erotiC: Part 1
The doorknob turned from the inside. My heart was pumping like never before. I knew what was going to happen; yet I had no clue. She gave me the run-down of do’s and don’ts . But i’m still nervous. How can her husband be okay with this? That’s the last thing I want to worry about. Angry husbands are no joke!
The door opened. There she stood, in an outfit I could only describe as marvelous; but nothing I’d ever pictured her in. As for her husband, he was there? Why?? I don’t remember Lydia mentioning his presence in our last conversation. She’s very detail oriented. How could she have left that out? He sat in a chair. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, and that’s just from what I could see at first glance.
“Hey Arch.” I said nonchalantly as if he were greeting me inside like anyone else from their quiet neighborhood for a Sunday dinner. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s so gonna kill me. He mumbled a sentence I didn’t understand. It didn’t seem hostile, so that’s good, right? I turned my attention to Lydia. “You said he was okay with this and agreed. You didn’t say he’d be here!”
“Hey, I told him you’d be here soon, but he managed to get himself tied to a chair.” She claimed. “So he’s going to watch the whole time?”
“Not exactly. Are you blindfolded, too? Come in, come in! I have neighbors for fuck sakes!” A concern I believed to be fake. Arch kept squirming in his chair. Not in a way that suggested he wanted free, but more like he had an itch. An itch that being restrained and who knows what else would sooth. I suppose I’m safe, as he does not seem very mobile. “You have a lovely home.” Another mumble from Arch exited his vocal chords. “SHUT UP.” Lydia demanded of him. My eyes must’ve widened. “Not you. You’re allowed to speak. You’re allowed to move. You’re allowed. You. But HIM.” She marched where he sat seemingly helplessly and painted her handprint across his face “HE is only to do as instructed. There’s a reason why he’s tied. Any guess as to why?”
I shook my head no. The speed of my heart now normal “But enlighten me.” She stepped back towards me. I never noticed them before, but there was a hint of sadism in her steps. And it satisfied her in a way that I now hoped I would. A way that I knew poor Arch didn’t. Or did he? Was his blessing in Her activities more than enough to please Her? Would She have done them without his blessing? Personally, I believe so. But I never questioned it. I’m not here to question. She whispered a whisper in my ear. Although I’m unfamiliar with her terminology, I have enough context clues here to draw my own conclusion. “Do you want to try?”
“Doing what I did, silly.”
“Scared? He won’t bite. Will you, Arch?” He shook no. I guess he’s okay with this? So I did it. I slapped Arch. Lydia approached me from behind. “See, that was fun, wasn’t it?” She walked behind him and unfastened the gag that kept him limited to gibberish. “And what do we say to our kind guests, hmm?”
Arch spoke. He thanked me. Thanked me for slapping him! I’m now more interested than cautious. What else is going to happen here today? “Aw, see! He likes being toyed with!” Her arms entangled me while she stood behind me. I liked this. I liked this more than I would imagine. And by the looks of it, so did arch. I looked down at his dick. He was hard, but trapped. Why trapped? Lydia handed me a key. Hold onto this for me will ya? He begged me to give it to you. I thought it was an excellent idea.” I’m still familiarizing myself with sex toys and such, but I knew to what She was referring. I couldn’t tell at first. He’s caged in a clear device. I pocketed the key.
Lydia then began yanking my clothes off, attempting to rip away multiple articles of clothing at a time. Part of me wanted to help her, but she seemed to be managing fine. “You’re going to keep him blindfolded the entire time?”
“Well, that depends.”
“His FUCKING BEHAVIOR.”
Yelling has never been something I enjoyed. It makes me timid like a child. Despite all that, I found it as hot as a million suns when She did it. It must be something Arch enjoys. I can see why. By then my pants were at my ankles and her tongue was investigating mine, and Arch couldn’t see a thing. “Let him watch.” I whispered. She walked over to him, stood for a brief five seconds, as if She wanted him to feel Her presence. She’s a sadist at Her finest. Waiting for Her prey to sense its own demise. Why is she so good at this? Arch looked up, she giggled deviously, slapped him, then pinched his thigh to get his attention I assume. Her laser beam eyes must’ve burned a hole through his blindfold.
I’m not entirely sure what she whispered to him as she leaned near his ear, but it definitely appeared to have made his cage tighter. “I might allow him to participate. What do you think?” “I think that’s a great idea. Has he ever been with another man before?”
“Obviously.” I asked that in a way that suggested I had, but I never have. Although, I’m open to doing so. Arch isn’t a bad looking man, so I’m still somewhat confused about their dynamic. The most simple answer that comes to mind is the possibility of the fact that he simply enjoys this. While she is strict, nothing I’ve seen during my few minutes here has felt the slightest bit forced. He’s enjoying it as much as She is, and as much as I am. I’m now pantsless in Her presence. I’m as erect as I’ve ever been. Discovering something new that “does it” for someone, is a drug that’s easy to get addicted to, but hard to obtain. It takes a very sophisticated, creative mind to keep things interesting and fresh. And this situation did just that.
