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Stories by Wayne C. Rogers

  

  

  

  

Erotic Horror Story: The House That Bleeds

  

  

  

The house that would change my life forever was hidden behind a gated stonewall on Palomino Lane. This narrow, tree-lined street was located off of South Rancho Drive and as one that would never prompt sightseers to drive down it in search of the many celebrities who lived in Las Vegas. In fact, unless one lived on Palomino or had business on it, a person would never know that it existed. The street was short and ran only between Rancho Drive and Lacy Lane. There weren't many homes on either side of Palomino Lane, but those that were occupied at least a half-acre of land and probably ranged in price from a million to one-and-a-half million dollars.

My wife, Katherine, and I had accidentally happened upon Palomino in our weekly Sunday-afternoon excursion to find a new home. Now that I'd received a sizable advance for my next novel, we could finally afford to sell our condo and buy a really nice place. The only draw back was that my wife wanted us to buy something in either Summerlin or Green Valley. She didn't want a house that had already been lived in. I, on the other hand, didn't care. I wanted something that would inspire me to create more bestsellers...a home that was just a bit spooky and bespoke of a man who made his living by writing horror fiction. Needless to say, my wife didn't share my idea of what a dream house should be.

Though Katherine (she hated to be called Kathy) and I had only been married for two years, she'd already taken control of the marriage and reminded me of Angelina Jolie's character in the movie, Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Just think about the scene when Angelina says to Brad Pitt at the beginning of the movie, "If you don't like the curtains, just tell me and I'll take them back." Brad then tells her that he doesn't like the curtains, and she gives him the look and says, "You'll grow to like them in time." That was my wife in a nutshell, and the look that she gave me whenever I disagreed with her was more horrifying than anything I'd ever created in one of my novels. The only thing that Katherine didn't have control over was my writing.

We finally ended up on Palomino Lane by way of Rancho Estates, which was an older multi-million dollar subdivision off of Rancho Drive, just before the I-515 turnoff.

Katherine had wanted to take a look at that particular area so we drove over there. The homes were beautiful and expensive. All of them had that southwestern motif of stucco walls, arched doorways, and tiled roofs. Nothing jumped out at me. The subdivision looked like the type of place where casino executives lived. Of course, my wife loved it and made sure that I was aware of her feelings as I pulled back out onto Rancho Drive and headed south to West Charleston Avenue.

I'd just driven past Alta when I suddenly spotted Palomino Lane ahead. I don't know what made me slow the car down and then turn right onto the street, but things like that happened to me all the time, and I no longer paid any attention to them. It was just a way of life for me. Katherine, however, was still getting use to my little hunches and didn't know what to think.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I just had a sudden hunch to check out this street."

"You and your hunches."

"Yeah, I know."

Nothing else was said as we drove down the quiet lane. It reminded me of the type of street you might find in New England town. The limbs from the large oak trees lining both sides of the lane blotted out the hot sun. Palomino Lane was literally cast in a permanent shade from the trees, which dropped the temperature at least twenty-five degrees. This wasn't something that you normally saw in Vegas. It certainly didn't make you think of the desert.

I could tell that Katherine liked the houses that she saw. They were huge, yet classy. Each one had a large, well-trimmed lawn with plenty of green shrubbery to separate one property from the next.. This was a glimpse into the old Las Vegas when people moved here from the northeast coast and had their new houses designed to remind them of back home. There was no stucco on this street.

As we slowly headed down Palomino Lane, we almost missed the house that would soon become our nightmare. It was located to the left on what I suspected was at least an acre of land. The entire property was surrounded by an eight-foot high stonewall with a wrought-iron gate on each end of the front section.. Fastened to the gate at the far end by a thin metal wire was a big red "For Sale" sign. That was what caught my attention. I immediately stopped the car and stared through the bars of the gate at the huge house sitting in the background.

"What?" Katherine said.

"Look at that house," I said, pointing in its direction.

"Oh, God, it's ugly," she said after a moment of silence. "The place looks like it's dead. There's no life to it."

