The New Story, continued...

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A scratching outside woke him. David was still riding high on the buzz from the very fine whiskey Rory offered, but somehow couldn’t get his eyes to remain shut. Janey slept soundly beside him, and didn’t stir when he groaned his way out of bed and staggered to the door of the guest room. 

He eased the door closed behind him, feeling along the wall for a light switch. All he found was the corner of a picture frame that threatened to spill off the wall, but he caught it before it could come fully off. 

David wove down the hall in the direction of what he presumed to be he bathroom. Outside, it was really coming down. Rain hit the thick windows, the sound dulled until it became a constant drone, highlighted by the higher-pitched ticking as rainwater fell onto the sills and down the spouts. Occasionally, lightning would flash, giving him a snapshot of the hall before plunging him back into a deeper darkness, his eyes flaring from the sudden light. 

He liked thunderstorms, especially the low rumble that followed those flashes, the sound of a giant farting, he thought, and laughed drunkenly to himself. 

Trying a door opposite his room, he found only more darkness. At least here there was a light switch. He flipped it up and down, then both ways again to be sure. The storm must have taken out the power, he decided, and grumbled something unintelligible before feeling his way into the room. 

Lightning lit the room for an instant, and he discovered that his navigation was perfect. A long sink extended along the wall on his right and the great throne lay just past. He closed the door behind him, reconsidered, and left a crack there to light the bathroom as much as he dared in the house of a stranger.

Well, not a stranger, he corrected, tugging his dick free and aiming by sound to find the center of the bowl. Rory, the prodigal son, was returned. He imagined tonight wouldn’t be the last time they fell into drunken merriment and chased the sun down. As for his pal’s sudden enrichment, David didn’t mind. He didn’t fault others for their good fortune, nor did he savor the misfortune of the few people in town who might be on the other list he kept. Live and let live and all that. Besides, having a rich friend never hurt anybody.

He washed his face in the sink, braced by the cool water, and made his way back into the shadow-drenched hall. When the lightning came again, he saw a woman at the end of the hall, stopping him dead in his tracks. A lip curled as he tried to recall exactly what he’d seen, but it looked for all the world like a dark-haired woman in a very sheer gown, her voluptuous body easily seen beneath the breezy fabric. Not Janey. Maybe Sara?

FLASH!

Closer. It was definitely a woman, and she was only twenty feet away, her downturned head and knowing smile lingering while his vision flared a orange and then faded to darkness again.

“Sara?”

He knew it wasn’t her, couldn’t be. Sara was pretty, yes, but she wasn’t sex in heels like this mystery woman.

FLASH!

He leaped backward a step, losing his footing. The runner in the hall muted the sound of his body hitting the ground, head bouncing off the thin carpeting. 

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath.

But she’d been right on top of him, close enough to reach out and touch. It was impossible, the ways he moved so quickly.

When he felt a hand on his chest, roaming the expanse of it like a new lover, he wanted to scream, to call out to Rory or Janey, but his voice was trapped in his throat. Floral perfume filled his nostrils, and one hand was joined by another. David felt the full weight of the woman, now, straddling him. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the electric corona of the woman’s presence, bending toward him.

“What is your name, pretty?”

The voice elicited a gasp, and he tried to move away from the sound so near his ear, but he couldn’t move, whether fear or some other force held him, he didn’t know.

“I don’t suppose it matters. I haven’t felt a man like you in years.” She inhaled. “You smell good, too. I could just eat you up, pretty.”

The plain gray tee he’d worn as an undershirt now served as his bedclothes, along with his boxers, and he felt it lift over his substantial gut. Thin fingers spread over his belly, up his chest, fanning and coming together again, long nails scratching his hairy chest.

“Oh yes,” The woman atop him sighed, “you feel like a man. You feel good.”

Lips were on his, and David found himself meeting the unexpected kiss. The motion was tentative at first, then took on a hungrier pace. When the tip of the stranger’s tongue extended, he met it with his own.

Her hips were moving, sliding over his cotton boxers. The pressure was stirring his sex, and fear was replaced by a primal need. It had to be a dream. An incredibly vivid one, but a dream. Being seduced by a stranger in the hallway of this mansion seemed like a long shot. More likely he’d wake up in the morning feeling ridiculous, but probably still hard after this nocturnal adventure.

“That’s it,” she cooed, reaching between them to pull his swollen member free of the boxers. His tip grazed over hot, slick lips and then he was forced into the woman’s wonderfully tight pussy. He groaned, arching his back, and he found the woman’s hips. They were warm under the gown, and he held them while the stranger rolled her hips with David buried inside her, stroking and squeezing him inside her slick walls.

He abandoned his hold on her bountiful hips to cup her tits, big and delightfully full. His thumbs ran over the tight nubs of her nipples, and then he squeezed them between thumb and forefinger. The stranger rewarded him with a deeper thrust, faster, her pace quickening along with his.

They panted together, gripped and tugged, kissed and sucked. The pace became frantic. Teeth gripped her lip, tongues washed together. 

“Cum for me, honey,” the woman whispered into his ear, her tone urgent and amused all at once. “Fill me up.”

