Upon seeing his truck, she rolled her eyes towards the sky in silent protest. Pulling her Jeep next to his vehicle, she was greeted by a friendly smile. Melina put her hand up to the window. A lame gesture portrayed as a greeting.
She looked down at her cell phone and her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the window.
He didn't waste any time.
Rolling down her window, she forced a smile to her face. The professor who taught paranormal science and had an obsession with photography appeared to have put on a little bit of weight, filling out the tall, thin frame that Melina has grown accustomed to. His hair had turned just a little greyer since their last meeting and the salt and pepper look on his beard was quite attractive.
"Hey, there, Melina," he said in a soft, southern drawl. Putting out his hand, she noticed his smile was extra bright on this otherwise gloomy evening.
"Hi, Martin," she replied, taking his handshake firmly.
"Been working out, girl? That's some grip you have there."
Melina flashed him a look.
"Ok. Ok," he said, "strange how fate keeps forcing us to work together isn't it?"
"Well, it may be your fate, but it appears to be my bad luck." She replied snidely.
"I am always impressed with your good NY comebacks. Spoken like a true feminist."
"Oh, yes, Martin. I am aware."
"Where's your gear?" he asked, "let me give you a hand with it."
"Thanks," Melina said, getting out of the Jeep and walking to the hatchback and pulling it open," so where's the crew?"
"About two hours south of here."
"You are kidding?"
"Nope. Bad fog. You're not afraid to go inside with just me, are you?"
"Martin, are you forgetting the name of my show? I don't believe. I am here to debunk your theories. What is the story with this place anyway?"
"Didn't read your notes?"
"I usually don't until the last minute."
"Figures. Anyway, it was used as a house for sex slaves. Hot women sex slaves."
"Stop, ok?" she replied.
'I'm serious. Women, their Masters and lots of pleasure."
"You men and your fantasies."
"From the notes, it appears that the slaves loved their Masters. Many committed suicide when they masters died."
"Sick girls. Jeez, who thinks this crap up? You guys trying to attract more of a male audience?"
Martin grinned at her, set up her camera outside of the porch of the old, Queen Anne home. Melina stepped onto the creaking porch and pulled out the notes on the place out from her jacket pocket.
"This place is amazing. Look at it," she exclaimed.
"I see. Listen, do your introduction shot from there. It looks perfect. The fog rolling in. The sun almost gone."
Melina looked around and said, "Good idea." Melina's long, dark hair glistened under the shadows of the night. He watched as her jacket blew in the wind, exposing her large tits. He saw her nipples protruding out from under her white blouse.
"Damn, girl, you are so friggin' beautiful right now. Too bad you are such a New York bitch. A bitch that needs a lesson."
"I didn't hear what you said, can you say again?" she asked.
"I said that is perfect. Finish reading your notes and we can start."
Martin stared at her as she quickly glanced at her notes.
"O.K. Let's roll."
Martin took his place behind the camera, smiled and raised his finger.
"Good evening. I am Dr. Melina Jones and this is Paranormal Hunt: The Voice of Reason. We come to you this evening from the Great American South. Standing before a home that supposedly held women that were purchased as pleasure slaves during the gold rush era, who then, according to documentation, committed suicide after their owners died. Many say one can hear the rattle of chains, the metal that bound them to their owners, sounding off in the hallways. The girls, looking for the men that they may have been forced to love, but loved nonetheless. To be attached to their Masters again. I intend to debunk this silly, boy, fantasy-like story and I know if there are the sounds of chains in the hallway, it must be the women coming back to choke their Masters to death. Let's begin our journey."
"Well, done, Melina," Martin commented with an attitude.
"Thanks," she replied, while shaking her head. She heard the tone of his voice, " I guess we can get the equipment set up for the crew."
The two worked in silence as they placed the ghost hunting equipment in strategic positions. The wind kicked up, forcing Melina to close the bay windows she had just opened.
"Shit," Martin exclaimed, "the lights just blinked."
'Yeah, I saw that. This storm is bad. Look at it out there. I don't think I have ever seen lightning like this."
"Welcome to the South, girl. Not everything powerful comes from NY."
Martin took out his lighter and a few candles from his camera bag. He lit them and placed them on an end table near the couch in the middle of the room and then plopped onto the sofa.
