Casper House

"That's my question!"

"You don't want to know the answer, Jim," Betty said with a sympathetic look on her face and a great deal of finality in her voice. "I cannot implore you enough, just enjoy the time we've got. It isn't long. Just understand I know about your thing for the fifties, and it's only this once a year I get to come back here. I'd like to spend it with you, and don't expect me to believe you aren't dying to hold me!"

She opened her arms. Jim gave in and walked into them, and despite the uptempo song, they slow-danced. "This does feel lovely," Jim admitted. "I always wished our school dances were more like they were back then. So much more romantic."

"It wasn't as much like that as you think," Betty said. "In any event, you're not in high school anymore."

"No point in asking you how you knew that," Jim said.

"Nope." A pleasant silence followed, broken with a question from Betty. "There's only one thing I can't figure out. Why the poster of James Dean when you could have had one of Jayne Mansfield, if you're so crazy about her?"

"I used to have one," Jim said. "But my mother caught me looking at it and, well..."

Betty laughed. "I'm sorry, Jim, I know just what you mean! That's exactly why there's no Elvis poster in this room, if you can believe that! My mother taught me some very interesting words that day, I can tell you! And then I started locking my door after that, but the horse was out of the barn as far as Elvis was concerned."

"Rats, and I didn't bother growing out my sideburns," Jim quipped.

Betty's laughter grew harder, and she stopped dancing and squeezed him tightly. "You're adorable just like you are, I assure you," she said. "But you know, most of the boys back then didn't really dress like you are now."

"I figured."

"And the girls? Well, a nice dress like this was for special occasions. But today is a special occasion, isn't it?"

"It certainly is for me," Jim allowed, fingering the vintage fabric gingerly, as if she might vanish into thin air if he pressed too hard.

"And for me too!" Betty insisted. "Please, Jim, I know you don't really understand what's going on, but believe me when I say this is just as special for me as it is for you! It's only once a year I get to come back here, and in my day an enlightened young man like you was just about nonexistent!" She flopped down on her bed and patted the spot next to her for him to sit down, which he did. "And we only have until the sun goes down."

"What happens then?"

"If you're dumb enough to still be here then, you'll see, Jim. But you really don't want to know."

Jim smiled and finally gave in to ignorance of it all...if this was all in his imagination, he was willing to stay as long as his imagination would allow. "So," he said, his face but inches from hers now. "You find me enlightened?"

"I saw how well you put up with those two little brats, and you know I won't tell you how, but I know what your mother's like. She's given you every excuse there is to become the worst sort of misogynist pig, and yet you're the exact opposite. If anything, Jim, you're all too respectful of my space here, when I'm practically throwing myself at you!" On that note, she twisted around and presented her back to him, holding her hair up out of the way to reveal the clasp of her dress. "It's your chance to make love to a genuine fifties college coed, Jim. But like I said, we haven't got all day!"

"I guess I'd better hurry it up then," Jim said, and he set about undoing the clasp.

"Just don't go too fast!" Betty replied, turning back around and slipping her arms around him. "I'm counting on some enlightenment in bed as well as out!"

Jim hadn't had a date in months, much less a kiss. The touch of Betty's lips on his was a jolt of wonderful energy that only multiplied as she ran her hands up and down his chest. He let out a gasp of pleasure as she did. "You like that, do you?" she cooed between kisses.

"Love it," Jim said.

"So do I, dear," she whispered matter-of-factly.

Jim laughed and took the hint, peeling the loose dress down over her shoulders and caressing her breasts lightly to her great pleasure, not opening his eyes just yet to see what he was feeling. "Hope you weren't expecting a cone bra, Jim," she said. "I never liked them." Jim opened his eyes to see she was wearing a plain old-fashioned bra, and looking quite eager to be freed of it. "You do know how to undo them, don't you?" she teased.

"Of course," Jim whispered, and reaching back, he soon had the bra undone. Betty made fast work of swinging it off towards the closet door, and sat up straight and proudly topless before him. Jim lay her back gently on the bed and set about kissing her plump nipples, first left and then right, teasing the other with his hands in turn. The bodice of her dress was bunched up beneath them, but she made no complaint.

"God, Jim, that's nice!" she cooed. "Most guys in my day just liked to squeeze them."

"I'm not most guys, am I?" Jim was rubbing both breasts with his hands now, and still planting kiss after kiss on her hard nipples.

"Indeed!" Betty exhaled breathily.

Remembering the rule he'd heard from someone more experienced once in the locker room -- "Imagine how long you think she wants you to play with them, and then multiply that by three" -- he was content to suckle her through the next record. When at last it faded out, he slid gracefully off the bed and tugged at Betty's skirt with both hands. The multilayered fabric came away surprisingly easily, as he saw her lift up her hips to allow the bunched bodice out from under her.

He lay the dress gently on a chair, still treating it like the antique he supposed it was, and turned to see Betty curled up on the bed in her panties. "You could have left it on the floor, really," she said. "It cleans up well. I'll bet you do, too, without that grease in your hair."

