tagErotic HorrorHaunted House of Ill Repute

Haunted House of Ill Repute


The following story is our entry for the 2014 Halloween Contest. My wife and I created this plot with the intention of veering it into two distinct sexual encounters, which we wrote separately. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read, rate, comment!

Incident on a Mountain Road

"Slow down, Heath, it's just a Halloween party. It's not worth dying over," Megan said to her boyfriend who was swerving up some of the steepest and mountain roads she had ever seen, and doing it well over the speed limit in their humorously tiny rental car.

"Why did you reserve the economy?" Heath shot back. "We'll be lucky to get up to Virginia City at all with this little putter."

"This little putter is cheaper and better for the environment," Megan explained. "Do you have any idea how expensive it is to rent a car when you're under 25? How about you do the travel planning next time? You never seem to have a budget and you're always full of opinions."

Megan took a deep breath. She knew, going into it, that this trip would be a "make or break" for their three-month relationship and, only a few hours after checking in to their hotel in Reno, it was leaning towards "break."

"I'm sorry," Heath replied sincerely. "The party goes all night, but ghost tour starts right at sundown. I don't want to be late."

Megan was hopelessly attracted to Heath, despite his failings. As the star lacrosse player at their University back in Massachusetts, he was quite the eligible bachelor when she met him. He could have any girl that he wanted with his perfect body, sandy blonde hair, and, of course, his money. She knew that his family's connections was the likely reason that they were attending the same school, as it certainly wasn't on account of his hard work and good grades.

After several years of debaucherous college Halloween parties, and the endless parades of tempting and available females that came with them, Megan felt that a weekend trip might be a better choice for her new relationship. Luckily for her, Heath was more than happy to travel and just so happened to enjoy those ghost hunting shows on tv. Virginia City, Nevada was an easy sell.

"What the hell are those?" Heath wondered out loud, referring to the small brown objects that seemed to be scurrying across the road. Megan had a sneaking suspicion. She quickly dug her phone out of the cupholder to do some research.

"Oh my god, I think they're tarantulas! Did you hear me?! Tarantulas!" she repeated in horror. She was deathly afraid of spiders.

"Well, no worries. At least we're in the car," Heath assured her as he squealed around another tight corner, revealing an incredible view of the valley below and the orange and pink glow of the setting sun against the mountains.

As Megan continued to read through a questionable source titled "10 Scary Facts About Tarantulas" against her better judgement, Heath scrunched his eyes with curiosity at an approaching stagecoach.

"What the fuck?" he blurted as the horse-drawn vessel came into full view.

The horses were massive and jet black in color, galloping thunderously against the concrete. The driver wore a large black cowboy hat and a bandana over the lower have of his face. The driver's eyes glowed with a surreal red intensity, momentarily hypnotizing Heath and nearly causing him to piss himself in terror as he observed what looked like rotting flesh on the driver's forehead.

"Stop!!!" Megan screamed as he failed to follow the oncoming curve, pointing their little eco-car right towards the approaching cliff at full speed. She reached for the wheel to try and avert their doom and Heath slammed on the brakes, skidding the car sideways through the dirt on its way to the edge of the cliff.

Megan blacked out for a few seconds and quickly came to. She peered out her window at the valley floor. The car slowly tilted to her side and she watched the impending plummet, paralyzed with fear. Her adrenaline suddenly kicked in and she unbuckled both of their seat belts and hopped on to Heath's lap, momentarily balancing the car as it teetered on the edge.

She opened the driver-side door and clung to Heath's wrists with all of her strength as she lept out of the car and pulled him with her. Their bodies hit hard against the shoulder of the road, kicking up a cloud of dirt. She turned to watch helplessly as their rental car took a final tilt and fell off of the edge of the cliff.

Several suspenseful seconds of dead silence passed before the deafening crash could be heard across the valley. The sound of the car colliding with the valley floor snapped Heath out of his daze. He hopped up and ran over to the edge of the cliff to have a look, leaving Megan lying on the ground behind him.

"Holy shit! Well, I hated that car anyway. I was kind of hoping it would explode. Aren't they supposed to explode?"

Megan looked up with rage as she dusted herself off and ran over to him, half tempted to send him flying over the cliff as well. She settled on a nice hard smack to the face.

"Are you crazy?! You almost killed us!"

"Whoa, calm down," Heath begged as he stumbled at the edge, narrowly getting his foothold. "Didn't you see that stagecoach?"

