idea of what he was – a mysterious stallion who infiltrated her bedroom at night and rutted her when he pleased – was a scary one. But when she thought about how he made her feel during the night, she had to struggle to keep from blushing, breathing heavily, or other indecent signs of arousal. He’d trained her well, it seemed – her body, at least, had been well and truly seduced, and it didn’t take much for it to become ready for him. But the good feelings he gave her weren’t just about the fulfillment of carnal desire. Sexual pleasure alone could not explain her passion when they were together, why she begged him to stay if he tried to leave. There were other warm feelings as well, that were less easily described.

There was a feeling she had not felt in some time, nor wanted. It was the feeling of being desired. Not in the sense of fulfilling a role in a community, but a much more personal want.

Author's Note

Yes, a new chapter! Aaaaand it's not clop.

At some point it occurred to me that I had a project I'd started that maybe I should actually finish. But you know, first I couldn't find time alone, then I got sick, then I moved residences, then the holidays came and then... well, that's something best not talked about. Ugh. Good thing the first chapter works well on its' own, eh?

Also, I don't have a room to myself anymore, so writing the clop part may be a bit... awkward. But still, I know what I want to write, and that's good.