HSA-293: The Door

The glass doors opened, and a young man waved at her. Tessa got a better grip on her suitcase and nervously walked toward the large brick building. An enormous A-frame showed the entire interior of the common rooms, but she couldn't make much out due to the sun's glare. White columns lined the concrete porch which bore stains of various shades of brown and purple. With her sunglasses on, she could see the skinny kid waving at her well enough, but he did little to assuage her concerns about her summer lodging. "Are you Matt?"

"Yeah, that's me, uh, which are you? Sorry, I mean, who are you?" He awkwardly pushed the door open and tried to hold it for her as she passed into the house. She caught the smell of stale beer on him, and he seemed quite disjointed.

"Tessa Walker," she said with a smile. Matt looked to be a sophomore at best. Why he was left to guard the house and greet its temporary inhabitants, she didn't know. Nor did she wonder for long as her attention turned to her temporary home. A wide staircase directly across from the door led up into the common room. To either side of it, smaller staircases led down into what seemed to be a dining hall. Matt let the door close behind her and went so far as to turn the bolt on the door, making her stomach flutter with worry. He was a scrawny young man who didn't look as if he would be the slightest bit threatening even if he'd had a good night's sleep. Still, she didn't know who else was occupying the house for the summer.

He noticed her eyes dart to the locked door and smiled nervously, "Oh, I keep it locked. People tend to wander in otherwise. Typically we don't use the front door during the summer." He led her over to one of the side staircases and pointed down. "Those open onto the patio around back and there's a path that lead off to the parking lot. That's usually how we come and go during the day." Without warning, he jumped down several of the steps and waved for her to follow. "Oh, you can leave your stuff there. Is that all you brought?"

"No, I have some stuff in the car."

"Oh sure," he mumbled, waiting for her at the foot of the steps. "I can help you bring it in if you need it. C'mon, this way." They crossed the dining room moving parallel to the front door. "The guys leave their tvs in the rooms, so you'll have that, but if you want to watch a bigger one or something, the rec room is over there." He gestured to a room adjoining the dining hall. Several large couches sat on makeshift risers across from a large, outdated television with an array of wires and smaller boxes scattered around it. Beyond the couches was a pool table and a larger stereo system built into the wall. The equipment had been updated, but the original speakers remained creating a freakish hybrid of the past and present.

Matt opened a door and led her into a dingy kitchen. "I'm not sure if your room has a mini fridge in it, but you can use this small one if you need to. This whole area is fine to use as long as you clean up after yourself. Normal stove and stuff. There's some pots and pans. Wash 'em off when you're done and leave them in the sink. I'll come through and run the big washer once in a while. Don't mess with the big stoves and all that. Wouldn't want the house to blow up or anything. Ice machine there. That's usually pretty popular. Remember to close the lid or it'll half melt and then all the way melt and turn into a fucking iceberg. Then we have to drain the whole thing—just, I mean never mind, just remember to close the lid."

For the first time, Tessa smiled in relief. The house had a bizarre charm, and her temporary landlord was another awkward college kid flustered from talking to her. "Close the lid. Got it."

He walked through the maze like kitchen and into a large pantry to a door with a porthole window set in it. He opened it and gestured for her to follow him outside. He pointed to a keypad. "Unlocks the door with the code. I have to lock up at ten each night so this is the only door you can get in from the outside. Safety light up there and around that hedge is the parking lot. Thirty seconds at a walk from car to this door. Locks behind you after it's closed again." Tessa was used to these demonstrations. When she'd lived on campus, safety was a constantly beaten drum. The program that booked her in an out of use frat house for summer lodging had been keen on selling the idea that it was a perfectly safe place. As he led her back inside Matt continued, "I have keys to the exterior doors, and I know the combo for that lock. It's changed for the summer so only those of us here know it. I'll give you your key in a minute. It's the only one to your room, but I do have a master for the dorm locks in case of emergencies. You're going to have to trust me on that one."

