The Cabin in the Sky

You shake the cold from your coat, and adjust your belt. What to do now?

You know what you want. With a quick nod to Charlie and Heather, you head for the staircase. Charlie cackles, "You get it, Sally!" while Heather slaps his shoulder with a "hush, don't be crude."

You made your way past the old men with the cards, a few of them raising an eyebrow but you brush on past to the stairs. As you reach the top, the blonde swoops in close,

"Howdy there traveler! Are you looking for a nice hot bath, or something more?"

You take off your hat, and point to Simone, who is watching the activity below from her spot next to the balcony.

"Actually I was hoping to have a few words with your friend there," pointing towards Simone with your hat.

"Delilah? Sure. If you're all paid up with Heather, take your pick." She takes a pause, looking you up and down. "Although, now that I think about it, you might be more of Del's flavor anyway. Del? You're up!"

"I'm coming, tell him I'm coming." Simone in her blue lace and high boots comes over, barely noting you until she gets to your face.

"Oh! Oh sorry miss. Um . . ." she gave a little laugh of embarrassment, her cheeks turning slightly red. "What can I do for you?" You give her a smile.

"Well, what are you offering?"

"Oh! Um, usually for the boys who have been out running the cattle or working the silver mines, we have a hot bath, although to be honest, that's usually more for our benefit than theirs. And then, if they are sore, I give them a rub down but by then, they usually want to take us to bed. And then it's just do they want my hands, my lips or . . . you know" she gestures to her slender hips, giving them a little shimmy.

"So, I guess . . um . . that's what I do for the boys. Do you want some of that?" Simone's large almond eyes are watching you with . . . intrigue? Curiosity? Something more.

"Well . . . " you begin. "Let's pretend that I'm a man then, and draw me a nice hot bath and we can figure it out as we go along." you say, your voice dripping with intention. She blushes and gives a little hop.

"Okay! Give me just a moment and then come into room number three." She shuffles off, throwing you one quick glance over her shoulder before vanishing into the room.

The blonde, who has watched the whole encounter, rolls her eyes, and goes back to watching the crowd.

Down below, the piano player plunks along, the old men shuffle their cards, and Charlie is in the middle of some loud story with Heather. Still, there's something not quite right with the scene below. You can't quite put your finger on it - but it feels a little too pat. Like when your mom and dad are having a conversation in front of you that they clearly rehearsed.

"I'm ready, miss . . . " You hear Simone's . . no, Delilah's voice from the room.

"Sally." you say, pushing open the red door to a steamy wood room with a big clawfoot tub in the middle. A simple bed with white sheets rests in the corner. Next to the tub, there's a sluice leading up from the kitchens with big metal pitchers to catch the water. A big double window looks out onto the stables and snowy valley, the window pane frosted over.

You take off your heavy coat, hanging it, and your gun belt, and overpants on the large hook next to a bench. Delilah has changed out of her blue lace, into a white cotton slip as she pours some sweet smelling oils into the hot tub. She gives you a shy smile.

"Okay Sally, it's ready." You peel off your long johns, feeling a bit exposed in the moist air before slipping into the tub. Oh. This is nice.

The heat drives the cold from your bones and you look up, through the steam, to see Delilah watching you closely, her elbows hanging on the side of the tub, one hand draping in.

"I haven't ever had a lady customer before." She volunteers.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I've thought about it a bunch. I never thought I'd get one, certainly not as pretty as you."

"Well, if you're going to be giving me compliments, would you like to get in here with me?"

You spread your legs. She gives an excited squeal and shimmies out of her shift, her small breasts tipped with bright pink nipples. She gracefully slides into the tub across from you. Her curls diffuse into a thick swirl around her submerged shoulders.

"So, I imagine if I were a man, you might be quite busy right now." She nods.

"Tell me Delilah, what would you be doing?" You glide over to her, crawling between her legs.

"I would probably be rubbing his cock, getting him all excited, and then, once he was good and ready, I'd get him into bed."

"Hmm, rubbing his cock . . . like this?" you say, gently caressing her inner thigh. She shudders, her cheeks flush as your fingers find their way to her delicate sex, softly feeling up and down.

"Oh yes, like that." she moans, as you slowly stroke her pussy. She is already breathing hard, as you rub her clit, the hot water swirling around you both. You slide one long finger inside her and feel her tense and shudder around you, squeezing you back. She wraps one arm around your neck, pulling you in tight.

