The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant by Vivi Andrews Page A

they were standing—as much as ghosts could stand, anyway—in the middle of her bedroom, stark naked?
    The Larrinator was standing at attention. Larry stood with his hands planted on his hips, all swagger and confidence where she was sure there hadn’t been any in life.
    Lucy sighed. “How about a hand job, Larry?” She thrust her hand out and it passed smoothly through the Larrinator.
    Larry’s image wavered, becoming a little more transparent. “Whoa. Heavy.”
    “Yeah, Larry, death is pretty intense. Would you like to sit down and talk about it?”
    Larry shoved his lower lip out as he thought that one over, looking more like a lost little boy than a middle-aged stockbroker who had just died of a heart attack. “Do I have to put my pants back on?”
    Lucy sighed, resigned. “No. Not if you don’t want to.”
    Larry smiled cheerily and plopped down naked at the foot of her bed. Lucy straightened the comforter that she had thrown aside when Larry appeared in her bedroom in full stripper mode, waking her out of a sound sleep. She settled herself on top of the covers, leaning back against the headboard and smiling gently at Larry.
    “So, let me guess, you don’t want to be dead because you always thought you would have more time to live the life you really wanted. Are you disappointed that you didn’t have a more adventurous sex life when you had the chance, Larry?”
    “Exactly! I can’t be dead,” he whined. “I haven’t ever been the sex machine I was born to be.”
    Lucy smiled supportively and settled in for a very familiar conversation.
     
     
    “If I have to have one more conversation about repressed sexuality with a naked ghost, I’m going to turn in my resignation and you can find someone else to torture.”
    Karma—Lucy’s vindictive bitch of a boss—gave a husky little laugh that rippled through the phone lines and down Lucy’s spine. Karma was pure sex. Walking, talking sensuality. Lucy was the girl next door who just happened to talk to the dead. And yet Lucy was the one getting nightly visits from horny businessmen. It just didn’t make sense. Something was definitely whacked out in the cosmic flow of things.
    “I can’t control who goes to you, Lucy. I just open the door. If you’re seeing an abundance of naked ghosts with sexuality issues, you must be calling them to you.”
    “I’m not calling them!” Lucy protested. “When Larry the stripper-stockbroker showed up, I was asleep, for cripe’s sake.”
    “Oh? And what were you dreaming about?”
    Okay, so it had been a pretty steamy dream. And yes, Lucy had been enjoying it a little more than strictly necessary. Her love life hadn’t exactly been burning up the sheets lately, but to suggest that she wanted a bunch of dead guys coming on to her every night?
    “My dreams are not the problem, Karma. Stockbrokers and accountants singing ‘It’s Getting Hot in Here’ and pole dancing in my bedroom are the problem.”
    “Are you sexually frustrated, Lucy?”
    “Oh. My. God. I am not having this conversation with you. Can you say sexual harassment lawsuit?”
    “I’m only trying to explain why your clients appear to have developed a pattern of behavior,” Karma said unflappably. “New ghosts are drawn to the medium who is most likely to understand their personal issues with death. If you are projecting sexual dissatisfaction into the universe, horny businessmen who want time to live out their sexual fantasies are going to respond.”
    “So you’re saying this is my fault.”
    “There is no blame in this situation, Lucy. There is nothing wrong with these men going to you with their troubles. You have done your job admirably and helped each of them move on. You’re one of the best we have. We don’t want to lose you over something like this.”
    “I want them to stop.” Lucy hated the whining edge in her voice, but it seemed to creep out whenever she felt helpless. Right now, she felt downright pathetic.
    “Then you