Jim laughed and, feeling overdressed for the occasion, took his shirt off. Once he had it over his head, he saw Betty had taken the opportunity to finish undressing. She stood up before him. "Let me help you off with these, too," she said, undoing his belt buckle. It took her a few moments to undo the belt and then the button and zipper of his jeans, so Jim had a chance to admire Betty's body for the first time. Once she had his pants off, she stood back, hands on her hips, and grinned. "Like what you see, do you?"

"I certainly do," he said, drinking in the beautiful sight.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "It feels as good as it looks!" She took his hand in both of hers and placed it between her legs, and he felt at once that she was right. As she kissed him again, he ran his thumb teasingly through her bush and carefully pushed two fingers inside her. Warm and wet and eager, she enveloped them effortlessly and let out a delightful moan as he stroked her inner flesh.

"Any of your boyfriends back then do that for you?"

"Are you kidding?! It was all about them, you know!"

"They didn't know what they were missing, did they?" Jim whispered in her ear as he rubbed rhythmically.

He was rewarded with Betty leaning her head back and enjoying the sensation with husky wordless exhalations. "Don't stop..." Of course, he didn't, not until Betty let him know in no uncertain terms that she was coming. Her screeches were loud enough for Jim to worry about her parents hearing; but they weren't disturbed -- except perhaps by Betty digging her long fingernails into Jim's arm hard enough to leave scratch marks. But he didn't let that bother him. When the orgasm had passed, Betty opened her eyes and, with a whispered "Thank you," she prodded him back gently onto the bed.

Jim had only just enough time to register what he was in for next before Betty climbed atop him and took his hard cock in her hand to guide inside. "Back then they always had to be on top," she explained breathlessly as she began rocking them both into ecstasy. "All about them, you know? Always leave me pinned to the bed with hardly any friction. But not you, Jim!"

"Not me!" Jim agreed as he looked up adoringly at Betty's breasts jiggling rhythmically as she humped him. Fearing he might come first, he reached into her bush and rubbed her clit with his thumb.

"Oh God, Jim! Yes! I used to wonder how many guys even knew where that was! Yes! Yes!"

Once again, Betty left no doubt that the big moment had arrived. Along with her screeches of joy, she squeezed her thighs tightly against Jim's sides and rocked harder than ever. Jim, figuring it was safe now, let himself go as well and came with a happy roar of his own, lifting his head and shoulders up off the bed as he did. Once it was passed, he plopped back down on the pillow and opened his eyes to see Betty looking curiously down at him. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Hmm? Yes, of course! Yes! It's only, Jim, well, I've never seen a man so responsive before."

Jim laughed. "Wow, you and your flattering tongue."

"It's true!" Betty reassured him, and sliding him out of her, she lay down beside him and put an arm around his chest. "You deserve to know how wonderful you are, especially after what I saw with your mom and those brats. I just want you to know that."

"You're too sweet," Jim said, and he returned her hug.

Jim was never quite sure if he fell asleep, or if it was only deep contentment that had him feeling sleepy when Betty shook him back to reality. "Jim! The sun is almost down!" She pointed out the window and he saw dusk was falling over the cars in the street, which also revealed that it was still the twenty first century out there. "I'm so sorry, but we need to get your clothes back on and get you out of here now!"

Jim knew better than to argue by then, so he stood up and grabbed his pants up off the floor. "Will I see you again?" he asked Betty as he watched her pull her dress back on, not bothering with her bra.

"Maybe someday decades from now," Betty offered. "I'm sorry, that's the most I can offer. "You'll understand someday."

"I doubt it," Jim said, pulling his shoes on as fast as he could.

"Maybe you're right," Betty admitted, her hand on the doorknob as she waited for him. "There's an awful lot I'm never going to understand about my own life and what's come after it."

After it?! But Jim said nothing. He only nodded sadly and took Betty in a final, fond embrace. A quick kiss, and then she had the door open and was rushing him down the hall. It hadn't even occurred to him to wonder what Audrey and Heather were up to.

They were waiting in the foyer, munching cupcakes and looking unusually subdued. "Jim!" Heather looked pleased to see him for the first time he could recall. Jumping up at the sight of him, she threw her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Jim! I'll never mouth off at you again!"

"Me neither," Audrey said, though her smile looked forced.

Betty's father stood in the living room doorway, with a woman at his side -- Betty's mother? "I hope they were no trouble," Jim said to them.

"Not at all, dear," said the woman. "They were perfectly delightful to spend the afternoon with. I hope Betty kept you entertained?"

Jim looked to Betty to see how he ought to reply to that, only to see she had vanished. "Yeah!" he said, "Yeah, she was great. Thank you for a lovely afternoon." Turning to Heather and Audrey, he gave them a knowing look to the effect that they ought to say the same. To his amazement, they both did.

Outside in the dark, Jim turned to Heather as soon as the door had shut behind them. "What on earth happened to you two in there?" he demanded.

"I..." Heather began.

"Well, they..." Audrey stammered.

"We're sorry, Jim!" Heather exclaimed again. "I see what a couple of brats we were now, and I'm sorry!"

