Am I Awake?

Kelvin's house is not far from the ferry terminal, probably about a fifteen minute drive. The first long shadows of evening were starting to cast as I got to the gate that marks Kelvin's turn off from the main road. I jumped out of the car, leaving it idling while I shovelled a stack of letters for him from the mailbox into the passenger seat and then opened the old wooden gate. I had to drag it slightly over the long end of summer grass on the lawn. Once I had got it opened and wedged well into a thicket, I couldn't really see the point in shutting it after me so I just drove on up the drive that skirts round the edge of the front lawn to the main entrance to the house. All was late summer signs in the garden, drooping dry roses needing to be dead headed, the big willow in the corner starting to look slightly parched. "A perfect cricket evening" as my father would have said, meaning not one to play cricket in but a good one to lie in the grass drinking a long cocktail and watching the sun go down.

The main entrance to the house is via a big, ornately carved wooden door. Scrolling wooden roses intertwined with real ones over the archway. The spare key was where it always had been;- balanced on the top of one of the little carved branches running across the top of the frame. I stretched up to get it and as I did my eyes were drawn to the elaborately inlaid rosewood words on the front of the door.

"Am I Awake?"

I had forgotten about this one. I had never really understood why, but Kelvin had the same question written in funny little places all around his life. Multiple places in the house had it, the boat was named after it and it was even stencilled into the walnut wheel of his car. With each little sign, there would be a needle or a pin, an exposed electrode or some other horrid little way of jolting oneself. It would be neatly tucked away but close-by nonetheless. Presumably so that one could prick a finger to make sure one was not dreaming. I never got to the bottom of why Kelvin did it. I ran my fingers along the slightly raised inlay and sure enough, there was a nasty little carved rose thorn at the end of the line, helping to punctuate the question mark.

I opened the door and pushed my way through. I dropped my bag by the foot of the stairs and marched through to the kitchen at the back. Nothing seemed out of place, the refrigerator was still humming, the oven blinked the correct time. I very much expected Kelvin to come bustling in past me and grab a beer from the fridge but of course he didn't. That very much summed up the initial experience of going back into Kelvin's house for the first time;- everything seemed very normal, the only thing usual was the trailing silence. I fought it by putting on radios and virtual speakers in each room I went into. It's sort of how Kelvin had lived and so it felt natural to have a lot of noise going on.

Once I had got the coffee brewed, I grabbed my bag and took it upstairs to what I thought of as 'my' room. It was really the visitors suite at the top of the house but, in fairness, I'm not sure Kelvin had many other visitors so it felt like home ground already for me. An old Laymon book that I had been re-reading last summer was still on the bedside table and the bed was likely still made up just as I left it. I wasn't ready to go into Kelvin's room yet, it somehow didn't feel quite right.

After I had emptied my bag and arranged the few things I had in the wooden dresser under the main window, I grabbed the well thumbed horror book and my coffee mug and headed back down the deep pile, beige carpeted stairs to the second floor. Rather than heading back down all the way to the ground floor, I stopped in the first floor room that Kelvin had dubbed the 'Red Room'. It was sort of an upstairs sitting room. He had put an ancient red velvet and Maple chaise longue in the middle of a big red and white Persian Carpet. It had a long coiled serpent carved into the and around the top of the back, its wide open mouth diving down to attack the unsuspecting sleeper on the cushions below. The intricate carving gave me the creeps, not just for its murderous detail but also for the two long fangs that protruded from its open mouth. The wood was tipped in a gold coloured metal and they were both deadly sharp.

The chaise-longue faced out towards French doors that led on to a really big first floor wooden balcony that wraps around the whole back of the house. Next to that were a couple of more traditional chairs and a coffee table making up an ad-hoc three piece suite. Dotted around the room were weird objects from Kelvin's travels. He would have called them art but in a tongue-in-cheek way. Really they were more a history of his alternative obsessions.

There was was an apparently ancient Egyptian staff and headdress from the tine Kelvin had travelled to Egypt in search of the ancient blue waterlily. He had travelled down the Nile, all the way to Luxor and then after that even on to the Comoros in search of a plant renowned to have been used by the ancients as a psychedelic stimulant. What he had actually come back with was a pile of mouldy old dried out flowers in a broken packing case and a load of Egyptian paraphernalia bought from various underground hawkers. I don't think his teas, tinctures and other chemistry experiments took him anywhere but the real fun had been in the planning of the trip. He had almost convinced me to go with him but back in those days school had taken precedence.

