tagMatureThe Succubus of Blackburn House

The Succubus of Blackburn House


I was trying to be careful as I carried the brimming pitcher of dark brown beer to the table in the corner. Jack had managed to arrive with only three-quarters of one after his trip to the bar. I was limiting my intake, and so was a bit steadier, but I was also trying to stay out from in front of the projector. The pitcher finally sat safely on the table. Helen carelessly sloshed the nutty brew into her pilsner and took a long draught.

"So, guys, what's going down this weekend? You gonna top last year?"

This weekend was Halloween weekend. The USC campus had been preparing for a month with decorations in all the shops and bars, and with the annual frat monster contest. The Deltas were in the apparent lead with Zrobortha. The picture in the special section of the campus newspaper was appropriately gross, and the caption said Zrobortha was purported to exist on a diet of young children and small furry animals.

The Turk's Head Ale House, our present location, was not to be outdone by the more elite bars of the area. The Turk's Head was the basement and first floor of an ancient house that had somehow survived the wrecking ball, and had been converted into a reasonable facsimile of an English pub. Decorating for Halloween was simple in a place like the Turk's Head. A little white spray flocking to accent the existing cobwebs, the addition of a fake guillotine on the porch, and a projector showing old Frankenstein and Dracula movies against one wall did the job quite nicely. It was a quiet place on weeknights, and we had met for our traditional Wednesday evening philosophy discussion, as we called it.

Jack, Cindy, Tony, Helen, and Trixie were much like me, and that probably explains why we enjoyed being together. None of us could afford the fraternity or sorority life, and probably wouldn't have enjoyed the image anyway. That didn't stop us from having the time of our life, and last year's Halloween had set a milestone that would be talked about on campus for years. We never publicly admitted responsibility. Dean Summers' wife had been out for blood after catching us peering through her upper bathroom windowpane. Of course, our masks may have had something to do with that. It's amazing what an art student like Helen can do with two pounds of bloody beef roast, some plastic teeth and a working knowledge of human facial muscles. The three photographs I snapped of Judy Summers stepping from the shower and seeing the rotting corpses in the window were cherished souvenirs of the moment. It was not our fault they'd been posted on every bulletin board on campus.

Jack's opinion of Mrs. Summers was that she was sexy in a mature sort of way. Tony and I agreed we wouldn't kick her out of bed, and that she had great tits. The girls thought she needed to lose some of the ass and trim her bush.

Jack belched and grinned at Cindy. "Uh, I think we better lay low, this year. Those campus cops almost caught us. Everybody'll be lookin' for something like that again, and I don't wanna press my luck. I graduate this spring, remember?"

Cindy used a red-painted fingernail to trace a line from Jack's shoulder to his crotch. "You better graduate, lover. I'm tired of you leaving me all hot and horny so you can study."

Trixie giggled. "God, Cindy, is there anything about your personal life you wouldn't share?"

"I dunno. Would you like to hear what we did last weekend? See, I have this dildo, for when Jack has to study..., oh, that's right, I already told you about Mr. Mike, didn't I? Well, Jack asked me what it felt like, so I lubed Mr. Mike up really good and - "

"Cindy! You don't have to tell everything you know."

"Well, Jack, she did ask. Besides, I thought you liked it."

Jack's red face told the rest of the story, and we all burst into laughter. When the belly laughs had slowed to giggles, Tony raised his hand.

"Why don't we just spend the night by ourselves? We can get some wine and stuff, and watch movies at my apartment."

The suggestion was met with boos and hisses that continued until Helen piped up.

"Why don't we drive out to Blackburn House?"

Blackburn House was a huge, turn of the century, Victorian three story house with typical round rooms at the corners and tons of gingerbread trim. What made Blackburn House atypical was it's location and it's history. In 1902, a Scottish peasant left his fiancee and immigrated to this area. He was a thrifty soul, and over the course of five years, saved enough of his meager wages to buy a hundred acres of farmland. He sent for his fiancee, and started building the house in the middle of the farm. Everything went according to plan; they were married in 1903, and moved into the new house. The next summer, she was stricken with cholera and died. The Scotsman was devastated. He closed up the house and disappeared from the area. Eventually, a brother claimed the place and leased out the farmland, but could not bring himself to sell the house or tear it down.

