Feature Writer: CultyMoon
Feature Title: HOUSE OF MIRRORS
Published: 07.05.2025
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: An incubus host works on two unsuspecting best friends.
House Of Mirrors
“I can’t believe you dragged me out to this wasteland of trees just so you could get laid,” Emma said as she shouldered her bag and slammed the door to the crimson coupe shut.
“Look at that house!” Her friend said, locking the car with a beep and pointing past the trees and up the driveway, “you won’t see something like that back in Fart Town.”
“I hate that name,” Emma said, lifting her eyes upwards to find a mansion drilling a dark shape against the sky like a three story coffin. She drew her jacket tighter around her, “geez, it’s huge. What kind of place is this, Maddy?”
“See, you won’t even know Greg and I are here,” Maddy said, “you’ll have the whole weekend to yourself to do whatever it is you do when you’re alone.”
Emma trekked up the driveway and stamped her feet as she stood at the foot of the front steps. A singular red lamp rattled in the wind and dripped with a flickering glow across the entrance. She placed a foot on the first step of seven which seemed to spill out from the door like ripples in a pond. At the top of the stairs, a set of iron double doors with tasteful rusted engravings of roses and vines stood. The light from the lamp highlighted the edges and made the designs stand out in the dark like red scratches on black velvet.
Emma halted, “where are all the windows?”
“The guy on the phone said the lady who built this place was some real famous architect and this house was her masterpiece,” Maddy said, joining Emma on the first step, “though he used another word for it, I forget what it was.” She shrugged, “so I guess she didn’t like windows,” her lip shivered, “let’s get inside already.”
“How much did renting this place cost?” Emma asked, advancing another step after her friend.
“Not much actually,” Maddy said, “probably because it really sucks to get here; you saw how long and twisting the drive was. I’m surprised we made it. I just hope Greg doesn’t get lost when he drives up.”
Emma dragged her fingers along the railing as she climbed; the frozen iron stung her skin.
“What were you saying in the car about this place?” Emma asked, shoving her hand into her jacket.
“What, you weren’t listening?” Maddy said. She squatted and lifted a potted plant, revealing a silver key.
“I guess I didn’t really care at the time,” Emma said, watching her breath curl under the red light above the door. Two moths thrashed about.
“The guy on the phone,” Maddy huffed as she stood with key in hand, “who was very particular about who stays here by the way, said it was the heaviest dwelling ever constructed for its time, he said the walls of the house are a skeleton of hand-forged iron draped in shells of obsidian.” She fought with a branch of the plant that caught on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, “what is this nasty bush?”
Emma’s attention left the ornate door and rounded on her friend’s struggle, “looks like Myrrh to me, though it’s hard to tell.”
“Whatever it is, it nearly tore my Clemon top, this was a Christmas gift from Greg, you know!” Maddy groaned as she pawed at the synthetic fabric of her over-sized pale pink crop- top.
Emma rolled her eyes, “does your mom know he bought that for you?”
“Of course not,” Maddy smiled, “are you nuts? That would be too obvious.” She lined up the key with the keyhole in the right door and turned the knob, “I told her you bought it for me.”
“Thanks for roping my name into the labyrinth of your perverse love affair,” Emma said.
The door clicked and Maddy grunted as she struggled to pull it open, “fuck, it’s heavy as hell.”
Emma helped by slipping her fingers in the gap and prying on the edge of the door until it gained enough momentum to swing open on its own.
“Wow, look at this place!” Maddy said, rubbing her dirty hands off on Emma’s jacket, “looks like he got it all ready for us. I can see the fireplace is on in the other room.” She dropped her bags and ran off towards a drawing room that was open on the left of the main hall where they entered.
Emma stepped inside and the space took her breath away. Walls of black lacquer trimmed in rippling rosewood streaked out in front of her. She sniffled as the warm air made her cold nose run. Slipping out of her sneakers, she padded over to the nearest wall. A dark reflection of her own pale cheeks and red lips regarded her as if she were peering into a pond. Emma pressed her right hand flush against the glassy wall, leaving hazy lines of condensation where her fingers had touched. A red glow haloed the top of her hair and she looked up to see a warm lamp flickering in glass.
She stepped away and saw the back of her black head reflecting infinitely in the opposite wall.
“What a strange house…” Emma whispered to herself.
“Emma!” Maddy poked her head into the hall from the drawing room, “come check this out!”
Emma wandered into the drawing room after her and found Maddy reading a card. A wine bottle with two silver chalices were standing on a narrow table in the center of the room.
“Who’s it from?” Emma asked, pulling the strap of her bag over her head and discharging it on a chair near the door.
Maddy shrugged and wiped her face with her sleeve, “looks like a spell or something, pretty handwriting though, probably the owner being fancy. If he owns this kind of house, I could see him writing something like this.”
“What do you mean?” Emma said, reaching out, “let me see it.”
Maddy passed the card to Emma and busied herself with the wine bottle.
“Loci…” Emma said, running a finger over the curving lines of ultramarine ink. The fire crackled and hissed.
There was a muted popping sound and Emma glanced up to see Maddy with her nose over the lip of the wine bottle.
“It smells expensive,” Maddy said, “at least I think it does.” She lifted the bottle and rotated it in her hands.
“What does ‘Loci,’ mean, looks like Latin doesn’t it?” Emma asked, joining Maddy at the small table and placing the card down next to the stained cork.
Maddy looked at her with squinting eyes, “you’re joking, right? You think I know anything about Latin? It probably means something like, ‘enjoy,’ or ‘welcome to the party,’ or something like that.” She shrugged and poured out two glasses of wine in heaping spurts.
Emma took up her glass and Maddy dinged it with hers, “to a passion-filled weekend!”
Maddy laughed and took a large gulp. Emma stared at the elegant handwriting on the card and sipped on hers. Tangy bitterness burned along her tongue and made her cheeks tingle. She sniffled.
“Wow, it’s really good,” Maddy said.
Emma revolved the silver flute in front of her and saw her reflection in the polished cylinder, “it is, isn’t it?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Maddy asked, she plopped down on a couch near the fire with such a bounce, her chestnut ponytail jumped onto her shoulder, “look at this place, have you ever seen such a fancy room before?”
Emma perched on an armchair across from Maddy and the heat of the fire welcomed her with licks of warmth. After a sniffle and wriggle of her frozen toes, she sat back and took another sip of her wine.
“I guess this could be nice,” Emma said, “I’m sorry I was being such a bitch about it.”
Maddy giggled into her glass, “we’ve been best friends forever, I know how you work. You always have to be won over, like some kind of princess, pacified into submission.”
“You make me sound so high maintenance,” Emma said.
“You are,” Maddy said, “but in all the weirdest ways.”
The heat from the fire and the fire from the wine flushed through Emma’s body. She unbuttoned her jacket with one hand and worked her way out of it. Scooping in her right bra strap and pinching down on the neckline of her low cut t-shirt, she straightened herself out.
“So what time is Greg supposed to get here?” Emma asked, plucking a stray hair from between her cleavage with black nails.
“Later tonight,” Maddy said, “he has to slip away as if he’s going to be out on a job somewhere for the weekend.”
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” Emma said, brushing dirt off the sleeve of her jacket, she cocked an eyebrow, “don’t you think it’s a little, I don’t know, gross?”
“It’s complicated,” Maddy said, crossing her legs.
Emma shrugged and looked up into the ceiling, her eyes traced interlaced fractals of lines that reflected the shimmer of the fireplace, “it always is with you.”
“What about you?” Maddy said, “you’re so pretty Emma, surely there’s a hundred guys out there interested in you?”
“There are…” Emma said, “but I’m not interested in any of them.”
“Then who are you interested in?” Maddy asked.
Emma shrugged and took a deeper swig of her wine, “I haven’t met him yet.” She sighed deeply, “he probably doesn’t exist. Did you look at this ceiling? What are those crazy patterns up there?”
“Don’t try and change the subject,” Maddy said, she gestured with her wine glass, “weren’t you dating that one guy?”
“Yeah, but he was a creep,” Emma said, she took a gulp of her wine and pretended to study the silver flute.
“I thought you liked creeps?” Maddy said.
“Not that kind of creep,” Emma said, she rotated her glass and discovered a word etched into it, “banphrionsa.” She scratched at the script with a nail.
“What kind of creeps are you into?” Maddy said, “I never understood what you meant by that.”
“Well…” Emma said, she lowered her wine and smiled at Maddy, “it’s complicated.”
