A New York Haunting: Pt. 11

Come Saturday, the internal debate yet raged as he worked his morning session at the anatomy lab. Should he return to the park tomorrow? It was foolish to let the awkward encounter chase him away from the weekly hockey match he enjoyed. Presumably, he could rely upon Ondine's indignation to keep her away from that part of the lake.

Upon his return to the boardinghouse, his dispirited mood was abruptly suspended at the sight on the hall table of an elegant envelope labeled Mr. Røkke. He recognized the handwriting but could scarcely understand the presence of a message after their last conversation. Unless she had written to chide him.

Retreating to his room, he eased the flap open, holding his breath. The note inside read:

Please meet me at Pilgrim Hill in the park at 11 am .

Anders' eyes flew to the clock --- it was almost 11 am right now! He bolted out of his room and down the stairs. No time was there to change into his better suit --- he would have to depend on his overcoat for respectability. The sidewalks were essentially clear of snow, and he ran most of the way, confirming the location of Pilgrim Hill from passersby when he entered the park.

Some thirty minutes late, he arrived at the appointed spot. Catching his breath, he stood at the top of the hill and surveyed the snow-covered landscape. The hillside was lively with happy chaos --- myriads of children and a few adults squealing and laughing as they careened down the hill on sleds and toboggans. Please God, let her still be here! His anxious eyes darted over the scattered women standing nearby conversing, then over the sledders.

And then he spied a spruce green hat with a pom-pom on top. There she was! She was climbing up the hill alongside a young boy, together towing up a toboggan. As before, the cheerful hat and mittens were the only spot of color in her otherwise sober-hued attire. Anders hastened down the slope to meet her.

"Here, let me pull that up for you," he said, taking the rope from them.

Ondine met his eyes, her expression all politeness. "Thank you, sir."

"Mrs. Van der Veen. Please forgive my tardiness. I only received your message after returning home from the anatomy lab. I rushed here as soon as I read it."

"Fortunately, you arrived while we were still here." She smiled. "This is Leo. He's my friend Lillian's brother. We're here with her brothers and visiting cousins."

The boy, who appeared to be about eight, was eyeing him in awe. "You're so big, you'd make the sled go superfast," he said. "Will you sled with us so we can beat my brothers?"

Anders glanced at Ondine.

"It's most kind of you to invite him, Leo, but the gentleman has other obligations."

"I'd be happy to take a run down the hill with you," Anders offered.

Leo grinned, and a quick smile flitted over Ondine's lips. At the top of the hill, she motioned towards a trio on the opposite side of the path, "There's my friend Lillian." He had but a moment to observe a young woman building a snowman with two younger children before Leo's chortling reclaimed his attention.

"We're going to beat you now, dodos!"

Two older lads who were aligning a toboggan next to theirs looked Anders up and down. "No fair! It's three against two!"

"Well, how was it fair this whole time when you two were heavier than us?!" Leo cried.

They piled onto the sleds. Leo sat in the front with his feet tucked under the curved prow. Ondine seated herself next, decorously adjusting her skirt as she braced her legs on the sled on either side of him. After a second's hesitation, Anders eased himself into position behind her. On the narrow, wood-planked sled, there was nowhere else for his long legs save wrapped around the two passengers in front of him.

Oh, what a stolen moment of heaven! Through their clothes, he could feel the warmth of the slim female body fitted between his legs --- her bottom pressed to his groin and her back against his chest. The fuzzy pom-pom on her hat tickled his chin, and he tilted his head to nuzzle it. He started to place his arms around her as well, then noticed the rope grips along the sides of the sled.

On the count of three, the two toboggans set off, hands scrabbling in the snow to launch themselves over the ridge. And then they were flying down the hill --- faster and faster in the frosty air --- their bodies shifting and bouncing in unison. In the exhilaration of the ride, the old joy of childhood flowed over him, momentarily displacing his troubles, and he found himself joining in the whooping and laughing.

A bump in the terrain at the bottom of the hill pitched the sled sideways and threw them off. Rolling to his knees, Anders glimpsed the trousers under Ondine's skirt as she sprawled giggling in the snow. She accepted his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"We won! We beat you!" Leo screamed as the other boys tumbled off their sled several yards behind them, hollering, "No fair! No fair!"