"What stagecoach?!"

"It was a big fucking stagecoach! With black horses and a zombie driver! I honestly don't remember what happened after I saw it. I'm just standing here at the edge of a cliff and getting slapped."

He looked back at Megan apologetically, an expression he frequently relied on with her. Her intensity is what attracted him to her in the first place, but he found himself enjoying the "challenge" less and less and fantasizing about the more subservient girls that anxiously waited for a chance with him back home.

"Okay, I'm calm now. Will you please get away from the edge?" Megan requested as she regained her composure and pulled him back towards the road. "Do you have your phone?"

"Nope. Mine was charging in the car."

"Shit, mine was in the cupholder. Everything else was in my purse, we're out here with nothing," Megan said as she pondered their next move. "Okay, we'll just wait for the next car to come along."

"Fuck that! More like the next stagecoach. Trust me, you don't want to be standing here if that thing comes back."

"It's Halloween," Megan reminded him. "I'm sure the driver was wearing a mask. They take the holiday very seriously- it's a haunted mining town after all and it is supposed to be fun. Isn't that why we flew out here?"

"Yeah, I guess," Heath replied, suddenly feeling a little silly about his fear of the stage coach. He scanned the edge of the cliff with puzzlement at the fact that there was no guard rail, even though he could have sworn that he saw a hundred of them, placed at every tight curve throughout the drive. A large house caught his eye and it was only a short hike up the road. "I don't see any cars coming. Let's head up to that house."

"I'm not going up to some weird old house and knocking on the door. Isn't that how horror movies start?"

"Come on, Megan. They probably have trick-r-treaters coming tonight. Hell, we are trick-r-treaters," he said as he pointed to his red and black striped "Freddy Krueger" costume, now not much of a costume with the hat, mask, and knife-glove accessories sitting at the bottom of a canyon.

Megan suddenly remembered her matching costume with embarrassment. She was "Sexy Freddy Krueger," which seemed like such a hilarious choice at the time. Her incredibly short and artfully tattered one-piece dress was also red and black striped and showed off her legs and knee-high boots.

"We should go now, it's getting dark," Heath pleaded. He suddenly widened his eyes and approached Megan carefully, causing her to look back at him with concern.

"What? What is it?!"

"Just stay completely still," Heath instructed calmly as he continued to step towards her, ever so slowly. "I mean it. Don't move."

Megan turned her head and opened her mouth in terror as she eyed the large tarantula that was making its way up her denim jacket sleeve. It clung to her with its hairy brown legs and scrambled towards her shoulder, rearing fangs. Megan's blood-curdling scream echoed through the mountains as she scrambled to tear off the jacket. She sent it flying towards the road and ran frantically towards the house with Heath following right behind her.

"Wait!" he begged as Megan continued to sprint and stumble awkwardly in her boots up the ruthlessly steep street, which was dotted with male tarantulas innocently going about their fall mating migration. She ran in a frenzied panic all the way to the dilapidated front porch of the two-story house. Her chest heaved from the high altitude run as she knocked loudly on the door.

Heath caught up to her and put his arm around her comfortingly. "Well, that's motivation for you," he quipped. "We made it. Everything is okay now."

Megan rolled her eyes, not very much appreciating the irony of Heath's "Everything is okay now" reassurance, given that she had just saved his life a few minutes ago. Before they could fully catch their breath, the door flung open and they were greeted by a tall, slender woman dressed in an exquisite nineteenth century gown.

"Why, hello. To what do I owe the pleasure of unexpected visitors?" she asked in a subtle, proper accent that resembled British. They stood silently for a moment taking in the incredible details of her dress, from the lace trimmed underskirt to the unusual sliver of frilly fabric that opened up at her chest, revealing a generous view of cleavage. Her hair was elegantly bundled and she looked down with curiosity through dark brown eyes.

"Trick-r-treat," Heath said, causing Megan to slug him on the shoulder.

"We're sorry to bother you, but our rental car fell off the cliff and we're being chased by spiders and we need to use a phone! Please!" Megan said in a panic.

"Oh dear, I apologize, but I have no idea what you are saying," the woman replied with concern. "Why don't you come inside?"

"Much obliged, ma'am," Heath replied with his best cowboy accent as he ogled her breasts.

