Haley's Ladder

Author's Notes: There's no gore but plenty of "fantasy terror". Hopefully that's sufficient enough as a warning. Please comment, pm or post with any constructive criticism. This is my first submission and I promise you that even if I may not agree with your opinion, it IS valuable to me. I can't get better without help! Hope you enjoy the read and thank you.

Special thanks to Rustyoznail for editing assistance!

*****

Haley's Ladder

Officer Steinberg watched his senior partner nod his head repeatedly, while the older, heavyset man finished up his call.

"Right... yeah... no... just us right now." Then, after the obligatory pause, "Understood." He watched as the man closed the flip phone and lumbered his way back toward the car.

"When are you going to join us in the twenty-first century?" It was a question Steinberg already heard a variety of answers for—half were from the man himself.

"Shut the fuck up."

Well. Nothing new this time, he thought. So he moved on to the better questions he'd been preparing in his head.

"So, why not use the radio?"

"Listen Steinberg. I called her even though it's already been radioed in. She's coming. Doesn't that make you fucking happy?" He was usually irritating but crime scenes made him worse. More succinctly, working the job in general made his company unbearable. He finished for the moment with, "You and your bullshit."

"Just thought she'd want to know the Vic might be wearing one. Girl has some scrapes that look suspicious too. How long?"

"Yeah, but you didn't even have the guts to check first," he snorted. The man literally snorted every few words when he talked. Steinberg found it revolting; him, revolting.

"Procedure," was all he offered in defense.

"Yeah, sure. You probably want me to go look for myself. I'm telling you... I'm next in line for a desk. I'm not..." Steinberg tuned him out and gave up on trying to get anything useful from the other man's brief phone conversation. He knew his partner didn't need an audience to rant, and trying to get any additional information from him wasn't worth the aggravation.

His thoughts drifted back to the body several feet away. He couldn't rationalize why, but he was nervous now that he knew Detective Hill was on route.

The scene certainly didn't fit the pattern. Body wasn't mutilated as far as he could tell. But the glint of gold around her neck bothered him; mainly because the delicate chain ended in her blouse, so he couldn't see if it was one of them or not.

He was tempted to tug at it multiple times but he already had a pending inquiry because of a minor report filed months ago. He wasn't going to let anything, no matter how innocuous, be used against him in judgement while that was hanging over his head.

"Probably just an accident. A stupid one at that," he tried backpedaling a bit for both their sakes. It was pointless because the wretched human that he called a partner, during these past several weeks, didn't pause his rant long enough to hear him. So he sighed, got back in the car and prepared to wait. And wait.

*****

"Haley!"

The shout was barely audible over the blaring high-pitched music. Loud knocking on the door followed.

"I'm almost ready!" Truth was she'd been ready. But after showering quickly and grooming herself, she was horny with anticipation. She had decided to trim her nether region in a simple strip while the water was still running this time. Since leaving home she liked applying new types of artistic styling to her body. The tattoo on her hip and back left shoulder were not only proof of that, they were just the beginning. But in an effort to get ready quicker, she decided to spend most of her bathroom time applying lotion and putting on some light make-up. That was earlier.

Now, as she frequently did, she was working a small glass dildo in and out of her dry pussy. The effort was a struggle. She usually loved the way the smooth glass felt after the campus apartment's single bathroom was sufficiently steamed. Either because the water dried her out, as it occasionally did, or because her vagina just didn't want to cooperate tonight, she simply wasn't getting wet enough.

A louder banging from the other side of the wall next to the door made her jump an inch, clear off the toilet cover. Frustrated, her ass throbbing as she sat there, she decided it was futile.

After readjusting her underwear she stormed out of the bathroom but not before checking her hair and make-up one last time. She fled the humid room into the much cooler air, wearing nothing but her best bra and sleaziest thong.

"Enjoy yourself?" One of her roommates asked sarcastically, while Haley stormed flat-footed in the direction of her bedroom.

She half-turned with a crooked smile and held up her dildo for casual viewing while she walked.