They trotted up the stairs, grabbed her suitcase, and continued up to the top floor. "This looks nice," she said absently. The room was arranged like a standard living room, but much broader. Several sofas stood around a large coffee table that held books about the fraternity and others about the college itself. In the corners, chairs and tables made cozy spots for reading or studying. The backside of the upper floor was glass windows as well, making it a floating platform between two vistas. She made her way over to the far wall and looked down on the back patio and ill kept lawn. An enormous portrait hung over a fake fireplace. The oil painting shimmered in the morning sunlight cascading in from the huge windows. The painting itself showed a large oak door standing in a green field alone. The door and its frame looked as though they had been plucked from a small, English cottage. The door was closed and on its face several symbols were carved into the wood. Despite its odd placement, it looked very old and masterfully done. "What's that about?" She jabbed her finger at the painting.

Matt rummaged in a metal box attached to the wall beside another door. "Hmm? Oh, the painting. It's a fraternity thing. Parable of the Door. Here ya go." He handed her an old metal key with "8" stamped on it. "Over there is the chapter meeting room and the president's suite if you're curious. There's a visitor's bathroom there as well. And this way to your room." He pushed through the galley door and headed down a cinder block hallway. They passed doors on the left and right as they made their way down the hall. The numbers on the doors seemed to be entirely arbitrary, but they wound up in front of the one labeled "8". Matt gestured to the lock and moved to the side. "You're the first one, but a couple more will arrive later today. Whole upper floor should be full by the end of the week."

Tessa opened the door and stepped into the fifteen by fifteen square room. At the far side, beside the window, stood a wooden bed with bare mattress. Along the left wall, a pair of dressers sat side by side with a sizable television on top of them. Further down, a small desk with a wooden chair occupied the sliver of space between the bed the wall. On the right wall, an aged, but clean leather couch absorbed the remaining area with a battered coffee table in front of it. The walls were empty except for the tape and nails left behind. Tessa dropped her suitcase on the couch and peered to the right of the door to find an empty closet that was nothing more than a separated space with a lead pipe wedged between two wooden slats. Rustic, but livable. "Honestly, nicer than I expected," she said with a laugh.

Matt grinned at this. "Oh, well, you should probably see the bathroom before making your mind up." He waved for her to follow and they stepped back into the hall. He gestured to a door to the right of her room, "That's the stairwell. Takes you down to the first floor dorm wing. For fire escapes and whatever. I don't mind you walking through, but I won't be coming up unless I need to."

Tessa noted the slightly unhinged door that led to the stairwell, but her eyes went quickly to a small door across from it. It looked to be made exactly as all the others, but was painted white to match the walls. Not just the door, but the handle as well. And not just the handle, but a latch that had been bolted to the door and padlocked to a hook drilled into the concrete beside it. "What's that?" she blurted out.

Matt followed her gaze. "Oh, I'm not sure, actually. No one has a key to it anymore. We always get drunk and dare each other to come up here and knock the damn thing open, but no one ever does. Would wind up being a pain in the ass no matter what. Alumni joke about it too. Tell us that's where the dead bodies and stuff are."

"So what is it really? Someone has to know."

"Utility stuff, I figure. You forget the thing is there after a while." Matt waved for her to follow him again, not wanting to spend any longer discussing the door. The truth was that he had forgotten the door. Not in the way the brain forgets about the sight of the nose, but in a way that when Tessa pointed it out, a cold feeling settled in his stomach. The others did joke about it some times, but only very late and very drunk. The door was not right. He was glad for the painted over lock.

In the middle of the hall, yet another galley door swung open at Matt's insistent push. They stepped into a bathroom of green tile and dank air. Four sinks jutted out from the back wall with four matching urinals across from them. To the right were thin toilet stalls and to the left was a brand new shower curtain hung from a brand new rod. "Uh, I put that up for some moderate privacy. He stepped over to it and pulled it back, filling the air with the smell of new plastic. Beyond was a room about the size of her dorm room, but with shower heads jutting out from the walls and two longer trough like ones running from one end to the other. "The individual ones have their own knobs, and the big ones up top are turned on from here." He reached around the wall and turned a knob causing water to gush down like rain. "I know it looks rough, but the showers here are actually fucking amazing, especially when you have them to yourself. Most people wear flip-flops or whatever cause it's communal, but we had it cleaned at the end of the semester."

"And how many girls are going to be living here?"