"I know."

"That house looks like something out of one of your novels."

"It sure does," I said.

I pulled the Mustang in front of the gate at the right corner of the property and got out, closing the door behind me. As I stepped up to the gate, I took in the oak trees that dotted the landscape in front and on the sides of the house. I could see that the paved driveway disappeared behind the house. There was also a portion of it that veered off to the left in front of the structure and then circled back down to the gate at the far left corner so that a vehicle could just circle around. I figured this was designed specifically for when large parties were thrown back in the old days and the guests would need a place close to the house to park their car.

I heard Katherine get out of the car. She walked up to the gate and stood silently beside me. We both stared at the house for a minute or two, not saying anything to each other. Then, I suddenly had an idea. I took out my cell phone and dialed the number that was listed at the bottom of the "For Sale" sign. After a couple of rings, someone on the other end finally answered.

"Epson Realtors," the female voice said.

"Hi," I said. "I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday afternoon."

"That's what I'm here for," the voice said. "What can I do for you?"

"My name's Chris Hill, and I'm standing in front of a large house on Palomino Lane that has a stone wall around it. There's a 'For Sale' attached to the front gate with your telephone number written at the bottom. I'd like to find out more about the house."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the telephone line and then—

"Are you by any chance the Chris Hill, the author of All Hollow's Eve?"

"Uh, yes, I am."

"My daughter's a really big fan of your novels," the woman said. "I think she's read everything you've written."

"Thank you," I said. "It's always a pleasure to know that people are reading my stuff."

"She's going to be jumping up and down when I tell her that I talked to you."

"Uh, about the house?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "Listen, why don't I come out and show it to you?"

"What's the asking price?"

"It would be better if I discussed that in person with you," she said. "The house you're looking at has a long and rather complicated history. I can show you the inside of it and then explain everything to you. Would that be okay, Mr. Hill?"

"Well, sure, I guess. When can you be here?"

"Give me thirty minutes."

Another idea flashed through my head, and I said, "Why don't you run by your home and get a couple of my books. I'll autograph them for your daughter."

"Would you?"

"Absolutely. By the way, what's your name?"

"Gerry Brooks," she said. "I'll be there in an hour."

"I'll see you then, Gerry."

I closed my cell phone and then glanced at my watch. It was almost one-thirty. I looked over at Katherine and said, "Do you want to get something to eat? It's going to be an hour before the realtor can get here."

"You're not seriously thinking about buying this place, are you?" Katherine said.

"I just want to take a look inside."

"I bet."

"The house does have character," I said.

"It makes my skin crawl."

"Let's find out what the inside looks like. Who knows, you might change your mind."

"Don't count on it," my wife said. "Anyway, I could go for a burger and some fries right now."

"Your wish is my command."

"Uh-huh."

Katherine and I climbed back into the car and drove over to the Wendy's on West Charleston. While we ate our food, I tried to explain to her just what it was I saw in the house. She kept shaking her head as if she were listening to a lunatic talking about saving the world. I didn't care. I instinctively knew the house was mine, if I wanted it.

And, I did.

It was 2:15 when we got back to the house and turned off the car's ignition. Gerry hadn't arrived yet. I looked at my watch and then at Katherine. I was impatient and didn't want to wait.

"Why don't you wait in the car for the realtor," I said. "I'm going to climb the gate and take a quick look around."

"I don't think so," Katherine said. "If I have to wait here, so do you. Besides, it's only fifteen minutes. You're acting like the world is getting ready to end. It's not, sweetheart. It's just a fucking old house."

"I'm just antsy."

"I'll give you a blowjob if you promise not to buy it."

I gave my wife a big, goofy grin and said, "Really?"

Katherine nodded her head and smiled seductively at me. She then leaned over the center console and kissed me passionately on the lips. I moaned with pleasure as her soft tongue entered my mouth. Even after two years of marriage, Katherine and I still had sex like newlyweds. We simply couldn't get enough of each other. Of course, she also used sex to get exactly what she wanted from me. I didn't mine that, either. I pretty much gave my wife any and everything she desired. That's what a man was supposed to do in my opinion.