"No," she replied. And then before she realized what she was saying she added, "You're welcome to use it though." She didn't look to see her roommate blushing, jaw bone hung low, as they both fled the scene in opposite directions.

She didn't care. All her roommates were a bunch of prude dweebs as far as she was concerned.

She came from a small town she mockingly referred to as Nowhere, New York. She also told people she chose the school because a farm girl just wanted to get out and see the rest of the world. This usually got her a pity laugh or at worst, a mock game of twenty questions in response. Most of the New Jersey locals couldn't comprehend how coming a hundred and fifty miles south to a pedestrian campus in the 'arm-pit state' could be considered, the rest of the world.

Not that she knew anything about farming, except that they made the house she grew up in reek with the smell of manure on stagnant summer days.

She supposed the bread crumbs—pertaining to her personal life—that she dropped in conversation, made little sense to everyone and anyone who cared enough to ask. But it was easier than explaining how she was in reality, running away.

Isn't that what college is anyway?

She told, more than asked, her mother as much not long ago during a phone conversation. A big mistake on her part. Now each phone call languished in a plethora of inappropriate questions laced with overbearing concern before it ended.

Am I healthy? Am I hurting myself? Am I hurting anyone else? If she only had a nickel for every eye roll...

She knew she wasn't crazy. Every doctor and therapist she had growing up had constantly reassured of her that. But her mother might just find a way to prove them all wrong one day. Besides, she was only running because everyone she knew back there had already morally condemned her. She needed a fresh start.

She knew she did nothing wrong. They all knew she did nothing wrong—at least that was the hat they all wore when she was around. Yet here she was, instead of there, and with good reason.

It was getting darker but the clock on the microwave didn't seem to be moving any faster.

Haley finished getting ready some time ago and sat at the small kitchen table, legs splayed around the corner of a chair. She had a half-empty beer can hanging in a hand that angled over the cheap The wood backing. There was already an empty in a small trash bin.

Someone turned down the piece-of-junk radio to her relief. She liked music but not the club-mix garbage everyone else persistently set the dial to. It was ironic of course, since every time they went to a dorm party that's all she ever heard. But she was still a country girl, despite the lack of its popularity in her more urban surroundings.

Clop, clop, clop, clop. Another of her roommates turned a short corner while fixing a pair of hoops to her ears. Haley mused to herself that she was way overdressed, screaming a trying-too-hard visual statement. Some type of purposely mismatched, mini-skirt and halter combo. The amount of jewelry around her arms really raised it another notch. Along with platform shoes that made her sound like a literal ass.

"You're wearing that again?" the mood-killer prompted.

Haley managed to hold her tongue and keep a straight face, despite the well known fact that she couldn't tolerate any of her roommates' criticisms without raging. Especially those in regard to the way she dressed.

"I like this blouse," she replied evenly while pretending to study her nails, eyes narrow.

"It is a nice blouse," was the veiled retort.

It probably was. But more importantly, it somewhat hid the small muffin top she'd been growing since beginning her first semester the previous year. It also, equally as important, revealed quite a bit of cleavage. Skinny blue jeans that looked even more stretched because of her wide hips, completed the rest of the basic outfit. She wasn't fond of belts, or accessories in general for that matter.

Out of the four of them that shared the utilitarian building, she had the largest tits, if not the perkiest. Normally they sagged just below her rib cage but she was wearing her best push up—blue polyester fabric showing through the loose, white upper plaits of her top.

She turned heads and it pleased her. That naturally made her female friends jealous in her mind. She overheard the gossip and occasionally someone blatantly let something slip on purpose—or accidentally; same difference to her. They treated her like a poor-white country skank jovially, but were usually careful not to overtly reveal their verbal jabs for their vicious honesty. Certainly not on a party night.

Gotta play nice, she kept reminding herself while she waited.

Just as Haley was considering a discreet trip to her bedroom to relieve at least one form of tension, light beer barely dulling her senses, the doorbell rang. Everyone acknowledged it by doing anything and everything besides getting the actual door; so she went for it.

"Gary?" she asked, slightly confused while she held onto the door handle.