Anders and Ondine shared a smile.

"Leo, I need to speak with this gentleman for a moment. Can you sled with your brothers?"

The boy looked crestfallen. "Sure. But can we do it again after, the three of us?"

"We'll need to return home for luncheon shortly."

"Perhaps another time," Anders suggested.

Leo grabbed the tow rope and headed up the slope; Ondine nodded towards a cleared path leading away from the hill. They set off, walking side-by-side --- he with his hands in his coat pockets, she with her arms crossed over her chest. Snow-covered terrain and ice-gilded trees surrounded them as they strolled.

Without advance notice of the meeting, Anders had had no opportunity to organize his thoughts. As he attempted to compose an apology for his boorish behavior, the girl spoke first. "I haven't much time. Ever since the happenings on the tower, my aunt has been keeping an eagle eye upon my activities."

Ah, yes. He nodded.

"Mr. Røkke, I have given your hypothesis some thought. Despite my first inclination to dismiss it out of hand, I subsequently decided the proper course of action --- as with any hypothesis --- was to assess it by the scientific method."

A twinge of excitement awakened in his vitals at the import of her unintentionally ironic words. He glanced at her, but her face was turned slightly away. Yes, to dismiss it out of hand would certainly frustrate the exercise. The thought of her hand exploring her privates in quest of an orgasm was deliciously tantalizing --- but why was she informing him of her plans? Was she in need of advice on how to proceed? There was a provocative prospect --- describing to her how to frig!

They fell silent as a pair of men hurried past carrying ice skates. When they disappeared around the bend, Anders spoke. "Mrs. Van der Veen, I concur with the application of science to the problem. I heartily wish you much success in your experiment."

Ondine paused in her stride. Her gaze seemed to fix upon a grove of snow-laden pines next to the path. Then she looked up at him, the sun illuminating her irises. "I was hoping to persuade you to assist me in the endeavor."

His pulse jumped, and he searched her face. "In what manner?" he asked, attempting to maintain a calm tone.

She turned away from him as an elderly couple approached along the path, walking a dachshund on a leash. It was an agonizing few moments of suspense during which the little dog sniffed around their legs, and they exchanged greetings with its owners.

Ondine and he resumed walking, putting distance between themselves and the slowly moving couple. When at last they were again safely out of earshot, she cleared her throat and said, "Here is the experiment I propose: while I sleep, you will come to my bedchamber and re-enact the scenes you witnessed while keeping watch. The goal will be to remedy those deficiencies responsible for what you described as my state of 'frustration and despondency'."

Anders stepped into a snowdrift in shock.

Ondine halted and regarded him. Pulling his foot back onto the path, he struggled to regain his composure. As he gaped wordlessly at her, the color rose in her cheeks.

"I - I assume you mean some sort of sham simulation?" he croaked.

She shook her head. "You must re-enact in truth what Peter did."

His mind and heart were reeling. "Mrs. Van der Veen, I don't wish to gainsay your proposal, but your husband's ghost did some very, erm, outlandish things ..."

Ondine, blushing furiously, held up a mittened hand. "Pray, don't tell me or I might lose my nerve."

The memories rushed forth of all the 'outlandish things' Van der Veen had done to this girl --- the images of which had propelled many a jerk-off session to a plaster-blasting release. Anders felt his own face and genitals growing hot.

They stood red-faced on the path, looking at each other.

He swallowed. "You understand that what you are proposing would result in the rending of your virginity."

She nodded.

"And I must reiterate that there are ways for females to achieve the climactic release by their own hand, without the presence of a partner --- and without compromising the, erm, hymen."

Her big hazel eyes stared up at him. "I understand that, Mr. Røkke. Do you wish to assist me in the experiment?"

Do I wish to assist you?! Herregud! Anders straightened. "I shall be honored to be of service to you, Mrs. Van der Veen."

Ondine glanced at the path in both directions. "Are you available tonight?"

"Tonight?!" His heart thumped.

"Yes. We are going to the opera this evening. I shall be returning home directly afterwards while my aunt and uncle attend a ball. They will not be home until the early hours of the morning."

His heart was cavorting, but he managed to maintain a straight face and make a brief bow. "I'll be there tonight."