She inspected me. She circled around seeing all the angles; for content purposes I suppose. She paid extra close attention to my member, bobbing her head slowly side to side. “That’ll do. Yes, that’ll do.” Not quite the enthusiasm I had imagined, but if she wanted me in a cage, I’d be in it already. She grabbed it by the head in a possessive manner and marched with me over to Arch.
“Observe. Slave, do you know why he isn’t chastised like you?”
Arch replied with: “Uhm, he’s, he’s bigger?”
“No you imbecile! Size isn’t a factor when it comes to being caged. They make sizes for all!” She said that part while looking fiercely at me; as if she were reminding me to behave, as she has no issue tying me up, too. “He’s uncaged because I want him to be. Someone has to attempt to bring me pleasure. Although he is bigger, it’s not entirely the length that keeps him free, for now. It’s the girth, the shape, and the way the boys below the member look. Nice and swoll. Smooth to the touch. It’s more attractive to me than yours. So, that is why, for now, he remains uncaged.” But I know she did not just lead me to him by the head to give him that explanation. No, she wants an act of sorts. Something specific. The act that will take my same-sex virginity, and I want it. She can sense this, I know.
erotiC: pArt 2
And sensed it She did. Does Lydia want him to have some kind of twisted hatch? What a sadist She is and what a prey I’ll be. I’ll play Your game, Lydia. Let’s play. After Arch was made to perform various oral acts, (I was unaware there were so many!) Arch was laid across their bed; head placed in the middle; arms spread like a starfish; while his legs were dangling over the edge, almost touching the floor, as he was a rather short man. I soon found out why he was placed, no, TIED, in that awkward position on the bed. The top half was meant for me. I was propped against the headboard while the bottom half of my torso, dick included (obviously) nuzzled near Arch’s forehead. Lydia’s orders. As for Her place, Her place was wherever She desired.
She stood over us before climbing on Arch like a rabid jackal: “Quite the ‘pickle’ you’ve got yourself in huh, slave? Whatever shall you do about it?” Oh, She’s good.
“My duty is to do as Temptress wishes.” Oh my, they have titles. Of course they have titles! If Lydia is Temptress, Arch is slave, then what in the kinky fuck does that make me? Something not laughable or basic. I beg.
“Good bitch!” Lydia says to him, as if he were a dog. I suppose with his head below my crotch, that would be appropriate. She grabbed my dick in that inspection manner she perfected, then with the other free hand, scooped my balls and rested them on Arch’s forehead. Where from Hell did this woman come from? I wanna visit. She’s laughing. We both are simply for Her amusement. Her pleasure is created by Arch and I amusing Her. And I’m cool with it. I’m now positive She doesn’t give a DAMN if either of us are particularly enjoying ourselves, as long as limits are honored: She. Does. Not. Care.
Although I can’t speak for Arch, I’m very fond of what is taking place here. Something about being saddled by a lust fueled dominatrix, while using another man’s forehead as a throne for my testicles is peculiarly satisfying, and I am HARD. I could drill into fucking dry-wall with this thing. If I die right here in their bed, whoever puts me into my body-bag will have it easy because they’ll have a handle to pick me up with. I don’t wanna die here though. There’s too many positions Lydia has screamed about, literally screamed about, doing before I’m even allowed to sleep tonight, so dying is out of the question.
Another aspect of our session: She is making Arch sleep on the floor, naked, only allowed to use my clothes as a pillow. I’ll be in bed with Lydia. I’m not sure if that excites, or scares me, or both. Definitely both. We’ve yet to tell Arch, or so I’ve been told. That should be fun. Does he really have no breaking point? Maybe that’s my purpose: to find Arch’s breaking point.
While in the position on the bed, we do a number of things. I think I was face-sitting Arch at one point. Lydia has instructed me to call him “slave”, which I do. Part of me doesn’t want to. I don’t view him as such. I’ve done nothing to earn his loyalty, unless they’re involved in some sort of secret society where it is considered an act of humbleness for a man to penetrate another man’s wife while the husband in the situation is trapped underneath, having to view the entire event. I’m not sure from above, but I’d bet he might be closing his eyes and picturing a water ride due to the wetness misting everywhere, because it is wet. Thunderstorm in July wet. Or maybe his eyes are wide open. Perhaps he likes this more than I’ll ever understand. I wonder what the view is like from down there. I imagine it to be as such: him being inches away from watching my inches glide gracefully in and out of Lydia, the occasional wetness dripping down to hydrate his forehead.
I could get used to this. It’s been hours of nearly non-stop activities, and Arch, I mean slave, acts more like a servant. Providing light snacks and the occasional bottle of water; some of which he is ordered to consume himself. Lydia has come up with lots of ways for slave to snack. I love Her mind.