On the other side of the sofa from the mounted Egyptian stuff were a load of wooden and stone carvings of busty, fat bottomed ladies and gnomes with oversized phallus. Apparently these had come from his trip a few years before to South America. I think he travelled through various parts of the Amazon, chasing shaman who might give him some milk-type drug but, after several months, he had emerged with a lot of libido enhancing magic trinkets. I guess at some point during the trip, he had gone from searching for a higher state of consciousness to just being horny.

Beyond the South American carvings and out towards the big double doors opening on to the patio there was a huge old wooden globe with The World as it had been a few hundred years ago, anyways I won't go on but you get the idea. The Red Room was a wonderfully weird place to kick back and read a book, watching the sun go down over the big back lawn and so that is what i did.

I sat down on the sofa and found that my old book still had a mark in it from before and so without remembering much about it, I just started from there. Probably, due to the effects of all of the travelling and also the excitement of the last few days, tiredness started to overcome me. My head nodded once or twice as I read but I sipped my coffee and pushed onwards, hoping at least to wait until full dark before retiring.

I looked up a few times, out of the window as the sun was finally dipping and casting its last rays over the garden. The shadows from the big trees at the back were cast long, covering the whole lawn. As I looked out I saw a neighbour pass her window. Another big house, a similarly giant upstairs balcony, with a presumably a similarly large room behind it. She caught my eye with what was a long, blood red dress which stuck out over all the greenery between us.

She passed the window once or twice and I held up my head from the book, enjoying the side show. There was something in the way that she moved that was striking and immediately captivating. Her movements were deliberate, continuous and rhythmic. She was dancing slowly, a glass of red wine in hand, often spinning gently, her gaze fixed in the middle distance at the floor somewhere in front of her. I strained to catch sight of her partner, even wondering if it might be a child or a cat but I could not make out any. They were either just out of sight in the room or she was dancing alone.

As my breathing slowed, I realised that I could just make out the lilting low notes of a gentle jazz number wafting over the summer evening air. I was tempted to get up and open my own windows but I feared interrupting the already entrancing spectacle. As she side-stepped and span, her skirt sashayed out behind her. She sipped at her glass slowly, fitting the movement of tipping back her long white neck and hair in time with the music. Her colouring appeared perhaps Italian, very light skin but a cascade of long shiny dark black hair, dark eyebrows. Apparently beautifully made up for someone dancing alone, she had very full deep red lips, clearly visible even from my distance.

The music changed a little, her pace picked up. As the darkness fell and the lights in her room started to dominate, she became more clear. She moved faster and faster. I could not take my eyes off her. Every now and then the skirt opened at the split, flashing more and more of her long tanned legs. Periodically she would bend over, arms aloft in a sway, head flung forward and I would get a vision of her ample cleavage, perfectly matching her rounded hips and bottom. I was enthralled and entranced in my newly found voyeuristic state. The blood was pulsating through my ears and the adrenaline pumping hard through my veins as the dancing took on a more erotic turn. I could only imagine myself underneath her beautifully rounded bum as she bent her legs in squats and pulses, gyrating down to the floor and back up.

At some point she disappeared from view. I sat up in my seat, craning to look round the corner of her window but of course to no avail. The the lights in her room came on full and I saw her stride back into view. She was no longer dancing, just carrying her empty wine glass and I saw her look out in my direction as she closed her French doors and pull the curtain. I immediately felt red and embarrassed. I just sat still for a moment, wondering if I was visible with only my low reading light illuminated. I pretended to look down and concentrate back on my book for a few moments lest she be peering round a curtain however I don't think she was.

I imagined what was going on behind her closed backlit curtains that I couldn't see but not for long because presently all of her lights went out. I guess as she went to bed. I did similarly, realising only too late that of course reacting to her going to bed gave away the game for me should she be looking back. I retired back upstairs to my room and tried to read for a little while but for no use. I was just too tired and was glad to finally turn the light out and embrace sleep.