Unlike most old abandoned houses, Blackburn House had no resident ghost, or at least had none that anyone had ever seen. Since there was no attraction to see, few people ever attempted to brave the faint track of potholes that passed for the road out to the place. The house itself was scary enough that most girls wouldn't go there, so it was spared the role of trysting place. With no specific attraction, Blackburn House was just another moldering old building, and was much the same as it was in 1904. The old barn behind the house was in worse shape.

"What's the fun in Blackburn House?", I asked. "There's no ghosts, and it's so fucking hard to get there."

"We can call our own ghosts."

"And just how do we do that?"

"I read the spell in a book on Wiccan. We'll call succubusses for the guys and incubusses for us girls."

Tony, the English major of the group, corrected her.

"That's succubi and incubi, my little mattress muffin, and I don't think you'd like an incubus. They favor, shall we say, the rougher side of sex. Much different than me, I think you'd agree. The succubus idea isn't all that bad though. According to myth, they're supposed to give you the screw of a lifetime."

Helen blushed. "I know. I just had this, you know, fantasy after I read it, Maybe I need to borrow Mr. Mike." She smiled at Tony and giggled. "As for that succudick lady, I'm better than any nympho spirit any day. If I can ever find that little thing between your legs, I'll show you.".

It was Tony's turn to turn red and sputter. The table erupted in guffaws and giggles again.

The plan was laid that night with much quenching of thirst and the resultant silly musings of what might happen if the spell actually did work. I figured we'd be lucky to get there and back without calling a wrecker.

On Thursday afternoon, Trixie called me.

"Gary, I can't go this weekend."

"Crap, why not?"

"My Mom's decided she ought to come see me. You know how Mom is. She never plans anything until the last second, and then expects the world to stop so she can do what she wants."

I'd never met Trixie's mother, but I felt I knew her from Trixie's lengthy descriptions.

Her name was Martha, but she went by her middle name, Katie. Katie was a child of the sixty's, and Trixie thought she'd probably smoked away a few too many brain cells during her days in the Oregon commune. Katie believed totally in the philosophy of free love, and didn't truly know who had fathered Trixie. I silently thanked Katie when I heard this story, because she had passed on her love of sex to Trixie. Trixie wasn't into the group thing, but she was into me in a big way. I was into Trixie as often as possible.

The commune disbanded when Trixie was three, and Katie moved to California with Tim Mason, the founder of the commune. Tim was the man Trixie called "Dad". They had divorced the year after Trixie started college, but the divorce was amicable, and the three were still very close.

Katie apparently hadn't changed much from her twenties, even though she had given in to convention and married Tim. She was, according to Trixie, still concerned with all the old hippie causes of the environment, world peace, and freedom to be different. She believed God was a woman, practiced some little known eastern religion, and was an active nudist. After leaving her lover, she had given up tie-dye for more socially-accepted colors and designs, and made her living as a stress counselor. She was given to spur of the moment decisions about anything.

"Well, hell. Why did she have to pick this weekend?"

"I didn't understand everything she said, but it has something to do with both our signs being in the right house for visiting relatives. Since I'm the only one she has left, she's coming to see me. Gary..., I couldn't say no. She's my Mom."

"I know, I know. I'll just have to cancel on the party. We'll do something together when she goes home."

My Halloween was shaping up to be the ultimate anti-climax. I couldn't go to Blackburn House by myself. I knew the likely outcome of the evening, and didn't want to sit by myself drinking wine and listening to the moans coming from Cindy and Helen. I couldn't very well show up at Trixie's place. Her mother would be there, and I didn't want to interfere. It was on my way to the video store that I thought of the solution.

If they wanted spirits, I would give them spirits. I wasn't a senior engineering student for nothing. I could cut my Friday classes and do some inventive rigging out at Blackburn House, and then sneak back out on Saturday night. I called Jack to tell him the bad news, and called Trixie with my idea. She promised to keep the secret if I brought her a videotape of the evening.

On Friday morning, I went shopping and then drove to Blackburn House. The lane was as bad as I remembered, but Jack's old crew-cab truck wouldn't have much trouble. At least I wouldn't have to worry about them not showing.

