Welcome to Hart House

The storm had been unexpected. It came from the west, a sheet of rain and clouds pouring through the mountain pass up ahead, washing over my car, the winds strong enough to shake my vehicle.

That morning, before I left the motel, I had checked the forecast. They had predicted clear skies all day and night. Still, I supposed, they said that the weather was unpredictable in the mountains. That didn't help me. I was four days into a cross country trip, from my old home to my new one on the west coast. My car was on its last legs and this sudden weather assault was more than it could bear.

"Oh fuck no!" I shouted to no one as the lights on my dash began to flash and the engine began to sputter as I lost power. I let the vehicle slow as I steered to a pull-off area beside the steep road. I gripped my steering wheel hard and sighed deeply. I was alone in the car. Alone on that road. With my wife, Rachel, back home packing up the last of our stuff before she joined me at our new house, I felt utterly alone in the world.

"What the hell are you supposed to do now, Drew?" I asked myself, speaking aloud, my own voice keeping myself company as it had these past few days. I scratched at my full beard, dirty blond slightly shot through with grey these days, a habit I had when I was perplexed or nervous.

I looked at my cell phone and groaned. I had no service and hadn't had any for hours here in the mountains. There was no way to call a tow truck with that now-useless hunk of plastic and glass.

With my headlights going out, the road was dark. Sheets of rain slammed into the windshield and poured down the windows. I could see maybe three feet into the darkness. I was in a bad space. I could see nothing ahead of me in terms of getting help.

I looked back over my shoulder and, though I couldn't see it now, remembered that I had seen lights, presumably a house shining in the darkness off the road maybe three miles back. I had noted it because I had thought what a nice place to have a home. Remote and secluded surrounded by wilderness. That might be my best bet, I figured.

Grumbling to myself I dug around behind me, grabbing a hoodie out of my bag and pulling it on. I took a deep breath to steel myself and opened the door to my car, getting out.

Instantly I was hit by powerful waves of rain and gusts of wind that I had to lean into to keep my footing. In a blink of an eye I was soaked, the hoodie providing no protection from these elements. My jeans felt like they sucked to my legs, and my leather boots filled with freezing water.

I pulled the useless hood up over my head, covering my short trimmed blond hair and began trudging back the direction I had come from.

I don't remember the details of that walk very well. When I bring it to mind all I get are flashes of discomfort and cold. Being wet and miserable. I don't know how long it took but it felt like it dragged on for hours and hours. I was wet, angry and exhausted before I came to a turnoff that seemed to be the right one.

There was an old iron gate across the driveway that seemed to be locked. I shook it and there was, of course no response. The bars were far enough apart, however, that I was able to push myself through them and get to the other side of the barrier.

At that point, due to the storm and the darkness I could not see the house I thought I had noticed before but I took it on faith that it was there, heading up the drive, under an arched canopy of tree branches that met above me transforming the driveways to a kind of green tunnel.

Trudging up that long curving driveway as fast as I could I could only think of getting inside and calling for help. My teeth had begun to chatter painfully and I had my own arms wrapped around me. Eventually I could see a dark shape ahead of me.

Sudden lightning flashed across the sky, a long jagged fork of electricity that lit the world, creating a dark silhouette in the shape of a large house in front of me. It was like a scene from a cheesy old horror movie and I laughed at myself for jumping in startlement.

Finally I was close enough that I could make out weak yellow light leaking through the windows in the upper level of the house.

The house was large. Three stories with steep gabled roofs. A large covered porch wrapped around it and there were several steps that led up to a large wooden door carved with an intricate floral motif.

It was all so gothic and over the top I couldn't help but smile despite my deep discomfort. I strode up the steps and sighed happily when the porch roof blocked the pouring rain. I was still shivering with cold but at least I wasn't being actively rained on.

I looked around for a doorbell to ring but did not see one. There was, however, a large iron knocker. I reached out to grip the swinging part but my hand paused just before touching it. I had never seen a door knocker quite like this one.