"Oh oh oh OH!" she moans in your arms, as you work her faster and faster. With one hand you press into her from the inside, the other furiously working her clit. Her eyes shut tight, she pushes into your hand, desperate.

Suddenly she kisses you, hot and open mouthed. Tongues tangling and then she's shouting her orgasm into you, a ragged moan as her whole body jumps before going completely limp. Slowly, her breath returns, and then the words tumble out.

"Oh Miss Sally, I'm so sorry. I . . . I haven't ever done something like that . . wow. . . I just wow." You pull your hands up to her face, brushing a stray hair from her face. You ssshh her softly. "That was perfect."

"I've never done that with another person, I mean, occasionally with myself but none of the boys . . . And I usually am thinking about other stuff . . ." She babbles. You lean in and give her a kiss.

"Thinking about other stuff? Or other people?" she blushes and tries to hide her face with her hands, the steam curling around the both of you like a warm wet blanket.

". . . maybe about Miss Lane and me." You point towards the door, "The blonde?" She nods.

"Once, for a prospector who had paid Heather extra, we both attended to him in bed and whoooyee . . . that was something. I mean, I'd seen her naked plenty of times but being with her and him. We didn't do anything to each other, but it is something I think about a lot."

Suddenly her eyes snap open. "Oh Miss Sally, I am so sorry. I've forgotten my place. Do you . . . do you want me to do that to you? I'm not really sure how but I bet I could figure it out . . ."

You shake your head, "I have a better idea." The two of you step out of the tub and towel off.

"Lie down on the bed, Delilah." She hopes on the bed with an excited and nervous smile. You crawl on to the bed over her and swoop in for a kiss. She kisses you back, running her hands along your shoulders and back. You nibble your way down her slender neck and trace lazy circles with your tongue around her small breasts. She moans and arches her back as you suck her nipples.

"Oh, oh, oh!" She tosses her head back and forth. You spread her legs, sliding in between them and then straddle her sex, slowly pressing your sex to hers. Her eyes fly open in shock.

"Oh MY!" You grind into her, sending electric tingles all through your body as she reaches up with her long arms, pulling your tight butt forward, urging you on.

"Yes, yes, oh yes!" She shouts, as you fuck her. Just raw passion, thrusting and grinding, seeing her lithe body twist and writhe underneath you, her breasts bouncing, her cries urging you on, sending you higher and higher. The pleasure builds and builds. You reach down and with just a few strokes send yourself shuddering through an orgasm, white hot and all-encompassing.

When you come back down to Earth, Delilah is still there beneath you, looking up with lust in her eyes, still slowly rocking back and forth against your slit.

"Did you . . . was that it?" You nod, "Yes, that's it for me . . ." you trail off as you descend between her legs.

"Oh Miss Sally." she cries as your lips and tongue find her most tender folds. She's already close, quivering before your hot breath. You lick, she pushes her hips against your face, desperate for relief.

Throwing caution to the wind, you suck her clit into your lips and her hips buck. Working it like a tiny cock, you suck and suck and within a few moments, she is shouting her orgasm distantly above you, her voice matching the shouts from outside the room.

As she gasps herself back to coherence, you hear the first gunshot. BANG. Then another BANG BANG. You take a quick breath, and scamper back to your clothes.

"What? What is going on?" She sits up, still reeling from the vigorous orgasm. You put a finger to your lips as you hear shouting on the other side of the door. You frantically pull on your clothes and relatch your gun belt.

She has retrieved an oversized work shirt and trousers from a foot locker near the bed, hastily throwing them on. You peak out the door, steam spilling out onto the balcony.

". . . no need for further bloodshed. Everyone stay where they are and this will all be over quickly." An oddly familiar voice rises up from below. You see Miss Lane, crouched as low to the ground as she can get in her outfit next to the stairs. You crawl towards the balcony and see the chaos below.

Three men stand near the door, still wearing their large winter coats, pointing pistols at the inhabitants of the Silver Corner Saloon. The old men at the poker table have not stirred but are watching the intruders like hawks. The old pioneer next to the hearth is standing, having tossed his pistol down in front of him. Heather is still behind the bar, her hands up, trying to keep their focus on her.