Maddy laughed and upended her wine. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and groaned.
“What?” Emma asked.
“No service,” Maddy said, gripping her forehead, “like none at all. How am I going to know if something happens with Greg?”
Emma sunk further into her chair and rested her glass on the arm of her chair, “guess we’ll just have to wait for him to show up. He’s a grown man, isn’t he? If we found our way here, he should be able to do the same.”
Maddy hopped off the couch and squatted next to Emma’s chair.
“Smile,” Maddy said, holding her phone at arms length in front of them, “I need this to look official for when I get back home.”
Emma made an exaggerated smile and Maddy clicked a few pictures. The glow of the screen illuminated Maddy’s face as she checked the photos. She stood and rested her knee on the arm of Emma’s chair. Emma poked her thigh.
“You’re so much prettier than me now,” Maddy said, zooming in on a picture and grimacing, “I hate it.”
“Shut up,” Emma said, “you always were the prettiest one when we were growing up, maybe it’s my time to reign now.” Emma laughed.
Maddy shook her head, “no, I hate it.” She snatched Emma’s wine glass from the other arm of the chair and finished it off. She let out a sigh and wiped her mouth, “okay, shall we explore this place a bit?”
“Remember, you said I could have the master bedroom,” Emma said, extending her arm playfully as if she were a princess.
Maddy curtsied in an unbalanced way, retrieved Emma’s hand, and helped her out of the chair, “yes, your majesty.”
“Wow,” Emma said, “you must really want this guy if you are treating me like such royalty. What’s he look like? Show me a picture, he’s older right?”
Maddy placed the wine glass on the table on top of the card next to the wine bottle, “I can’t show you any pictures of him.”
“You’re fucking this guy, but you don’t have any pictures of him on your phone?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” Maddy said, “just in case my mom needs to use my phone or something, I don’t want to risk it.”
They walked out into the main hallway and their voices echoed a little louder as they talked, “well, describe him to me at least,” Emma said.
Maddy shook her head, “no, he’ll be here soon, I might as well keep it as a surprise at this point.”
“Suit yourself,” Emma said, “does he find it a little weird that you brought me along?”
Maddy shook her head as she turned the knob on a door, “no, it was his idea actually. Look! I think I found the master bedroom. Shit, I’m jealous!”
“Too late!” Emma said, pushing the door open further and flicking the lights on.
They walked in and Emma scratched her head, she looked at Maddy.
“What?” Maddy asked.
Emma pointed at the bed in the center, “the bed is smack dab in the center of the room.” She walked over to it and ran her hands on the creamy duvet, “it’s on a raised platform and everything, how weird. I’ve never seen that before.”
“More of those shiny black walls in here too and no windows here either, trippy,” Maddy said, walking around the outskirts of the room, “nice paintings though, I feel like they would really set the mood. Are you sure you don’t want to switch?” She squinted into a scene of nymphs and fawns trumpeting through an ancient Greek wood.
Emma was studying the chandelier that hung above the bed, the warm light pulsed softly like it was breathing; little golden roses curled out at the tips of the crystal fixture and stared down at the bed beneath it.
“No thanks,” Emma said, “this room is for royalty.” Her hands embedded themselves in the rich silk of the duvet and she inhaled a faint aroma that shifted loose the sediment of a memory. The bright, musky scent tickled her mind for an instant. Emma wracked her brain trying to remember the scent. Highschool… She lifted her fingers to her nose but the fragrance was no longer there.
“What are you doing?” Maddy asked, watching her from a chaise.
“Nothing,” Emma said, “I just thought I smelled something familiar.”
Maddy shrugged, “do you think the guy who owns this place is gay or like one of those fancy rich guys?”
“Maybe he’s a rich fancy gay guy,” Emma said, “didn’t you say some woman owned and built this house first though?”
“Oh yeah, that would explain it. I wonder if I’ve ever been in a house designed by a woman before.” Maddy stretched and hopped off the chaise, she checked her phone again, “still nothing.”
“Shall we continue our tour?” Emma asked, stepping down from the stage of the bed.
Maddy grimaced and pocketed her phone, she looked up at Emma and bit her lip, “yeah, let’s.”
Across the hall from the master bedroom they found a library mirroring the size of the drawing room and at the end of the hall, two more bedrooms faced the front door.
“I’ll take this room,” Maddy said, switching off the lights and closing the door to the bedroom on the right.
Emma opened another door, “a bathroom.” She turned the light off and shut the door, “all that’s left is that door which must be the dining room and kitchen right?” She pointed with her thumb down the part of the hall that cut into the left.
“I guess so,” Maddy said.
They made their way through a dining room that was a pure black cube with a circular table in the center draped with a white cloth. Eight matching chairs lined the walls. Emma watched her ghostly reflection ripple in the obsidian as she passed through and emerged out a swinging door into a stone-walled kitchen.
The kitchen was a modern take on the rustic with high, almost church-like ceilings. Copper and iron shapes floated and glinted as they hung above the stove built into a rectangular island of blue marble.
Maddy stood in the center of the kitchen and put her hands on her hips.
Emma opened a pantry door, took stock of mystery cans and jars sealed with wax, shut the door, and turned towards Maddy, “what’s wrong?”
“I just thought this place was bigger,” Maddy said, she gestured with her arms, “it looks huge from the outside, like there was a second or even third floor.”
Emma shrugged and looked up, a pale orange pulsed through two large shafts, “I mean the ceilings are kind of high.”
“They’re not that high though,” Maddy said.
“Maybe it’s all that iron or whatever, makes the house look bulkier,” Emma said, “what do we know? We’re not builders.”
“I suppose so,” Maddy said, she dropped her hands from her hips and gripped them in front of her chest with a smile, “but never mind all that… now if you’ll excuse me, I have some freshening up to do and I want to rest my body before Greg arrives so I’m nice and pliable.” She caressed her neck.
“I don’t need the details,” Emma said, waving a hand.
“What are you going to do?” Maddy asked.
“I’ll probably have more of that wine and just relax in my room,” Emma said, “I brought a book to read.”
Maddy stepped forward and hugged Emma, “thanks for coming, I know it’s weird.” She whispered.
“Don’t mention it…” Emma said, rubbing Maddy’s back softly under her ponytail.
–
Emma sipped her wine while she sat ensconced in a mountain of pillows atop her bed. The chandelier quivered above her with a warm glow that fluttered like the fireplace in the drawing room. She tilted her head as she studied a painting hung across the room above an indigo desk. Around the painting, she saw the blurry reflections of the chandelier shining across the black glossiness of the walls. The reflective surface made the painting appear as if it were floating atop a placid abyss. The gold of the frame reflected in the darkness around it, distorting into foggy yellows the further away from the wall it became.
The painting depicted a young ginger woman with dark butterfly wings pondering over a golden box she held aloft in her right hand. It was a pretty painting where the layers of oils seemed to sparkle in the warm light. The image drew Emma out of her bed; she crawled carefully from the nest of pillows to the footboard and slipped off the end, mindful of the extra step from the platform down to the floor.
Emma glided closer to the painting and stared up into it as she finished her wine. She bent down to place her glass on the desk and glanced up to see a small gap where the painting lifted off from the wall. She tilted her head and spotted a sharp edge under the frame of the painting. Emma stood on top of the desk chair and carefully lifted the painting to discover a recessed shelf in the wall that contained a lone journal roughly the size of her hand.
Emma furrowed her brow and fetched the hidden journal out from behind the painting with one hand. She replaced the painting carefully back over the secret nook and climbed down from the chair.
She flipped the small book over in her hands and a chain rattled. Emma tapped the cover with her nail. The case was golden with inlaid gems and carved patterns of roses and chains. The lack of dust or grime of time made the journal appear brand new. Emma ran her hand over the surface and unclasped the lock which was a miniature rose bud with a stem of gold chain that looped through a hoop on the cover. Tiny welded thorns seamlessly twisted along the links like little golden aphids and tickled like kitten teeth running along Emma’s fingertips. The creamy pages unfurled out before her to reveal a woman’s handwriting. Emma gathered the chair under her and quickly sat down. She scooted herself up to the desk, turned the desk lamp on, and spread the book out in front of her.
