The Cabin in the Sky

Caroline cranked up the music and pumped the accelerator as the minivan climbed up the gravel forest road. The plan was simple; you, Tanya, Pixie, Simone and Caroline all take a weekend to rent a cabin in the woods for a women's retreat. Well, "women's retreat" was overstating it a bit. Simone had packed a suspiciously large amount of marijuana edibles, Caroline brought a crate of liquor and between you, Pixie and Tanya, there were enough art projects to occupy an entire high school for a year. But the purpose held, time away from the responsibilities of the world where you could enjoy each other's company and get some time in nature.

The AirBnB had a captivating title, "The Cabin in the Sky" and as the gravel road brought you around the crest of the mountain, you could see why. The wood cabin sat perched on the edge of a forest valley in the Olympic Peninsula. A panoramic view of the rolling temperate rainforest unfolded below.

"Holyyyyyyyy shit." Caroline whistles as she gets out of the car.

"This is amazing!" says Simone, "I'm so excited, you guys!" As they unloaded the car, you made your way up to the front door. You punch in the code and the door swung open.

Inside was every bit the vision you hoped. A wide stone fireplace with full wrap around couches, a loft overlooking the main room and floor to vaulted ceiling windows captures a breathtaking view. The sturdy logs of the cabin, the flannel blankets, the rustic appliances. Yes, this could be a damn fine weekend.

###

"Never have I ever . . . slept with my boss!" Announces Simone. You, Caroline and Tanya all drink. Pixie looks on in mock shock, "Damn this is easy with you kinky bitches!"

"At this point, we should probably try really boring things to get each other." said Tanya. "Never have I ever . . . made a pivot table on excel." Damn, another drink down the hatch.

You laugh and get up to refill your glass and go to the bathroom. When you return, Caroline is standing in front of the fireplace shouting at the mounted Elk head.

"Listen here, you spooky old cabin, I am a powerrrrrful witch, and I command you to reveal your secrets to meeeeee!" Simone dissolves in a fit of laughter.

"It's not going to just fork them over." Pixie says. She gets up and tickles the Elk under its chin, "You have to tickle it! Goochie goochie goo!"

Ka-chunk! The metal sound of something hitting the ground reverberates through the room, instantly silencing the merry making.

Everyone gathers around as Pixie picks up the fallen wrought iron key.

"I think it was in the Elk's mouth." she says, a concerned look darkening her warm features. She holds up the key to the light and you recognize it's heart shaped handle.

"Wait a minute . . ."

"Is that?"

". . . Dan's wedding?"

You, Simone and Tanya all start talking at once. Pixie holds up a hand imperiously.

"One at a time!" she commands.

You take a breath. "That looks like the keys were given when we all stayed at this hotel for Dan's wedding. It was a strange hotel, full of secret passages and . . . rooms to have sex in."

You blush at the memories. Pixie looks inquisitively from Tanya, to Caroline to Simone. Caroline nods.

"Yep, she pretty much covered it." Simone gingerly picks up the key.

"So this friend of yours . . ." Pixie began.

"Dan." you answer.

"Why Dan?" Simone mutters under her breath, prompting a suppressed chuckle from you and Tanya.

"He had you all stay at a hotel in . . ."

"In Tacoma, way the hell on the other side of the Sound." finishes Caroline. "So how'd this get here?"

Tanya steps forward and snatches it out of Pixie's hands.

"Are we going to theorize about this all night or are we going to figure out what the heck it opens?"

And with that, the search was on. The five of you ransack the house, upstairs and down, trying the key at every door, nook and cranny until finally you come to a closet tucked in Simone's room.

The closet door was tall and thin, faded green wood with a simple lock. The door had refused to open when Simone had first arrived, so her suitcase was set on the bed but now the whole crew had gathered in her room as she slid the iron key effortlessly into the lock.

CLICK. The door swung open revealing a narrow set of stairs leading down into some sort of basement, set into the mountain.

"ooOOOoo" said Caroline. "I'm getting wicked weird energy here."

"Ya think?!" Tanya says, clicking the flashlight on her phone. Thankfully, the liquid courage you all had consumed was enough to quiet any fears as you made your way down into the cellar door.

The narrow stairs led down to a dim basement. Tanya clicked on the light revealing piles and piles of strange artifacts. Everyone fans out through the space. As the last one down the stairs, you survey the scene. While most of the antiques are just what you would expect, old cookware or faded furniture, a few items catch your eye.