“Slave, do you have something for him?”
“Yes, Temptress. I do.”
“Very good. Fork it over.” She leaned in slave’s ear for this last part, but I could still read Her whisper: “And he might fuck you.”
“What does he have for me?” He then proceeded to reach inside their nightstand and grabbed a wad of cash. There must’ve been thousands there! “What’s this for? I don’t remember this being brought up. Believe me, I would’ve remembered that.” “Slave, tell him what it’s for.”
“It’s a small token of appreciation. I was instructed to pay you. It’s something new I asked” She lightly kicked him, reminding him: “begged Temptress to try. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use.”
“I will, slave. Thank you.”
“No, thank You.”
“That’s enough chit chat for now. Slave, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight. Cuddle with his clothes.” She looked at me with her laser-beam eyes “He won’t need them. And tomorrow, we’ll begin with the machine.
erotiC: paRt 3
I slept. Not without doing every damn thing Lydia wanted; but I slept. I was pleased to do anything I was instructed. Uh oh. Is this Her molding me as She did slave? I won’t let that thought keep me tossing, turning, and erect tonight. I need a decent night’s sleep after all the exercise.
I dreamt. I’ve always dreamt vividly. Were the events of earlier a dream? In a sense. A dream I did not know I had came true today. In my unconsciousness, I dreamt I was walking through a bright white hall. It seemed endless at the time. Until a door with no knob opened up, and there She stood. Looking lethal as ever, there She stood. In a tight red dress slit up the side, her shoulder length hair curled, and lipstick with known, yet unexpected ability.
She held out her hand, but I was still too far to reach. I fast walked, then jogged, then ran as if I were trying to rescue her from a predator from behind. “You can come.” she whispered. I tried going faster, but I couldn’t reach. I ran fast, then faster, then as fast as I’ve ever ran. I jumped for her hand that was still too far for reaching. Further I must go. How is it possible I hear her whisper “You can come.” from such a far distance. The white room begins to shake; helping me reach Her. “You can come. You can come. Can come.” I’m using every muscle in my to run to Her and take the hand She offers to me. The whiteness of the room turns to yellow.
“COME. COME NOW.”
I wake. “What the? Fuck am I blind?” I’m being saddled by Lydia. “No, silly.”
She rips a blindfold from my face; the sun hits her from behind, and there’s a vibrator tied to my dick and I’m throbbing.
Oh, that come. I exploded. She laughs a laugh. A satisfied laugh, I hope.
“STAY still.” She firmly instructed.
“Slave! Come hither” He came, but not like me.
“We have quite the mess here, slave. Whatever are we going to do?” Oh my. After ejaculation tends to be the moment when most men go soft, but not me, not right now anyways. He wants to hang around and see the encore.
“Lucky for you, slave, I’ve an idea. Crawl up here.” I’m still tied to a now cum covered vibrartor, which she’a still gripping fearlessly as if it were a ticking time bomb, and after spending a night with her, it might very well be as such. He crawled up and she instructed.
“I don’t want all this to go to waste.” She is now holding me in one hand, and his chin in the other.
“That would be such a shame.” She moves Her grip from his chin to the back of his head and brings his head to mine, but not the one on my shoulders.
Clean indeed. He has without a doubt done this before. Fuck, he’s good.
“Relax your body now. You spilled out so much! Rest. Slave will take care of all that sticky mess.”
I laid my head back down. Slave cleaning, turned into slave sucking. It wasn’t long before I was fully erect again and my member received the encore he had hoped for. There was no need for cleanup this time, because I shot straight into him. Fuck, I need a nap. And water.
“Mind telling him to get me a bottle of water, please?”
“Are your lips broken?” Feisty this one. I like.
“Slave, mind getting me a bottle of water?”
He nods and goes on his way.
“Stop being such a bitch and boss him around! He’s not fragile; he can take it.”
“Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And STOP apologizing. There is no need to. You’re still learning.” Her fingertips dance across my nipples stiffening them.
“And I still have a lot of teaching to do.”
Slave returned with my water that I gulped down almost immediately.
“Kneel, slave!” She points Her feet towards him and he begins massaging.
“I have a lot of things planned for us today. First, wake you up with an earthquake of an orgasm. Check! Second, replenish and get massaged. Check! Third, you and I are going to spend the day out and about with slave’s credit card, the last thing on today’s agenda that comes to mind that is, involves the use of the machine. The machine is new to slave we’ve been practicing, haven’t we, slave? I know you’re excited. As for youuu, your true training will begin!
Quiet at last. She’s left with him and has left me to be in peace. That may sound harsh, I know, but I do love my wife, and I enjoy our endeavors, but I crave my space, my own time. The limitless credit card tends to keep her busy and happy long enough for me to do my business and chores alone. Alone, for she should not know this side of what I am.