"Thanks, but what happened?" Jim asked again.

"Can't we just go home?" Audrey asked. "I want to get out of this pumpkin!"

Jim gave up on trying to understand anything at that point. He did bring Audrey home, and then he and Heather returned home. Their mother was three sheets to the wind, but that only meant Heather was able to put on a brave face and show off all the candy she'd collected without having to explain the traces of bewilderment that Jim could see all too well. Jim took his leave immediately and was off to the shower in case Mom happened to smell the unmistakable scent of just-had-sex that he was sure he was bathed in.

The next morning, Heather was still uncharacteristically respectful to him, and still absolutely unwilling to say anything about what she had seen. He did get a reassurance that no one had touched her or anything so horrible as that. "It wasn't like that," she said. "Nothing like that, just...I'm sorry, Jim. That's all, I'm sorry! About Audrey, too!"

"What's nothing like that?" demanded their mother, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, nothing," Heather reassured her.

"Jim?" Mom demanded. "What is she talking about. What stupid thing did you do with her this time?"

"Nothing!" Jim insisted.

"He's right, Mom, it wasn't his fault," Heather added.

"What wasn't his fault?"

"Nothing!" Heather insisted.

Mom grabbed at Jim's collar and pulled him close to her. "James, what did you do to your sister?"

"Nothing!" Jim insisted.

Mom let him go, but not before she shoved him into the refrigerator. "I can't force you two to tell me what's going on. But Jim, if I do find out you were up to anything inappropriate with your sister, you're dead. Understood?"

"I don't understand anything," Jim said, rubbing the spot on his head where he was sure a bruise was growing.

"Get out of my sight," Mom grumbled.

Jim scrambled away upstairs to his room, where he locked the door and set about packing his suitcase. The dorms didn't open for a few more days, but he had friends who lived off campus. A bigger problem was getting out of the house and to the bus station unnoticed.

It only took a few minutes to pack, but Jim found he couldn't leave just yet. He looked out the window and craned his neck for a long look down the street. He could only just see Casper House. Hearing Mom's ranting downstairs, he knew there was only one choice. Jim opened the window and lifted the suitcase carefully out onto the porch roof, and climbed out after it. He managed to climb down the maple tree with one hand, gripping the suitcase in the other, and he was free.

Casper House looked just as it had yesterday and always: ominous, nearly abandoned, old. He saw that some other neighborhood kids had TP'd the overgrown bushes in front of the house. That wasn't right, Jim concluded, and he set about clearing the toilet paper off the bushes. He didn't know or care how long it took, and so he didn't know how long the old man had been watching from the porch by the time Jim happened to look up from the last of the bushes and see the man smiling down at him. "Thanks, kid," he said.

The memory of Betty's caresses meant Jim knew no fear of the man or his house anymore. "You're very welcome, sir. Stupid pranks, I don't know why anyone does it."

"Me neither," the old man said. "Cup of coffee?"

"I'd love one," Jim said.

Having stashed the last of the toilet paper in the garbage can by the garage, Jim took the waiting mug and shook the old man's hand. "Listen, I feel like I ought to apologize," he said. "When I was a kid, we were always terrified of you, and now I see there was no need to be."

"I understand," the man said. "I don't get out much since my wife died, and even before that, neither of us got out much after our daughter died. I guess it made people wonder about me."

"I'm sorry!" Jim said. "About your daughter, I mean. I had no idea..." But he suspected that in reality, he did.

"It was long before you were even born," the old man said. "Back in 1959, actually. She was in college. Car wreck. Cars were deathtraps back then, you know."

"So I've heard," Jim said. "You hear a lot about those days, I mean, those of us who are too young to remember..."

"Don't I know it!" the old man concurred. "I ain't gonna tell you it was the good old days, there was plenty wrong. And the Chevy that took my Betty away, that was one of them."

Tears came to Jim's eyes. "God, I'm so sorry," he said.

"Yes, well, she's still in this house in spirit," the old man said. "Forever twenty years old, I guess, and still playing that damn rock and roll music."

"I have to admit, I love fifties rock," Jim said. "Always have."

"Do you!" The old man stood up. "Well, let me get you something, then." Before Jim could protest, he'd vanished inside. He reappeared minutes later with an ancient shoebox that Jim recognized from the day before. "Betty's records," he said. "I'd like them to go to someone who'll appreciate them, because I sure don't."

"Sir, I couldn't!" Jim protested, though he desperately wanted to take the records.

"They're not doing any good gathering dust in there," the old man said. "Please. I think she'd have wanted it this way."

Jim nodded sadly and took the box. "Maybe you're right, sir. Thank you! I'll take great care of them."

The old man looked him up and down. "I know you will. You've got a bus to catch, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Jim said absentmindedly, looking down the block to Maple Street and the way downtown. "Yeah, I do. Hey...thanks," he said, picking up the suitcase with his free hand.

"You're welcome, Jim," said the old man, just before he disappeared inside.

Jim glanced over his shoulder in surprise. But the door was closed.