This is what's called a hard-boiled mystery story, which basically means it gets a bit steamy and maybe a bit gritty at times. It's in the tradition of Film Noir, which is 1930s and 40s detective stories.
This excerpt is from the second chapter:
Cats. She wasn’t a cat, but she was feline. Maybe she was a cat. Whatever. The Woman in Black, sometime agent of the Nazis, woke the spirit of Nemach, just like a cat. The first time had been when she was seducing a young movie executive in Nemach’s back room. Imagine Nemach’s surprise when his eyes fluttered open to a poxy young man, barely out of his teens with eyes closed, sticking his tongue out in the hopes of lips being returned. How the Woman in Black managed to swallow that tongue he would never have guessed. As it was, he didn’t have to, he could see it all, she kept her eyes open. It was enthralling, this was a perspective he could never have imagined to have. How she managed to swallow other things was the thing of legend.
Even more enthralling were her thoughts, “I’m having a glass of red wine after this, perhaps several, maybe something stronger – to kill the germs. He should have finished by now. I hope he knows more about the film, otherwise this is a waste of my time.”
“Well, if the young man proves to be ineffective, perhaps I can help.”
She almost gagged when Nemach picked that critical moment of the young lad’s first pants down event, to make his own thoughts known. The unfortunate bite marks would probably traumatize the lad for years to come, while the scars would most assuredly require an embarrassing and painful explanation on his wedding night.
“Oh, my love, I’m so sorry. Oh, you’re bleeding.”
“What did you do that for? You almost bit my dick off!”
“Tsk, tsk,” Nemach thought to the woman, “but I take it that you were not truly enamored of the boy.”
“What? Who said that?”
“I think I’m going to faint,” whispered the lad, and so he did.
“Ah, alas, his experiences have been less than he might have hoped for. There is a first aid kit behind the door. Perhaps you could save him from bleeding to death. Who would have thought that a male member could lose so much blood so quickly.”
“Who is that, where are you?” The woman was looking about the room trying to associate the voice with a person.
“I, my dear, am Nemach, a servant of Pharaoh. You need not look for me, I have passed to the greater life.”
“You mean you’re dead. You’re a ghost.” The woman continued scanning the room, looking for a hidden view point, or panel.
“Ah, the poor lad. The bandages would save his life. Perhaps … if you would?”
Looking down at the spreading pool of blood, the woman scowled, but then lit to action, adeptly binding the young man’s appendage.