Hunched over the treasure with wide eyes, she began reading with great curiosity:
I guess what you can say I’ve done here is a grand act of magick. When I set out with the first structure, I didn’t intend to do what I’ve done here by building this one. I wonder if I should have stopped sometime along the way, maybe after the results of the second iteration? But that’s never been me, has it? I always have to go the distance, explore the depths of the idea before I can satisfy myself. I must drown in the deeps of the very thing I was searching out. Is it curiosity or obsession? The namesakes of both my cats, can you guess which one died here?
The doors were finally installed today and I know when I light the fire in the drawing room and whisper his secret name, I’ll be giving life to this place. In a way, I guess I’m scared. That’s why I’ve been writing this journal because when I saw those doors in place today, I realized I may never make it out of here. If what I’ve done here is true to all my years of research, then I’m afraid I may never want to leave.
Even now as the sun goes down, I can feel it watching me… waiting. In my first two structures, I made the mistake thinking they were simple demons. My thinking was cartoonish in a way and the results reflected that… reflected… yes that’s the right way of thinking about it. They are reflections.
They reflect that perfect ideal of love within us, that pure idea that exists in every man and woman of their unrealized lover. What are we but the imperfect fleshy houses that contain the intangible astral fire of our desire? These entities reflect those perfections into reality. How can we resist such beings? Why would we resist such beings? I’ve spent the last decade of my life perfecting the method so I may crystallize and trap one such being here in this house. What kind of madness would drive a woman like me to do this?
Well, my imaginary readers, I was standing at the edge of a pond, Emerald Cascades, I think it was, or somewhere around there on the outskirts of Forttown, and I had just skipped a pebble. The ripples surged across the dark surface and the moon danced and stretched in the night. Crickets buzzed and frogs warbled. I watched the ripples and heard the night vibrate. A hissing crackle erupted in my ears.
It was like a flash of lightning straight through the eyes, a pair of burning dots bored into the core of my head; he was standing there in the dark; the mist of the lake ebbing about his feet like wings. I can’t describe the beauty of the creature in exact words, but the effect was as if one had torn apart the veil of reality and I caught a glimpse of unadulterated ecstasy in the slender form of a young man. My eyes and loins delighted in him. His presence cleaved me in half like a white-hot sword forged in the belly of my own desires. His form sliced through the pillars of my beliefs in rational materialism and shattered the foundations of my soul like porcelain lace. The rafters of my house came crashing down all around me. My mind stood naked before him that night, anew and empty; a virgin yet again. I was that dark lake and he was the moon flickering upon it.
And just as his lips moved to speak, he vanished. The crickets and frogs were louder than before and only the mist lay on the placid waters like an ethereal blanket come alive. I flung pebble after pebble into that lake until the sun rose and I had nothing to show for it but filthy hands. What was he?
After I designed the first building, “The Portal of Pothos,” which was little more than a shed I built in the backyard of my previous home, I saw him again, flickering like a flame in my dreams. I cradled my thoughts around that flame and nurtured it until he was ablaze in my heart. I learned methods to invoke him, though he only showed when I was desperate enough, wet enough to do anything for him. And he used me in all those delicious ways while I slept in fits, clutching sheets and grinding my teeth until I woke in the morning and cursed the sun for cleaving us apart.
(Here is the method of invocation that worked well for me in a pinch after many a trial and error for any of those curious souls out there who want to know if magick really works: During the full moon, I would drink only water the whole day and eat a simple breakfast and a dinner that wasn’t too rich. I limited mental stimulation to a minimum. Don’t go overboard. Before bed, I would take a hot bath, but use no soap. Climbing into bed naked, I would rub a single drop of jasmine oil into my pubic hair up from the hood of my pearl to my navel and silently beckon the moon to fill my dreams with HIM (referring to him by his secret name of course in my pleas) that night. Laying on my back (this is important), hands at my sides, legs gently parted, I would drift into her lunar domain and there he was in the labyrinth of her night garden, already taking me in with eyes like burning pits as he lounged in a bloody throne of rose bushes.)
In a way, this house is a concrete and amplified version of that very same ritual. So yes, this place will be both my heaven and my tomb, I can already tell. My body itches and it takes everything in my control to keep from lighting that flame down the hall… I can hear his whispering through the veil brushing against my earlobes like blooming buds, the scent of his body leaking through like a flowering musk that burns a wet flame between my thighs with every breath, his image shifts out the corners of my eyes like a wreath of sparks, beckoning me into the arms of his sweet oblivion. My soul has been long sold for a single kiss on the lips from this light among shadows, this empty, perfect creature, my incubus.
When he takes me– when his spirit enters me through the heat of my heart split in two– I can feel that his love and his lust for me are like planets cracking under the pressure of his longing and spiraling out into rings of glittering ice across the void between us. This ice percolates and drips between my legs, my eyes, and my mouth. I’m infused with the frigid burning of his lust like an infected cell ready to burst. His power– his stamina– is a never ending waveform undulating orgasm after orgasm into me… by the fire…
There was a jangling sound as the front doors of the house crashed shut. Emma jumped, nearly stumbled over the desk chair, and darted to the door of her room to spy down the hall.
At the front door, a man in dripping black jeans and white t-shirt leaned against the heavy doors. He shivered and spotted Emma peeking out from her room. He swept back dark black hair and waved weakly.
“Little Emma, I suppose?” He asked, his lips were blue and the words dripped off him as a tremor.
“Greg?” Emma asked. She stepped out into the hall.
The man braced himself with an outstretched arm against the door as his other hand struggled to take his boots off. His skin was pale and Emma could see the blue of his veins running through his forearms. Emma stood in the hall clutching her hands to her bosom. The man was tall and soaked all the way through; Emma spied the pink-red discs of his nipples and the scribbles of his chest hair through the translucent fabric of his t-shirt. The longer parts of his bangs splashed drops of water to the floor and curled down towards the ground just past his eyes in tendrils of black ink. The sides of his shaved head were a clean gradient of black to gray. Emma spotted a tattoo of a zodiac symbol behind his left ear, she swallowed, the penetrating undulation of “M,” that was Scorpio, wasn’t it? The stranger managed to wrestle his boots and socks off and worked on freeing himself from the wet t-shirt he wore. He peeled the shirt halfway up his chest before collapsing onto the floor.
Emma gasped and rushed to the front door. She knelt down at his side and held her hands out over him in a confused way. She hesitated over the heaving flesh of his rippling abdomen. The white of his wet shirt merged with the paleness of his skin like the treated marble of Veiled Truth.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Emma asked. His abs flexed as his body shivered and tensed.
“It’s a long story,” he said, “I just need to warm up.”
“There’s a fire in the other room,” Emma said, “let me help you.”
Emma stood and he took her hand. His icy flesh stung her fingers. She led him weakly into the drawing room and he dropped down in the armchair near the fireplace atop her jacket and closed his eyes. His eyelashes were thick and long and curled up very slightly at the ends. After a breath that sent a flush of peach into his lips again, he unfurled the silver discs of his gaze and pushed himself up, attempting to take his shirt off again.
“Let me help you,” Emma said, darting forward.
Her body was moving before she could think and her hands skimmed along the meaty rungs of his rib cage as she helped lift the wet shirt over his head. Emma held the shirt in her hands and her eyes burned with the flames of the fireplace as his bare upper body glistened in the emptiness of her mind. The smells of the wet cotton mixed with a bright musk that made her mouth water. The nostrils of her button nose flared as she inhaled him discreetly. She clutched the shirt and blinked. The way the wet locks of his hair splashed across his anguished face as his chest heaved and shivered was something Emma had never seen before. The muscles of his abdomen were like marble stairs that narrowed down into the darkness of his black jeans. They tensed with a spasm that ran from his right arm, through his right chest muscle and into his bottom lip. He lifted his hand and swiped his hair back, rounding eyes of pale flame onto Emma. His pupils dilated, retracted, dilated.
“Sorry for the trouble,” he said, “I didn’t think my heater would die on the way here like that.”
“That’s…” Emma froze, “that’s okay…” she fingered her bottom lip.
He tilted his gaze over to the fire and let it linger in the blaze.
“What happened? Why are you so wet?” Emma whispered to her fingers before more loudly speaking, “I mean… is it raining out there?”
He shook his head slowly, “no, not up here, but it was further down the hill,” he curled and uncurled a fist, “I was helping someone with a flat and got soaked, then just as I turned off the highway my heater died on me.”
“Oh,” Emma said, “geez that must have been horrible, it’s freezing out there.”
He shifted his hands down to his waist and unbuttoned his jeans. Looking at Emma he asked, “do you mind?”
Emma swallowed and shook her head slowly.