It was a fitful sleep, one full of dreams, erotic but unsettling. I twisted and turned in sweaty sheets. There were visions of big bottomed Amazonian ladies and secretly spying on exotic erotic dancers. Everything dark and just out of reach but unexpected turns and gyrations startling and confusing me. In a start, I woke up in the darkness. The window had blown open and a wonderful cooling breeze sifted through the half open curtains. I threw off my sheets and stretched out my naked body, enjoying that I was still hard and turned on. I relaxed back down into the soft bed, making the most of the erotic energy left over from the dream.

As I fell back into light sleep, it was to the feeling of the breeze gently grazing over the sides of my legs and up to the head of my stiff cock. The air carried a thick, sweet scent, not unlike an Arabian bazar. The ruffles and eddies in the gusts just gently wrapping around my hard-on. A warm roll of air just slowly moving from the top down the shaft as I drifted back into a dream of the beautiful neighbour. She slithered up over my feet and propped herself up on her forearms either side of my legs, her head just hovering over my cock. Sparkling deep green Italian eyes fixated on my own as a long tongue slipped out quickly just to taste me. Then her deep thick red lips just opening as she gazed down from my face to my cock and the little warm gust suddenly circling around as she dropped down softly over me. My hips bucked up at the warm sensation of tongue and lustrous mouth gently enveloping me, trying to thrust deeper. I bucked up into her as she started a guttural moan, then all of a sudden my consciousness kicked in.

I sat up sharply in bed, confused as to where I was and whether someone else was in the room. I rubbed my eyes and looked out of the window. There was nothing to be seen save a gently wafting curtain and an erection that was just no going to quit any time soon. Much as I cursed myself as I lay back down, there was nothing I could do to coerce my mind back into the dream. It was lost and already thoughts of the plans I had for the next day started to creep in.

——

(5) Wednesday, The House.

The harsh morning light streamed through the open window early. I tried to curse it and roll over but once the warmth was upon me there was no going back to sleep so I padded down to the kitchen and put on the coffee to brew while rifling Kelvin's cupboards for some sugary cereal.

The plan for the day was to take a decent wander round the house, work out where Kelvin had left the car, hopefully not in a paid space down town, and lastly go find out if the boat was still afloat. First order of business of course though, was strong coffee.

I sat staring vacantly out the big kitchen window that faces over the back lawn. I propped the mug between steepled fingers and looked up at the neighbours house and her first floor windows. I got a happy shiver down my spine as I thought of her dancing and then about my erotic dream which was still fresh in my mind. I made a mental note to linger a little bit by that end of the lawn later on. I wondered what she did, if she lived alone or if she was even perhaps just a visitor. Sadly many of the houses around Kelvin's neighbourhood are more investments than homes and so it is a little bit of a ghost town, especially as winter closes in.

I took my second cup of coffee around the back of the house to the garage. Locked inside it was Kelvin's electro-converted E-type. He loved that little car, he had got some guy to take a classic car and refit it with an electric motor. Apparently it was quicker now than it had been before, which was saying something because it was already known for being pretty sporty. I had never driven it and it gave me goosebumps thinking that I now would.

I ummed and ahhed a bit before doing it but I figured I would return the rental car. They had an outlet in town on the island and a trip into town and a proper coffee would be a nice thing to do anyway. A quick phone call later and I was insured on Kelvin's sports car, soon to be mine.

I hopped in the hire car and took it back down the winding drive to the main road. As I pulled out to the right I glanced over my neighbours fence as I passed her house. There was not much to be seen. The plants and the grass that ran along the fence looked quite overgrown and there was a gate, much like Kelvin's. It looked as though it was also quite fixed into the vegetation. I thought nothing more of it and drove on down to the small bustling seaside town by the harbour where the ferry docks. The car rental company had a small satellite outlet at the back end of town. They were happy to take the car off my hands although it did cost me a little bit extra to return it to a new place.

