Lust on Haunted Hill

"You've definitely seen too many of those spooky movies of yours," Cheryl chided, her eyes rolled up in mock disdain.

"Hey, you're the one who said you wanted to do it in a haunted house, remember?" I replied matter of factly, as my wheezing old Buick bucked and heaved up the winding, overgrown dirt driveway.

"Yeah, but that was before I found out this so-called haunted house of yours was a real place....and located a hundred miles from any known civilization. And the name of this mountain...what did you call it...Snake Hill?"

"Yup....Snake Hill. And those creepy woods we just came through were the Vails Gate woods. Kinda sounds like a home for witches, doesn't it? Oooooooo.....spoooky," I kidded.

"Oh, wonderful....a mountain full of snakes and witches. This is gonna be real sexy."

I could see Cheryl wasn't getting into the proper mood, so I reassured her, "Oh, yeah, hon...trust me...this is gonna be sexy with a capital 'S'. You just wait and see." I flashed my most lecherous smile, and was pleased when she returned it in spades.

"Besides," I continued, "once we get started you won't be worrying about names...except mine, of course, which you'll be screaming."

"Ha! Don't flatter yourself, Don Juan. Let's just see if you can keep me awake this time!" Ahh, my lady's wonderful sense of humor. Cute, isn't it? And she laughed with self-congratulation when I cringed and replied, Ouch...my ego lies bleeding."

As my old car bounced closer to the somber estate, Cheryl's face showed a curious mixture of disappointment and relief as her pretty blue eyes focused on the looming iron gate before us. It was ten feet tall if it was an inch, and it was held firmly shut by a huge iron chain and a formidable looking lock.

"Um...hon....I hope you have a key for that thing in your pocket. It appears that puppy is locked up good and tight,"she said, not

knowing whether to be happy or sad.

"Oh, shit," I said, "that gate was never locked when I was a kid. It was never even shut!"

"Well it is now, junior. So, unless you have a key to it, our little tryst is over before it begins."

Angrily, I shoved the groaning gearshift into park and got out of the car, stomping over to the rusting obstacle to my lust. I looked down at the huge lock that was the size of both my hands together. It was indeed locked. I tugged on it, hoping that it had rusted through and would crumble to nothingness in my hands, and then Cheryl and I would continue on unimpeded. If an inanimate object could laugh, then it was indeed doing so, belittling even my most ferocious attempts to shatter its hold on the huge chain binding the gate. In frustration, I gave up, snarling epithets under my breath.

By now, Cheryl had joined me at the gate, a supportive but sad look in her eyes. She realized how much this little love getaway meant to me, and sympathized with my frustration at having it end here after so many hours of driving into the sticks. She stood next to me and reached out her hand to mine in a soothing gesture.

No sooner had her hand clasped mine than we both heard a low, squeaking groan. The horizontal chain held captive by the lock slackened, dropping about a foot at the center of the gate. The reason for this was that the stubborn lock had suddenly given way, the right side of it's locking bar shattering into a spray of rust. There was a slight hesitation, another metallic moan, and then the lock fell away completely, it and the chain clattering dully to the dirt and rocks below.

Cheryl and I blinked, astounded and disbelieving. She had seen me tugging for all I was worth on the resistant lock, and was as shocked as I when it crumbled on it's own. We hardly had time to ponder these odd events, however, because suddenly, a strong breeze kicked up, blowing on the now unlocked gate. With a final gasp of capitulation, the chain uncoiled snakelike and dropped heavily to the ground at our feet. In an instant the two halves of the gate squealed open, creaking inward slowly with a baleful moan. Apparently, admittance was ours if we wanted it.

Still blinking, Cheryl and I stared into each others eyes, unable to believe any of it had happened. I'm not sure if my memory is accurate on this point, but I believe it was Cheryl who smiled first. It had hit us both...the tryst was on! We scampered back to the car, sliding ourselves onto the worn seats with renewed hope.

But we were still in awe of recent events and it was Cheryl who spoke first.

"Wow," she said softly, "that was way too spooky."

At first all I could reply was, "Very cool," but then added, "Well, what would you expect from a haunted house?" Even though my remarks were flip, a chill danced along my spine. I drove through the beckoning

iron gate, and could swear I heard a softly whispered "welcome" in the slowly dying breeze.