“I’ll never warm up with these jeans on, sorry about this,” he slid his zipper down and peeled them open to reveal the dark, soggy cotton of his boxer briefs. Emma watched in a daze as he pushed the denim down to his ankles and slipped them off his feet. This monster was Greg? She thought. No wonder Maddy was in such a bother about him, he was the most beautiful creature Emma had ever seen.
He sat now in the chair with just his underwear on and yet Emma imagined any chair he sat in became like a throne. His jeans were in a pile on the floor and Emma found herself picking those up too. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I’ll just go put these in the dryer for you,” Emma said.
“Don’t bother,” he said, “Maddy can do that.”
“No, I don’t mind, really,” Emma said, “Maddy’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her up for something like that.”
He held his hands out to the fire and shrugged, “I see.”
Emma backed out the room unable to take her eyes off his expanse of an upper back. She crashed into something in the hall and nearly fumbled to the ground.
“Ow, what are you doing?” Maddy said.
“Oh, Maddy!” Emma clutched the clothes to her chest, “you scared me! I thought you were asleep.”
“I was, but I just got a message on my phone a minute ago from Greg saying there’s been a landslide at the bottom of the hill and he can’t make it up to us.” Maddy frowned. Her eyes dropped and spotted the clothes Emma was holding, she furrowed her brow and pointed, “what are those?”
“Greg just got here,” Emma said, “he was cold and wet, so I was just going to put these in the dryer.”
“What?!” Maddy gasped, “he’s here?”
She darted past Emma into the drawing room and stopped. Emma followed in after her. Maddy turned and planted her hands on her hips.
“What kind of joke was that?” Maddy asked, “I almost thought he had really made it up here.”
Emma dropped the clothes to the floor when she saw the chair was empty. She didn’t say anything to Maddy as she rushed by and stood in front of the chair. The fire crackled and Emma hesitated as she reached out and felt her jacket. It was dry. She lifted it up and smelled it. A faint aroma of bright musk delighted her senses before disappearing like whiskers in the wind. She dropped the jacket to the chair.
“I don’t get it,” Emma said, “he must have left the room while we were talking.”
“We were standing right in front of the door, Emma.” Maddy bent down and lifted an article of clothing from the floor that Emma had dropped. It was a soggy pair of off-white panties. She held it up, pinched between two fingers and turned towards Emma, “what the hell is going on?”
Emma’s eyes widened and she scurried towards Maddy. She snatched the panties from her and studied the wrinkled hearts of lace for herself. They were hers. She dropped to her knees and discovered the pile of clothes she had were the entire set of underwear she had packed for the weekend, all soaked and bunched together into a ball of muted pinks, yellows, lilacs, and whites.
“What the hell…” Emma whispered to herself as she gathered her intimates into her arms.
“This prank isn’t funny,” Maddy said, wiping her fingers on the green fabric of the couch and stepping past her, “it’s just weird.”
Emma heard the sound of wine discharging from a bottle and into a glass, then a clang as Maddy placed the bottle back on the table.
“Looks like we’ll be all alone tonight,” Maddy pouted, “how disappointing.”
Emma turned, clutching wet cotton, she looked down and spilled them onto the couch, “Maddy, I’m scared, stay with me out here.”
Maddy raised an eyebrow over her glass, she licked her teeth, “you’re serious?”
“I really did see and talk to a man, Maddy,” Emma said, “I thought it was Greg.”
“What did he look like?” Maddy asked, dropping onto the couch and sipping her wine.
“He was tall with black hair and gray eyes, and he-”
“I already told you a text somehow got through a few minutes ago and Greg told me he couldn’t make it up here until they cleared the road, so you must’ve imagined it or something.” Maddy said, studying the ends of her ponytail.
Emma sat on the couch next to Maddy and dropped her head on her shoulder. Maddy put her glass down and stroked Emma’s hair. The feeling of Maddy’s fingers in her hair relaxed Emma and old memories surfaced, she giggled.
“Do you remember those times we spent in the summer on that old couch in your shed?” Emma said, poking Maddy in her leg.
Maddy laughed, “of course I do, what was your favorite time?”
Emma nuzzled her head down Maddy’s front and came to rest on her lap, “you know my favorite time, are you trying to tease me or something?”
“No, I just wanted to hear you talk about it again,” Maddy said.
Emma furrowed her brow and probed Maddy’s eyes, “I thought you didn’t want to talk about that time though, the last time I brought it up, you snapped at me and said it never happened?”
Maddy fixed Emma’s hair and shrugged, the sleeve of her robe slid and the timid curves of Maddy’s breasts poked through the gap in the front, “maybe it’s the wine and fireplace working on me or the fact we’re alone in this house, who knows? Now, I want to hear you tell me what your favorite time was?” She tapped Emma in the center of her forehead.
Emma closed her eyes, “fine, but I don’t want you getting mad if I talk about it again. I remember the sun was pouring through the high windows of the shed and the cicadas were buzzing outside. You had my head in your lap, just like now, and the air was hazy with the smell of our hair, sweat, and body mist. I told you my favorite fantasy about Mr. Palewin, you know our psych teacher, and you…” Emma licked her bottom lip.
“Yes?” Maddy said, slowly slipping her hand down Emma’s shirt.
“You pretended to be him,” Emma whispered, her hands fell down to her sides as she concentrated on her friend’s skin exploring hers.
“I forget,” Maddy said, “what did he look like again?” Her fingers snaked under Emma’s bra and gently squeezed her right nipple.
Emma bit her lip, “he was tall and pale with dark hair and silver eyes, remember? When he looked at me, I swore he knew the dirty things I was thinking. You said the same, remember? He had a way of staring right into you.”
“I see,” Maddy said, rubbing a thumb along Emma’s bottom lip, “that makes sense now. What did you want him to do to you again?” Maddy asked, rubbing her palm across Emma’s hardening nipples beneath her bra.
Emma stretched out on the couch and sighed deeply, “oh you know…”
“What?” Maddy asked, “what did you want him to do to you?”
Emma swallowed, Maddy’s left hand grazed across Emma’s flat stomach and slipped under her sweatpants.
“Don’t make me say it again,” Emma whispered. Maddy’s touch and soft voice lulled Emma to the pulsing tunnel a trance. Maddy’s nails tickling her along the rim of its entrance, beckoned her further into the warm tides of submission.
Maddy slipped her thumb into Emma’s mouth and Emma greeted the invader with her tongue before sucking on it. Maddy’s other hand found the divot blooming quickly between Emma’s thighs and peeled it apart with two fingers.
“Already?” Maddy asked, gliding a third finger up the slick groove and scooping Emma up.
Emma nodded and swallowed, “it’s been a long time since we did this.” She cooed with Maddy’s thumb in her cheek.
“This is the last time we ever do this? Okay?” Maddy whispered as she massaged Emma’s entrance. Emma squirmed when Maddy’s soft digits rubbed circles around the sensitive skin of her heat. Emma panted and blushed. She heard wet sounds coming from between her legs merge with the crackling of the fire. Maddy swirled her fingers between Emma’s thighs and whispered as she caressed Emma’s cheek with her other hand slick with Emma’s saliva, “really Emma? Do I really turn you on this much? Listen.” The sounds of the fire became louder and Emma became wetter.
“You’re not saying the right things,” Emma said, “remember?”
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked, pausing with a finger dug into Emma’s clit.
“You pretended to be Mr. Palewin, remember?” Emma said, licking her lips.
“How could I forget?” Maddy said. She resumed her gentle stroking of Emma’s intimate lawn, dragging her nails up and down Emma’s mound, “why don’t you relax and focus on my fingers and voice, let me take care of you Emma.”
Emma’s mouth rounded as it fell open. Her head disappeared into Maddy’s lap and all she felt were her friend’s fingers playing her. Maddy’s voice slowly transformed, becoming deeper and distant until all Emma could feel were Maddy’s three fingers spreading, caressing, and rubbing the embarrassing wetness that was Emma’s puffy cunt.
“Emma!”
Emma popped her head up and found herself at a desk in the classroom of an old memory. The setting sun was flowing into the windows and blasting the room in golden light. She rubbed her eyes and through the bleariness saw a middle-aged man with dark hair and gray eyes sitting behind a desk at the front of the room. A shaft of light set his face ablaze with a vividness only ever found in real dreams.
“Mr. Palewin?” Emma gasped.
“Can you come here, please?” Mr. Palewin said, shuffling papers. His wedding ring glinted in the sun.