Being the neat freak I am, I always insist on loading and unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming, followed by mopping our dark hardwood floor. I will also clean the tables, counters, and straighten up the pillows on the sofa. Lydia does not seem to realize that I have been doing these things my entire life. Not because I was instructed, or threatened to do so, but because it calms me. If it makes her happy to think I do these things because I fear her, I see no harm in not correcting her. I dress for my outing. I dress in bland clothing. I must do this to blend in. Under my jacket I’ve holstered my Beretta. I kill the connectivity to the cameras to the doors. She’ll never notice, as for these things, she never does. Then out the door I go. Due to my tracking skills, I know just where to find him.
“M, right?” I ask knowingly.
“Do I know you?”
Pop, pop, pop.
I’ve still plenty of time. I gave subtle suggestions to activities that should keep the two of them busy on my dime while I earn a few quarters. I slide a few quarters into a payphone.
“Good. You’ll get the newspaper soon.”
erotiC Part 5
I’ve never been one to walk along the busy sidewalks before, but she wishes to walk, so we walk. It’s dreary and drizzling here, and I can feel the wind from the multiple emergency service vehicles racing beside us. “What do you think happened?” She asked, concerned.
“I’m not sure. There were a bunch of them though. Must not be pretty wherever they’re headed.” “But what do you think happened?” “Again, I’m not sure.”
“You’ve no imagination either. You know how I get anyone to do anything I please?” Red lips with a side of latex manipulation would be my guess. “Not a clue.” “Imagination, you bozo! It’s not hard.” She says while looking up at me with a sarcastic demeanor and glossy puppy-dog eyes and a hand fondling my front. “Imagination can be found in even the simplest of things.”
We’re walking through a plethora of people, people, people, and a person. I only see the person to my right. She’s taken my hand now and I can feel her imagination placing its thoughts and desires in mine. My imagination is silent, but existent. Sometimes I hide it, because as one may discover, I am a vulnerable being. I’m as vulnerable as Lydia is smart, making Her that much more deadly. But I want Her. I want Her to want me as I do Her. Damnit Cheap Trick, get outta my head! It’s too occupied for you tonight. Back to what I was thinking: Lydia is as deadly as She is lovely. All this talk of Her caused Arch, or slave, to slip my mind. He’s very quiet. What is his imagination like? What is he like? What is he? What is? What?
I like this one. He wishes to learn, so learn he shall. But that imagination of his, it’s there. Whether he knows it or not, it’s there. No matter how repressed it may be, I want to see it. It may take time, but I’ll get in. Although I know he’ll let me in, I still have to find not only the key, but the lock that it fits inside. We are all like a complex mansion; each of us different from everyone else. But this mansion, oh this mansion, is as complex as Sarah Winchester’s mansion. I have to find the right door to the right room. What has he done? I’m in charge, yet I’m quietly begging to be let inside. Ugh, what would my Arch think of me? I know he’s always thinking of me; as he does his chores and anything else I instruct. Such a good slave he is.
“What do you think of the world?” I ask him, eagerly.
“Which aspect of the world? Humans? Aliens? Earth? The ocean? I’m always in thought of the ocean. We’ve only explored a drop of it!
“Hahaha! What do you think about humans?” I asked.
“Humans. Well, we’re complex, intelligent, yet stupid creatures. We complicate things more than necessary, but we discover some cool shit along the way. Like the fact that handcuffs and tasers are a complete nightmare when held by the wrong people, but stick some pink fuzz on those cuffs, and contain the electric from the taser inside one of those little red wand-like things that you have, and you’ve just turned a nightmare into someones Saturday night sex-fest.”
“Speaking of which, I need new toys! There is a shop around the corner from here. How exciting would it be for my new toy to buy me some new toys, hmm?”
“I like that idea.” He replied, as we walked inside the adult toy store.
ErotiC: Part 6
That’s enough action for one day. I should still make it back home before them. Those SUV’s behind me don’t look friendly; and they’re approaching fast.
“He dies TODAY! I’m tired of this fucking flea-bag eliminating my guys! You twits were supposed to have been keeping eyes on him for weeks! Why didn’t you spot him before he killed Herc?”
“We thought he left with his wife! We watched them leave together! He never gets his hands dirty around her.”
“Clearly fucking not,” Gem exclaimed as the shots began to exchange between the vehicles.
How the fuck did they find me? They should be hopelessly looking elsewhere. I hate shooting and driving. Too illegal, even for me.
Aim for the tires.
Off of me they’ll be. Regular tires. Amateurs.
That’ll stop them, for now. I can’t kill them all at once. Shit, I can’t even kill them all this week. I wish I could. This is why any illegal doings should be done with as few people as possible. That prick, Gim, knew the rules. You fuck around and get left behind because you’re greedy, guess what: your ass gets left behind! That’s why I did heists with people I only met the day of and had everything organized by a highly trusted 3rd party. I only know of Gem because he’s the loud type that wants to be in charge. Fucking asshole! how he found me, I’ll never know.