We had to jounce along about another half mile of torturous dirt road before we could see the old house clearly. Every foot closer we got to the neglected estate Cheryl's face curled more and more into a mask of doubt and distaste. For myself, I was remembering a similar summer day many years earlier, when a gawky, impressionable teenager visited this place for the last time....or so he thought.

Cheryl noticed something in my expression and asked, "Were you serious about that? I mean, that seance you say you had here as a kid? Was that real or were you just yanking my chain?"

I tried to play it up light. "Oh, yeah, it happened....but we were crazy kids...who knows, maybe we all imagined the whole thing."

"I'm sure you did," she answered, "You always did have quite an imagination." Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek, adding, "And a good imagination is a wonderful thing in a lover." Before moving away from me she gave my earlobe a light nip, sucking on it ever so briefly. I stepped just a little harder on the gas pedal.

Finally approaching the massive, ancient building, I looked around for a safe place to park the car. Everything was overgrown, and finding the least rubble-strewn and briar-choked area on which to trust the placement of worn tires was quite a trick indeed. I finally managed to find a spot that I felt wouldn't end up

leading to four flat tires, and I crossed my fingers and parked. Both the tires and the engine sighed with relief. We sat there a few minutes, taking it all in, the overgrown estate, the decaying building, and something

intangible that hung in the air.

"My God," Cheryl sighed, "how long has this place been like this?"

"As long as I can remember. Probably been like this since even before I was born. No one seems to know much about the original owners. But this is the way I've always remembered it...almost like it's a

photograph...never changing. Well, except for that gate," I winked, "C'mon...let's go inside."

She seemed a little nervous, so I tried to joke a bit about what was to come, to ease her doubts. I told her that this would be the first time she'd been raptured in a haunted house. As soon as I made that statement, Cheryl's sarcastic side came out, not able to resist commenting on the "rapture" part of my claim.

"If I don't fall asleep with you on top of me, I'll consider this a good day," she barbed, faking an exaggerated yawn. She smiled slyly, leaned over to kiss me on the lips and said, "Okay, let's do this." She got out of the car, opened the back door on her side, and leaned in to get the food and sundries we'd brought along.

I did likewise, going to the back door on my side to help. We each grabbed what was closest to us. Besides the blanket, the basket of food and the cooler, there was my own little special bag of "goodies", which I made sure I got to before Cheryl did. Some of the items in that bag she didn't even know I'd brought, and I wanted to keep it that way. After all, she loved surprises, and I loved giving them.

As we trudged across bits of crumbled plaster and rocks, pushing clinging, tangled vines away from their guardposts in front of the big wooden door, Cheryl again seemed to be having second thoughts. I assured her everything would be fine. I even held up my bag of goodies, admitting I had some surprises for her...ones I

was sure she'd like. This piqued her interest, and she put aside her doubts, at least for the moment. She wanted to know what was in the bag, but I held firm in my resolve not to tell her. And although she was feigning deep disappointment at my not telling her, I could tell she was secretly enjoying the mystery, and inside she was simmering with anticipation. Still, she pouted sexily when I told her the only way to discover

the bag's contents was to enter old Bradford House with me and become my wanton harlot. By the glint in her eyes, I knew I had her.

Of course, as with any self-respecting haunted house, the splintering front door creaked and moaned painfully as it gave us passage. The inside of the house was musty and damp, with the prerequisite cobwebs and dust, but for all its shadow and darkness it was just as warm as the summer air outside, which surprised me just a bit.

We entered Bradford House, Cheryl for the first time, myself for the first time since a childhood seance. We both felt chills - in spite of the warmth of the day - some of mild apprehension, but most from delightful erotic expectation. This was going to be fun...I was determined to see to that. Nothing was going to ruin this day for us....or at least I hoped not.

Shuffling our way through the milling dust, we poked at cobwebs as we entered the dark interior. After walking a dozen or so feet, it became too dark to see well, so I reached into my goodie bag and produced a flashlight. When Cheryl quickly tried to peek into the bag I instantly closed it and rolled the top down tight.

Again she pouted, which made her once again intensely sexy, and myself intensely horny.