The house had register grates in the ceiling to let heat from the lower levels to the upper, and it was easy to rig a couple of doors with light-weight nylon fishing line to the second level. I'd leave them slightly ajar, and a slow pull on the line would open them. A hard jerk would break the line and leave no trace. I did the same with the chandeliers in the two largest rooms.

I'd picked up a CD of screams, screeches, and other ghostly sound effects, and I strung speaker cables from my portable player to a small speaker at each grate. Because of the echoes in the large rooms, it would be hard to find the source of the sound. At low volume, even though I knew it was coming, it still gave me the creeps.

My crowning achievement would be the cold feeling that supposedly accompanies a visitor from the beyond. I used cardboard boxes and a few salvaged computer fans to make cold generators. The fans would run for a while on batteries, and blow through the box and out a hole to the floor grates. On Saturday morning, I would pick up some blocks of dry ice, and keep them in an ice chest until that night. The cold and the white vapor should be pretty convincing, especially since I would wait until my buddies had finished a bottle or two of wine.

That night, I called Trixie to tell her how my plan was working. Her mother had arrived, and they were having dinner.

"Damn, Gary. I wish you were here. You could help me polish off the rest of the veggie burgers and soy chips. Mom went vegan on me after school started. Tomorrow night, we're having tofu pizza. She says all that meat and starch is poisoning our systems."

"Well, Sweetie, your system always felt pretty good to me."

"You just keep thinking that, 'cause I'm gonna need some feeling when she goes home..., after I get some real food, that is. By the way, Mom wants to meet you. I told her you're busy tomorrow night, but that you'd make dinner on Sunday. Was that OK?"

"Depends on what you're having. I'm not much for the nuts and berries thing."

"I don't know what she's got in mind, but if I can eat this shit all weekend, you can eat it for one meal. If it helps you decide, just remember that you can be replaced by a cucumber."

"A cucumber?"

"Mom thinks it's time we get more open with our relationship. She thought a good start would be to tell me that she uses a cucumber since she split with Dad. Shit, I don't like to think about her having normal sex. I definitely didn't wanna know she fucks herself with vegetables. That's just a little too holistic for me."

I promised to be there by six on Sunday.

The gang was leaving for Blackburn House at seven, so I picked up the dry ice at four and drove out. It was not likely they would be prowling around outside in the dark and the barn would hide my car unless they did. By seven, I had checked everything, including the cold boxes, and settled down on my sleeping bag to have a beer and wait. I had the camera on a mini tripod, and would set it to look through whichever grate offered a view.

Apparently they'd opened the first bottle on the way, because all four were in high spirits when they walked through the front door. Jack carried a picnic basket, Tony, a cooler, and the girls had blankets and pillows. I knew they planned for a little Halloween humping before the night was over. Jack produced candles from the basket, and set them in a circle around the two blankets. In a few minutes they were drinking, eating a pizza that made my stomach growl, and talking about the evening's conjuring. I was lucky. They had set up almost directly under one of the grates, and I soon had the camera was running.

"So, Helen, how do we get these ghosts to pay us a visit?"

"Jack, they aren't ghosts. They're fallen angels that appear and seduce you in your sleep."

"OK, OK, but how do we get them here?"

"Give me your hand."

Jack leaned over and extended his arm. "So, we're going to have a seance?"

"Nope." Jack didn't see the needle until she jabbed it in the tip of his index finger.

"Ouch. What'd you do that for?"

"To get five drops of blood. Now hold still so I can squeeze it out. The rest of you get ready, 'cause I need some from you too."

Helen stuck each, including herself, and counted out the drops into a walnut shell.

"OK, so much for the blood. Now for the lemon juice. Five drops for each of us."

She carefully stirred the mixture.

"According to the book, leather is for rough, and satin is for gentle; I picked gentle." She placed the shell in a bowl lined with a pair of satin panties. After rummaging in the picnic basket, Helen produced a package of black licorice sticks, and passed them around.

"We have to chew on these while we get naked."

Tony and Jack both said it at the same time. "Naked!"

"Yes, naked. Don't look at me like that. You guys wanted your own succudicks and this is how you get them. It's not like Cindy and I don't know what you look like. Don't you remember last spring break? Now, shuck your shorts, and don't forget to chew."