I get home, straighten up a little more to work up a few beads of sweat before Lydia and Her new friend return. I see from the most recent purchases. She bought more clothes ($175.72), they had lunch ($34.20) , and a charge at the adult store ($63.50). I could use a little relaxation. It’s then when I get a text from Lydia:
Cleaning should be DONE. Prep the machine and be knelt inside by the door. Not as much as a ball of fuzz should be on your skin. Understood?
I reply: Yes, Temptress.
This should be fun. We haven’t used the machine in a while; and I’m sure She (I) purchased some new things that will be used today. I rush to prepare the machine, although it doesn’t take me too long, I prefer being prepared. I put it in the space She likes, and I strip and wait knelt by the door. Some hardcore assassin I am. If only the others knew.
She walks in.
I had a nice day with Lydia, but, honestly, I’d much rather nap than be a part of another one of Her multi-hour long sexual delicacies. How long has he been kneeling by the door like that? And what is? Who is? Uh oh. That’s the? Not what I imagined at all! The machine! It’s an actual fucking machine! Fuck me, a fucking machine! An actual fucking fucking MACHINE! She begins speaking to slave:
“I purchased everything today with your credit card of course, but I still expect a reimbursement, because that’s what good boys do, isn’t it? I hope I’m making myself crystal clear.”
“Yes, Temptress,” he replied.
“Good boy! Now give us kisses!” Kisses? I was surprised; he kissed our shoes. Both pairs, four shoes. They’ve been on the streets of New York all day long and She has him kissing them. Maybe I should run while I have the chance. Or should I? As long as I stay on top, I should be okay. But will I?
“Okie dokie, male, and super duper beta male. I see the machines all set up! Good job,” She says.
“Which of you would like to go first?” First? I have to be penetrated by that thing? Fuck me, a fucking fucking machine! How’d I get entangled in this web? In Her web? How do I get out? Where’s the water to wash this spider out? Will I be able to push out? Will I want to? Are machines more intense than humans? Slave and I exchange glances. I don’t want to go first. I want to see how it truly operates before I let it have me. Lydia speaks: “Pick! NOW,” She exclaims. Slave answers: “I’d like to go first temptress.”
“Very well then. Put a condom on the dildo, get lubed up, and assume the position! As for you, assume a similar position, directly in front of his face.” I do as I’m told. This feels so dirty, but not wrong. I’m unsure if slave was truly enjoying himself, but I had a blast, in more ways than one. Maybe it’s best I stay. Being rimmed while rimming is quite the treat! The machine still intimidates me. These vibrating rings we got at the adult store seem fun. I’ve never used one before. “Hahah! Enjoying yourself in between things?” I mumble a brief “Mmmhmm.” I don’t stop, as I wasn’t instructed to. Is my training complete? Or has it even begun? I really, really wish to stay now. It’s then when She instructs us to switch. Slave is made to remove his condom, and properly clean the dildo. Then, I’m instructed to roll on a fresh rubber. I’m now the kaboose of this train.
“First time with a machine?”
“You will address me as Temptress. Exactly how My slave does.”
My slave. Slave, My.
She gives me the smirk, but doesn’t say it. Fuck, I need to hear it. How can I get Her to say it? The machine starts. It’s almost degrading when I think about it. It has no pulse, no mercy for me, yet I’m being penetrated by it and it can take me at whatever speed She wishes it to. Slow at first, like a human. she only allows the tip to glide inside me. After She knows I’m comfortable with a consistent speed, and it’s a little deeper inside, she smirks. Fuck, She knows how to tease. To capture. To claim. She makes the hair on my head Her’s when She pulls it towards the ass of Her other slave, as I am now one, too. Not my ideal activity, but for Her, nearly nothing is out of the question. Besides, it’s only fair, right?
After the sex settles, we all hydrate, I get smirked at AGAIN! It only makes me want to hear it more! That’s the moment I realize this is the freedom that I wanted, but was enslaved by life to search for.
I’ve finally found it.
I’m free at last.
This is all I desire.
I’ve never known such a desire prior to this. Nor will I ever again. She has never been nor will be wrong. It’s no secret that this special woman is my favorite sin, and She is a sadistic angel, who looks after Her loyal subjects. Before I knew it I was in love with the mind I failed to understand. A rarity for me, not to understand someone. One That knows, now must learn to learn. And I wish to learn.
The Tales of Lockwood University
“Zoe, are you ready? We mustn’t be late. Ah, there you are.” Zoe looked at her father with a ‘let’s hurry and get this over with’ face. She didn’t like the fact that she had to accompany her father to work. It was boring. He paced between multiple computers each day, pressing an infinite amount of keys that led him to the whatever conclusion he was hoping to reach. At eight years old, Zoe did not understand, nor care. Serving as both professor and the head of the IT department, Aarick Redwood was a busy man. This was the third time she had to sit in her father’s empty classroom, the third time she had to beg her father to let her roam the empty building to explore. “Just to explore! Nothing more.” She was a bright child, although no amount of wit would convince her father.