Memory flooded into my brain, and I recalled the layout of the house. I motioned to an archway on the right, which I knew led to a vast living room, and from there to stairs which led to the bedrooms on the floor above. I flicked on the flashlight, and in it's glow we walked through rooms which more than likely hadn't seen visitors in decades.

I told Cheryl about the master bedroom upstairs, and how that would probably be the best place for our love nest. She curled the corner of her mouth as if to say, "Yeah, right," as was her usual sarcastic tendency, but when I told her of the large, romantic fireplace and how I intended to light it, the look faded, replaced once again by a look of anticipation. She was hooked, though lingering in the back of her mind were doubts as to whether or not this old firetrap would end up burning to the ground with us still in it.

Using the flashlight, I scanned the floorboards as we walked to make sure they were all safe. Luckily, they were, as were the stairs when we got to them. I tested them for strength before putting my full weight on them, and found them all surprisingly sound. So, with the flashlight beam dancing in the darkness, we ascended the stairs, cautiously, leaving daylight and the outside world behind.

Holding Cheryl's hand in mine, her following closely behind me, we'd climbed about halfway up the stairs when we heard a loud, echoing thud. We whirled about quickly and the flashlight beam traced a dizzying, spastic path back to the hallway. Ah, yes...of course, we thought. It's a haunted house. Why wouldn't the front door close by itself? What did we expect? With nervous chuckles we both resumed our upward trek, me thinking about my bag of goodies and the soft, sexy Cheryl...and she thinking of a romantic, crackling fire, and - hopefully - me.

Reaching the second story, I turned to my left, directing the flashlight beam in that direction. This was the direction I remember the master bedroom being, and I peered through the artificial light to see if memory served or failed. I was pleased to see my memory was solid and unfailing. Down the hallway we went, still

holding hands. I brushed still more cobwebs out of our way with the flashlight, which made dust motes dance in the erratic light....and made us both cough a couple of times. Cheryl wondered wordlessly just how sexy it would be to die choking on dust while making love.

At the end of the hallway, the door to the master bedroom was completely gone, and no dislodged door was anywhere in sight, either in the hallway or inside the room. Odd, I thought. Still, crossing that doorless threshold I discovered that it was the same room that had occupied my memory all those years, complete with fireplace and massive poster bed. And another oddity.....the bedroom, unlike most of the rest of the house, was relatively cobweb free, though it still had more than enough dust to induce a healthy sneeze. I scanned the beam around the room, stopping it over the fireplace.

Hanging over the long-unused fireplace was one of those ancient family portraits, depicting an attractive couple, presumably the original owners, the Bradfords. Concentrating the beam on their faces, they appeared to be in their early forties, wearing clothing that seemed turn of the century....early 1900s. Their faces were full of energy and appealing, she beautiful and he handsome. Both smiled contentedly and it would be my guess that they were very happy together, and seemingly very much in love. Just a strong feeling I got, I must admit.

As I held the beam there on their faces, their eyes seemed to gleam and twinkle in the light. Just a trick of the light, that's all. And then another cliche. Wherever Cheryl and I walked, the two pair of painted eyes seemed to follow us. Both the master and mistress of the house watched us wherever we went in the room.

It was so cliche, in fact, that Cheryl and I had a great chuckle over it. But we did glance up at those eyes every so often, nonetheless...somehow captivated by the intense gray-blue of Mr. Bradford's eyes and the liquid, sea green ones of Mrs. Bradford.

While Cheryl spread out the blanket on the floor and began to set up candles and lay out our feast and libation, I moved to the windows of the room and tore down what tattered and musty curtains I could find, trying valiantly not to choke or suffocate on decades of dust. While it did let in a tiny bit of light, the windows

themselves were so coated with grime that it was almost as if the curtains hadn't been removed at all. I stared at the gritty, crusted windows, disappointed, until Cheryl's coughing and sneezing fit brought me back to reality.

"Thank you, Oh Brave Destroyer of Curtains. Now, not only can't we see, but we can't breathe, either," she said between coughs.

"Ahh, that's the woman I love," I returned, "always supportive, despite all odds."