Matt swallowed hard and blushed, clearly thinking about the core of Tessa's question. "Four this week with another three next Monday. It works out most of the time you have it to yourself. People naturally stagger the time, you know."

(He's going to watch, you know. He won't be able to resist. The thought of you lathering soap across those tits will drive him mad. And then, when the others arrive...)

"I'm sorry, what?" Tessa heard the words, she was sure of it, but in the next second she couldn't pick them out over the sound of the shower. Matt flipped another switch which turned on a big ventilation fan that whirred above them. She reached passed him and shut it off as well as the water. "What did you say?"

Matt peered back with confusion. "That the vent needs to be on or it'll get swampy in here. That's all. You can prop the door open too, that helps keep the air moving." He shuffled past her and headed back out to the hallway. She followed, trying to remember what she'd heard or if she'd heard anything at all.

"Are we the only ones here?"

"Yeah, for a while," Matt answered. He had the very brief idea that she might flirt with him. And that flirtation might lead to kissing. They wouldn't bother with her room since it had no furnishing in it. Instead, she'd ask to go see his. No sooner would they pass the door than she would take off her shirt to show off an impressive pair of breasts. From there, he could only imagine a white, calm bliss of touch. The illusion dissipated as he saw her stern eyes looking almost through him. Older women rarely had interest in younger men at their ages, he thought. Though only a year or two separated them, that might as well have been all the miles from where he stood to the moon. Her insistent gaze finally urged him to ask. "Why?"

Tessa's eyes drifted over her host's shoulder to the small door. "Just curious," she answered. "You said you'd help me with my other bags?" She smiled and reached out to touch his arm. Why would I do that?

"No problem. I got nothing else to do."

"Car's this way." She turned on her heel and led him away. Neither thought of the door again for hours.

***

Matt drew the short straw for the summer. Or at least, that's what they told him. While his fraternity brothers vanished off for summer vacation, not bothering to look behind them, he remained at the house preparing it for camp residents. The corporation that owned the house to keep it in a liability bubble needed to hire someone for the summer as a more or less landlord. Hiring an adult was problematic in the hour requirements and low pay, but hiring a college kid who already lived there was the perfect deal. Matt lived in his same room for free, they paid him two hundred a week on top of that, and, in return, he spent the first two weeks of his summer making sure the house was livable for young women instead of young men.

By the time the third girl arrived, Vicki a slim brunette with ruby red lipstick on while wearing ratty shorts and a faded t-shirt, Matt realized he had wasted most of his time. Tessa's baggage was light compared to the second two. This theater camp was booked for two weeks, yet Vicki and Jessica, the second girl to arrive, came with all the thunder and bluster of their whole lives. Cases of clothes, bags of makeup, televisions, microwaves, and everything else they could have possibly needed for the rest of their lives, let alone the summer. Matt regretted his offer to help Jessica move her things in, and vowed not to mention it to the fourth girl once he'd finished lugging Vicki's entire life into her room. That said, he was glad for the opportunity to break the tension with each of his new residents. Jessica's arrival had been less awkward than Tessa's. The blonde, plump girl seemed much more approachable than Tessa in the first place, but Matt found a rhythm for his explanations that led him through the paces without the strange, silent pauses.

The fourth girl to arrive surprised him by looking nothing like the other three. Felicia introduced herself while he chastised himself silently for stereotyping at best and being racist at worst. Felicia towered over him, but smiled and laughed easily at the sight of the scrawny white boy fumbling through his introduction. More than the others, Felicia made Matt self conscious about his appearance. He didn't have a chance to shower or dress properly between each's arrival, but that was the superficial issue. Through his freshman year, he discovered that students broke into several categories. Some put on the freshmen fifteen, some hit the gym with a bizarre and religious work out schedule, and others went still and didn't change at all other than to grow a little less themselves, not in weight but seemingly in spirit. Matt fell in this last category, raked thin over time by stress. As he delicately shook Felicia's hand, he noted the stark contrast between their skin tones, rich brown against a sickly pink. The sun blazing in from the huge windows was foreign to his skin, and he resolved in that moment to get some kind of tan before the summer ended.

