Jake gave a firm push on the peeling paint of the side door and it creaked open with a groan. "Easy peasy," he said, satisfied. "We're in."
"You mean, we're criminals," Maria added, following Jake inside the dark house without hesitation. Her hand was holding his tightly and I eyed that big ass of hers stuffed into dark denim.
This was fun. Even if it was a little bit illegal. The house was at the dark end of a suburban cul-de-sac, as sleepy and quiet of a spot as could be. We even chose a night with a new moon to cut down on any light. I don't think any of the neighbors really gave a shit, but it made this feel like more of an adventure, a break from the monotony of the summer.
I stepped through the threshold and looked back at Denise. "Babe, you coming?"
Denise nodded yes, but stayed where she was. She looked tiny in the doorway. Denise is tiny. Barely five feet tall and thin. Small tits, narrow hips, the entire package.
"Come on," I urged and reached out my hand, "We won't get in trouble."
"I'm not worried about getting into trouble, Dan. This place...give me the creeps," Denise took my hand and then we were all inside the abandoned house. "Is this really where she lived?"
"That's what my brother said. He went to school with her, he knew her," Jake chimed in. He was the one that had cooked up this little expedition and was the self proclaimed expert on all things suburban legend.
The side door opened into what was once a family den. Now it was a decaying piece of shit. It had been a while since any good times were had here. The couches were sliced up and stuffing covered the floor like moldy snowfall. A ceiling fan was smashed through a coffee table, a five pointed fallen star amid the scattered shards of glass. Everything was trashed. Sloppy graffiti covered the walls and a dull odor of stale beer and cigarettes hung in the air, a suffocating escape from the too hot summer night.
"And she just vanished?" Maria's voice was a little shaky. The mood changed now that we were inside and amid the ruin.
"Yeah, my bro said that she...," Jake started and I cut him off.
"Stella, right? Her name was Stella Ciccone." I heard her name a lot a couple of years ago, when it all went down.
"Italian girl," Maria muttered under her breath.
Jake went on. "Stella was in the same grade as my brother. Class of 97. They were seniors when everything happened, four years ago. One day this girl was just gone. Like a magic trick. Poof. My bro said that she was weird. Didn't really have any friends and didn't do much, as far as anyone knew. One of those loner, goth types." He paused. "She was a big girl."
Maria gave him a little slap. "What's that got to do with it? You're always talking about people's bodies like you're fucking perfect." She pulled at her tank top and the thick strap of her bra appeared.
"Just saying. Rick said she was pretty. Just, you know, bigger than some other girls," Jake was smirking, he loved to rile up his girlfriend and knew just how to do it. He looked at me with a goofy grin and cupped his hands in front of his chest, the universal gesture for big tits.
"So what's the story? She was here and then she wasn't?" Denise stuck close to me as we started to spread out and walk around the rest of the house.
"Yeah, I guess. No one really knows. Apparently it really fucked up the family. Cops asked a bunch of questions but never found anything out. There were rumors that the mom was involved, but who the fuck knows what was true and what's bullshit. Some people said that Stella was a witch. And then one day the family was gone too. Said nothing to no one. Just packed up in the middle of the night and split," Jake gestured to the detritus around him. "Didn't even take most of their shit."
"But some people say they still hear her, Stella, in the house. Right? Moans or screams or something. And I heard that there are no mirrors in the house because after Stella vanished her family kept seeing her in the mirrors, looking back at them. So they got rid of everything in the house that was reflective," I added.
"That's fucked up. You'd think that they would want to see their missing daughter?" Denise was not feeling it. The story, the house, it was getting to her.
"Not like the way she was. I heard that she was different somehow. Something had changed with her and Stella was not the same," I explained, my voice low.
"Where did you hear that bullshit?" Maria questioned from across the room. The kitchen was just as trashed as the den. Shit everywhere, picked over and discarded. Nothing worth a thing. I poked my head into a half bathroom and looked around. The sink was still there but no mirror above. Just an empty spot, a circle less faded than the walls around it.
"I don't remember. But I heard it somewhere."
"Some girls on the team were talking about her one day. Claudia Lombardo said that if you turn off the lights and say her name three times in the mirror then she'll steal your boyfriend," Denise added, she was trying to sound light but she couldn't hide the heaviness in her voice. "But no one would do it."
In silence the four of us made our way slowly through the house. We split up, Jake and Maria checking out the downstairs, while Denise and I headed up the creaky steps to the second floor. It was odd to see a house like this. It could have been any of ours, a cookie cutter suburban for a perfect family. Except this was anything but that.
This house was the aftermath of middle class melancholy. Lost nights in front of the glow of a television. Conversations and meals that no one even wanted to remember. Too gloomy to merely be dead, this was more like a coma. A frozen stasis of what happens to dreams when you realize there is nothing at the end of a rainbow. A big old pot of shit that someone got to first. I didn't know who this Stella was, but I couldn't blame her for wanting to get away from it all.
The remains of life were all around. Clothes and furniture, books and magazines. But it was lifeless. None of it mattered. It was the same stuff you could see anywhere.
On the second floor was a stained carpeted hallway with several doors ajar. Walking by, Denise and I spied a master bedroom, another bedroom, and a bathroom. All trashed. The only closed door was at the end of the hall. Since we got inside the house it was the only closed door that we had seen. Fuck, even the kitchen cabinets had been wide open.
I looked at Denise and gestured to the closed door. "What do you think?"
"Nope. That shit is closed for a reason, I've seen horror movies," her head went side to side, her body almost shaking. I hugged her and she wrapped her arms around her own tight little body and I felt her nipples, hard as diamonds against the heat of my skin.
"Come on, let's just check it out. We didn't come here to not look around," I bargained, the best smile I could muster. A moment ago I didn't care, but now I really wanted to see what was behind that door. Somewhere inside of me I felt a tingle, an itch that I couldn't scratch.
"I'm going to fucking kill you...," Denise followed a step behind.
We neared the door and both stopped at the same time. A breathy moan, somewhere in the house, froze us in our tracks. It was brief, but the silence that followed said volumes.
"I swear to...," she whispered before I cut her off. The tingle surged stronger. A sexual pulse shot through my body and I squeezed Denise tight, eager to feel her against me.
All quiet for a pounding heartbeat and then the sound rose up again, low and with energy behind it. Suddenly, it picked up a familiar rhythm and the moan came back, clearer this time.
"Uuuuhhhhh...fuck this fat ass...just like that...."
A grunted response, the slap of flesh from the first floor. The house creaked.
Denise was on a rollercoaster of emotions and stood there, wide eyed. "Those two are nasty."