Return to Haunted Sex HousebyFeverDreamer©
Andre continued with the introductions, "And this is another student member, Hana," A slim Korean girl stepped up with a smile.
"Hi," she said nervously, and shook Tim's hand, stepping back quickly. Most of her body was hidden under her puffy parka, but she had a pretty face, with her dark hair tied behind her in a ponytail. Tim got the impression, from the glances Troy was shooting at her, that she might have been the main reason Troy was making this trip.
"And last but not least," Andre said, taking the hand of the figure in the passenger seat and guiding her out, "C'mon, introduce yourself. This is my girlfriend Dorota. You can call her D, or Dorothy, or whatever." The figure that came out was even taller than Andre, over six feet, with blonde hair falling down either side of her face, and a noticeable bust under her sweater. Tim thought that if she wasn't a model, she could easily be one. "Hell-o," she said with a noticeable eastern European accent, then turned to Andre, who was holding her possessively around the waist, "It's cold out here, can I go back in?"
Andre held her tight to him for a few more moments, "Unfortunately," he continued, "The rest of the somewhat-members of PPP are not quite as dedicated, so this is all we could drum up." He let Dorota back in the van, and everyone else started piling in too.
"Oh don't worry," Hesperia said cheerfully, "This is a fine fine group. A dedicated team." Besides the seats up front, the van held two rows of bench seats, and somehow Tim found himself on the middle bench with Hesperia. "You know," she said to him with a smile, "Work with this group is really some of the best part of teaching at this university. Really. Oh you can look at me with that look, I've been called crazy before," she chuckled, and Tim politely smiled back at her. "I'm excited."
Andre was behind the steering wheel, and as he pulled out he spoke over his shoulder, "So Tim, we should pass by Stubbsville around nine. We're stoppin' by the bus terminal, right? Last pickup?"
Tim nodded and the smile faded from his face as he felt more serious and uncertain about the impending meeting. He looked out the window as they drove toward the university gates. "Yeah, that should be just fine."
They pulled in near the grey concrete bus terminal in the medium-sized town. Andre told Tim, "You look for her, alright? Me and Dorota need to take care of something." They walked away, Andre's arm around her shoulders, Dorota's arm around his waist, to the alleyway behind the bus terminal where some dumpsters were visible.
Nobody followed Tim as he pulled on his jacket, put his hands in his pants pockets, and walked to the ticket sales and waiting area.
He didn't need to step inside, he saw her leaning against the wall on the far side of the doors, smoking a cigarette. He walked up to her and waited until they made eye contact before he spoke.
"Hi, honey," She gave him a little smile. They stood looking at each other quietly for a few moments. They hadn't spoken in months before Tim placed the last telephone call. "Come on and give your mother a hug."
They hugged and pulled away again. Tim looked at her standing there, dressed in black boots with a heel, tight black jeans, a black t-shirt with a design on the front in glittery gold, and a black leather jacket. Her face was framed by her dark hair, and though she'd just had an early-morning bus ride of several hours, her makeup looked unspoiled, dark red on her full lips, and eye shadow highlighting her eyes.
"I'm glad you came, Mom," Tim said, and reach out to take her bag and carry it for her as they slowly walked back to the van.
His mother kept glancing at him as they walked. "I was glad to hear you voice on the phone again after so long. I was really sorry that you didn't want to talk to me anymore."
Tim shrugged. "It wasn't that long, Mom, only a few months. Anyway, I just had some things to sort out, you know." He was about to say something about it how they might be able to close the book on things and start a new chapter, but as he looked over his thoughts were side-tracked as he saw that his mother was wearing her tongue piercing again, the shiny silvery barbell glistening in her mouth against her wet tongue.
Tim introduced his mother to the rest of the group, stumbling still on a couple of the new names. They had to wait around for five minutes or so in the cool but sundrenched morning until they saw Andre and Dorota walking back, arm around each other's waist.
As the couple moved closer the rest of them could read their expressions, the satiated look on Andre's face, with his shirt sticking out rumpled over his crotch, and Dorota's with some strands of her blonde hair sticking to her slightly sweat-dampened face, and a stray glob of a gooey substance streaked down several inches on her front. Andre was the only one that seemed to take it all in stride as everyone else, feeling a bit embarrassed, quickly shuffled into the van, and they were on the road again.