With Felicia fully moved in and acquainted with the other girls, he retreated to his lair underneath them. The downstairs hallway lacked the fresh coat of paint and intense cleaning that made the upstairs look welcoming. Dingy walls and scarred tiles led him to his room which, at least, was more homey than the upstairs. He'd draped a red curtain over the sole window that provided a warm light between the cold walls. Like all of the other rooms, he had the same pieces of stock furniture, but his were adorned with the bizarre trophies of his age - a torn down street sign, a variety of empty liquor bottles, school pennants, and strange toys quirky enough to not be considered more childish than nostalgic. Looking at it all, he suddenly hated it. He pulled a garbage can down the hall to his room and tossed out the old liquor bottles. He made sure to drop each silently into the bin rather than have them crash one after the other and draw unwanted attention from upstairs.

As he worked, he wondered what the girls were up to. Before they arrived, he'd largely thought of their arrival like getting house cats. He thought they would periodically intersect with his life, but otherwise meander about their individual lives silently. Laughter echoed down from up above, and he felt like a stranger in his own house. They wouldn't be going on silently at all, but laughing, talking, singing, playing music, perhaps even bringing others over. Perhaps other guys. That didn't seem right. This was his home, the home of his fraternity, sacred ground. He thought of going up and explaining some extra rules to prohibit guests, but decided against it. He was tired and hungry. The morning and half the afternoon had sailed by while he helped move in four women that were all way out of his league. He made a litany of mental plans to cook something, to shower, to continue cleaning, but instead of any of that, he shoved the garbage can back into the hall, kicked his door closed, and flopped on his futon. He turned on a television show and shortly drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed. Each of the girls in turn came to his room, in a reverse of their arrival at the house. First Felicia with her dark skin, then Vicki with her ruby lips, then Jessica with her blonde curls, and finally Tessa with her shimmering red hair cropped close. They came to kneel between his legs, their hands running up his thighs as he looked down at them. The dreams happened separately and all at once. Matt wanted to reach for them. He wanted to put his hand against the back of their heads and guide them either up to his own lips or down to the bulge desperate to escape his boxers. Yet he couldn't. His arms felt tied down. He could barely move his head. The girls leaned back from him and took off their tops. They wriggled out of their shorts, their tight asses waving in the air behind them as they bent at the waist. Matt strained against the invisible bonds harder. He gritted his teeth and felt a shout of frustration tremble on his lips. Then he looked past the girls to where they had each come in. They had not walked through his door, but crawled. And the door was not his. It was half the size it should have been. It was painted white and fragile with age. He ignored the naked women striding toward him, their thighs wet with their own juices. He focused all his thought and will on the latch and the lock. The door started to shake.

(You are a weak vessel. I'll try not to burst your heart.)

Matt woke. His heart thumped in his chest. His body was covered in a cold sweat. He scrambled in the red light, searching each corner to make sure he wasn't alone. The world was as it should have been. The house around him was silent, and his television displayed a message asking if he was still there. Within seconds, the dream faded. His heart slowed down to its normal slow beat. He turned his thoughts back to mundane motives. Hangover nightmare, he thought. Shame it was ruined. Could have been an awesome one. He tried to remember what he'd seen of the girls in his mind, but the images vanished back to the dreamworld. Gathering himself up, he headed for the downstairs shower. Towel in hand and clad in flip flops and boxer shorts, he looked down the long hallway to the stairwell door — the stairwell that opened led up to the white, locked room. It swung gently, almost imperceptibly, on its hinges.

***

Vicki bounced on her bed twice, testing the old springs. Her mind immediately wondered how old the mattress was and how many people had fucked on it. She wanted to take a black light to the meager furnishings of her room and see all the spills and stains that had accrued over the years. Even the long line of virgins that tromped through the house would have spilled enough jizz to float Noah's ark over the years. She smacked on her gum and looked at herself in the skinny mirror beside the closet. Moving in had been simple and getting settled even simpler. She'd made an art of transporting herself with little fuss. The accoutrement that came with her was all ultimately unnecessary. She brought it because she could, but expected to need little of it. What she did need was kept in the duffel bag that was flung over her shoulder as she walked into the house hours earlier. It held nothing secret or special — a few sets of clothes, some toiletries, a blanket, and a small box of makeup.