Emma spun her head around at the rows of empty desks, what was she doing here all alone?
“Little Emma… do I have to ask again?” Mr. Palewin sighed as he stared down into a stack of papers.
“Coming!” Emma yelped, pushing her chair out and standing. She strode over to his desk at the front of the room with her hands at her sides. Her palms started sweating and a single cold trickle of sweat gushed from her armpits and curved down her rib cage under her blouse.
Mr. Palewin narrowed his eyes on her before glancing down her body and back up again.
“Pull those things up or get rid of them, please,” Mr. Palewin groaned and dropped his gaze back into the stack of papers on his desk. He flicked red marks across white with a slash of his pen.
Emma wrinkled her brow and looked down to behold her panties tangled around her knees. She gasped and yanked them up in a single gesture.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea how that… happened,” Emma fumbled with the twisted silk under her skirt.
Mr. Palewin curved his chair out from his desk and pointed under it, “take your place. Until your grades start showing that you’re putting some effort into studying, you’ll have to put in effort after class.”
“Mr. Palewin?” Emma glanced from his heathered slacks to the small space under his enclosed metal desk.
Mr. Palewin crossed his arms and glared at Emma beneath half-closed eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Palewin,” Emma said, bowing slightly as she hunched down and crawled on her knees until she was under Mr. Palewin’s desk.
He spread his legs as he rolled his chair back under his desk, corralling Emma between his knees. The smell of a fresh and spicey cologne mixed with the acrid bitterness of the leather chair, permeated the air under the desk. Emma inhaled deeply.
“Emma…” Mr. Palewin called out, “get to work please, I don’t have all night.”
Emma trembled and her knees dug into the hard grimy floor as her fingers fumbled with his belt. She felt the heat generated by his crotch and her heart pulsed into her ears. The sound of the zipper on his slacks as she dragged it down echoed in her skull; every metal tooth clunked along in her head until she bottomed it out. Something twitched through silk against her hands and she jumped, banging her head on the bottom of his desk. As she fished out the meaty thing from the small slit in his briefs, the musk of his device swamped her. She adjusted her legs, lifting off her knees and squatting so she could reach him more easily. Her mouth watered as she brought the meaty tip of the twitching thing to her lips and slowly pressed her face down ontop of it until she felt it pulsing against her tongue. Emma swallowed, tasting the salty sweat of his groin. She closed her eyes and steadily took more of him in until she felt his cushion hitting the top of the back of her mouth. An itch of lust twitched inside Emma’s thighs and she felt herself drip. She shifted on her feet while still keeping him in her mouth. She felt a hand slip down and grab her hair, guiding her with a certain rhythm. Up, down… up, down… up, down… down… down… up… Emma let him use her mouth and the degradation forced her to touch herself as he did so.
She nearly lost her mind in the flow of him slipping in and out of her lips, nearly going too far into the back of her mouth or too fast, gripping her hair a little too forcibly. Her fingers rubbed a sticky groove into her panties. With her mouth jammed full, she inhaled sharply through her nose catching her spice mingling with his in the closed-in space. Her eyes rolled as the oily hair at the base of his manhood tickled the tip of her nose as it crashed into his lap.
There was a screech and a bang as the door to the classroom opened. Emma froze, his cock still planted between her lips. He tapped her on the head, gesturing for her to continue. She did so slowly, gripping his thighs and adjusting her footing as she listened carefully.
“You’re here early,” Mr. Palewin said.
“Can’t the wife of the teacher of the year stop by and check in on her man?” A woman’s voice said. Heels click-clacked across the room.
Emma froze again, was that his wife? His hand pressed on her head until she resumed sucking him down as quietly as she could.
The desk rattled and Emma saw a pair of heels with red bottoms flash from the gap between the desk and his chair.
“When are you going to be done?” She whined, “don’t we have dinner plans tonight?”
Emma sweated as she gulped him down, her saliva dripping into the silk of his briefs.
“I’ll be ready soon,” Mr. Palewin said.
“Okay, I’ll go wait in the car,” she said, “don’t forget what you promised me tonight.”
“And what’s that?” Mr. Palewin asked.
“To throttle me,” Mrs. Palewin whispered.
Emma felt the desk rattle and heard the sound of their lips kissing. A heel crossed over and curled up the other.
Mr. Palewin erupted suddenly, disgorging heat forcibly in Emma’s mouth. She halted, sealing her lips tight around his shaft as she felt his seed clog the back of her throat in thick tendrils that dribbled down into her cheeks. The curt smell of his semen flooded her nostrils by way of her throat and she convulsed. His hand pressed down on her head and Emma’s eyes widened. She gripped his thighs hard, trying not to make a sound as he throbbed and twitched inside her, oozing out lingering spurts of himself, smearing the tip of his fleshy spear against the roof of her mouth until all she could taste, smell, and breathe was the man’s overflowing cum.
The kissing stopped and Emma heard the wife’s heals clicking as she slipped off the desk and walked out the classroom.
Emma swallowed him up furiously and ripped her head from his lap with a gasping suck. She exhaled raggedly through her lips as she kissed his shaft. He patted her on the head and a strange mix of pride and shame filled her. Her calves burned and she fell to her knees on the dirty floor under his desk. She laid her head on the leather of his chair, panting. Giggling drifted into her head like a flute chirping in a distant room. It was a young woman’s giggling. It was a familiar giggling…
Emma opened her eyes. A fire crackled in her ears. She lifted her head and wiped her mouth to find herself laying alone on the couch in the drawing room. Maddy had gone but she heard her signature giggling scampering down the hall.
Emma sat up and adjusted her humble breasts back into her bra. She wandered out the drawing room into the hall and rubbed her eyes.
“Maddy?” Emma called out groggily.
She focused her eyes to see a man with blond hair standing with a towel wrapped around his waist. A giggling and wet Maddy danced up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. The man turned and spotted Emma.
“You must be little Emma,” he said, his spring blue eyes studying her.
Emma swiped some stray hairs behind her ears with darting fingers.
Maddy turned and hurried to cover her front with the towel she had in her hand. She held the towel up to her chin and blushed.
“Oh, Emma!” Maddy said, “I thought you were sleeping still.”
“What’s going on?” Emma asked, staring at the steaming chest of the man next to Maddy.
“Greg arrived late last night,” Maddy said, leaning on him, “the creep snuck into my room, I almost didn’t recognize him.” Greg placed an arm around Maddy and drew her into him, she laughed, “I didn’t mean to wake you, Greg said he saw you sleeping by the fire.”
“I thought you said, he couldn’t make it until morning?” Emma said, “what about that text or whatever?”
“The what?” Maddy tilted her head, “I said he would be in much later than us, remember?”
“I’m confused,” Emma said, gripping her forehead, “what time is it?”
“Almost eight in the morning,” Maddy said, “maybe you should get something to eat?”
“Nice to meet you finally, Emma,” Greg waved before walking into Maddy’s room.
“Likewise,” Emma said, smiling blandly.
Maddy grinned and hopped into the room after Greg. As she closed the bedroom door, Emma spotted Greg’s towel dropping to the floor and his tight ass flexed in the dim light above his dense thighs. The door shut and still his tight ass stuck in Emma’s head like two firm boulders.
“Damn… what is going on?” Emma whispered. She shook her head and shuffled across the hall into her own room.
She showered and brushed her teeth, all the while, thinking about the night prior. She must have fallen asleep on the couch early, she thought. That was it, she had fallen asleep from all the wine and dreamt everything from the guy at the door onwards. She spat into the sink. What a dream it was though. Mr. Palewin? She hadn’t thought about him in a long time. Was that true? She fixed her hair in the mirror. Highlights of the dream throbbed through her mind again, threatening to get her hot. Emma tried to forget about it as she walked down to the kitchen. She took a long glance at Maddy’s door as she passed by on the way.
Emma couldn’t find anything, there were layers of shelves, cabinets, and pantries. She had a hard time putting a meal together in her head from what she saw. She grabbed an apple and sat down at a small table along the right wall. As she took her first bite, Greg strode in.
He spotted her and stopped.
“Emma,” Greg said, “looking for some breakfast too?”
Emma nodded, chewing her bite of apple.
Greg didn’t pay her any mind as he went about the kitchen and pulled out eggs, butter, and bacon from different spots. He gathered them on the counter and fetched down two pans that were hanging above the stove. He lit the stove and scrubbed the pans on top the burners.