Charlie, shot, lies dead on the wood floor. Though you only knew him a short time, you feel a deep surge of sadness. He was a good man.

Standing in front of the three intruders, wearing an all white fur coat and towering tall, is the bald lanky man from the Hotel Murano. His albino features even more surreal in this strange time and place. He raises his voice,

"Search the Saloon. We have the wagon, let's find our other driver."

The whole world pixelates, and the dark void sweeps up through the floorboards and you feel yourself beginning to fall. Looking down into the darkness, you see there's no door, there's no portal, just an empty yawning void.

NO! You pull yourself away from the dark void, springing back and shutting the door to the washroom. Delilah is there, frightened and alarmed. What to do?

"Let's get out of here." You point to the window, Delilah's face lights up and she pulls a winter coat out of the foot locker as you crack open the window. It's a drop but the snow looks forgiving. You hear feet on the staircase.

"You ready?" Delilah gives a frightened nod and the two of you leap, side-by-side, tumbling down. CRUNCH! You flop, cold and wet, onto the thick snow. Delilah helps you up and the two of you stumble towards the stables. You round the corner and then flatten yourself and Delilah, up against the wall.

"What?" She whispers?

"There's someone guarding the wagon."

She peeks around the corner.

"Oh hell, that's Johnson. He's a regular shitheel. But he's a regular."

You hear some shouting from the Saloon and a second gunshot rings out.

"We've got to get out of here." Delilah nods. But where?

"I live a few miles south of here," Delilah whispers. "With my aunt. We can take a few of your horses and go there. Once we get Johnson out of the way, of course."

A tempting option, a warm fire and a place to stay. But that would leave the cargo in the hands of . . . whomever that is . . . sets your teeth on edge. There HAS to be a reason you are here.

You hear shouting in the washroom. You are running out of time.

"Delilah, I've got to get that cargo where it needs to go. We can't let them have it." Delilah gives you a firm nod.

"I can keep Johnson busy, you get the horses gathered up." Delilah takes a moment to brush the snow from her clothes and then struts around the corner, her small hips swishing back and forth.

"Hey there Johnson!" you hear her purr but you are already off, shuffling around the other side of the stables, untying the horses and getting them lined up.

"What do you mean a warm up?" You hear Johnson rumble and then a little squeal from Delilah. You urge the horses in front of the wagon, lacing the straps into place and preparing to fit the heavy metal bar of the cheek bit in place.

"What the hell?!" You whip around to see Johnson, a solidly built man in a dark brown coat, pinned up against the wood beam of the stables while Delilah's hands work furiously inside his pants. He's looking straight at you - and pushes Delilah out of the way, reaching for his gun.

You do the only thing you can think of. You heft the cheek bit towards him. It swings through the air and hits his head with a satisfying CLONK. Delilah gives him a hearty shove and his tumbles back into the straw of the stables.

You tie the last tie, forgoing the missing cheek bit, and hop onto the wagon seat.

"Well, come on!" You shout. Delilah flashes you a big smile and scampers on board. You urge the horses to move and slowly, agonizingly slowly, the wagon creaks forward.

"Hyah! Hyah!" You urge the horses on as you make your way onto the road.

CRACK! A shot punches through the canvas of your wagon. Looking back, you see the tall pale man standing on the porch beneath the red lantern. He fires his pistol. "AAHH!" Delilah screams in fright as the shot whizzes by, but no blood.

The horses are picking up speed now and as the road turns, you look back. The pale man reaches up and touches the red lantern - he pixelates and folds in on himself, and then is gone just as quickly. The porch is empty as you round the corner.

As the horses get into the steady rhythm, you find yourself explaining the reins to your slender companion. "It takes two to drive a wagon - one person can fall asleep and send us into a ditch, but two can ride all night long."

The snow becomes a white tunnel as you slice through the dark night. Once Delilah is able to handle the reins for a minute, you unzip the canvas and feel for the wood door between the cargo and the wagon bench. It feels odd. Bringing your lantern close you can see that the simple wood lock has been replaced with fading green paint and an all too familiar doorknob.

Already? The door is in an awkward spot but as soon as you turn the knob, the familiar black void sweeps you up . . .

THUNK

Your feet hit the hard concrete floor. Back in the basement. You feel the pang of loss, just moments ago, feeling Simone's lips on yours and even though the basement is much warmer than the snowy fields of Idaho, it feels cold and empty.