I enjoyed the stroll back into the middle of town. It turns quite quickly from being a sort of concrete urban American town at the back end to being a very pretty pedestrianised European style village as you get towards the harbour area. In the height of summer it is packed with tourists but that day in early September, it was quiet. Some of the shops and tea rooms had even started to close for the winter but happily not all of them. I took my time as I strolled, enjoying watching the remaining few commercial fishing vessels swaying gently in the harbour near where the ferry docks. There were a few holiday maker visitor yachts on the visitor moorings but it was not full.

I decided to devote my third coffee of the day to a little harbour-side tea room. They had a rather good looking chocolate cake so I took slice of that too. I think there are few greater pleasures in life than taking a dark coffee with a darker piece of chocolate and that particular cake looked very promising indeed. As I sat idly sipping my coffee and watching the gulls tear apart a bag they had pulled off one of the visitor boats, I composed an email on my phone to Debbie. I was careful to suggest that, on the proviso she did not mention it to her boss, since I was not supposed to be in the house and she was not supposed to be seeing me, she should plan to come across to the island if she could make it for the weekend. It gave me a little jolt of excitement as I sent the email, thinking of picking her up from the little island airport in Kelvin's fancy car. I couldn't help but imagine her shapely legs stepping down into the low slung chassis.

Debbie replied back in the affirmative almost immediately, I had not even finished my cake. Flight details were to follow, she would get it sorted over her lunch hour but I was to expect her on Friday night and she expected to be taken somewhere nice for dinner. I couldn't help but grin as I stood up from the harbour side table, tucking a ten under the saucer as I went and walked back across the road into town.

I picked up a little bit of food from the delicatessen by the old slipway and then crossed back over the main street to get a taxi back up to the house. I did pause briefly to look at the bus timetables but in the end it would have been too much of a pain, especially with the shopping.

Any chill in the air had dissipated by the time I set myself down for some lunch at the big round wooden kitchen table. Light streamed in the window and illuminated what was a pretty modern kitchen in a bright light. It was really nice to tuck into the simple fresh bread and cheese that I had picked up in town and start to plan the afternoon.

I figured that I would get Kelvin's car running and take it for a test drive down to the marina to check out the boat. I took an old envelope and a pencil sitting on the counter and sketched a little list of all the things I should grab before I left the house. There are potentially a lot when it comes to boats. It starts with a life jacket and portable marine radio and ends with dumb stuff like a floaty ball to attach to the keys and a little skinny screwdriver that tunes everything in a diesel engine. I took a while and added a few edits while I finished off the end of the French loaf.

Most of the boat kit was to be found hanging in an old orange sports bag in the utility room just off from the kitchen. There was a bunch of stuff I hadn't thought of in it but it seemed smart to keep it all together so I slung the whole thing over my shoulder. There was a load of missing stuff too but I figured maybe it would be on the boat. The radio wasn't charged so I somewhat resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be taking her out that day. A little excited spark in the bottom of my belly had started hoping that maybe I would take a tiny test jaunt but it wouldn't be smart without a radio. I headed out, round the side to the garage, grabbing the old Jaguar keys off the brass hook by the kitchen door as I went.

It took me quite a while to work out how to drive the car. The problem was that it was an old stick shift but it was fitted with a new electric system. All of the old switches and dials were still there but they mostly now defunct. Pretty much all of the new system seemed to happen via a little touch screen inset into the walnut dash panel. I got a little wave of panic when it asked me for a code but I got lucky first time with the same combination as the house alarm.

Much like the front door of the house, the walnut steering wheel had a rosewood inlay that read, 'Am I awake?'. An etched serpent coiled either side of the text and lived over the top third of the wheel. I ran my thumbs over the varnished contours of the woodwork. No little spike on this one but there was indeed a little red button, inset in to the back of the wheel. I had learnt a few years before that one had to watch out for these nasty little devices of Kelvin's that tended to prick or zap fingers. I stopped the car for a moment and stood up out of it, leaning back in through the door way as I gingerly pressed the button at arms length. As I did, I heard a whir and a jolt of metal but I did not know from where. Nothing had got me. I pressed it again and as I did, I was able to track down something nasty happening in the drivers seat. A tiny metal needle was firing up through the seat cushion, just up to where my legs had been a moment before. I pulled back the cushion and saw the little spring-loaded device. It was really well installed so rather than rip it out, I just left it and resolved to drive with my fingers well away from the trigger.