I felt her right hand drop casually down into my lap and her fingers begin their journey of manipulation with my placid penis. Her tongue continued to probe my mouth and her fingers did their magic. In no time at all I had an erection that wouldn't go away. Her fingers made their way to the zipper of my jeans as she kissed my cheek and ear. The zipper was then tugged down and my penis was carefully removed for all to see. Katherine's hand encircled my erection and slowly moved up and down, teasing me with what was to come.

"You have to promise," she said.

I groaned inwardly at those four words. My wife knew that I always tried to keep my promises. The challenge was getting a promise out of me.

A car horn unexpectedly honked behind us, and I jumped in my seat. I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw a lady in a gray PT Cruiser. She was waving at me. Katherine quickly moved to her side of the car as I frantically shoved my penis back inside my jeans and zipped up.

Saved by the bell, I thought.

I knew that the lady had to be Gerry Brooks. She got out of her car and walked up to my side of the Mustang. I pushed a button on the door panel and the driver's window came down. I stuck my hand out and she shook it.

"You must be Gerry," I said.

The woman nodded her head and smiled brightly at me. "It's a sincere pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hill," she said. "My daughter, Joann, almost had a conniption when I told her that I was meeting you today. She thinks you're the next Stephen King in horror fiction."

"I certainly try my best," I said, putting a bit of humility into my reply.

"I'll unlock the gate, and you can drive up to the house."

"Thank you."

I watched as the realtor stepped up to the gate and unlocked it with a large key in her hand. She looked to be in her late thirties with dark brown hair that reached down to her shoulders, a full face with brown eyes that lit up when she smiled, and a shapely figure that was accented by the tight skirt and blouse that she had on. The high heels made her legs worth a second look. Maybe even a third.

Katherine suddenly pinched me hard on the right arm and said, "Stop looking at her ass, or I'll pinch something else."

"I can't help myself."

"You can if you put a little effort into it, Mr. Next Stephen King."

She laughed and pinched me again.

I yelled loudly as I tried to squirm away from her.

"You're such a wimp," my wife said.

"No, I'm not."

The realtor pushed open the two sides of the gate and waved us in.

I started the car, pressed the accelerator, and drove down the driveway. I took the left turn-off and parked in front of the brick walkway that led up to the large black door that reminded me of a dark gaping mouth, waiting for to be fed.

Katherine and I got out of the Mustang and stood there looking at the two-story structure with its gables and turrets as the realtor drove up in her car. Strange as it might seem, I could've sworn that the temperature was several degrees cooler than it had been out on the street. It was early September in Vegas, and the daily temperature was still over a hundred degrees; but, standing here in front of the house, I guessed it to be around seventy-five. That was a big drop.

"I bet it cost a fortune to heat this place," Katherine said as she rubbed her bare arms. She was dressed like me in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved knit shirt.

"I was thinking the same thing," I said. "This has to be the coolest spot in Las Vegas during the summer months. You probably have to run the heater year around in this house just to take the chill off."

Gerry Brooks parked her car behind ours and climbed out of it with two hardcover books in her left hand. She took a pen out her purse as she came over to where we were standing. "I'm afraid if I don't do this now I'll forget," she said, handing the pen and one of the books to me. "And if that happened, Joann would kill me. She wanted to come along, but I said no."

I noticed that Ms. Brooks didn't have on a wedding band as she gave me the two items. I thought that a woman as attractive as she was should be happily married and living her dreams. She saw the twinkle of sexual interest in my eyes and smiled brightly again, enjoying the attention from a celebrity author. I didn't bother to check to see if Katherine was giving me the eye. I knew that if she was, I'd hear about it when we got home. My first marriage had ended in divorce because I couldn't keep my pants zipped up around other women. Katherine knew about my past history and had made it clear from the beginning that I'd be kept on a short leash. She didn't trust me to be out of her sight, and I couldn't blame her. I had a thing for attractive ladies in tight skirts, hose, and high-heels. It was my one weakness.