"Here is how you'll get inside the house ---"

Chapter 46. THE LABORATORY

Anders stood on the dark sidewalk next to the tall wrought iron fence enclosing the grounds of the Cornelissen mansion. It was 10:30 pm, a half-hour before his appointment in Ondine's room. He had been watching the manse for the past two hours, first from the shadows of Central Park across Fifth Avenue, then from the side street near the stable and carriage house.

He had seen the pattern of lights in the windows shift over that interval. Lights in the large, first-floor rooms had been extinguished and scattered small windows in the top story had lit up --- presumably in the servants' quarters. After a while, those lights had disappeared too. The second-story, park-facing windows --- her aunt's and uncle's bedchambers, so she had said --- were dark and remained so.

A half-hour ago, while still concealed in the park, he had noted an elegant brougham turn from Fifth Avenue onto the side street --- was it Ondine returning from the opera? His heartbeat had rushed in anticipation.

Ever since leaving the park earlier that morning, he had been in a state of dazed agitation. How many times had he pinched himself to confirm he was not dreaming? How many times had he examined the door key she had given him --- the proof the fantastical conversation had indeed taken place? The recurrent pangs of excitement in his gut and fluctuating engorgement of his organ over the next several hours almost drove him several times into a fit of frantic frigging --- only to squelch the urge. He needed to conserve his strength for tonight.

Considering the sequence of salacious exercises he had witnessed his second night on watch, Anders agonized over his obligations in the upcoming encounter --- his obligations as the honorable man he hoped he was, even if he was not a 'gentleman' according to Society's definition.

On the one hand, to commit such profane acts on an innocent girl seemed a violation of chivalry. As Ondine herself was in ignorance of what exactly had passed that night, perhaps he should simply confine the copulatory enterprise to the second act --- the conventional intercourse when she had been on the bed and the ghost had been standing next to it, between her legs.

On the other hand, she had commanded him to re-enact in truth what Van der Veen had done. Was it not dishonorable to accept the commission then high handedly edit the assignment based on what he judged to be best for her?

True too, he had to admit the proposed experiment made as much sense as anything else they had considered to exorcise the ghost. They were dealing with the supernatural, after all. At a certain point, strict logic no longer applied --- it might indeed be necessary to scrupulously re-create the scene to dissolve the demon's hold on her.

And finally, he wanted to do all those outlandish and salacious things with her. Good God, how he wanted to do them! Since the night he had observed the extraordinary erotic session and perceived the torment in her body, he had relentlessly dreamed of engaging with the girl in a like manner --- but giving her the ultimate pleasure evidently unimportant to Van der Veen. Fate had in one swoop blessed him with the opportunity to live his dream!

Was he truly going to censor his desires, violate her request, and potentially compromise the cure to the haunting --- out of fear of offending her by penetrating her mouth and anus with his cock?

No --- he had a duty. And he was nothing if not a stickler for scrupulous discharge of his duties.

Endeavoring to check his spiraling excitement, he forced himself to acknowledge the one nagging thread pricking at his consciousness --- the one truth that contradicted his complete dream: this was not to be a lovers' tryst. It was a scientific enterprise with a defined goal, and Ondine was proposing to use his body to achieve it. Somehow --- he thought wryly --- he would manage to endure it.

It was the most enticing experiment he had ever contemplated!

Accordingly, he had spent the afternoon in anxious preparation. As never before had he longed for the hot shower in the luxurious guest bathroom at Dr. Mullenix's house. Instead, he had contended with the tepid water in the small, rust-stained tub shared by Mrs. Sullivan's lodgers. With meticulous care, he had bathed himself from head to toe --- including washing his hair --- and had shaved the golden bristles from his jaw. He had opted against hair oil, worried over the possibility of staining the fine linens on her bed.

Her bed! Holy Hell! He would be in Ondine's bed --- tonight!

The hot blood had rushed into his limbs, all five of them, and he had had to compose himself before heading down to the kitchen to iron his shirt. Fortunately, a clean, starched set of collar and cuffs awaited on his dresser top. Good suit brushed and overcoat donned, he had headed out on foot into the New York night, passing under the dreamlike plumes of chimney smoke hovering in the winter sky.

All his tortured scruples about her being a patient --- all his cautiousness in the face of Mrs. Cornelissen's threats --- all had been thrown to the wind at the prospect of engaging in sexual congress with the girl.

