It was autumn of 2008. Ashley was 19, and I was 21. We both craved a spontaneous getaway, the kind in which we went somewhere and tore off each other's clothes.
We made reservations at a hotel in Galveston, a few hours away from our north Houston suburb. It first opened in the mid-1800s, enduring several fires and the Great Storm of 1900, which killed thousands and destroyed nearly everything on the island. As we drove up, both of us noticed the beautiful old Victorian architecture. Both of us were eager to be alone together.
Ashley was a slender, bubbly redhead with deep brown eyes and a face with endless freckles. We met late on a winter night at a coffee shop, and quickly became inseparable. I stared for a moment at her long, pale legs as she stepped out of the car, thinking about the black lace panties -- her favorite kind -- that most likely hugged the curvy ass underneath her dress. I imagined running my hands over Ashley's soft skin, watching her ass bounce from side to side with each step as she walked ahead of me.
The moon had already risen several hours before we checked in, casting rays of light on the ocean. At the front desk, I asked whether there was anything we should know about the old hotel. The attendant shrugged nonchalantly and told us it's one of the most haunted places in Texas, then handed us our room keys. Ashley and I shared a glance, laughing about it in the elevator. I should mention that neither of us are superstitious people, and both of us were totally sober that night.
The room key was designed to resemble an old skeleton key, but the lock was electronic, clicking as we opened the door. The two of us walked inside and sat our luggage down. Two bronze lamps swiveled out from the wall, the only sources of light in the dimly lit room. The wallpaper was very old-fashioned, with stripes that led from the floor up to the high ceiling, and huge blue curtains covered the windows. Ashley sat down on the massive bed, looking surprisingly petite up next to the tall bronze bedposts. She fell into the crisp white linens before noticing the chocolate mint on her pillow, holding it up and grinning at me.
We ordered room service while I looked up the hotel on my laptop, which ended up proving to be a bad idea. Galveston was a very different place at the turn of the 20th century, complete with a huge Red Light District. Supposedly, some of the brothels were blown away by the hurricane, moving their businesses into local hotels and houses. We also learned that bodies had been stacked in the hotel after the storm, which is when Ashley reached over to close the laptop.
After we ate our dinner, Ashley changed into a black silk nightgown, always taking extra time to moisturize her skin, and got comfortable next to me in bed. We left one of the lights on, neither of us willing to acknowledge the room's unsettling vibe. I looked down at her slender toes, which she had just painted with black nail polish, and pulled her in close to me.
The warmth of her body was intoxicating. My tongue was on her neck, and then I felt her lips pressed hard against mine. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, and I sucked on it. She moaned lightly as I felt her hands sliding up my shirt, then down over my underwear, squeezing my now-throbbing dick. I ran my hands over her nightgown, using it to rub the soft silk against her hard nipples.
"I want you," Ashley said, "but this place is freaking me out."
I had felt like someone was watching us the entire time, but didn't want to admit it. "Maybe we should just sleep and go somewhere else tomorrow," I said. "If you're not comfortable, we can just get out of here now."
She smiled, then sighed as she cuddled up next to me, wrapping her legs around me. "It's late. Let's just get up early."
It took a while for us to fall asleep. Eventually, I looked over and saw that her eyes were closed. I must have fallen asleep not long after that.
It felt like it had been a few hours when my eyes opened again. I glanced over at the alarm clock on the table, suddenly realizing that my girlfriend was awake, looking toward the door. Both of us later admitted that we saw the same thing. It was like a transparent white light that seemed to hover in the room -- underneath it, the light seemed distorted, as if it were passing through a prism. Neither of us believed in these things, and I distinctly remember the sense of dread that crept through my body.
Then, I heard a moan coming from my side, followed by a few heavy sighs. Ashley's moans were usually a little quiet, like she was trying to avoid being overheard. This moan was longer and deeper, becoming an echo in the room. It felt like she was indulging in pleasure, letting it wash over her.