Familiar sensation shrank his balls, and David exploded inside the woman, who threw back her hair and cried out, loud enough that David worried someone would hear, probably Janey, who would rush outside to find him being fucked by some gorgeous and unknown woman in the hall.

“Thank you, pretty,” the woman said, holding his chin in her hand. 

Staring up into her dark eyes, another flash of lightning illuminated the hall. She was impossibly beautiful, and awfully familiar. As she rode him, milking him of the last of his cum, she threw herself onto him once more, kissing him deeply. He answered the kiss. It went on and on, and part of him felt untethered by it, until he was spinning in some vortex. Suction pulled him down and down, until all that was left was darkness and this woman on top of him. And she was laughing.

2.

Rory was in town when Sara found the room. He grew more adventurous as the days rolled past, finding a great deal of pleasure in rediscovering Bear Falls. Returning home at night, he would regale Sara with stories of how the burger place he liked as a kid was gone, but a new diner opened in its place and they had to go to breakfast there sometime. 

In these moments, Sara was sure she could see the boy inside the man. The kid who chased David around the banks of the Yakonkwe was there, the same enthusiasm and spirit of discovery. It was infectious, too, and Sara imagined what it must have been like to know Rory as a young man, not that she would have proclaimed him a serious adult. There was always a spark of mischief in Rory’s eye, one of the things she loved about him. 

During these adventures, Sara explored the house. It was easy for her to stay current with her classwork, and she had a bit of explorer in her, too. Since the night Janey and David stayed over, Sara found herself intrigued by the notion that there was a secret room in the house. Further, she decided that such a  room must be located off the two-story library. She only needed to find some book that served as a secret level. Once she found that, the wall would climb and dust would billow, granting her access to some stairwell that would descend deep into the bowels of the old manor. 

The firm belief that such a room existed was battered, now. Days of hunting for a secret key or secret keyhole, her imagination lit by curiosity, gave way to a growing certainty that she would find nothing at all and that the town beauty was a wee bit full of shit.

Rory and David had been out since the couples spent the last night together, but Sara hadn’t reached out to Janey. She supposed Janey was fine, and consciously managed any comparisons between them in terms of their relative attractiveness, but there was no urge to spend time with the more buxom girl on her own. Sara liked the isolation of the big house and sprawling land around it, and took walks at all times of the day around the area. Sometimes down to the Yank, where she watched the water ripple with fish sucking insects off the top of the water, then south into the woods that met the road just beyond. She never felt frightened in these moments of solitude, and enjoyed a peace that she’d never felt when they were in the city.

And, if she was being honest, the way David and Janey left after the last visit didn’t exactly charm her. David had been all out of sorts, probably due to the hangover he must have been experiencing. But he acted like he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. Even Janey, whose attention was on David, seemed quick to get out. Fine by her, Sara decided. As long as she had Rory and some schoolwork to keep her occupied, she could stay in the house forever for all she cared.

The study was her place of refuge when it was time for, well, studying, and so that’s where the afternoon found her. She sat cross-legged in the comfy chair with the high back and wide arms, so she could set one of her textbooks on the arm while balancing another between her legs, juggling the laptop along with it. She had the end of a pen tucked in the corner of her mouth, bouncing it between her lips when the sound came from behind her. 

A loud THUMP! that sent her out of the seat, dumping the computer and a textbook onto the floor. She’d already spun around, heart pumping adrenaline through her body. Her hands were raised like a boxer, even though she had no idea how to fight, beyond the usual hair-pulling and smacking you do in middle school. 

“Hello?”

Her head tilted, eyes narrowing, looking into the shadows that hid the rear wall and its array of mounted horns and nooks where small busts of wizened men cast in alabaster looked mutely out.  

Blood raced through her veins, but her fists lowered and Sara made her way toward the source of the sound. Slowly at first, then she saw the bust of a man who resembled Benjamin Franklin a bit on the floor. It still rocked, though the arc grew shallower by the second.

“What happened to you?” she asked the bust, eying the cubby from which it had fallen. 

A pin rose from the nook, and she say that it wasn’t merely a small pole to keep the bust in place. There were grooves in the shaft like the teeth of a key. Sara slid the bust back into place until she felt it slip all the way to the base. Then, she turned the head.

With a tiny click, the shelving to her left eased away from the wall. No dust or stone wall rising, only the unsatisfying sound of the mechanism releasing and the outward sag of the wall. Using her nails, she gained purchase and pulled the secret door further until a cool rush of air washed over her with a whiff of stale perfume. She stepped into the slight passage behind the shelves and used the light on her phone to light the way. 

The hall was only ten or so feet in length, and narrow. The wood here was dark and dusty, and looping cobwebs hung down from the low ceiling. If she’d been as tall as Rory, she would have had to duck. Shuffling tentatively forward, the passage opened into a room shaped in a circle a dozen feet in diameter. In the center rose a pedestal like a college lectern, though it looked like it was hewn from the same dark wood as the passage walls. The curving walls were all books from the waist up, arranged haphazardly and atop one another, unlike the prim arrangements of the books in the library. These were used, referenced, placed where hands could find them again.