Jonathon Parker finally admitted it to himself, He was lost, totally and irrevocably fucking lost. He looked at the clock on the dashboard, 11.35PM.
"Some fucking Halloween this is," he thought to himself, "The Vicars and Tarts Party will be in full swing by now, and instead of getting fucked, here I am, lost on the Yorkshire fucking moors."
He thumped the steering wheel in frustration, as he tried to peer through the interminable rain that was lashing down. The lightening flashed again, followed by horrendous peal of thunder. All had been going well, until he was 50 miles up the M1 motorway, and realised he had forgotten both his cell phone, and his map. At least he had remembered to dress like a vicar, with his pristine white dog collar around his neck. Jonathan had considered turning back, but decided against it, he knew the general area where Byfield Hall was, and he could always stop and ask the way. What a mistake that had been, leaving his phone and map, with not a single fucking soul, or building to be seen anywhere.
The swinging set always had a Halloween get together, last years bash had been in Surrey, easy enough for him to find, and what a night it had been too. First a gang bang, with Annie Johnson taking on all comers, 8 men had fucked her, all three holes too, what an awesome fucker that Annie was. Later, he had joined up with the Thompson Twins, they were not twins of course, but God could they fuck and give wonderful head, he had discovered.
"But not this year Johnny boy, no fucking chance. Where oh where is this fucking road taking me too?"
Again he peered through the windscreen, trying to search the almost invisible horizon. He seemed to be on little more than a cart track now, and he considered turning round to retrace his tracks. The he realised, there was nowhere to turn around, and all that he could do was follow the road, and see where it took him. An open gateway appeared before him, leading to a sort of courtyard. He could just make out what looked like a farmhouse through the murk. An old plough, the kind pulled by a horse appeared briefly in his headlights. John stopped the car, doused the lights, and took in his surroundings, as best he could.
This was a farmyard, no doubt about it now, not just the plough, but an old cart as well, with a broken wheel. He looked towards the house, and could see light, but it was very dim, almost just a glimmer. But, what could he do, he was lost, at least there might be a phone he could use, and maybe get a hot drink also. He stepped from the car, dashing across the flooded yard, as lightening again lit up his depressingly dark night. Jonathon hammered on the door, shouting
"Hello, is anybody home?"
He waited, trying to protect his head from the rain that was still bucketing down around him. Again he thumped on the door, and was just about to shout once more, when it opened, just a fraction. A thin sliver of faint light, slashed across his legs. "At last" he thought to himself before speaking.
"I am sorry to disturb you so late, but I am totally lost. Please, is there any chance I can use your phone, to call my friends?"
The door opened wider, and John saw an old lady, 90 if she was a day he thought, holding up a hurricane lamp, and peering at him through her glasses. She was dressed in what could only be described as a tatty black dress, with a dirty old Paisley shawl around her shoulders. In any other setting, she would have looked like an archetypal witch. She answered Jonathon's question, in a croaky voice, which confirmed his suspicions about her age.
"I think that you had better come inside young man, out of the rain, don't you?"
He stepped inside, following the old lady, everything looked old, old and musty, and the place had a smell, "a damp almost earthy smell" he thought to himself.
"Please, would it be possible for me to use your phone, and call Byfield Hall? I am supposed to be at a Tart's & Vicar's party, hence my looking like a vicar, but I got totally lost I am afraid"
"Oh I am sorry Sir, we don't have none of them there telephones here, nor that new fangled electric stuff. Best thing be you stay here till morn Sir, then find your way in daylight I reckons."
Her croaky voice rasped like a rusty hacksaw blade on Jonathon's teeth, making him cringe. But, he realised that she was correct, there was no way out of here in the dark, and the pouring rain, that might not stop for hours yet. He looked at his watch, it was now a quarter to twelve, indeed, and he heard a clock chime the three quarter hour somewhere in the house.
"I suppose that you are correct, I wont find the Hall tonight, and it is probably best to wait till daylight, and then head on back home. If you don't mind that is? I hate to intrude upon your privacy."
