The Evil of Hammond House Ch. 1

The doctor waved his hand again. "I wouldn't normally do this, but you all seem like such nice young people and you have had a bit of a rough night. You're welcome to stay the night here at Hammond House. There's plenty of room."

There were several expressions of relief and gratitude from the people in the group, especially Angela, whom Dr. Hammond seemed to have impressed with his kindness. Mark, however, was still uneasy. Why was the doctor suddenly being so polite and accommodating?

Their host showed them back the way he had come. It was a living room as equally ornate as the foyer had been. The walls were lined with cherrywood panels and braced with solid mahogany columns. The ceiling was vaulted to a rectangular panel of mahogany, which had been etched and carved with a variety of Gothic images. Just above their heads the room was criss-crossed with red-stained oak beams that supported the elaborate ceiling. At the far end of the room was a huge fireplace, logs currently alight, with what looked like a family portrait hanging above it. Facing it was a large U-shaped, red leather sofa set. It was to this that Dr. Hammond escorted the exhausted troupe, offered and distributed drinks (only Mark declined), and attended to the knot on Angela's forehead. Afterwards he excused himself and retreated from the room. Everyone had already dropped their bags and coats and crashed, sinking into the ample leather and sipping their chosen beverages. The fire and the alcohol began their work very quickly and, within a few minutes, everyone was feeling quite a bit better. Except Mark...

No one in the group really knew how to deal with Mark's brooding, paranoid nature. He was really a nice guy with quite a bit of talent, but a very low level of self-esteem. His family life had been bad, or so was the general rumor, and he was more than happy to move to Colorado from the Midwest to go to school. He was also overweight and hadn't had any decent relationships with women in his life. In fact, he was still a virgin, though only Robert knew it. Robert knew the jibing rivalry they shared was just a front for hiding their emotions, but he was trying to ease up on it, because he sensed it probably hurt Mark deep down. Carl didn't really give a damn about Mark -- he wasn't important to his future -- and Lisa tried to be nice to him, though she really wasn't interested in getting to know him very well. Brenda was a good cookie, trying very hard to be friends with Mark and giving him good, sisterly advice. She had introduced Angela to Mark, hoping they might get along, but his distant personality made it hard for Angela to think about anything long term. She just wasn't ready to take on such a responsibility, especially when Carl was there for the taking.

Several minutes later, Dr. Hammond returned. "I have opened up three rooms in the East Wing for your use. If you will follow me, I will escort you to them."

The gang got up wearily, deposited their glasses on the side table, and grabbed their various items. Mark seemed to hesitate, looking into the fire, before Brenda came over and nudged him along. They all filed out of the living room, following Dr. Hammond up the stairs and to the left. Brenda lagged behind with Mark.

"What's eating at you, brother?" she asked him. They often called each other 'brother' and 'sister' because neither of them had siblings of their own and they felt like they had *that* kind of relationship.

"Sorry, sis," he sighed, looking up at Angela as she hung close to Carl's side. "It's this house. There's something eerie about it."

"Are you sure it's the house and not something else?" asked Brenda, also watching as Carl slipped his hand into Angela's.

Mark's voice dropped to a whisper. "All right, maybe it's not the house. Maybe it's just that I can't stand to think of him ... touching her."

Brenda knew how Mark felt about her best friend. Mark often told Brenda how he thought about Angela's long brown hair and her green eyes and the smooth skin of her face. About how he dreamed of holding her and making love with her in front of a roaring fireplace. About how she was the only woman he had ever felt he could spend his life with. Brenda knew all about the pain that was in his heart, but there was nothing she could do. Brenda tried not to liaison between them. That kind of involvement never worked out in her experience, so she just listened to each of them as a friend and tried to be sympathetic. She could tell Mark that Angela really did care for him, but she was afraid she would end up hurting him because he was so sensitive. Brenda just hoped that, sooner or later, they would be able to talk to each other.

Dr. Hammond took them to three different rooms, scattered throughout the upper level of the East Wing. He showed them the amenities, each room having a king-sized canopy bed and large bath facilities. He directed them to the linen closet so they could retrieve towels, blankets and pillows. The rooms were somewhat bare, since they had not been used in some years.