The short stocky young man standing before her was grinning ear to ear.

"Hi Haley!" He shouted louder than necessary considering their proximity.

Haley rolled her eyes and moved to let him in. She gave him more than enough room but he still managed to elbow her right tit, hard.

"Oh god. Oh god. I mean, gosh. Damn it... I'm sorry," he fumbled with hands fluttering in exhaustive motions around her chest. "I didn't mean to. I-"

"It's okay," she interrupted. "I believe you," she added with a plaintive, sarcastic tone, while brazenly massaging her injured breast.

And she did believe him. Because Gary's problem wasn't his height, his pudgy face or his lack of duplicity. It was his wormy, push-over and eager to please personality. Even on a good day Haley thought he was nice, but too mild for her taste. He was of course more than accommodating to herself and her friends, which might have meant more if she didn't regard him as weak in the knees when it came to all women.

A fair assessment. Unfortunately, it blinded her to the fact that he was much more interested in her than any of her friends—or his for that matter. And that fact amplified his awkwardness.

"Nice... nice shirt." At least he tried.

She rolled her eyes again, discreetly turning her head first, and called out to anyone who was listening from deeper inside the apartment. "I thought we were taking a taxi?"

"This was all Gary's idea." A short, dark skinned girl, with a rear end that could make a Buick jealous, strolled toward the front door.

"How are we going to fit?" Haley was picturing his beat up two-door Chevy.

"Ain't ya ride two up before? Figure a girl like you knew how to get around." The young plump black girl was grinning even bigger than the driver of the clown car. She couldn't tell if there was the intent of sexual innuendo so she let it pass instead of forming a rebuke.

"Oh, don't worry," Gary quickly explained. My friend Steve is coming with us. It's his first time too." Haley glanced wickedly at Gary but he didn't notice since his attention was now on peering deeper into the apartment. So he kept speaking, "He's got a car but can only fit one of you."

He barely finished the sentence before the young woman that interrupted Haley's bathroom time earlier cried, "Shotgun!"

A few moments later the apartment was cleared out and the door was key-locked.

Haley noticed Gary politely let the girls walk in front of him. She also noticed him checking out all their asses from the corner of her eye. She took his hand in hers and maneuvered it around her waist.

"I call shotgun in yours," she said softly, wondering if she meant to sound seductive after it was said.

"Of course," he hastily replied with a genuine smile. She let him walk her around the front of the small car while the other girls opened doors and folded seats. She had seen him perform the old fashioned and silly maneuver with other girls. It never did anything for her but she certainly deserved to be treated as well as anyone else.

After she was buckled and the red brake lights in front of them lit up, she became jealous. Steve apparently drove some type of sports coupe.

"Steve you said, right? This is his first dorm party or something?"

"Dorm party?" he scoffed. Another thing about Gary was his lack of social grace. "No lame beer pong games tonight. We're going to the Factory. I know a guy that'll get us in."

"What the hell is—never mind. How far is it?" she queried, already uneasy.

"About an hour," he said matter-of-factly.

"An hour?!"

Gary recoiled visibly, genuinely surprised by her outburst.

Haley almost asked to be taken back since they had only just started driving, but time often solves most uncertainties. Over the lengthy car ride Gary managed to soothe her concerns with offers of buying her drinks, keeping an eye on her, and so forth. She eventually tired of all the hype and stories he was illustrating simultaneously.

Apparently it was some type of privately leased warehouse complex where raves, themed parties and drug fueled orgies were sponsored—according to her chauffeur. She'd never heard of it before, so she assumed most of what he described was exaggerated. Still, she was always up, or down, for something new.

There were a good amount of cars in the barely lit parking area. All the girls in the vehicle automatically disarmed personal belongings by tucking them under seats or feeding them to their driver, so he could grudgingly stuff his saddlebag pockets. The building within sight was huge; hanger like. Her expectations were dimming when an abrupt thought hit her.

"Wait a second. This isn't a Halloween thing is it?" It was still early October, but Haley cursed herself for thinking about it only after they'd arrived.

"Sorta. Not really."