There was a little grumbling from Tony and Jack, but shortly, all four were sitting naked in the flickering candle light. It had been a while since that spring break, but I thought Helen might have gained a little weight. Her ass had always seemed too skinny to me, but it looked pretty nice tonight.

"OK, now dip your pinkie in the shell and dab it at the corner of each eye."

"You sure about this? I mean, putting blood in my eye - "

"Not in your eye, Precious. At the corner of your eye. Yes, dear, like that. Everybody else done? OK, good. Now, we have to lay down, close our eyes, and play with ourselves."

"OK, but who plays with who?", asked Jack.

"You play with yourself; you know Honey, just like when you're in the shower. Only, be careful, and don't go all the way. That ruins the spell."

"I'm not jacking off in front of another guy. That's..., that's..., well it's not right."

Helen looked at Cindy. "Men can be such prudes about themselves. Jack, we'll all have our eyes shut. Just don't start groaning and we won't look."

I had to bite my lip hard to keep from busting a gut. I'd never thought about how I looked when choking the old chicken, but Jack and Tony were hilarious. The videotape caught it all, including the stupid smile on Tony's face. He was a short-stroker. Jack seemed to like it long and slow, and his face was more of a frown. The girls were..., well, they were fabulous. Helen slowly stroked her breasts and mound. I had figured her for slow and sensual. Cindy went for the gold as soon as she started. The quiet lasted for about ten seconds before Cindy slapped at Jack.

"Jack, stop that. Helen said play with yourself, not play with me."

This brought a round of giggles from them all.

"I just thought you might need some help gettin' in the mood."

"I was in the mood before you pinched my boob. Now get back to whatever it was you were doing. After my inky-guy gets done with me, we can have some fun, but I'm saving myself for him."

The giggles finally died down, and the camera recorded a few more minutes of stroking and rubbing. I wanted them to get into things before I started.

Cindy was arching against her hand when I pulled the first line an inch or two. The door creaked and her eyes flew open.

"What was that!"

"What was what?", asked Jack.

"There was this creaking noise."

"Well, I was kinda busy here. Probably just things settling. It happens in these old houses. The floors sag when you put weight on them."

I waited five minutes, and pulled the line again. For some reason, the door was quiet. So much for using that to scare them. I jerked the thin line hard, felt it snap, and wound it around my hand as it dragged across the floor. Helen shrieked.

"Tony, there's somebody in here with us. That noise..., and something just touched my legs."

"Lay back down. It was probably just a rat going out for a bite to eat."

"A rat! I'm getting out of here."

"Well, what did you think would be out here, little furry kitty cats? Besides, he was probably too afraid to eat you. Now, I, on the other hand, have no such fears. Whacking off is boring when you're laying there. I got a hankerin' to taste a little kitty right about..."

The chandelier crystals tinkled pleasantly at my little tug on their line.. They all heard the sound this time.

"That's not the floor. Did you hear that? The chandelier shook. I saw it move."

"Helen, you're the one who told us to keep our eyes shut. Why were you looking? You trying to get a look at Jack's equipment or something?"

"No, you dick, I'm watching for rats, but there's somebody in here with us."

I started one of the fans. Cold, white vapor poured out of the ceiling grate and down over them. It seemed as if the track labeled "Eerie Moan" would fit the situation, and I softly pressed the play button. Jack turned the coolest shade of pasty grey.

"Shit, what's that white stuff. It's cold. And I don't like the sound of that...that sound."

My next selection was "Black Sabbath Whisper Chant". I started it at the lowest volume setting, and gradually increased the level until I could almost make out the words. My pull on the next line swung the door open with a bang.

It surprised me that it was so easy. I figured I'd have to shake the chandelier a couple more times, and get louder with the sound effects, but my buddies were furiously trying to get into their clothes and run at the same time. In only a few moments, they grabbed blankets, pillows, basket, and cooler. All but one candle went flying when they raced out the door. I heard Jack spin the tires as he drove off.

It would spoil everything if they came back tomorrow and found my tricks, so I picked up everything but the dry ice and put it in the cooler. Trixie was going to love the tape. She'd seen the girls in the all-together many times, but she'd really get a kick out of Jack and Tony laying there pumping away.

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