Emma raised her eyebrows. Greg seemed at home in the giant kitchen.
“Did you want some eggs and bacon?” Greg asked, tossing a cube of yellow into the pan.
Emma shook her head, her stomach growled.
“No need to be shy,” Greg said, rolling up his sleeves. His silver watch caught on light from above and reflected across the white stone of the walls.
“No, it’s fine, really,” Emma said.
Greg ignored her as he used a spatula to scrape the butter across the pan until it hissed.
The smell of the melting butter made Emma’s mouth water. The sweaty taste of Mr. Palewin stained her mind for an instant and fried her brain.
“I said, how did you sleep last night?”
Emma started, “sorry, I spaced out, what did you say?”
The sound of sizzling bacon felt vivid in her head as if her own gray matter smeared out across the pan, bubbling and crackling beneath his spatula.
“The trip must have really dragged on you,” Greg said, “when I came in, you were out cold on that couch.”
“Oh…” Emma said, “I guess.” She glanced over at the man flipping eggs. With a twist of an arm dusted in golden hairs, he churned through her head, flinging her over and over. He was older by at least a decade and had that confidence men his age had. His blue eyes concentrated on both the eggs he was frying up and something distant, something far away inside himself.
He clicked off the stove and slid a helping of eggs and bacon out onto a plate. He snatched up a pair of forks on the way as he marched over towards Emma’s table.
Emma sat up straight and fixed her hair. She caught herself and blinked. What was she doing preening herself for Greg?
He dropped the plate of eggs on the table between them and handed Emma a fork.
“I hope you like them over easy,” Greg said, “it’s all I know how to make.”
“That’s fine,” Emma said, “really, you didn’t have to make me any.”
He cut into an egg with the side of his fork, “you know who I am?”
Emma nodded, “Maddy’s Mother’s Boyfriend, right?” She smirked, thinking she would wound him somehow.
Greg smiled and nodded, “exactly that, I guess.”
Emma poked at an egg and studied him out the side of her eye, “what do you do, Greg?”
“I’m a psychologist.” Greg said between chews.
Emma almost winced, “you don’t say?”
“How about it?” Greg said, “any secrets you want to share?”
Emma smirked, “no thank you.”
“How about I tell you a secret,” Greg said, “one Maddy also knows.”
“What’s that?” Emma asked.
“I’m also married,” Greg said.
Emma choked on a slippery yolk that popped hot juice down her throat. She dropped her fork with a clatter onto the plate.
“Are you okay? Let me get you some water.” Greg said, standing.
“No, no, that’s fine,” Emma said through struggling gasps as the thick goop clogged her windpipe.
“Are you sure?” Greg said, he rubbed her back.
Emma felt his strong hand run between her shoulder blades and the visceral sensation of Mr. Palewin’s hand on her head pushed through her mind.
She choked some more.
Greg strode over to the sink and filled a glass of water for her. Emma drank slowly, glancing up at him bashfully. His tight, perfect ass flexed just between her brows.
Maddy walked in, squeezing her wet braid. Her eyes narrowed on Emma then on Greg rubbing her back.
“What’s going on?” Maddy asked, her hands stopped moving.
“She choked on something,” Greg said.
“Oh, is she okay?” Maddy asked.
Emma nodded as she gulped some more water.
“Good,” Maddy said to Emma before turning to Greg and smiling, “okay you ate, now shall we resume what we started?” She grinned.
Greg walked over to her and lifted her up with ease. Maddy giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist. As he carried her out the kitchen, Maddy glared at Emma from over his shoulder.
Emma sipped her water and thought about Greg.
–
Emma explored the library, running a cursory glance over all the spines before pacing up and down the main hall from the front door to the kitchen for awhile. The slapping and laughing coming from Maddy’s room stuck in Emma’s chest like a bundle of brambles. With a sigh, she squeezed her fingers in one hand behind her back as her reflection drifted across the black glass walls. She walked up to the front door for the hundredth time.
The patterns engraved into the door swirled with motifs of roses, thorns, fires, rabbits, and curling ivy below a radiant moon that spanned both doors at the top. Emma traced her fingers on the interlaced details of the raised grooves of metal. A naturalistic rabbit struggled in loops of thorns above a fire dripping eyes. Her fingers swerved around a looping trail of ivy to find a foxbat devouring a pomegranate. The seeds drifted down in well-rendered lines to form the wings of moths fluttering around the door handle. A circular labyrinth pattern outlined by oxidized shadows of cerulean with the number “1100” decorated the knob. She twisted it and pushed with all her strength. The door barely budged enough to blow her baby hairs with a frigid gust. Emma let go with a pant. She brushed hair from her cheeks. How had they gotten it open to begin with?
The idea of taking a walk outside refused to die even as she studied the backwards number indented from the metal into red on her palm. She rubbed the itch out on her dress and turned away from the door. There had to be another way outside, wasn’t that like a fire code hazard or something?
She remembered a door embedded in the far back of the kitchen and assumed that had to be the rear exit to the house. Emma’s ears buzzed as she passed by Maddy’s room and heard a gurgled thumping. She shook her head and barged into the dining room. Two chairs taken from the walls, flanked the round table in the center of the room. A smaller version of the chandelier in the master bedroom lit a pomegranate on a plate with flicking orange light. The fluttering shadows of two moths dappled across a puddle of yellow honey leaking from the split open fruit, forming a landslide of sticky seeds. Emma raised an eyebrow as she passed by. When had those two had time to snack? She shook her head, tearing it away from the red-purple fruit cracked open in the center of the table and stepped through another door into the well lit kitchen.
Emma spotted the door in the wall on the opposite side of the island of sapphire tile. It was a small black door with two silver handles. She gripped the bottom handle and pulled.
For a second, she thought the door hadn’t opened because it was just as black behind it. She blinked and squinted into the darkness. A stale air wafted past her. There was something traveling on the air, some subtle sound. Emma tilted her head and listened into the pitch blackness. Clapping. Wet clapping. Moaning. Soft moaning. SCREAMING.
Two sparks like the eyes of a nocturnal animal blinked in the dark. Emma fell backwards and wailed. With her foot, she kicked the door closed. She scurried on her hands away from the door and stood quickly behind the bar.
Greg and Maddy rushed into the room a moment later.
“What’s wrong?” Greg said, “we heard screaming.” He was in just a tight pair of briefs and Emma could still see his hardness pinned against his leg.
Emma rushed into Greg’s arms and pointed to the black door, “I-I opened that door and saw something staring back at me.”
Greg rubbed her back once and let her go. He rushed around the bar and up to the door. His arm shot out, he clutched the top handle and ripped the door open. As he stomped into the darkness, Emma watched his bare back disappear into the void.
Maddy slipped in next to her and whispered nervously, “what is that door?”
Emma shook her head, “I don’t know, it was pitch black when I opened it… I thought I heard–”
Greg reemerged with a black cat in his hands. The confused pussy puffed up its tail and clung to Greg’s arms with white claws.
“This must have been what you saw,” Greg smiled, “there’s some cans of tuna in the pantry, I’ll feed it.” He looked at Emma, “she’s shaking, Maddy, why don’t you take her into the drawing room and warm her up.”
Emma turned to Maddy and felt sick. Something gnawed at her guts and she couldn’t place why she had become so unsettled by the cat.
“You look pale,” Maddy knit her brows and put her arm through Emma’s, “lets go warm you up, like Greg said.”
Emma nodded absently and let Maddy escort her to the drawing room. Maddy sat her down in the armchair and draped her coat over her lap like a blanket. Emma turned towards the fire.
The two eyes glared at her in the void of her mind. She grabbed her head and shook it. It was just a cat. She sighed and opened her eyes to the fire again. She watched the flames flicker as they erupted from the soot-stained floor. She squinted.
“That’s odd,” Emma said.
“What’s that?” Maddy said.
“The fire…” Emma said, leaning over the edge of her chair, “there’s no logs or gas… how is this fire burning?”
“Huh?” Maddy said, crossing her arms. She was watching the entrance to the room.
Greg walked into the room with a t-shirt draped over his shoulder. He was in the process of buttoning his jeans. He sat on the couch across from Emma and pulled on the shirt.
“The monster is eating his little heart out,” Greg said, smiling.
Emma turned to him, “what was down there? What did you see?”
Greg shrugged, “I didn’t see anything, it’s just a dark cellar, that guy brushed up against my leg, nearly gave me heart attack.” He laughed and leaned back into the couch. He rubbed his arm where the cat had raked out blood.
