Disclaimer:
The following story contains explicit content and is intended for mature audiences and open-minded people only. Reader discretion is advised.
This work of fiction includes themes of sexuality, romance, and adult situations and is not meant to be taken seriously. In fact some of my works may require you to suspend belief. It may contain scenes of explicit language, graphic depictions of sexual acts, situations of cheating and polyamory, group minglings, and other content suitable only for those over the legal age of consent in their jurisdiction.
All characters depicted in this story are consenting or willing adults and are works of fiction. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, or both, is purely coincidental.
By continuing to read this story, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to access adult content in your area and that you understand the nature of the content provided and have an open mind for such things. The author assumes no responsibility for any actions taken by readers as a result of the content of this story. Further, the author accepts no responsibility if you are offended by what you have read.
If you are not comfortable with or legally allowed to access explicit adult content, please discontinue reading now.
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Once again, Martin had just finished taking a few days off from working with the Madam's ladies, following her earlier recommendations. Now that he had started getting used to his body's changes, Martin felt he could handle more than two a week, but she had been pretty insistent about it, so he honored her request.
He also learned that it was not wise to challenge the woman, as Madam Isabella had a temper when pushed into a corner.
On the upside for him, he had been spending more time with Amanda, or Mandy, as he had been calling her, and since she seemed to like the name, she went along with it.
He hoped today would be a big day for her and Tiffany. He had had a genealogist look into Tiffany's family tree and found that she was Mandy's great-great-great-grand Daughter.
Before that, however, he had to head to the third floor to talk to Justin about the work he had been doing on that floor and in the attic.
When Martin cleared the third-floor railing, he could see Justin standing where the ladder to the attic used to be, but now was a large hole.
"What happened to the ladder?" Martin asked while looking up at the hole as he approached.
"It's been taken down. That style of ladder is no longer code, so because we are working up there, we have to remove it." He pointed toward the end of the hall. "We have some stairs we put in over here. That will be permanent." Justin laughed a little, then added, "It's strange, but it looks like there were stairs here before, but they were removed."
Martin nodded, "Really?"
"And you were right, Mr. Simms. There is a door up there, but it is locked, and I cannot see where a key would go. So we are thinking that there might have been another release or mechanism somewhere to open it."
"Hmm." Martin responded.
When they reached the stairs, Justin went up first and stood there as Martin climbed them.
"Be careful as you come up, we have not finished putting the subfloor down yet, so you will need to watch your step, unless you want to visit one of the lower rooms the hard way."
Laughing, Martin said, "No, not today. Maybe another time."
When he entered the attic, it was much different than his first time there. Work lights were hanging from the rafters along the length of the room. The floor was starting to take shape, but as Justin had said, it was only in certain areas.
"What did you do with the boxes and cases, Justin?"
He motioned in a random direction, "They are over in the seatrain, most of them still had things in them, like personal effects." He laughed and shrugged, "I am surprised that no one ever claimed them or sent them to the families."
That's good. Just make sure those items are not rifled through or thrown out." Martin nodded to the wall. "What about the door?"
"Right over here."
They walked to the wall where, at one time, the boxes, suitcases, and steamer trunks had been, and he saw it. It was the same type of door you might have seen in an old doctor's office, with a brass kickboard and plate glass window. He could see where a name had once been painted on the door but had been scrapped off at some point."
Justin walked ahead and then grabbed the knob, trying to turn it, "See, it is locked solid and the door feels like it has been wedged shut from the other side."
Martin looked around, then wandered around the corner, "No other way in?"
Shaking his head, Justin laughed, "No. No windows, no vents, and not even a chimney." He kicked the wall, "The wall is solid too, not just wood. It almost feels like concrete."
Martin stood, looking at the door and thinking, then he heard a soft voice in the back of his mind say, "Return later, when all have left."
Looking at Justin, Martin shook his head, "Well damn. Go ahead and finish putting the subfloor down, and then let's not worry about this little mystery until the second and third floor are finished."
Justin's shoulders slumped, and he looked genuinely dismayed, "Man, I wanted to see what was in there."
"Oh, I do too, but it is not a priority right now. And if the walls are as tough as you say, then I worry that we might damage the rooms below if we get to carried away trying to get in there. You see my point?"
Begrudgingly, Justin nodded, "Yeah, I get it, Boss. That room is not going anywhere." Then he got a look as though he suddenly remembered something, "Oh, look at this." He pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and held it out to him. "Terry was trying to pry the door open and it snapped his screwdriver in half."