In the far corner, on top of an ornate engraved wood table is a massive glass bottle propped on its side. Within the bottle, a three-mast ship is contained. A brass plate next to the bottle offers more insight.

In the center of the room, two arabic curved swords are mounted on a rack, strange writing engraved on the blades themselves.

In the far right, a full suit of armor, dull and rusty, stands at attention, holding a polearm with a banner attached.

Near the stairs, an iron lantern with a red wicket hangs above a pile of colorful silk.

Hanging next to some faded gowns, you see an ornately decorated masquerade ball mask with feather and glittering jewels.

Finally, tucked at the very back of the room, you see a small tiki idol, a hunched carved totem surrounded by coconut shells.

Making your way through the piles of old things, you come to the aging clothes rack. You finger the beautiful flowing brocade but your hands land on the large silver and gold masquerade mask. Small pearls are inlaid in gold weaves around the eyes while the gold filigree forms leaves and flowers across the top. A simple black cloth strap is attached to either side.

"That's gorgeous!" Pixie says glancing over from the hanging gowns that have captured the seamstress' eye.

You put the mask up to your face, tying the cloth strap.

WHOOSH

A woman jostles into you and a stagger to the right, your gown swishing around you. You look around in confusion at the crowd of color people around you.

"Sorry love, got a bit carried away." Says the woman, helping you up. Her words don't seem to match up with her lips but you barely have time to register that as your eyes sweep the elaborate ballroom. Broad staircases, a giant chandelier with a million candles, masks and hats and gowns everywhere. Glittering gold trim framing white windows and dramatic paintings.

"Where . . what?" You stammer, but the woman has already gone, swept up in the throng of dancers as the music strikes up, full cellos and soaring strings as the sound of hundreds of feet clap to the ground in rhythm.

You push your way to the side of the dance floor to try and get your bearings. This is spectacular!

A full masquerade ball! Whether this is some weird hallucination or dream, you are ready for it. You consider taking the mask off, would that end the vision? Possibly, better not risk it right away.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, may I have the pleasure of the next dance with you?" A tall man in black boots, a ruffled black shirt and a tri-cornered hat has appeared next to you. You focus on his face as his lips don't seem to quite line up with the words you are hearing. His dark slightly curled hair fell below his jaw, mostly hidden under a tri-corner black hat, framed his jet black domino mask.

Before you have a chance to object, he slides his white gloved hand behind your back and the two of you are whisked away to the floor of the ball. Your legs quickly fall into the familiar steps as the world twirls around you. Familiar? You look down to your feet and quickly stumble. The man gracefully helps you recover.

"Tut tut. Eyes up here." He says and the two of you return to the spinning swirl of colorful coats and gowns.

"What brings you to the house of Orsini? Are you a friend of Count Orsini? Or maybe his wife, Countess Maria?"

"Uh, just passing through. I'm traveling." You fumble trying to remember to place which Doctor Who episode you seem to be living through. Is it one with a dark secret or did you just need to avoid messing with the timeline?

"I'm an artist." you explain. He smiles knowingly. "Yes, the Count is quite fond of his paintings, he seems to think he is a Medici. But you know what they say, Orsini iron is paid for with Medici gold!" He laughed at his own joke as you jot down "Renaissance Italy" as your location.

The song comes to an end as you arrive at the base of the staircase.

"I don't think we have been properly introduced. My name is Orlando De Borromeo of Trento. Who do I have the pleasure of entertaining this evening?"

"I'm Brenna McCormac of Washington." You try and put on some airs into it but his eyes just look amused.

"Gaelic? Certainly you aren't a Protestant, now are you?" You shake your head and laugh.

"Now that is a relief. Now, what would you like to do next? Shall we explore this big rich house and find some works of art? Or would you like to meet the Count and Countess? I'd be happy to introduce you."

"I would like to meet the Count and Countess!" Orlando claps his hands together.

"Wonderful!" with a little swirl of his cloak, he gestures you up the stairs toward the balcony. From up here, the mass of whirling colorful masked dancers became a kaleidoscope sea. Reaching the landing, Orlando approaches a couple. A tall broadly built gentleman in a blue long coat with golden yellow hat, next to brunette with fabulous long curls piled on top of her head in a honey-yellow dress, accentuating her waspish figure. They turn as you approach, the gentleman adjusts his red mask with goat horns from the top while she wears a tasteful black domino mask and holds a pair of opera glasses in her white gloved hands.