They stopped in for a late breakfast at Denny's. Tim noted that, at some point in the trip, Dorota must have noticed the stray streak of semen and wiped it off. Just a faint glittery dried hint remained as they settled in at a round table.
It took some time for the conversation to turn to their objective, but when it did the conversation quickly became more heated and focused, as they traded views, opinions, and even a few barbs over the plates of food and steaming cups of frequently-refilled coffee.
"Well, what I think," Hesperia said, putting down a cup of coffee and crossing her arms under her ample chest, "Is what we've got is a chance to really communicate with this other world, whatever it might be. Spirits? Souls? Fairies even? Think of what real communication with another spiritual plane could mean for the world. Here we are tied up in our wars and greed, and how uplifting it would be, if--"
She was interrupted by a loud guffaw by Tim's mother. Denise had been silent for most of the time she'd joined the group, just listening, but she couldn't restrain herself.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hesperia said, looking a little aggravated, "Is there something you would like to share?"
Denise quietly shook her head with a smirk and sipped her coffee.
"No, really," Hesperia said, leaning forward, putting both her hands on the edge of the table, "Why don't you share with all of us what you find so amusing? About the poor souls obviously unable to obtain final rest, trapped at that nexus of spiritual activity that we, on this plane, call the Bernard House? Or were my hopes for greater spiritual understanding so laughable to you?"
Denise shrugged and put down her cup, and said one word, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Fucking."
Nobody at the table followed up this comment, they all just looked at her, along with a few other heads turning from nearby tables. As nobody else contributed, she began expanding on her remark. "That's all people are really interested in. That, at the base of existence, is what humanity is really about. It's even what everybody at this table wants. Low-down dirty depraved fucking."
Hana was heard to gulp a little. Andre looked at Denise intensely, with a smile starting to lift up one side of his mouth. Troy kept glancing over at Tim to see how he was reacting to his mother's words.
She continued, "And that's what you're gonna find at the Bernard House. Let it in and it'll take over your life." She was staring Hesperia right down now. "Give life to all those dirty fantasies you keep locked up inside. Yeah, don't deny it, I'm sure you've got more than your share.
"You want to know what man is? Someone that'll lie, cheat, and kill just to fuck anything that moves, that's it. So I'll advise anyone that wants to keep control of their libido to grab a cab home now, because that house WILL change you and has no other interest than makin' everyone touched by it FUCK. Balls-to-the-wall.
"Me? I don't give a fuck about myself anymore, I just wanna experience it all until I expire."
She gave Tim a look at that last remark, but she was interrupted quickly by a tap on her shoulder, it was their waitress holding a coffee pot in her other hand. "'Scuse me ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you to watch your language or keep your voice way way down, alright? Everyone can hear you, and this is a family restaurant, and--"
Denise gave a little laugh and held out her coffee cup for another refill, "Alright, honey, alright. I guess I don't need to tell 'em, 'cause they're gonna learn, right?" she told the perplexed waitress, who met her eyes before she became flustered and turned around and walked away, silently wishing for the party to leave.
It was mid-afternoon and clouded over by the time they reached the gate to the driveway of the house. A few wrong turns had stolen some time, and they only had a few hours of daylight left. Andre told Dorota to step out, and she hopped out the passenger side to push the cheap gate open, a metal frame covered in chicken wire. There was no lock on it, and rust and dirt were the only resistance as she forced it open bit by bit, the creaky grinding sound carrying through the air, and giving a private shiver to everyone sitting in the van.
The van pulled through and Andre had her push it closed again before she got to sit back in. He quietly explained to the group, "Hopefully it'll look like we're not here. We don't have official permission, exactly."
When the van continued on, it slowly crawled up the curving gravel drive. Rounding a turn, some branches brushed the side of the van, it tilted a little more, and then they stopped moving. Though the motor strained louder.
"Shit!" Andre exclaimed, and slapped the steering wheel, then tried to shift into various gears. The van rocked a little, but otherwise stayed in place. "I think we're stuck in mud."
"Mud?" Dorota asked, "I don't think it's rained in a couple weeks."