They walked through the entryway and looked in awe at the unexpected and dazzling candlelit interior as the woman guided them into the foyer. They were surrounded by framed oil paintings, antique mirrors, and impressive floral arrangements- a scene they never could have imagined as they stood facing the beat-up old house from the porch moments ago.

"Welcome to Julia's Palace," she said with polite curtsy. "I am Madame Julia Bulette and I graciously offer safe refuge and entertainment for the townsfolk, yourselves included."

"Hi Julia. I'm Heath and this is Megan."

Julia eyed their matching, red and black striped costumes with interest and approached Megan.

"You have the most unusual and beautiful eyes," Julia said as she walked in a semicircle in front of Megan, observing her oddly mismatched eye colors of blue and green. "And a fascinating hairstyle," she added as she admired Megan's long, straight hair and trendy bangs. She daringly ran a finger through a strand of Megan's dark brown hair.

"Thanks, it's called heterochromia," Megan explained with an intimidated crack in her voice as Julia towered over her and looked down with interest.

"The hair?"

"No, the eyes," Megan corrected as she looked up at Julia with fascination. Julia's perfume smelled like lavender and honey and her stunning blue dress was unlike anything Megan had ever seen outside of the movies. Megan forgot for a brief second why they were even there and then snapped back into reality. "Can we use your phone to call the police?"

"The police, you say?" Julia replied with a gasp and a hand on her heart. "Why, I don't see any call for that. Besides, the Sheriff is right across the hall, having dinner with the rest of my guests. Would you like to join us?"

"Dinner? Sure!" Heath replied eagerly. Megan glared at him. "What? I'm hungry."

"Right this way," Julia said as she escorted them through the hallway, creaking and clicking the old floorboards as she stepped.

"Heath, we aren't here to eat. We have to call the police and the rental agency and our parents," Megan whispered frantically as they followed behind Julia.

"Whoa, it's just a rental car and we don't need to call our parents for god's sake!" Heath replied. "The car isn't going anywhere, it will still be there in the morning. Besides, this party might be fun. I think it's called Steam Punk?"

"Fine," Megan conceded. "We'll just see what the Sheriff has to say."

Julia pulled open the double doors dramatically and revealed an impressive dining room, Victorian in every last detail from the glowing candelabras to the etched plates and flint glassware. A large cast of authentic male and female characters surrounded the table and looked up at Heath and Megan with curiosity.

"Forgive me in advance for the brief introductions, but dinner is about to be served and the apéritifs have been flowing quite loosely this evening," Julia announced as she guided Heath and Megan towards their seats at the table.

"Everyone, allow me to introduce Heath and Megan. They will be joining us for dinner. Heath and Megan, from left to right this is Mr. Mackay, Mr. Twain, Mr. Grant, and Sheriff Kelley.

Mr. Twain's head was planted firmly against his bread plate where he lay snoring, causing his white mustache to quiver with each breath. Mr. Grant, who sported a striking similarity to the Civil War General and former US President raised a toast of whiskey towards the Heath and Megan and quickly downed it. Mr. Mackay tipped his top hat dryly and Sheriff Kelley offered up a friendly "Howdy."

"Howdy!" Heath replied with enthusiasm to the Sheriff, getting into the spirit of the costumed event.

Megan scrunched her eyes with curiosity at the fact that Julia only introduced the men, yet there were at least two gorgeous women for every man seated at the table, eyelids painted with colorful makeup and all donned in similarly luxurious dresses. Julia looked at Heath and Megan expectantly, waiting for them to have a seat at the table. Two empty place settings just so happened to be prepared for them.

Unexpected visitors, huh? Megan said to herself as she looked over at Julia suspiciously. She took her seat and focused back on their predicament.

"Sheriff Kelley," Megan began, causing one of the Sheriff's female companions to look over Megan's skimpy, striped dress with curiosity. "Sorry for crashing your Halloween party, but our car fell off the cliff a half mile back."

"Your car fell off the cliff? As in boxcar? Flying off the tracks and over the cliff?" the drunken Sheriff replied with amusement as his female friend lifted a decanter to refill his glass with light brown liquor. "Little lady, I've heard some whoppers in my day-"

"No, I'm talking about a rental car," Megan explained desperately. The Sheriff furrowed his brow and swilled his drink.

"He isn't the real Sheriff," Heath whispered to her. "They're just playing dress-up."

"Not the real Sheriff, huh?" the Sheriff blurted defensively. He eyed Heath with sudden, inconsolable rage and stood up to draw his gun, causing the females at his sides to gasp and lean away protectively.