"Good evening, Count and Countess Orsini, thank you again for opening your most beautiful home for tonight's festivities." The Count gestures dismissively,

"Yes, yes, Orlando, it is a fine party." The Countess drops her Opera glasses to her side and gives you a ravishing look up and down . . and your mouth drops open in surprise.

"Pixie?!" You blurt out. She looks amazing, dressed to the nines with jewels, dress and mask.

"Pardon?" She says, confused. Orlando leaps in,

"My apologies, allow me to introduce my new friend, the lovely Brenna de McCormac of Washington."

You give your best attempt at a curtsy, your mind racing. Did she get dropped into this timeline too? Or is this some ancestor?

"Mmmm, you are right Orlando, she is quite lovely . . ." the Countess taps her cheek thoughtfully.

"Now dear . .." the Count begins but she ssshh him with a wave.

"Hush now. Tell me, my dear, where is Washington? I'm not familiar with that Province."

"It is up North, I'm afraid. I'm an artist and traveling quite far from home." You skirt the truth and try to ignore the heat on your cheeks.

"An artist, fantastic!" she exclaims. The Count gives an exasperated sound but the Countess sweeps past him and links your arm. "Come, I must show you some of the works of art here, I think you will find them breathtaking." and with that, the two of you wander swiftly away leaving Orlando and the Count behind at the balcony.

Your path takes you into a cavernous marble hallway with vaulted ceilings lit by candle sconces.

"Thank you for rescuing me." She confesses once you are safely out of earshot. "If I had to listen to my husband ramble on about mining shipments one more time, I would have thrown myself from that balcony in a heartbeat." She gave a warm belly laugh.

"I'm happy to help." You study her face, it is definitely Pixie, her voice, her laugh. In fact, the lips seem to be in sync with the words as you hear them. Was she speaking english and the others Italian?

"Where did you grow up?" You ask, hoping she will give some indication of being Pixie, but no, she unspools a tale of a childhood in Venice.

"Unfortunately, my father caught me in a delicate position with one of my schoolmates behind the chapel and had me married off immediately to the Orsini's." You raise your eyebrows.

"Delicate position?" She gives you a naughty glance.

"Well, I was on my knees, praying to the almighty. Unfortunately for my father, Maria was on the altar before me as I kissed the gates of heaven." She laughs, her eyes never leaving your face.

"I hope I haven't scandalized you . . ." she says. You shake your head.

"No no, that sounds rather pleasant actually."

"I was hoping you would say that," she steers you towards a discrete staircase at the back of the hallway that winds upwards.

"Tell me, oh beautiful Brenna of Washington, what brought you here tonight? What attracted you to a masquerade?" Your steps echo in the tower as the staircase opens into a narrow carpeted hallway and firm wooden door. She opens the door leading to an expansive bedroom. Up against one wall, a four poster bed with lace curtains drawn. There's a massive wardrobe, a fireplace, a full vanity, a door towards a bathroom and a double door that leads out to a balcony.

"Uh. . . well, I found a mask and thought this would be fun to explore." you fumble. She stands in front of the balcony, and in a swift motion, disconnects her large skirt, showing her shift and bloomers, while keeping her mask and corset in place.

"And what else would you like to explore?" She asks, closing the distance between you and putting her hand on your hips. "Because, I very much would like to see what you are hiding behind that mask."

You gently redirect her hand down to your dress, "I'm not so sure, I like to maintain an air of mystery." You reply. She looks at you sharply.

"Hmmm, I will allow that for now. Take that dress off and I may let it pass." You fumble with the unfamiliar latches, hook and eye fasteners. She becomes impatient, pushing your hands out of the way and uncinching your skirt in one practiced move, leaving you in your shift and bloomers. She pushes you over towards the bed, forcibly leaning your forward as her hands fly along the back of the gown, loosening the laces on the bodice.

"Enough of this dreadful thing, I want to see you." She slides the bodice over your head and with one sudden shove, pushing you back onto the bed.