"Well, we ain't moving," he testily replied. Everyone slowly filed out of the van. They began gathering up their things, throwing their bags over their shoulders, stepping around the pool of greyish muck the wheels had gotten stuck in. Andre looked back at the road. "You can barely see it, we'll just leave it here for now."
As they walked up the drive to the house, Troy sped up until he fell in beside Hana. "How're you doing?" he asked.
She turned her head and gave him a smile, before looking back at the house. "It's nice of you to ask. Um, okay, I guess. Honestly, I got a bit spooked by the talk in the restaurant, you know."
"Yeah?" Troy asked. They were the first ones to make it to the house, and rather than go up the steps to the heavy wooden door flecked with peeling paint, they put their bags down on the stairs and waited.
Hana nodded, "I mean, I just joined up because I was kinda...you know...interested in ghosts. Like stories and stuff. It seemed like a fun club on campus to join. I wasn't expecting all of....this." She made a gesture towards the silent house that stood there ominously, now looming over them.
Troy puffed out his chest a little, "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said with a friendly smile.
Hana smiled back at him but then rolled her eyes and shook her head. She glanced back down the drive. Tim was coming up, and she asked him, "Is it like you remember it?"
He stopped and looked at the large two-storey house, most of the windows broken and boarded up, and at the land around it, gardens and fields gone to seed, the occasional old gnarled fruit tree bare of leaves, standing among the overgrown grasses which themselves seemed leeched of colour.
"Yeah, pretty much. Is the door open?"
"We didn't check," Troy answered.
The rest of the group came up, Andre last, though he cut a line through the group and walked up the steps to look at the main door. "Aw, whataya all chicken?" he playfully chided them. "Haven't tried the door yet, huh?"
He grabbed the stained handle, turned it, and gave it a push. And then turned it the other way, and gave the door a push again, with his shoulder. He took his hand off and leaned his tall frame down to look at the seam the door made with frame. "Does this look like it's been nailed shut to anyone...?"
He gave another shot to the door with his shoulder, then frowned and started moving across the front of the house, seeing what windows might have an easy entry inside.
Tim smelled Hesperia's perfume waft up from behind him a moment before she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see her smiling face.
"Why don't you try the door?"
Tim shrugged, "But he's already tried it plenty..."
She reached up to clutch one of the baubles dangling off her gold necklace, and rubbed it gently with her thumb. "Call it a hunch."
Tim shrugged and walked up the steps to the front door. As he got close he stopped, hearing a sort of scratching, skittering noise come from the other side of the door. He glanced around, but nobody else was reacting to it. He told himself not to let his imagination get carried away.
He reached out and put his hand on the handle; Tim felt a strange rush of energy shoot up his arm, but he kept turning and pushing, and the door opened before him.
Dorota clapped excitedly, "Way to go!"
Tim shrugged to Andre, "Must have just needed to jiggle off some rust," and took the first step inside.
Soon they were all gathered in the front hall of the house, carrying a bulky bag or two each. There were a few things each of them had brought, such as a sleeping, bag, a flashlight, a few changes of clothes. The main expedition organizers, Andre and Hesperia, had obtained several digital cameras and video recorders, as well as several days supply of packaged food of questionable nutritional value.
Dorota and Hana both had cameras out now, taking pictures of the wallpaper-peeling walls and water-stained ceiling, as Andre spoke to the group.
"Ok, I think before we settle in, we should do a basic survey of the premises," he said. "We can spend an hour or two on it, then come back here and have dinner and figure out where to sleep without the roof caving in on us, right? Don't spare the pictures and video, okay guys?
"So, I figure let's take it floor by floor, three parties, let's try to split up the expertise. I'll take the second floor, and with me--" Dorota began to take a step forward, "I'll take Hana." He smiled and waved her over.
He continued, "The basement is tricky, there's apparently a full-size one at base of those stairs - those ones over there. Let's go with you, Prof," he nodded to Hesperia. "Do you want to take Troy along, he's good with the digital stuff, the video camera?" She nodded.
"Ok, and so finally," Andre continued, "Dorota, Denise, Tim, you can take the main floor, okay? Shouldn't be too challenging. Maybe do a survey of the immediate outside area too -- there's gotta be an outhouse or something we can use. Meet back here in two hours, alright people?"