The only part about the days as such that Zoe only somewhat enjoyed was the car ride to and from. There was scenery. Yes, the scenery was an exquisite sight to see. Birds, trees, leaves, and a baby blue sky. Zoe loved it. It reminded her of paintings she had seen in her grandmother’s home. Thankfully, her father’s classroom had an amazing view, despite the fact that it was on the first floor. The college sat on top of what looked like Mount Everest to Zoe. She knew the mountain from another of her grandmother’s paintings. Nature and art resided in Zoe’s heart. She would attempt to occupy herself with bored drawings and by filling her mind with the words of various authors’. Sometimes a story would steal her attention and run with it; others might not come within a hundred miles of where her attention sat. She knew that a story that didn’t grab her attention wasn’t a bad story per se. She knew her taste. She had an unusually dark taste for an eight year old. Zoe had an interest similar to her father’s. When he was in his study, away from the basement where the library lived, she would sneak downstairs to read Edgar Allan Poe, Harlan Ellison, Mary Shelley, and her favorite: Shirley Jackson. The first book she’d ever read to keep her up at night was Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House”. To establish reality from the tricks the mind plays, especially in the case of Hill House, was a specialty of her’s, although she hadn’t stumbled upon the fact. Professor Redwood and his daughter walked into the building on campus where he worked; a medium sized building; consisting of four floors. The present staff greeted him, some questioned his seemingly early timing. “Mornin’, Professor Redwood.” A security guard greeted him and he gave him the good morning nod. “Good morning, Gale.” “Professor Redwood, you’re here early! We weren’t expecting you so soon..” “Oh, I’m not here that early. It’s only nine o’clock!” He exclaimed. He received many confused compliments about his early arrival, and he, like his co-workers, was a little unclear. Why were they all so caught by his time of arrival? While there weren’t any students arriving for his classes for a few more hours, they all knew of his double duties, and that he could work all day had his desk-sore body prohibited it. He and Zoe trailed along to his classroom. And their day began.
His classroom was in an odd section of the building. It was isolated from the other classrooms, staff, and signs of life altogether. Zoe enjoyed, yet feared, this place of exclusion. There weren’t a lot of staff in the building during this time anyway, so it was as if they had had their own building. Again, Mr. Redwood never let his daughter explore. “I won’t go far, dad! I promise!” “I can’t watch you if you’re wandering off, dear. I can have a movie play on one of the computers if you wish, but there will be no wandering off. I’m sorry.” Zoe pondered on his word choices, and choices he made regarding what she did. The building was empty, so why no exploring? And why did he end his sentences in apologies? To Zoe, to apologize, meant someone had done wrong. Although she wasn’t particularly happy with her father’s choice to keep her kept in his classroom, he had no true reason to apologize. And why must he watch her so intensely? No, he wasn’t quite burning a hole through her head with his glossy eyes, but he never let her out of her sight. When she would mention needing a bathroom break, he would take her to the one person restrooms that the staff used, and they would have lunch in the cafeteria. He was (too?) protective.
Concerned whispers filled the outside of his classroom. Strange considering the other professors had rooms far from his. “What on earth could they possibly be whispering about?” He silently gained Zoe’s attention and motioned for her to eavesdrop, as she wouldn’t be as noticeable due to her small size. She listened for a few seconds. Listened, listened, listened. Now she was concerned. Slightly frightened. That was unlike Zoe. She was a brave girl. Mr. Redwood was proud of the strong woman she would have grown to become. “Well? What are they saying?” He lowered an ear near her mouth, and although she didn’t speak, he heard. Oh, he heard. He heard her whispers and what they consisted of could’ve made him collapse. They were the last thing he would remember hearing before his trip. An unexpected trip. He didn’t want another trip. He’d just come home from the first. “I need to get my classroom prepped! Class will begin in a few hours and I’ll have to get Zoe to my mother’s house before then. I don’t have a lot of time, Gale! I can’t go with you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Zoe needs me to take her there.” “I know Professor Redwood. I know. The other staff and I think you should just take a break ya know? Step outside’n get some fresh air. That’s all, Professor. Just some fresh air.” “I know she’s a brave girl but she needs me, Gale! She NEEDS me! She told me when you and the others were standing outside! She told me what you and the others said! Hey! Don’t do that! Stop painting my classroom!” He began to drag his feet and stumble. No one was painting his classroom. But strangely, it was turning a different color than it had been before. What was happening? Zoe was now out of his sight. His worst nightmare. “Where is she? Where’s my baby? What have you monsters done with my only child?” Mr. Redwood was sedated and laid down safely.
