Foreword
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Dedicated to the random omegle guy/girl. Your input made it possible for me to finish the story! I hope you read this! Thank you very much for your help. ^_^
This is my first ever attempt at writing erotica, you will notice that my skills are still raw and needs much polishing. I would greatly appreciate all input you can provide.
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A quiet breeze whispered coldly against her ear. Taylor stood still before the old mansion and stared at a window on the upper floor intently. It was getting colder, and the wind forced her to pull the scarf closer around her neck. Shivering a bit at the touch of the cold fabric upon her skin, Taylor looked intently for some signs of movement. The wind tossed her blonde hair around and she cleared her long bangs off her face to keep watching the window. Two days ago, she had stood right there at the gate watching a girl her own age sitting by a window on the top floor. She looked sad and lonely. She knew what it meant to be sad and lonely. At first, all that went through her mind was pity. However, the more she watched the mysterious girl, the stronger her emotions became. Pity turned to sympathy, sympathy turned to a form of empathy. Her empathy grew to such a degree that she now obsessed over this girl so much that all she wanted to do was go in there and talk to her.
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Taylor had always been alone. Perhaps it was because she knew she was an orphan, perhaps it was because, as a child, she had watched her own mother burn to death and her father weep while the noose he fashioned for himself snapped his neck mid fall. She spoke very little to her foster parents but they knew what they were getting when they adopted her. Sister Rosaline had made it very clear to them that she was a very polite and well mannered child but she was quiet. Mr. Damian Grey, her foster father was a rather old man with a heart of gold. He had insisted on adopting the troubled little girl he saw at the window of the orphanage as he drove in. His wife, Charlotte, did not oppose him in this either.
All in all, Taylor was grateful to her adoptive family but they were unaware of the reputation their quiet daughter had among her circles. Taylor was the epitome of goodness as far as her parents, their friends or her parish knew but to her close friends, she was a wild outgoing girl with very few inhibitions. Taylor would never avoid school; she was too intelligent and loved learning to do that. However, if she got bored she'd know exactly what she'd want and all her friends loved her for that. Nothing was too bad to try as far as she was considered.
Her foster parents never forced her into anything she did not want; neither did they ignore her needs or wishes. In the twelve years that had gone by since the adoption, little had changed on the surface for the small family. Anyone who observed them would have found them to be the model family. They went to church every Sunday, the elderly couple were well looked after by Taylor who did all the cooking and cleaning. They in turn gave their daughter everything a girl her age would need. The town knew the family as the ideal group of people to model their own families after.
Still, Taylor dreamed of having someone close to her- a friend that she could confide in, someone to lend her a shoulder to lay her head on and weep out all the sorrows she had buried within. Standing before that forlorn gate on that cold October morning, Taylor wistfully imagined a kindred spirit looking back. She had not stayed too long that day, but tarried a few minutes before the gate every day since then, calling the girl to come out to her in her mind. Yet each day college beckoned, and she forced herself to walk away from the gate. Being a resourceful girl, Taylor had not given up on the lonely girl she had seen that morning. Instead she decided to investigate further. She sensed that something was off, however, and decided to be prudent. In the evening, Taylor walked to the post office, instead of going directly home as was her habit. She felt strange, walking a different route that day. She knew that the road she took would eventually take her home but breaking a habit is no simple thing. It leaves you floundering like a fish out of the water. Today, that was what Taylor felt like.
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She reached the post office and walked up to the post master's office. "Mr. Hannigan?" she called out, "Have you got a minute to spare?"
"Taylor!" The old man at the desk looked up. "I'm surprised to see you here, come in! Of course I have a minute." Tobias Hannigan was the postmaster of the little town Taylor lived in. Everyone knew that Mr. Hannigan was a lecherous old man but they could not disagree with his authority on the town's history or present state. If you wanted to know something, Mr. Hannigan was the man to go to.
Taylor walked in and the warmth of the room suddenly put her off and she stood still for a bit, adjusting herself to the change. She realized she had been standing silently for a while when the old man cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Mr. Hannigan, I'm being rude. I came to find out about the family that lives in that old mansion on the way to my college. Could you tell me about them?" she asked, setting her backpack down and bending a little more than was necessary. Her short skirt hiked up her hips, revealing her white panties to the old postmaster and Taylor smiled, knowing he was looking at her ass. She had to make sure that she got the information she needed and from the sharp intake of breath she heard from behind, she knew that her play had worked. When she turned back to face him, the old man was looking at her strangely, stroking his beard. For a moment Taylor considered doing a little more to coax him although the thought wasn't something she enjoyed. Luckily for her he spoke voluntarily.
"What family child?" he asked, "That old house has been abandoned for years. I was a lad when the last family living there moved out. Some sort of rubbish about ghosts and so on. Now, I don't believe in ghosts or fairies but I'd advise you to not go there alone. It's been in a bad state for over 50 years and Lord knows what you'll have falling on your head if you step in."
Taylor sat in the chair by the fire and crossed her legs, making sure that her skirt fell back to expose as much of her thigh as possible without making it obvious. She wanted to hear the whole story and decided it was worth the trouble.
Besides, she enjoyed the attention from the old man and thought she'd have some fun as well. Taylor kept staring into the fire as the old man told her the tale of the house. It once belonged to a famous writer and her daughter. The woman's husband had died a long time ago from some illness leaving them with his fortune. She had refused to marry again, instead devoting herself to her books and her daughter. The child was a sad creature, wasting away from loneliness for her mother did not let her out, fearing for the safety of her only child. The postmaster paused and Taylor looked at him in a teasing manner, "What happened to them Mr. Hannigan? I'm so intrigued!" she cooed, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, letting him get a view of her ample cleavage. She smiled when she noticed him squirming in his seat.
At length, the old man spoke and Taylor listened as he recounted how the woman and her daughter were found dead one day by their maid. Apparently the woman had poisoned herself and the girl because she could not take her situation anymore and did not have anyone to trust with her child's care. Initially, the police had doubted the maid's story and arrested her but the coroner's report proved that she was innocent. The case was closed as murder/suicide and since they had no relatives, the state took their belongings and distributed it among several charities. "At least, that's what they claimed" the old man chuckled.
Taylor felt goose bumps on her arms. A chill swept through the warm room and for an instant Taylor imagined an icy hand on her shoulder causing her to finch and look behind. The old man noticed that she was scared and told her, "I'm sorry Taylor; I didn't mean to scare you. Perhaps some family moved in and hasn't notified us yet? Or perhaps there are kids playing in there. I'll take a look and let you know tomorrow. Now, would you like me to walk you home?"