Soon Tim found himself with his mother and Dorota, standing in the hallway in the middle of the piled-together baggage. Dorota hung onto the digital camera, so Tim began to fiddle with the video camera. He offered it to his mother but she shook her head, "No way, I didn't sign up for that," and walked off to the first room.
They entered the large room, with the fireplace and an old large couch in the middle, and Denise turned to her son, "You remember this room, hmm?"
"Uh...uh, yeah," Tim nodded, and then gave his mother a little scowl. He continued speaking more quietly, "Geez Mom, it's like you're almost lookin' to start trouble. Maybe if nobody aggravates anything, we can get through this weekend without it getting too crazy?"
Dorota was photographing some of the carvings around the fireplace, and a few of the broken picture-frames swept into a corner of the room, and didn't nose into the conversation.
Denise told her son, "Is that really what you want?" She stifled a laugh. "Well good luck, honey, good luck. Y'know what, fine, I'll try not to cause trouble. We'll see what good that'll do." And she walked off.
They didn't find much interesting in that room, or the few small closets and other rooms that led off from it. Crossing the main hallway, they went into what was once a book-lined study, now most of the shelves broken and hanging off at angles, the dark wood scared and scratched-up. A significant amount of books were still bunched-up on shelves or lay on the floor, leather-bound with their gilt titles faded and weathered into obscurity. An old flower-pattered easy chair with one leg missing stood tilted at the centre of the room.
Dorota frowned, "Shame to see so many books go to waste, I wonder why nobody took them?" She walked slowly around the perimeter of the room. "Tim, can you shine the camera light here? This looks kind of interesting." She was pointing at a space between the shelves where an old oil painting hung, though now the design appeared to be as much in dirt and mould.
"What is it a picture of?"
Tim shone what light he had at the flaked and grungy canvas. From across the room, Denise glanced at the same spot.
"It looks like a group of people..." Dorota started to say, squinting at the painting.
"Are you sure?" Tim asked. "I'm not sure I see anything."
"Yes it is, a large group, and they're...oh" Dorota put a hand over her soft lips as she kept looking. "Lots of people...naked...and a few beasts, monsters of some kind....and they're...and some are...NO!" She turned and rushed out of the room, shoes thudding against the wood floor.
Denise moved closer to her son as he kept looking at the paining. He half-turned to her and shrugged, "Do you see anything?"
"Oh, I see something in my mind, alright." She reached out and put a hand on one of her son's asscheeks and gave it an aggressive squeeze. "Um, not on that painting though, that's just some piece of shit." She laughed with a smile, and turned to walk out of the room.
Tim followed her, looking through the viewfinder of his video camera, panning the view down to his mother's big ass in those tight jeans as she walked.
They explored a few other rooms, finding them empty except for a few broken chairs.
Behind two heavy doors that swung inward was what must have been the dining room. There was likely once a long large table at the centre, but it was missing now, though a heavy wood-and-glass chandelier still hung from the ceiling, the chains supporting it rusted, the glass just shattered fragments.
Dorota took pictures of the room, and Tim took video, spending some time scanning up and down both his mother's and Dorota's bodies. He filmed Dorota from a few sides, then asked her. "So, what's your story? I mean, why are you here - interested in this sort of...phenomena?"
She turned to look at Tim and shook her head, "No, um, when I came to college here, I met Andre and we kind of...hooked up? I guess you could say. Um, so that's just why I'm here."
Denise remarked, "Your english is quite good."
"Oh yes, I studied it in school, back home, before I came here." Her words were heavily accented, but she spoke clearly enough to be easily understood. "But no, this is very much...not my interest. It is kind of strange that Andre is into it. But that is why I come along."
Denise gave her a sly smile, "Not many black men where you come from?"
Dorota shook her head, some blonde hair falling over one eye, and smiled back, looking a little embarrassed, "No." She turned away, and her eyes widened as she looked in one dark doorway, "Hey what is..." she hurried away.
Tim and his mother heard her voice echoing in the dark, from another room. "I can see them! HELLO! Hello, are you there? Girls?"
The two turned on their flashlights to full power and proceeded slowly through the doorway towards the voice.