“Shame what happened to him. Poor man. Lost his little girl at the mall. They didn’t find her body until a month after she’d gone missing. He goes through this weekly now.” Gale explained to a new orderly in the ward.
I’m lost, trapped, and I don’t expect to be seen by anyone else alive ever again. What is this place?
3 Hours Earlier: 7:00 A.M
I’ve quickly adjusted to what seems to be the routine of this new job rather quickly. I don’t want to get too comfortable; not yet. The other staff seems friendly. I wasn’t used to that at my old job. Ugh, that place. People were terrible there. Lazy co-workers, lazier managers, and the one person department, consisting of only myself, somehow was deemed to complete all the slack left behind by the others. I was bound by the unjust ways of that place, but here, I’m free. I don’t have to ask permission to leave (something that was an infinite battle at the last job), I’m free to set my own schedules and hours, and best of all: I get to work alone. I hated working for the general public. They’re loud, gross, and disrespectful. Here I can be left to work in peace. Although the quiet is nice, it is eerily quiet in the mornings. One might even be a bit spooked by the fatally quiet environment. The floor that creaks, the table that shakes, the pen that drops, it’s all enough to make my heart drop. Drop lower than the rats beneath the building. The last two days were enjoyable, but odd. Odd but not eerie. I had not thought anything to be harmful. I arrived for day three to be tangled into a nightmare.
I walked into the campus building as usual, asked the security guard if I could get into a different room, as I’d finished the computers in the previous room the day before. The fourth floor is different from the first three. The shape isn’t the same and there are far more twists and turns. Enough for a newbie like me to get consumed in. Terrifying it was and into the belly of this beast I will be. This college is meant for some, but not me. As we walked into the room that would become my newly found hell for the next eight hours, the guard warned me to watch the direction I take if I choose to go through the door, leading to a destination unknown. “Best to watch your way if you open that door! Place is a labyrinth after opening that door. It leads to other classrooms and can be a confusing path to those who don’t know it, Just be careful, yeah?” He asked demandingly. There is no way I’m passing through that door. Although there are only three computers here, I’m sure I can keep them busy all day, as I’m not supervised at all. Who’d truly know, or care, how many computers I’d made it to all day? I’ll stay here all day.
The sound of silence once he exited and closed the portal to the outside world behind him made me deaf. Why was it so much spookier when alone here? I need to get out of my head. Okay, so, the teacher computer. Usually they have a decent view, overseeing the rest of the room and having eyes on the door where students’ backs face. The seat is nice as usual. As I wait for it to wake up and cycle through the acceptance of my credentials, I do the same to the other machines. The second computer doesn’t have the same view of the other seats, but I have eyes on the door. A view I’d prefer over the view of empty students’ seats anyway. See, not so bad. And for the last one, the worst one. A view of neither the students’ seats or the door. This is truly terrifying, but I’ll be quick about it. Nearly an hour killed. Excellent. The time is flying wonderfully.
I’m back in the teacher’s chair after beginning the updates on each computer. What a slow process it is. Slow, but steady. I enjoy steady. It’s why I wanted this job. Unlike my last job, the scheduling is consistent, I pick my own days and hours, and there is little to no supervision. This is my peaceful easy feeling, and like the Eagles, I’m free to fly. My wings could get lost in the peacefulness of this wind. I could fly blind better than I could with sight. They’ll see. My former employer and co-workers never understood that I wasn’t meant for the way of life they chose, for it wasn’t my path. My wings weren’t meant to soar there. No, I needed more space. Here there was plenty of it, and at times, too much of it. What would become of it? Will my wings cause me more mischief? The sky knows it wouldn’t be the first time. May the sun have mercy on me.
The lights. Yes, the lights. Unpredictable creations at times. Will they glow? Be a no show? Or cling to life as the light leaves them? In this room they shut off automatically. That’s normal of course being on a motion sensing timer of some sort I assume. Only I’m up walking, spreading my wings. Why are they taunting me? And these cabinets; why am I intimidated by them? Some locked, but I’m worried they’ll pop open, releasing human remains. I’m not normally this vulgar. What’s wrong with me today? I wish I could see. These lights won’t stay lit and I’m unsure what to do. So I pace occasionally, worriedly wandering around, as if it would help the lights to stay on. I’m unsuccessful in that attempt, as they flicker for the most of my time here. Maybe I will have a look behind that dreaded door. It keeps staring at me. What does it want? Why is it drawing me closer? Why am I succumbing? Why? Fine then: I’ll have a look. A quick look.