Her eyes glitter behind the dark domino mask as she bites the middle finger of her white glove and slowly pulls one, then the other glove off. You move to sit up but she springs on you, pinning your legs between her thighs as she presses a hot sudden kiss onto your lips. Her fingers, fierce and demanding, roam your body, pulling roughly at your nipples and tugging your bloomers down below your knees.

"Here, let me . . ." you begin but she slaps your hands away. The Countess is not to be denied. Her fingers find their mark, working their way into your sex. You give a guttural cry at the sudden intrusion but she quickly works your clit, fast and vigorous and the world dissolves into a gasping wave of pleasure.

"Uuhhhhhh" you arch your back, pressing your pussy into her hand as she works you faster and harder. With her other hand, she rips open your shift, revealing your full breasts. She devours one hungrily, sucking at it, flicking the hard nipple between your teeth. You feel the waves of pleasure building, building . . and then she pulls her hand away. You snap open your eyes to see her removing her bloomers and hiking up her shift around her taut tummy.

She climbs back on you, putting her knees on either side of your shoulders and lowers her nether lips down to your face. You adjust the mask so it stays in place as she presses down. You lick, tentative at first but she grinds into you, passionate and demanding. You swirl your tongue around her clit, frantic and eager to please.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" She shouts her pleasure above you, pounding on the headboard as you bring her to the heights of ecstasy. She reaches back and rakes your thighs with her nails, bearing down her sex into your face as a warm gush of pleasure flows onto you.

"AAAHHHhhhhhhh" she shudders through her release. She leans forward, her breath slows as she begins to descend, shifting her weight off you. You are anxious, your own body begging for release.

"Mariaaaaaa?!" You hear the Count's voice booming up the spiral staircase.

"Shit!" She shouts. "My husband. He mustn't find you here, else he will rend his perverse pleasures on both of us. Quick, we must do away with you!"

You yank your bloomers up and make a mad scramble for the wardrobe, the Countess hot on your heels. You throw open the wardrobe and she shoves you inside, slamming it closed behind you. The doors are ill-met and you can peer through the crack as you see the Count storm into the room.

"Maria? Where is she?!" he demands, his eyes full of fire.

"Where is who?" The Countess has restored her wardrobe to some sense of decency, her arms crossed defiantly.

"The girl. That doe-eyed girl you took from the party!"

"Her? Oh she got bored and headed back to dance," the Count pays no mind to her, making a bee line for the rumbled sheets of the bed. He crouches down, peering under the bed.

"Maria, I know you, I know who draws your eye . . ."

"You, my dear. You draw my eye." He gives that a dismissive snort.

"My gold draws your eye, you coddled queen. If it weren't for the iron we pull from these hills, the fire of these forges, there would be none of your daring escapades with servant girls." He flings open the doors to the balcony, jabbing his hands angrily out into the night air.

She draws herself up to full height.

"How dare you!" she stomps over to the vanity and flings a hairbrush at the Count.

"Oh, you think I don't know? You think I don't see you taking your pleasure from every bosomed lady in waiting that enters this house?" He ducks the oncoming barrage of flung objects.

"Now where is she?!" He flings open the door to the bathroom.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, you bolt out of the wardrobe towards the open doors of the balcony. As you skid into the cool night air, you throw one worried look behind you to see the Countess blowing you a kiss.

"The wardrobe! You stuffed your little harlot in there didn't you?" The count roars.

"Don't you dare!" The Countess puts herself between the advancing husband and the hastily closed wardrobe.

You crouch, your shift torn, and survey the scene. From this balcony, you see some hedges down below but the front yard has several party goers mingling about amongst the paper lanterns. They seem unperturbed by the marital spat occurring directly above them.

"Pssst! deSweeney!" You hear a familiar voice down below. Next to the hedges, Orlando is standing with a cloak over his arm. He gives you a beckoning wave. You hear a crash behind you and make your choice.

You leap, and land in a deafening cacophony of snappy branches and smushed leaves, but completely unharmed. Orlando helps you up, pulling some laurel leaves out of your hair, as a few of the guests look over in amusement. You are suddenly quite aware of your bosoms, laid mostly bare to the evening light, by the Countess' vigorous efforts. Orlando hands you the cloak which you gratefully accept.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Orlando smiles. "Because you went for a walk with the Countess! All beautiful women who enter her bedroom exit out the window. It is the Orisni way!"

He walks you away from the house down the steps into the garden, a dizzying maze of hedges and flowers.