While you might expect, on a strange old gothic house like this, a knocker in the shape of an animal's head, the ring through its mouth, or even, a macabre human face, this one was very different. The pitted metal was rather large and in the shape of a nude female upper torso. The details were quite fine. Her eyes were closed and her head pressed back into the door. Her finely detailed face showed her biting her lower lip. Her back seemed to be arched and her chest was thrust out towards me. There were two knockers, not just one. A metal ring pierced each of her erect, iron nipples. I got the impression that the artist who created this wanted to give the impression that this iron woman wanted you to pull on the rings.

"I don't mind if I do," I muttered to the door knocker, the ridiculousness of the design making me feel silly.

I gripped both of the rings, one in each hand and lifted them. It was the rain and the darkness and my own discombobulation, I supposed, that made me imagine a woman's voice in my mind.

Yes - it whispered in my mind. - Yes. Pull on them. Pleeeease!

I chuckled at myself and tugged the iron rings.

Oh yes!! Don't stop! - The voice keened in my mind.

I had had enough of my own game and swung the rings down, causing a pair of loud bangs that I could hear echo through the door. I swung them again for good measure, in case whoever lived here was asleep, then released them.

I could have sworn I heard that same female voice whine as I released the rings but I could hear movement on the other side of the door so instantly forgot that.

As I waited impatiently for the sounds of deadbolts being pulled on the other side, I pushed back my hood and wiped water from my eyes. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door swung open with a loud creak.

*****

Dim light and palpable warmth flooded out of the door as it was pulled open. After the darkness of the night and storm it took me several moments for my eyes to adjust enough to see who stood in front of me.

Given all that I had seen so far, I wasn't surprised to see an old man in a very formal suit standing there one hand on the door knob looking expectantly at me. He had long, stringy white hair that hung to his shoulders, but the top of his head was bald and shone in the light from inside. His nose was so long it seemed to dip below his upper lip. His eyes were bright blue, but sunken in deep dark circles. His shoulders were hunched and the hand that rested on the doorknob was gnarled.

"Thanks for opening the door," I said. "My car broke down up the road and I don't have any cell service up here and..." I shrugged. "I'd be really grateful if you would let me use your phone to call a tow truck. If that's ok."

The man looked at me for another few moments, just to the point that I was getting uncomfortable under his steady gaze before he spoke.

"Ah," he said, his voice thick with a British accent, "well that's rotten luck isn't it, your Auto breaking down in such a terrible storm! I'm sure I would be happy to help but unfortunately this horrid weather has wreaked havoc on the phone lines. Not even a dial tone, I'm afraid!"

"Oh, shit," I said, "that sucks! Ah. Sorry for swearing."

"Quite alright," he chuckled. "It is indeed, 'shit'."

He regarded me another few uncomfortable moments before speaking again.

"Oh! But I am so very sorry," he finally said. "Here I am leaving you wet and cold on the doorstep! Please come in and get warm! Get dry! The mistress of the house would be very upset with me for leaving you like this! Come in! Come in! This storm, if I know anything, will last at least the night! You must come in, get changed and dry and spend the night as our guest!"

He stepped aside and gestured for me to walk past him and enter. Despite my soaked and freezing condition I hesitated for just a moment. This was all very strange and almost unearthly. My hesitation, however, did not last long. I was too cold and tired to think too deeply about all of this and pushed past the old man, stepping onto the thick rug that went from the door down a long hallway.

The butler grinned as I entered and, pausing just a moment to run his fingers over the cast iron door knocker's breasts, swung the door shut behind me. He noticed me watching his old fingers on the knocker and he smiled slyly at me.

"Oh, the old slut loves it," he whispered at me in a conspiratorial tone. Then louder he said, "Welcome to Hart House...what is your name, sir? I," he bowed as he spoke, "am your humble servant, Nicolas."

"Oh," I said, holding out my hand, "I'm Drew. Thanks. I don't need to stay," I said. "Just maybe warm up and hopefully get at the phone when it works again."

"Oh Drew," Nicolas said. "The phones will likely be down for days! They do take their time fixing these lines up here in the wilderness! But no bother! Stay the night and in the morning our groundskeeper can help you get your car to some sort of mechanic. Please. On behalf of my mistress, I beg you to stay the night."

I sighed. I did not have many other options at that time. It was either accept the hospitality here or go back out into the storm.