Emma stared at him.
“Maddy, why don’t you go fix us some tea?” Greg said, reaching out and patting her on the head.
“Yeah, sure,” Maddy said, grabbing his hand with both of hers, “and maybe some wine too if I can find any.” She smirked and sauntered out the room.
“Do you do this often?” Greg asked, “do you have siblings?”
“What?” Emma asked.
“Do you have any siblings?” Greg asked.
“I have three step sisters,” Emma said, “why?”
“I see,” Greg said, “it must have been hard to get any attention from your parents.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Emma said, dropping back into her chair and sliding.
“Have you ever wondered why stuff like this draws you in?” Greg asked.
“What stuff draws me in, exactly?” Emma asked.
“Fantasies, mysteries, and the like…” Greg said, “the most reserved ones are drawn inwards to dark things. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t follow you,” Emma said, wringing the sleeve of her coat between two fingers.
Greg leaned forward and adjusted his watch, “I think it’s because these fantasies tickle an itch that reality never can. The introverted, mental ones like you need their mind stimulated. Once you’ve had a taste of the moon’s libido, once you’ve glimpsed the dirty dreams she sighs over in the night, it’s hard to settle for the drab boredom of terra firma.”
“Duh,” Emma said, “of course the fantasy is always going to feel better than the reality. That’s what makes it a fantasy.”
“What if by solving a little puzzle, you could make your reality become the fantasy?” Greg said.
Emma was quiet, she suddenly remembered the golden journal sitting on the indigo desk. Had she really read it or was that part of her dream from the night prior? She hadn’t thought about it since.
“Reality becomes a fantasy?” Emma asked.
“Exactly,” Greg said, “think about how disappointing it must be when something vast is trying its hardest to communicate with something tiny, especially when all she cares about is getting off.”
The fire popped and crackled. It reflected in Greg’s silver eyes and Emma swallowed in the silence.
“What are you talking… about?” Emma said. They locked eyes.
“Okay!” Maddy said, holding out a mug in front of her as she entered the room, “the tea took me awhile to find, that kitchen isn’t organized very well.”
Greg stood, brushing off his knees, “she seems to be better now, I’m going to go take a shower.” He kissed Maddy on the top of her head as he left the room.
“I’ll join you soon,” Maddy called out. She set a tea cup on the table next to Emma.
“Thanks, Maddy,” Emma said, lifting the tea off the table and blowing on the steam.
“I wanted to be fancy but I couldn’t find a saucer anywhere,” Maddy shrugged, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, “I guess that cat just startled me is all.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.” Maddy said, caressing her own neck.
Emma looked up at her, “what?”
“I know what you’re doing,” Maddy said, “and I won’t have it. Greg is here for me, not you.”
“Excuse me?” Emma said.
“You heard me,” Maddy said, smiling wide enough her eyes closed, “now, if you don’t mind, your majesty, I have another shower to attend.” She turned and skipped out the room.
Emma set the tea down on the table, she had a sour taste in her mouth.
–
Emma read the small journal as she lounged on her bed. She was trying to occupy her mind from the faint sounds of rapture leaking in through the vents near the ceiling. Maddy’s breathy moans and gurgling grunts tortured Emma and pacing the hallway only made it worse.
She paged through the journal until an entry caught her attention:
Worried my inner circle would start to suspect the reason for my recent transformation into a recluse, I invited two couples to stay with me in this house for a weekend. I also wanted to see how he would react to their presence.
I don’t think I realized how intelligent and manipulative he could be. He managed to ruin both marriages and make me jealous at the same time. Like a pawn, I fell into trap after trap, catching him making love to Josie or Sue at just the right moment as each other’s husbands, or making love to their husbands as Sue or Josie.
After they all sped away from here, dissolved and crying, I begged him to make love to me. Funny how lust works, isn’t it? I should have been angry, and in a way I was… but the way he manipulated everyone so easily filled me with an awe of what he was capable of doing. So, more than anything I wanted him to fuck me harder than he did my four guests. And he did. And he said all the right things, whispered all the nasty, degrading words in my ear as he took me like a common whore on the dining room table.
That last entry was nine weeks ago now and I’m afraid I’m only getting worse. My mind has become a pit of worms burrowing deeply into the muck of my depravity. Their pale translucency squirming against the dark in a ball where my brain used to be, their bellies filling up on the ashes of my razed temple. It’s difficult to concentrate on anything beyond the feeling of him destroying me. I don’t know what I’ll end up doing next in the pursuit of getting off with him. I thought of him more as a mirror in the beginning. Now I think he’s a lens, focusing solely on my sex, burning me off the rock of this planet like an ant beneath the glass of his mind. He’s tainted me in some way, tainted me in a subtle, insidious, absolutely filthy way that I both despise and worship. And the more he does it, the more he pollutes me, the stronger the orgasm. Maybe I was wrong after all… maybe it is a devil. The girth of his phallus and the strength of his legs have continually grown. He’s sprouted thick hair and horns. His teeth are sharp and his smell makes me sick when he mounts me. The angelic beauty I started with is becoming more of a demon day by day and the most horrifying thing is I find him even more beautiful and enticing. If he is a mirror, then he’s just reflecting my lust, but what does it mean that I find him growing increasingly more attractive the more horrible he becomes?
Emma caressed her neck and snapped the book shut in her hands. She rolled over on her bed and sighed. The storm of moans had finally ceased, dying out with a strangled whimpering groan. Emma sat up and hopped off her bed. She walked around her room, staring at the paintings and opening drawers at random. She halted when she found a dress laid flat in the bottom of a long dresser.
She lifted the simple blue dress out and pressed it against her front. She saw the upper half of her body reflected in the dark mirror-like walls. Emma smiled and smoothed it out further across her breasts.
“Wow…” Emma whispered to herself.
The dress was sleek and simple, seamlessly stitched of a breathable silk. The collar cut low into her cleavage and tightened again near the waist before billowing out into a wide skirt that stopped just above her knees.
She held it out in front of her and studied it before shrugging and draping it across the bed. Emma slipped out of her clothes and into the simple gown.
The dress fit her well. She smoothed her hands down her waist and along the skirt. She spun and glanced over towards the walls, trying to see herself in the dark mirrors around the room. The chandelier flickered. Emma heard a door open and quietly click shut again. She rushed to her door and poked out her head to see Greg sneaking off into the library.
Emma drifted out her room and sauntered quietly down the hall in her bare feet until she was at the door of the library. She gripped her hands behind her back as she observed Greg studying the shelves.
He had one hand in the pocket of his heathered slacks and another scratching the honey divot of his chin. After walking half the length of a shelf, he extended his arm and plucked a blue hardback book down. He weighed it in his hands and let it fall open.
Emma wanted desperately to know what book he had pulled down from the shelf. The curiosity forced her to make an entrance more forcibly into the room so he would notice her.
He glanced up from the pages of the book, “oh, it’s you.”
“Where’s Maddy?” Emma asked, smoothing out her skirt.
Greg glanced down her body and back into her eyes before returning to the book, he turned a page, “she finally reached her limit, it seems.”
“But not you?” Emma asked, stepping further into the room.
Greg shrugged, “I have no limit.” He turned another page.
“What are you reading?” Emma asked.
“Just more of the same,” Greg said.
“Am I just more of the same?” Emma blurted out.
Greg lifted his eyes from the book, “are you?” He snapped the book shut and tossed it down on a table. He approached Emma and as he stood in front of her, Emma’s confidence broke. She swallowed and glanced away. Greg caught her chin and gently forced her to look at him.
“You’ve come this far,” Greg said, “no need to be shy now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma said, squeezing her fingers behind her back.
Greg slipped his hands down Emma’s sides and gripped her waist, pulling her into him so she had to brace herself against the immovable wall of his body.
“What about Maddy?” Emma whispered to one of his buttons in a shaky voice as her hands trembled along his chest, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Surely, you at least know how to bite your lip?” Greg said as he leaned down and kissed her.
His kiss tasted like coffee and caramel. Emma breathed deeply through her nose, inhaling a bright musk and dusty books.
“F-f-fuck…” Emma whispered quietly and put her forehead on his chest. What was happening to her? Where were all these smells and flavors coming from, why did they seem so familiar?