Before Heath could react, the Sheriff wobbled drunkenly as he fiddled with the holster and fell to the floor with a crash, slamming his head against the floorboards and shattering his glass of liquor. Without missing a beat, his female companions lifted him to his feet and gracefully carried him out of the dining room as if it were a typical dinner activity. A maid entered with a straw broom and quickly swept away the glass.

"I do apologize," Julia said as she looked over Heath and Megan's alarmed expression. "The men of Virginia City come to Julia's Palace unwind. The Sheriff simply ran out of slack."

The females in the room fluttered with laughter.

"What are we going to do? These people are crazy," Megan whispered to Heath.

Heath shrugged his shoulders. His eyes suddenly lit up as a team of maids circled the table with steaming plates of delicious smelling food, placing a generous portion in front of each guest.

"I hope you don't mind the French cuisine," Julia explained. "I was born in London, but I have French heritage. More importantly, though, French food is simply the best and we settle for nothing but the best. Bon Appétit!"

Heath didn't hesitate to dig into the beef bouillabaisse, savoring salty bites and catching the eye of the striking, curly-haired blonde in the yellow dress to his left. She gave him a wink and began filling his wine glass from a bottle of bordeaux, dated 1866.

Wow, their attention to detail is unbelievable, Heath thought to himself as he washed down his food with a sip of wine. The blonde continued to smile at him and he suddenly felt the soft fabric of her stockinged foot climbing the side of his leg. He blushed and turned to Megan, who was looking down at her plate with disappointment.

"Don't mind her," Heath assured their host. "She's not rude, she just a vegetarian." Julia looked back at Heath in confusion. He felt the hand of his new blonde friend make its way onto his lap. "Whoa," Heath blurted as the blonde explored him eagerly with her fingers and let out a mischievous giggle.

"Watch out for Sheri, lad," Mr. Mackay suddenly chimed in from across the table in a subtle Irish accent. "She is a lively one, but she's mine for the evening, you hear?"

"Of course," Heath replied Mr. Mackay.

Megan looked over at Heath with suspicion, wondering what would have compelled Mr. Mackay's sudden comment. "Hey, I didn't do anything," Heath assured her.

"And that goes for Bettie and Rosie as well," Mr. Mackay added, referring to both the voluptuous brunette and beautiful redhead at his sides. "You've been warned, lad."

"That I have," Heath replied mockingly. He looked back at Mr. Mackay in amusement at his fancy three-piece suit, top hat, and hipster-style facial hair, which was complete with a prominent and exaggerated mustache.

"Julia, I'm sorry to interrupt dinner, but can I please, please use a phone? I realize you are trying to have fun tonight, but someone in this house must have a phone?" Megan pleaded.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Julia replied in confusion, "but if you like, I can give you the tour and perhaps we will find one?"

"Great!" Megan said with relief as she hopped up from her seat. "Let's go," she motioned to Health.

"But I'm still eating!" he replied, covering his plate defensively.

"Please, eat and drink as much as you like," Julia assured Heath as she stood up from the table. "Besides, only the ladies are allowed behind the scenes." She extended a hand to Megan and escorted her away from the table.

"Fine, have fun," Megan sneered to Heath as she followed Julia out of the dining room, leaving him to enjoy dinner with his new friends.

The Silver Miner

"So tell me, lad," Mr. Mackay began after a greedy gulp of whiskey. "Are you a cowboy then? You certainly don't pass as one of me miners."

Heath nearly choked on his food with a laugh and cleared his throat. "No sir, I'm not a miner."

"What in the bloody hell are you then?"

"I'm Freddy Krueger."

Mr. Mackay and Mr. Grant looked back at him with puzzlement.

"Freddy Krueger. K-r-u-e-g-e-r. You know, from A Nightmare on Elm Street? I lost my mask and my knife-glove.

"A glove with knives? As in, knives for fingers?" Mr. Mackay asked with a sudden blurt of drunken laughter. "That is quite the invention."

"Yes, that would have made an interesting addition to the battlefield," Mr. Grant pondered out loud, with heavily slurred speech.

"I'm sure it would have. Cheers," Heath said as he raised his glass and enjoyed another sip of wine. He could feel Mr. Mackay's choice ladies-of-the-evening beaming at him with lust as he politely conversed with the drunken, older men at the table. "Say, do you know where I can find the restroom?"

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