"Ok," I said finally. "Thanks. I'd like to thank...who is this mistress?"

"Ah," he smiled again. "Mistress Elisabeth Hart. She is the owner and mistress of Hart house. Unfortunately for you she has retired for the night and it is unlikely you will meet her this evening. Perhaps tomorrow but she does like to keep to herself."

I took this moment to look around. While the house was obviously grand it had, I could now see, seen better days. The rug under our feet was intricate and obviously of great value but it looked threadbare. There were electric lights but they were all dark, the only light coming from kerosene lanterns set up along the hall. I assumed the electricity was out.

The hall was lined with dark wood paneling with many doors leading off of it. Between those many old portraits hung. To the left there were stairs that led up to an upper level.

"You obviously need to warm up and change out of those very wet clothes." He looked down the hall and clapped, shouting out. "Annabelle! Come! Please escort Mr. Drew to his room!"

I heard a sound on the stairs and saw a figure move down them out of the darkness above. My eyes widened as I saw the figure emerge into the light.

She was wearing a maid's outfit and it was her garb, or lack thereof, that made me swallow. You will have seen the 'sexy french maid' halloween costumes, I'm sure, and this seemed to be the original that those were based on.

While the modern costume outfits always look cheap and cheesy this one was clearly made of high quality fabrics and fit Annabelle as if it had been specifically tailored for her. My eyes quickly moved up her body, bottom to top, taking her in.

She had simple black leather flats on her feet, thigh high black stockings, above which was the flouncy skirt. The skirt only came low enough to cover the very tops of her thighs so I could see inches of milky flesh between the stockings and the hem. It was clearly corseted, pulling the girl's waist in tight and pushing up her impressive bosom. The top off the shoulder on both sides with frilly short sleeves. Her breasts were covered by the very thinnest black material, cut very low on her large breasts, with a deep line of cleavage on display. Her nipples seemed to be hard at the moment and made little tents in the fabric. A black velvet choker was right around her long neck. He had no hat, her curly red shoulder length hair hair pinned behind her ear on one side. Her face was young, pale and round. Her lips were full and pouty, painted a bright red. Her eyes were a deep green and looked at me in a way that I couldn't understand. Hunger? Pity?

"Please, sir," she said to me from several steps above me, "follow me to your room." Annabelle seemed to have a slight accent. It was hard to place. Eastern European, maybe?

I glanced over at Nicolas and could see the old man leering at the girl. He looked at me and winked.

"Go on, son," he said to me. "She will take care of you." Then he winked.

I shook my head and smiled up at the girl.

"Ok, Annabelle, was it? Lead the way."

She grasped a kerosene lantern that was lit, turned and began leading me up to the upper level. I followed her, a few steps behind.

*****

Looking up at her as she led me was both amazing and a terrible idea for a happily married man. From below her I had a wonderful view of the backs of her thighs and, above that the white globes of her ass as her skirt flounced. From where I was looking it seemed like she wasn't wearing any underwear, or maybe a g-string.

I shook my head and tried to look away from the sight which was already making my cock start to grow despite the discomfort of the wet clothing. I had been married for six years at this point and was very happy. I had never seriously considered cheating before and was not going to start now. Besides, I figured, I was 41 years old. She was probably half that age, so way too young for me.

My view changed when I reached the top of the stairs much to my relief. I was able to calm myself and follow her halfway down a long hall that seemed to go the length of the house, with many closed doors leading off of it.

There were paintings lining this hall as well. Some were portraits, some were landscapes, and others were group paintings.

I glanced at some as we passed, curious, and was mildly shocked by what I saw. The portraits of the men were normal enough; Severe looking men in stuffy Victorian or Edwardian suits glared out of the frames, surrounded by libraries and things of that nature. The portraits of the women, however, were much more interesting. They tended to be young and beautiful, with less clothing on than I was used to seeing in old paintings. None were fully nude but they were in thin night shifts, or negligees, full bosoms almost spilling out of them. Those expressions were...lustful almost. As if they were begging the viewer or the artist to ravish them.