Since the candles Cheryl had set up gave plenty of light to the gloomy room, I no longer needed the flashlight. I turned it off and followed candle light back to the blanket, my lovely lady, and our sumptuous repast. She had already filled two paper plates with our gourmet treats...Ritz crackers, cheddar cheese,

slices of pepperoni, some grapes, and Oreo cookies for dessert. From the cooler she'd retrieved two wine glasses and a bottle of White Zinfandel...always her favorite.

As soon as I sat beside her, she whispered in my ear, "Eat up, hon. If you're going to come close to coming through on all your promises today, you're going to need all the strength you can muster...and then some." She purred like a kitten, then intensified the purr to a light growl. Again she sucked briefly on my

earlobe, but rather than pulling away, she immediately thereafter kissed me full on the lips, passionately, forcing her tongue into my mouth. At the last instant, as she pulled away, her tongue flicked out and licked the corners of my mouth. As I reached for her for more, she darted back, avoiding my groping hands, and

laughed teasingly, quick as a wink shoving a cracker into her mouth and waving a cautionary finger at me.

"Not yet, lover boy....eat first. Gather up all your strength and stamina. Two can play this 'wanton harlot' game, sweetie. We'll see who ravages whom!"

I ate up. So did she. We drank the Zinfandel dry. All the while we ate and drank we teased each other, making seductive and suggestive actions and comments throughout the meal. The way Cheryl ate grapes made my jeans tighter and tighter. So I returned the favor by showing her how an Oreo should be slowly and

thoroughly licked. In the half hour that it took us to eat and drink, we'd worked each other up into a sexual frenzy. It was time to forget about food and concentrate on the real reason why we were here in this spooky old house in the first place.

With our suggestive meal finally ended, Cheryl scooted over to me, snuggling close. My arms closed around her and held her fast...no escape this time. Our kisses started off slow and sensual, thorough explorations of each others' mouths. Slowly, their boldness increased, each kiss hotter than the last. It wasn't long before we were lost in each other, kissing passionately, holding each other tightly, fusing together in a tapestry of lust.

At some point during the kissing, Cheryl pressed her chest tightly against mine, lifted her bottom off the blanket, swung her leg around in front of me, and sat on my lap facing me. Her mouth never stopped mashing into mine. I could feel the warmth of her groin and cheeks as they pressed against my thighs. Her heat was as intense as my own. My crotch burned for her, and my swelling manhood rose to meet her.

Cheryl could always kiss better than any woman I'd ever known, and her insistent tongue was literally taking my breath away. I gasped for air as we kissed. Those passionate kisses went on for quite some time, each of us alternately attacking the other's lips with a hot fury from time to time, teeth grinding and lips mashing, then slowing to sensual explorations again. The flickering candle light gave a surreal quality to the sensuality we were

sharing.

Just as my jaw began to hurt from the marathon kissing, Cheryl pulled back a few inches and cooed, "So, baby, what's in the bag? Hmmmm?"

"Oh, no," I said, "not just yet. Soon, though....I promise. First, let's do this the old-fashioned way. We have all day to get to the extracurricular stuff. I'm sure you'll like it. Just be patient."

Again she stuck out that lusciously pouting lip, but this time I lunged forward quickly to capture it between my lips. I sucked on that sweet, juicy lip so hard I almost bit it....which to my sheer joy seemed to further inflame her desire. She held me close and tight, and once again our mouths became one.

However, this time Cheryl pushed into me, forcing me down on my back, her hands suddenly clawing at my shirt. Somewhere outside of my mind haze, I heard popping sounds, and then caught a glimpse of some tiny object flying off over Cheryl's shoulder. It landed on the wooden floor well beyond the blanket, bouncing and skittering off into darkness. When a second, similar object likewise found it's bounding freedom, I realized the two tiny escapees were buttons from my shirt, liberated by the impatient hands of my lady love in her haste to remove

it. She had no interest in unbuttoning my shirt....she simply wanted it removed as quickly as possible. Since it had long been one of my favorite shirts, I briefly toyed with the idea of helping her remove it before too much damage was done, but her sexual frenzy was fueling my own, and I no longer cared about salvaging the

shirt, no matter how fond of it I was. I agreed with Cheryl...I wanted the damn thing off!

Almost immediately I became similarly inclined, my hands tugging fiercely at her tube top. I ripped it upward. Thankfully, it gave little resistance, and neither did Cheryl. She stopped the clawing at my shirt long enough to