The walk from the teacher’s desk and the door leading to an unknown universe seems miles long, although it’s only a few yards. Maybe 10. I begin making my way. Here I am: at the doorknob. Turning it, begging what it keeps closed to not consume me. Now I’m in. In a room that isn’t a room, but a path. A path to rooms that for a reason unknown, give me chills. Perhaps it’s just the emptiness that is causing my unease. I slowly explore the start on this path. It’s smaller than I imagined. A lot smaller. There are doors on either side of the room; one stuck with a note that reads “3420”. Like most buildings, this one has rooms named after the floor they reside on; so I know it doesn’t mean “Room 3420” So what then? I’m still unsure. Oh well. I’ll continue on, exploring the other door, this one unmarked. It leads to another empty room, this one bigger than the one I came from. I don’t enter entirely, as the fake, half skinned human torso staring at me as I entered was enough to scare Satan. I turned back. Back to room 3420.
I seemed more cautious of this room. Oddly cautious. Did just the numbering of the room alone frighten me? Damn the tracks of my mind, but bless it for giving me this stupidly brave curiosity. I approached this door, as I had the one before. But my mind was going in one-hundred more directions. Beside the obvious questions, I questioned why I had even been told of this path. Was it all part of some elaborate scheme to get rid of me, and possibly others? They did seem eager to hire me. Is this why? What do they gain from losing me? I didn’t assume it would be impossible for me to be the center of a mystery someday, but not like this. I don’t desire to die here. If I disappear, I want it to be far from here. I wanna grow old by the beach sipping something stiff until I’m weak. With the sand closely underneath. But not here! Never! I won’t allow it. So, whatever is on the other side of that door, has me to face. I open the door and see a sight that makes me blind.
There are people here. Huh? People? I expected death and clouds of fear to reign over me. No, this isn’t that at all. This is, this is: peace. What the hell is wrong with me? Do I really overthink to the point when something as harmless as a numbered door sends me into a frenzy? There’s nothing to fear here. I mean people can be scary, but today they’re a relief. Now I must explain my flushed expression. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware there was class here today. I’ll come back later.
“Please join us! We have proper accommodations.”
“But I’m not enrolled.”
“Don’t worry about that. All student workers are welcome in my classes; even if only to observe.
“That’s okay. I should really check on my other classrooms. I’ll come back later.” Now I’m beginning to become frightened. This man and his ‘students’ are clearly deranged. I must get out of here. “You will stay here. With us. Guard the door, NOW.” I panic. I ran, but unsuccessfully. I was brought to the ground by a giant of what I would have guessed to be a normal human. I suppose no humans are ‘normal’. I wake up alone, bound, and never expecting to be found. Will I forever remain here, waiting to be found? Dead or alive. I should have listened to the others’, for they warned me of this fatal place known as Lockwood University.
“You be careful at that school all alone! You saw the story on the news. I don’t want you to end up there, too.”
“I will, mom. I promise.”
She worries too much. I know the things said to happen at that school, but I’m not going to put myself in any danger. My only destination is the library. Nothing eventful ever happens there. Usually. I’ve never seen more than three students there at a time. It’s a quiet building considering all the madness that is said to maintain there. I find it peaceful, actually. It’s a strange thing to think, but it’s true.
I make my way inside. Through the door, past the guards, and there I am: standing satisfied inside a sensational world of storytellers and teachers. I prefer the storytellers, although the teachers’ are needed on occasion. I appreciate them both. They’ve both assisted me in my ventures. Both good and bad. I’ve never had anyone else that stood in the same form as myself. I’ve always relied on those who lived in the pages, as they’ve been best. The librarian here always looks agitated. “You again? Well be quick about it. I don’t like leaving you kids here unsupervised.” As if we aren’t all in our twenties and able to supervise ourselves. “Yes ma’am.”
Thankfully that’s the last I hear from her today. Now I’m ready to be talked to from the pages. Yes, speak to me. In a language unknown to most of humanity. Cure my lone with your sweet tone. What words will I awake today? Or will they wake me? I pick a book; a happy book. A romance without the sadness. Rare, like me.
I began to become peculiarly invested in this story. Somewhat as I had others before, but not quite. It wasn’t long before the woman from the pages started reaching out to me. She held out her hand from beyond the book and took mine. “Have you seen him?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I haven’t seen him. I’m sorry.”
“Very well then. You’ll do. Give me your hands.”
“My hands? Why?”
“Oh, don’t be so spooked! You’ve been reading about me for two hours. Did you take me for the dangerous type? No? I didn’t think so! Now, hands!” I slowly extend my hands into hers; she takes them; feels them; anyone watching might’ve said she was examining them. But there were no witnesses. “No one will see us. Not as long as I have your hands. Fear not.” I’m never the quickly trusting type or one to dance with a book character that seems to have come to life, but I feel as if I’d spend the rest of my days. In this library, slow dancing with a stranger, that may or may not be real.
“Come back to me, Henry.”
“Who is Henry? I don’t remember a ‘Henry’ from the story.”
“He goes by many names, and sometimes doesn’t remember when in mid-cycle.”
“Stay here with me. You don’t need to leave to survive this world. You’ll live a life of happiness with me. Here. Forever.”