"When my grandfather built this house, it was for his rather sizable family. My father maintained that tradition, but most of my siblings have either moved away or passed on."

"Don't you have any family of your own, Dr. Hammond?" asked Lisa, in her usually tactless way. The others in the group winced.

The doctor seemed unperturbed. "Not anymore, my dear," he responded and turned away, stopping for a second to look strangely at Angela (though only Angela and Mark really noticed), and headed back down the hallway towards the foyer. "You're welcome to the kitchen. It's in the East Wing on the first floor. I will be working late in my study in the West Wing. I ask you please to try not to disturb me. It's the only favor I ask for my hospitality," and with that he disappeared around the end of the hallway.

Robert looked at Brenda and shrugged. Everyone seemed pretty perplexed -- the doctor was a strange guy -- but most of them took it in stride and grabbed some towels and accessories to make their evening more comfortable. After all, it was only for one night.

Mark didn't pay a lot of attention to what the others did. He grabbed some linens and walked to the furthest room. Before he entered, though, he glanced back down the hall to see Brenda follow Angela into a room. Beyond that door Carl and Lisa stood in the hallway talking softly, Carl's hand touching her face. Mark heard him say something like "Don't worry about it, I have an idea," and, after a few more words with her, disappeared into his room where Robert was waiting. Lisa came down the hall towards Mark, smiled at him, and entered the room with Brenda and Angela. Mark, not even having a chance to say good night, sulked back into his room and closed the door.

Mark took a long hot shower to get the grime off from the long journey up to the Hammond estate. He tried as hard as possible not to think about Angela and Carl, but the image of them holding hands was still in his mind. Each time he tried to picture himself with Angela the image of Carl came up in his place. Holding her hand, it was Carl. Kissing her, it was Carl. Rolling under the covers on top of Angela's sweaty, moaning form, it was Carl. Mark suddenly switched the water to ice cold. That cleared his mind immediately.

After drying himself off he slipped on his sweats and crawled into the bed. It was certainly comfortable and he imagined the others were finding theirs the same as well. Mark picked up his book and tried to read, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Angela in her room just down the hall, dressed in a thin t-shirt and knickers, curled up next to Brenda and Lisa, chattering about one thing or another.

"Probably making fun of my driving," he said to himself. No, he knew that wasn't true. He knew they liked him.

He tried to read some more, but it just wasn't working.

"I've got to talk to her," he said and threw back the covers.

Getting out of the bed he adjusted his sweats and headed for the door, but just as he prepared to leave he heard another door, further down the hall, opening. Mark popped his door open a fraction and glanced toward the others' rooms. He saw Robert, in an open bathrobe, treading quietly towards the girls' room and knock lightly. After a moment the door opened slowly and Angela stepped out. Mark's breath drew in sharply as he saw what she was wearing: a cut-off t-shirt and almost non-existent, thigh-revealing panties that were so skimpy they left Mark no room for imagination at the beauty of her backside. Robert gave her a quick raised eyebrow as she walked past, then started into Brenda's room. Mark heard Angela mumble something back to him about having a good time with Brenda, then she walked on down the hall to the door leading to Carl's room. It opened without her knocking and Carl, clad only in a pair of boxers, stepped out to embrace her, his brown arms closing around her waist. Hers circled around his neck and she drew his head down to meet with hers in a deep, passionate kiss. After a few moments he pulled her into the room and closed the door.

Mark pulled his door gently closed and walked to the bed. He picked up his book, walked back to the door, left the room and headed determinedly down the hall. He walked past the room Brenda and Robert were in, not even wondering where poor Lisa had been shuffled off to (she certainly wouldn't have come in to share the bed with Mark!). He didn't even flinch as he passed the room in which Carl and Angela were probably exploring each other's bodies and walked onto the mezzanine. He went down the stairs to the foyer, into the living room, poured himself a large brandy and sat down on the couch in front of the fire, which he stared into for the next half-hour.

END OF PART ONE

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Patrick Donovan *

Amateur Romantic E-rotica * Share your passion.