You look around, the same piles of stuff heaped on tables. Caroline is off in the corner, brandishing a polearm she pulled from the suit of armor.

"Brenna! Check this out!" She swings it a few times. You smile and try to get a hold on our situation.

"Hey Carr . . ." you are unsure of where to begin. She sets down the polearm and comes over.

"What's up?" her voice suddenly full of concern. You rub your hands on your legs.

"Uh, where's Simone?" Caroline gives a short laugh. "Probably back in Seattle, why?"

"And Tanya? Pixie?" Caroline looks worried.

"Both at home, why? Did you get a premonition or something?" You shake your head.

"Can we talk upstairs?" You look around the spooky cellar. Definitely upstairs.

The two of you head up to the couch, Caroline pours some tea and sits right next to you on the couch.

"Are you getting cold feet?" Caroline said, a worried look.

"Cold feet?" You ask.

"You know. Well, I figured after we had fun at Dan and Emma's wedding." You crack a smile. "And then the sky trip with Ryan and the hot tub." You nod.

"Well, you invite me up to a big fancy cabin for the weekend, just the two of us, I figured you were planning some 'romancin'." She wiggled her eyebrows. You laugh.

"No . . I mean, yes, I would love that, that sounds great." Caroline cracks a big grin. "But there's something else going on."

You take a deep breath and then the words tumble out of you. Coming up here with the full car, finding the key in the moose's mouth, the strange cellar, the Countess with Pixie's face, the ferocious Tanya as the Black Orchid and sweet but forceful Chiho, and finally the frantic flight from the Silver Corner Saloon.

You even manage to make it through the naughty parts without blushing too much.

After you finish, Caroline takes a long draught of her tea.

"Well, that would explain some of this. This is a big cabin for just the two of us. I mean, I thought you were just being showy but it makes sense if this was a group event." Caroline gets up and paces a bit.

"Okay, okay, that said this place does have some serious vibes going on." You nod. "We need some sort of proof. Some sort . . . " she trails off, looking to the hearth. To the Moose head on the hearth.

With a grunt, she pulls the head off it's hook and down on the ground. On the back wooden mount, there was a tiny oaken switch. You flip it open and a compartment folds out with a letter.

"To Whom it May Concern,

As I feel the last of my strength leave my weary bones, I must confess what I have done to truly be at peace. Hear my words, and know them to be true, no matter how improbable.

My name is Harold T. Robertson. For the last seventy-seven years, I have been a real estate investor in the Puget Sound, but of all the hundreds of deals I have made, and buildings I've built, there is only one I truly regret.

The year was 1937, and I was a young man, working as a project manager for my uncle's business. We had received a contract for a hotel from a strange foreign man. He gave his name as Kalchik but I never saw any papers with that name on them. The hotel was in an odd location, two blocks from the Puyallup river rather than right abutting it but Kalchik insisted, something about the "laylines" and a future road that was to be built.

We had worked for odd customers before and to be honest, I was more focused on my Gloria, my dear sweet wife. We had just wed the summer before and there was little Charles on the way. So I asked a few questions and focused on getting the hotel built.

Kalchik had all sorts of requirements, double-walls, inner pathways so the serving staff could travel without being seen by the guests. We followed his specifications down to the letter.

Finally, at the center of the Hotel, he had us build this odd furnace that could pipe heat entirely throughout the hotel. Or so he claimed, it was of his own design and he brought with him the materials to build it and personally oversaw it's construction.

One night, overcome with curiosity, I used the newly created double-hallways to travel to his workshop within the shell of the building. Oh, cursed me, I wish I'd never indulge such a foolish wish. I found Kalchik, hunched over an open flame, tossing shimmering metal ingots into the blue-hot fire. When the metal hit the flames, there was a streaming noise. A terrible rending that extended beyond my ears and tore holes in the fabric of my soul. Like a thousand desperate people all crying out in pain at once, but underwater, beyond the edge of sight.

Some nights, when I close my eyes, all I can hear is that sound. That dreadful sound.

He was working the metal with a hammer and tongs, forging it into keys and building his terrible contraption. Part open flame brazier, part domed hood, the angles of the strange device were all wrong, bent out of time and space. I could not hold my eyes upon it.