The landscapes were normal enough, if pedestrian to my untrained eyes. The other paintings, however, were much more risqué. The first one I passed was a forest scene that depicted an orgy of sorts between satyrs and maybe a dozen young women. It was quite graphic with oversized cocks being sucked and fucked in many imaginative ways. Another was a painting depicting two women kneeling before a standing hooded man, both licking his erect cock, looking at him lovingly.

Judging by this art, the cast iron door knocker and the costume that Annabelle was wearing...this seemed to be a pretty sexy household. I shook my head again. Not that anything would happen with me...still I had better keep my door locked that night.

There were other paintings along the hall but I didn't get a chance to look at them because Annabelle stopped in front of a closed door.

She looked back at me over her shoulder.

"This is your room Mr. Drew," she said with a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. I walked up beside her where she stood with one hand on the door. She seemed to be waiting for me to arrive to open it.

When I came to her she turned and quickly, surprising me, moved to stand very close to me. She was short. I am 5'11 and the top of her head only came up to my chin. She moved so that her full breasts were only millimeters away from my chest and looked up at me. I looked down, first into that deep line of her cleavage then into her bright green eyes.

"Mr. Drew," she said.

"Just Drew. Please," I answered, swallowing a lump in my throat due to her closeness.

"Mr. Drew," she insisted, "there are some pajamas in the dresser so you can change out of those wet clothes. And a shower to warm yourself."

She blinked up at me through long lashes.

"Will you need help removing your wet clothes?"

"Um...ah," I stammered. "No. Thank you. That won't be necessary." This was all a bit much for me. I was sorely tempted to agree, to see how far her hospitality would go, but I had a flash in my mind of my beautiful wife, and shook my head. "No."

Annabelle pouted and moved even closer. I could feel the hard nubs of her nipples against my chest and I swallowed again. I could feel myself reacting, my cock growing hard in my wet jeans.

"Are you sure, Mr. Drew?" She asked. "I'd be very happy to help. We don't get very many visitors."

With a strength of will that surprised me I shook my head.

"I'd just like to get changed on my own thank you. The shower sounds great too."

She pouted again but moved away from me, but not before her eyes darted down to my groin and the obvious bulge that had formed there.

"As you wish, Mr. Drew," she said and opened the door.

"When you have refreshed you should come down to the kitchen. We can make you a warm drink and give you a snack."

She handed me the lantern she had been carrying then stepped back and began to walk away down the hall.

"If you need...anything," she said looking back over her shoulder, "please ring the bell in your room. We will be happy to service you."

"Ah," I said watching her walk away with some regret. "I see. Thank you."

I shook my head. One thing I knew for sure: I would be jerking off that night to the memory of her.

I stepped through the open door into my room lighting my way with the lantern.

*****

The bedroom was not terribly large. It was dominated by a large ornate four poster bed, covered in thick blankets, with thin white curtains hanging around it, gathered with red ties. There was a dresser on one wall below a cloudy old mirror. To one side was an open door that led into a small bathroom covered in small black and white tiles. There was a large cast iron tub in there with a shower head with curtains that wrapped around it.

First things first, I thought and began to peel off my sodden clothing. My hoodie was soaked and the simple tee shirt I wore under it was almost see through and plastered to my chest. I pulled this over my head before sitting on the bed, pulling off my boots and peeling my sodden jeans down my legs. This was partly hampered by the hardon that I still spotted from my brief interaction with Annabell.

Finally I stood alone in the room, naked, but still cold and wet. I stepped towards the dresser and looked at myself in the mirror. It was old, and the silver backing had clouded giving it a swirly, smoky effect.

I smiled slightly at my reflection. I took care of myself, running several days a week, doing one marathon a year. Though I was over 40 I had avoided the worst of a 'dad bod'. My beard might have a bit of Grey but my barber kept it and my hair trim. My chest was broad with only a small tuft of hair between the pecs, and my stomach, while not a washboard, was flat.

My eyes wandered down to my cock, standing straight and hard, from my trimmed (I had no interest in shaving and looking like a child) patch of pubic hair. I was no pornstar but it was a good 8 inches when erect and thick. It was uncircumcised, the head now three quarters pushing out of the hood. Before getting married I had pleasured many women with this member. In fact, in the days before getting married I would have had plenty of fun with that Annabelle, I thought.