Now, next to the wrought iron fence, Anders inhaled deeply of the cold air. The moment had arrived to forge ahead.

The lights in the rooms above the carriage house had gone out some time ago, and not a soul was in sight in the dark garden or on the street. Advancing to the drive gates, he tested them. Ondine had predicted they would be unlocked --- they weren't. The first obstacle.

With a quick glance in either direction, he grasped the pickets and, wedging his shoes against crossbars and decorative scrollwork, began to scale the almost 10-foot-tall gate. The hinges creaked and a faint clanging of the latch accompanied the shaking of the structure under his motions. Over the spiked top he went. His coat snagged on a finial on his descent, and in freeing it, his foot slipped on the ice encrusted-metal.

He landed in a crouch with a soft whoof. For a moment he remained huddled on the brick drive, frozen breath escaping his mouth --- eyes and ears searching the surroundings. Assured once more by the continued stillness, he scuttled along the cleared path to the house. Around the corner from the stairwell to the cellar kitchen, he found the flower bed of Ondine's instructions. Snow blanketed the ground and festooned evergreen yew shrubs in the bed. Sidling behind them, he reminded himself to brush out his footprints upon leaving.

He lifted his face to the enormous edifice looming above him. In the light of the full moon, he beheld what Ondine had described: in the corner where the mansion and one of its elaborate additions met, a drainpipe was affixed to the bricks with iron loops. Anders tugged his wool cap more snugly in place and reached up to the first loop. With a deep breath, he pulled himself up, bracing his feet against the bricks.

The girl had indicated she occasionally escaped from the house by this route. Christ! Had she ever done so in the winter? Before climbing onto each improvised metal rung, he brushed off snow and broke away draping ice. Four stories did he thus painstakingly ascend, keeping his gaze fixed upward. With each surge of his body closer to the moonlit roof above him, his heart repeated its yearning chant: Ondine --- Ondine --- Ondine.

At last, he reached the top. He grabbed the stone balustrade guarding the edge of the roof --- an ironic echo of the tower of Madison Square Garden --- and hauled himself over the cold railing. Standing motionless, he surveyed the rooftop. The flat slate portions of the expansive roof wove a sinuous path among the profusion of peaked gables and turret tops. No doubt, a splendid view of the park was to be had from the Fifth Avenue side.

Eerily aglow in the moonlight, snow adorned all the horizontal surfaces, and icicles hung from the myriad of stone edges and curlicues. A few trails of footprints evidenced the recent presence of what appeared to be at least two different people since the last snowfall --- and guided him to the turret with the stairs down.

As forewarned, the door was locked. Anders panicked upon reaching into his coat pocket and discovering the key gone --- then recalled having transferred it to his waistcoat pocket. The key slid into the lock and turned smoothly. Quietly knocking the snow from his shoes, he entered the turret.

A spiral wooden stair wound around several times and ended at another door. Faint squeaking of the hinges attended the cautious swing open. He peered out into a long, narrow, plain corridor that Ondine had indicated served the fourth-floor servants' quarters. It was unoccupied. Hastening a dozen feet along the hall to the right, he found the next flight of stairs down.

Descending to the third floor, he cracked open the door at the bottom of the steps and surveyed the opulent hallway he remembered well from October. Not a soul was in sight in the low lighting from wall sconces. Silencing his breaths, he stepped out from his cover and headed left, counting the staid, ornately paneled doors as he passed.

At the seventh door he stopped, excitement twinging in his belly. Notwithstanding the fact that her aunt's and uncle's rooms were one floor down on the opposite end of the mansion, he took a moment to confirm the count. God forbid he walk into the wrong room! But no one else lived here, he reminded himself --- apart from the servants who had accommodations elsewhere. Surely, if there were guests staying in the house, Ondine would have warned him. On the opposite wall, the painting of the ostentatious flower arrangement he had noted during his previous visit told him he was at the correct door.

Just as it had the night he had first entered her room, his heart palpably accelerated. Doffing his cap and unbuttoning his overcoat, he tugged his suit jacket and tie straight and eased open the portal. As she had instructed, he immediately turned and latched it behind him. The eager pangs in his gut surged anew as he stepped into Ondine's dimly lit bedchamber.