Greg lifted Emma up and she yelped from the surprise of it. He carried her over to the wall next to the open library door and kissed her again. This time, Emma let herself go and kissed him back. His lips slipped down her neck, over her clavicle, and along her cleavage. Emma’s head dropped back against the wall as she felt him bite her flesh. Emma raked her hands through his hair. His hot breath ran down the neck of her dress and made her breasts tighten. Greg gripped her ass through the thin silk of her dress with one hand while slipping his other under her skirt. His lips rose to her right ear as his fingers found her already messy.
“You’re making this too easy for me,” Greg whispered in Emma’s ear as he rubbed the honey between her thighs.
Emma was too embarrassed to respond and started unbuttoning Greg’s shirt instead. She splayed her hands out in the blond hair of his chest and looked him in the eyes. Her heart pounded as her hands ran over the tense cushions of his chest. She bit her lip.
Greg dropped Emma to her feet and spun her round by the waist. Pressing on the small of her back with one large hand, he lifted her dress. She heard his belt clang as he dropped his pants. Emma’s left leg shook as she felt the tops of his thighs make contact with the back of hers. He slipped in easily and deep. Filling her rim to rim with hard flesh. His hands took hold of Emma’s and pushed them against the wall. Emma felt him stretch inside her as he moved fluently, pumping slowly into her from below. She closed her eyes and rested her left cheek on the wall as she felt the man work himself into her wetness. His chest pressed on her back and her cheek dug further into the black crystal wall. The glass became slippery with her breath and sweat as she felt her friend’s lover use her. Her eyebrows wrinkled at the thought of her betrayal. A gasp escaped her lips and became a slice of cloud on the cool, glass wall.
A door creaked open in the hall and Emma’s eyes flew open.
Greg switched the light off next to them on the wall and the library went dark. Emma peered out into the hallway and held her breath as Greg continued to silently fuck her next to the bookcase. The most delicate of wet sounds click-clacked in the friction of their darkness. Emma let out her breath as Greg sluiced himself between her, his tight waist pressing into her ass and spreading them apart like waves cracking against the shore.
“Greg?” Maddy’s voice called out.
Emma’s legs shook with pleasure and she bit her lip. Maddy wandered further down the hall and Emma watched Maddy’s back as she poked around the hall.
“Greg? Where are you?” Maddy called out, disappearing from Emma’s sight towards the drawing room.
Greg gripped Emma harder and she felt him working his waist faster into her. Her cheekbone ached. He freed her breasts from her dress with a single rip of his bicep and they surged forth, spilling out against the wall. Emma bucked her waist into his lap, hammering herself deeper into his thrusts.
His belt jangled at his feet.
“Greg?” Maddy called out, “is that you?”
Emma bit her lip.
Her anxious friend floated along the walls of the hall like a ghostly reflection. Emma made eye contact with Maddy in the dark as she approached the library. Emma’s eyes rolled and she felt Greg explode inside her just as Maddy darkened the doorway. Emma grunted and Greg held a hand over her mouth as his balls flexed and drained into her.
Maddy squinted into the darkness of the library. The light from the hall pulsed an orange glow across her features. Maddy extended her hand out towards them.
The lights flashed on and Emma’s heart halted while Greg’s heat dribbled down her inner thigh.
“What the hell are you doing in the dark, Emma?” Maddy asked.
Emma was standing near the door, she glanced around and only found herself.
“All I could see were your eyes glowing in the dark like a wild animal,” Maddy placed a hand on her hip, “have you seen Greg?”
All Emma could feel as she stared blankly at her friend were the lingering traces of her orgasm pulsing between her legs and Greg’s seed dribbling down to her knee.
Maddy scrutinized her and grimaced, “you’re acting weird…”
Emma blinked and smiled, “uh… I was just…” she spotted bruising around Maddy’s neck, “what are those marks?”
Maddy rubbed her neck and smiled, “oh, we are just having fun… that’s all.”
The front doors opened and Maddy spun away from Emma.
“Greg! There you are. What were you doing out there?” Maddy exclaimed as she ran to the front door.
“I was just defrosting the cars so they won’t be too bad tomorrow when we leave,” Emma heard Greg say.
“I don’t want to leave!” Maddy said, “now come on, I’ve had plenty of rest. I want to go all out this time.”
“Do you think that’s safe?” Greg said as Maddy dragged him past the library.
“I don’t care if it’s safe,” Maddy growled, “I want you to do it.”
Their bedroom door slammed shut and Emma crept out into the hall. She stared at their room and fondled the hem of her dress before reaching under and scooping up the sticky heat he left behind. When she lifted it to her face she discovered nothing was there.
She hesitated for what seemed like an hour but was only a minute before sneaking up to the door and placing her ear on it. The sounds came through muffled, but clear enough to paint a picture in Emma’s mind. It was the same gurgled gasping and grunting from earlier, but Emma could hear more details now, like the merging of bodies and the creaking of the bed. Her friend’s voice seemed to spurt out in fits of exaperation before disappearing again into garbled groaning.
Emma licked her lips and grimaced. What had she become? Eavesdropping on her best friend fucking? Why was she doing this? This was so unlike her…
The sounds ceased and Emma leaned harder into the door, straining her hearing as far as she could. Silence. Emma held her breath.
The door clicked open and Emma fell, pushing the door wide open and tumbling to her knees into the room. She pushed herself up with her hands, and found a set of eyes staring at her unblinking.
Maddy’s head hung over the side of the bed, motionless; her eyes glassy and the blood fading from her lips. A tendril of saliva hung from her nose, dripping into a puddle on the floor.
Emma climbed to her feet and unraveled Maddy’s auburn braid from around her neck to discover a wreath of purple marks around her throat. Her naked body lay sprawled out in the waves of blue silk sheets, still glistening with sweat. Emma placed a hand near Maddy’s mouth and felt no breath of life.
She backed away and glanced around the room in a panic to find no trace of Greg. Emma swallowed and spun around, darting out of the room, her mouth dry and her heart glued to the bottom of her stomach.
She scrambled to the front doors, her bare feet streaking and squeaking down the hall. With a swallow and a great huff, Emma tried to tug open the metal behemoths, yet they wouldn’t budge.
“Little Emma…”
She heard his voice crackle out from the drawing room.
“Can you come here for a moment?”
Emma’s hands trembled and she wiped them on her dress. She turned slowly away from the door and padded quietly to the entrance of the drawing room. The fire blazed and she could feel the heat on her face from across the room.
A dark haired man with silver eyes, the one she had helped before, was sitting in the chair. The fire flickered across his body as if he sat in a throne. The patterns on the ceiling pulsed and ebbed out from above him like ripples in a pond.
“Don’t be afraid,” the man hissed and popped, flicking his eyes over Emma, “I’m only what they wanted me to be. First, the woman who built this house, turned me into a monster of her own choosing. Then your friend, Maddy, turned me into a strangler, a murderer.” He sighed heavily, “they keep pushing and pushing, trying to merge themselves with their desires, only to discover such a thing is the death of themselves. In a way, I think they knew that, maybe that’s the release they’re were really looking for…” he shrugged and unfurled his hands, “it’s all so…” his eyes narrowed, “boring.”
Emma stepped further into the room despite herself, “what are you? Who are you?”
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” the man said, flicking a card into the flames.
Emma watched the edges of the paper blacken and curl, the ultramarine ink turned indigo before melting into orange. She backed away and shook her head.
The man sighed, “you can leave if you want.” Emma heard the doors spring open and felt a draft blow through her dress. The winter closed in around her. “But, I was hoping you might be different. I sense a richness… a complexity to your desires. I was hoping you would lead me into refined territory, shape me into something more than a monster. At least for a little while…”
“Why do you take that form?” Emma asked, stepping into the room again.
“Why do you think?” He said, “I’m just a mirror.”
Emma gripped her hands and stamped her foot. She looked down at her foot confused, why did she do that? A moth struggled in the flames, alabaster wings twitched and sizzled in a morass of gold light.
“You wrestle with yourself,” the man said, “let me take care of that, Emma…”
Emma glanced up and swallowed. She dragged her fingers across her face. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. The conflict in her mind made her body jerk awkwardly. She tried to turn her eyes away from him, but she lacked the willpower to deprive herself of such ecstasy. The front doors closed and the cold air died away, replaced with the warmth of the fire dragging her deeper into the room.
The man pointed at the floor in front of his chair, “I won’t fail you this time… but you’ll have to put in some extra effort after class, now come here, my little Emma.”
Emma drifted forward, her eyes wide and filled with fire, “yes, Mr. Palewin.”
THE END