Martin examined the tool. It was a heavy-duty screwdriver, and he could see where the shaft had broken, not the blade, as one might expect. There was no sign of bending or twisting; it just snapped.
He handed it back to Justin, "That is strange."
"You're telling me." He shrugged. "Okay, boss. We'll work on the rest for now."
As Justin walked away, Martin glanced at the door for a few more moments and whispered, "Mysteries within mysteries." Then he turned to look at the rest of the attic.
The room was huge, and he wondered why no one else had ever considered finishing it and making one or two rooms out of the attic.
He turned and looked at the door and the wall again. He moved to the side, looked at the further wall, and realized that it was closer to him than the far wall on the floor beneath him.
"There is at least one more full room up here besides the one behind this door, " he thought. Then he took the stairs and went down to his office.
As he headed down, he stopped and looked at the door to room eight, the first of the girl's rooms on the third floor. The door had a simple yellow rose, and the name "Camen" was painted in cursive.
By now, Martin had met most of the girls, even the ones he had not yet been with. Madam had given them all permission to interact with him as they wished, but the two he had not yet met were Carmen and Paulette.
He kept making a mental note not to call Paulette, Pauline, one of the twins on the second floor.
He gently patted the door and said, "I will be seeing you tonight." Then, he continued to the first floor and his office.
When he got there, he was greeted by Tiffany, who was, in turn, accompanied by two men in suits.
"Hey Boss, these gentlemen are from the city planning commission and wanted to talk to you about the permits that are still pending."
So Martin, Tiffany, and the two suits went into his office and spent the better part of two hours going over the permits, plans, and what remaining work needed to be done, after which he and Tiffany stared at one another in exhaustion.
"How can people that are so important be so boring?" She finally said.
Martin shrugged, "Welcome to my world."
He saw something out of the corner of his eye and realized that both Madam Isabella and Amanda were in the room, Amanda smiling. He knew what this was about and figured it was time.
"Tiffany." He started, "Do you believe in ghosts?"
She laughed, "You mean like 'Ghostbusters,' Disneyland, or 'House of Thirteen Ghosts,' type of ghosts."
The question caught Martin slightly off guard, having only expected her to say yes or no. "I would assume the gentler of whatever you might be thinking."
She considered it briefly and said, "No, I cannot say I do." She paused as if still thinking about it, then looked at him, nodded matter-of-factly, and said, "Yeah, No."
"Hmm."
Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "Why do you ask, Mart?"
He considered her momentarily, then said, "If this works, then I am about to blow your world away."
"Huh?"
Martin looked toward where the madam and Amanda were sitting and said, "Ladies, can you try to do whatever it is you do that lets people see you?"
He turned back to Tiffany but could see Madam nod as he did so.
"Marty, I think that maybe you have been spending a little too much... HOLY FUCKING SHIT-BISCUITS!"
Tiffany jumped up and stumbled over the edge of the couch and landed on her ass, then proceeded to scoot across the floor until she had her back against the wall. Then Martin watched with amusement as the woman he knew to barely acknowledge religion crossed herself and kissed the cross that she wore, the one she said she only wore out of respect for her grandmother.
He was up in a heartbeat and running to her, "Tiff, it's OK."
She pointed to the two women, "It's not fucking OK, they... it's... are they ghosts?"
"Mr. Simms, I do not think she is handling this as well as you had thought." Madam interjected.
He glanced at her with a, "No Shit" look, then gently grabbed Tiffany by the chin and guided her to meet his eyes.
"Tiffany, it's OK. Look at me."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears, "They... what?"
He helped her up, walked her back to the couch, helped her sit down, and then took the seat next to her. "I was hoping that you were going to be a little more open-minded about this, but these are two of the several spirits that live here."
She said nothing but was obviously calming down a bit. Still staring at them and still ready to run out of the room if either of them said anything that startled her.
Martin put his hand on Tiffany's. "I have been seeing them since the first day I came on the property. They are not evil or harmful; they are just stuck here."
She looked at him with this last statement, "Stuck?"
He nodded, and she looked back at them.
The Madam took a careful step forward, "Ms. Wilson, my name is Isabella Crane, and I was... am... the Madam of this establishment. I mean you no harm, but because of your close connection to Martin and this house, I felt you needed to be made aware of our presence."
Tiffany stared, and Martin wondered if she was in a slight state of shock. Slowly, she looked at Martin and said, "Madam? Connection?"