"We're not dressed for a-" she managed before he cut her off.

"Relax. It's Halloween all month long here. Every weekend from what my buddy says. Some people get really into it I guess. But I came here once over the summer for a rave and there were some freaks then too."

Haley wasn't sure how that information was supposed to be anything but the opposite of reassuring. Gary was wearing beige chinos with a white polo that was tucked in. Black belt and shoes. But he was a guy so he was no help. She giggled inwardly when she examined him outside the car, in stride. She still didn't quite get it yet, but since attending college she realized 'nerd was in'.

Walking up to the lone group of people hovering around the entrance, she purposely bumped into Steve to introduce herself along with a brief chat. She had goosebumps. More a result from the fall weather than the anticipation, but she'd learned it was convenient to carry as little as possible when going out on a Saturday night. Her driver's license and forty bucks in emergency cash, tucked inside her bra, was all she needed. Gary had her cell phone on him.

The interior exceeded expectations. The heavy bass vibrating the ground changed pitch as she flowed with her small party, frigid air mixing with tendrils of heat intertwined with sweat and sex. It could have been a typically dark, club-like atmosphere if the ceiling wasn't a few stories high. All the usual elements were present even if they looked haphazardly installed within a poorly designed floor plan. Island make-shift bars, partitioned walls, hanging strobe lights; and there had to be multiple fog machines running on intervals, obscuring her line of sight at times.

Probably because it's that time of year, she speculated. She noticed the walls weren't decorated when they were splashed with light, at least. And there were plenty of people moving around and dancing, as much as they were congregating in clusters.

There were a few interesting 'outfits' that would work for Halloween. But it was mostly glowing body paint, whimsical accessories and skin, mixed in with a variety of dress styles you'd otherwise see anywhere else. A tall, well proportioned woman wearing a fishnet body stocking under black panties and bra, walking under a beam of light from an overhead lamp made her second guess the assessment.

Guessing the white cat ears qualify it as a costume, she humored.

The woman left the light of the lamp and to Haley's surprise, deftly spun her back against a support beam in the nearby glow-scattered shadows, several feet from where she was standing. The black feline was seductively scratching her back against the beam, making it a point to undulate and flex her abdominal muscles as much as possible.

Haley was mesmerized. She was far enough away that she could enjoy the show without feeling self conscious for staring.

Her naughty kitty turned things up a notch. She slid down to a knee, extending her other leg parallel to the concrete floor, twisting while pushing away from the wall with the palms of her hands; back arched. The limber woman then used her legs to stand again while keeping her hands braced, feet spread in the form of a V shape—perfectly aligned with Haley's viewing angle. Leaning into the beam, she put on a lewd display with her tailless ass by rotating her hips and bouncing on her toes.

Haley didn't even realize she was moving her own hips until Gary appeared out of nowhere with a couple plastic cups. He offered her one and yelled a name she couldn't recognize over the music. She sipped it and nodded her head to the side saying, it's alright, with an obligatory shrug of her shoulders.

She took a moment to absorb everything else around her. When she glanced back she realized the kitty had company and there were too many bodies obstructing her view now to get much of the voyeuristic dance.

Thirty minutes later and another drink later—fetched by Gary—she was dancing in a mob. People took turns grinding with her and trying to get her attention in other ways. She allowed herself to get lost in the smell of sex, weaving currents in-between and around all her sweaty flesh that was generating intermittent contact with a swarm of rotating dance partners. She took little notice of who was around her. Guys, girls; short, tall—she was into it now and let the euphoric wave carry her.

She probably should have taken a break sooner but eventually she relented to the level of heat and dizziness that was building. She didn't take two steps to a clear area she fixated on, when her left foot slipped on something liquid. It must have been a lucky—if awkward fall; because the next thing she knew her knees were touching the ground, legs sprawled like a newborn giraffe.

Before she could attempt to recover for herself, a strong hand gripped her under one armpit and lifted her to her feet. She was leaning into a much taller man, still fighting to regain her own balance with her human crutch, and blushed when she felt her hand brush against an appendage that was clearly not a leg.