"No, that be fine Sir, there is a room up top that you can use, but be quick, you need to be there before the hour of change Sir, Come, up these stairs, follow me."
He followed her, moving slowly behind the old lady, up three flights of stairs, and down a long dark corridor. He watched as she took a key from the ring at her waist, and heard it grate against the lock, as she turned the key. She pushed the door open, and Jonathon suddenly felt a cold chill, as the noise of the door creaking slowly open filled his senses. The old lady stepped inside, and lit two candles, that were already in place in brass candlesticks. One candle on each side of the bed. He watched from the doorway, unsure, a feeling of trepidation consuming him, then inwardly admonished himself, for being so stupid, and childish. "This woman was 90 if she was a day, there was nothing to fear here," he thought.
She turned to face him, looking almost stern now, and the friendly face of earlier having disappeared.
"You need to hurry Sir, please, come in now."
Jonathon entered slowly, looking around the room, as the woman handed the key to him. He heard the clock again, pealing for the hour, as it started to chime the four quarters.
"Here Sir, take the key, you must lock the door, before the first chime of midnight. You do know it be All Hallows Eve, don't you Sir?"
He looked at her, relaxing now, and smiling.
"Yes, I know that it is Halloween, but that is all superstition, its just another day in reality, isn't it?"
She stepped outside, and spoke again, her voice urgent now, almost pleading with him.
"Sir, lock the door from inside, NOW, please Sir, lock it."
She had barely finished speaking, when the first chime of midnight rang out, from the clock downstairs.
"BONG"
Jonathon started to move towards the door, only managing two steps, before stopping dead, and staring out through the doorway.
The darkness had been replaced by light, not white, but a deep dark shade of blue. Almost fanning out like a halo, an aura, from the frail old woman that had let him into this place. But she was not frail anymore; the bend in her back had gone. She stood tall, long hair falling about and past her shoulders. Her eyes now steel blue, matching the aura that she was now generating a force throughout the house it seemed. Jonathon could feel them, her eyes, piercing into his head, his mind, and his brain. He could only stand and watch, his legs seemingly frozen in place.
Subtle changes were happening now, the blue light, interlaced with flashes of silver, growing stronger with every passing moment. The drab clothes that the old woman had been wearing; now almost seemed to change, into a sheer silk gown. A see through gown, Jonathon could now see her full breasts, and two dark nipples, pushing out against the material. His gaze lowered, to the small triangle of dark pubic hair, at the join of her legs. He wanted to pinch his skin, to see if he was dreaming, but movement he had not, all he could do was watch, and then, listen, as the "creature before him spoke, in a sultry husky voice, that just dripped with sexual innuendo.
"Too late Jonathon, My Lord had promised me a gift, and My Lord has delivered."
She paused for a moment, as if she was composing herself, and then continued.
"You will only speak when I allow it Jonathon, for now you are mine, to do with as I wish. You remind of another Jonathon I knew once, his name very similar to yours, hmmm, it must have been over a hundred years since him. Maybe you have heard of him? I believe there was a book written, Jonathon Harker? Does that ring a bell I wonder?"
It certainly did, and even though Jonathon could not move, he could think, and remember. Jonathon Harker had been a Bram Stoker character. His heart sank slowly, as he remembered Jonathon Harker`s untimely end.
"I see you do remember your namesake Jonathon, how apt, and, how fortuitous for me."
He was trying desperately not to look at her face, but could not help it; he had no control over his eyes it seemed. He looked at her full red lips, and had to admit they were beautiful. Watching, as her tongue snaked out, licking them lasciviously. He looked into her eyes, immediately feeling the control that she had, knowing that it would be useless to resist, and probably very painful also.
"I will release you Jonathon, and then you will take off all your clothes, and lie on your back on the bed, spread-eagled. Do not even think of trying to escape little man, for my retribution will be swift, and very severe."