"To Joann?" I said.

"Would you please inscribe it to Tiny Jo," Gerry said, spelling it for me. "That's been her nickname since she was two-years old."

"Sure."

The book was All Hollow's Eve, my last novel. I opened it up to the title page and wrote: To Tiny Jo, my number one fan! I handed the book back to Ms. Brooks and our fingers touched, causing a small electrical shock to pass between us. We both jumped in surprise and then laughed. She gave me the second book, which was titled, Night of

Blood. That had been my first bestseller. I flipped to the title page and wrote: To Tiny Jo, even good girls want to be bad sometimes! I handed the book back to Gerry and she read the inscription, giggling like a little girl over what I'd written.

"That sounds more like me than my daughter," she said.

I watched her walk back to her PT Cruiser. She leaned inside the car and laid the two books down on the passenger's seat. I couldn't help but notice the shape of her bottom as her skirt was pulled taut against the flesh. Since I couldn't see a panty-line, I suspected that all she had on underneath the skirt was pantyhose. I suddenly imagined what it would be like to lean her over the front hood of my car, lift her skirt up to her waist, rip out the back of her pantyhose, and then take her roughly from behind. I bet she'd enjoy something like that. I could see it in her eyes. There was a wildness in her that was hidden just beneath the thin veneer of respectability.

"Ow!" I yelled, glancing sharply at my wife. She'd just pinched the living daylights out of my left arm. "Why'd you that?"

"You are in so much trouble, buster," Katherine said.

"I didn't do anything."

"I saw you looking at her ass."

"No, I wasn't," I said. "I was just checking out her car."

Katherine pinched me again and then smacked me hard across the face.

"Is anything wrong?" Ms. Brooks said as she closed the door of her car and walked back to us. She had her purse in one hand and a large plastic flashlight in the other.

"My wife accused me of checking out your bottom when you leaned into the car," I said.

"Were you?"

"Yep."

"Then she should smack you again," Ms. Brooks said, smiling at Katherine.

That was all it took. As I turned to look at my wife, she hauled off and slapped me a second time.

"That makes me feel so much better," my wife said.

I stared at each of the women, realizing that they'd just bonded with each other over my humiliation. They both saw the expression on my face and started laughing out loud. I was glad that somebody thought it was funny.

"Hit him again," Ms. Brooks said.

As Katherine raised her arm to strike me a third time, I took off running up the walkway to the front door.

"He's such a wimp," she said to the realtor.

"Yes, but he's also rich and extremely handsome."

"That's why I keep him around," Katherine said.

"I know exactly what you mean."

I waited at the door while Ms. Brooks and my wife compared notes about me. That gave me time to think about what had just happened. I couldn't imagine what had come over me. That had been the first time I'd ever stared at another woman in a sexual manner with Katherine standing only a foot away. I loved my wife and would never cheat on her. Besides, I knew she'd kill me if I did. I shook my head in puzzlement. The whole incident was bizarre. It was like I'd been enveloped within this intense sexual energy that had brought out my dark side. The strange thing is I knew without a doubt that I would've fucked Ms. Brooks in a New York second and that she would've let me. Only the presence of my wife had stopped me.

I didn't like what that implied.

I wasn't a bad person. I certainly had no intention to hurt Katherine; yet, the urge to fuck Ms. Brooks had been overpowering. I hadn't just wanted to make love to her, or to have a casual fling. No, I'd literally wanted to throw her onto the hood of the Mustang and to fuck her wildly like some primitive beast. I wondered where in the hell that destructive desire had come from? Maybe the stuff I wrote about in my novels was starting to get to me.

"Ready to see the house?" Ms. Brooks said, placing the flashlight under one arm and taking a set of keys out of her purse.

"I sure am," I said, giving her a kind of lop-sided smile. I felt embarrassed by what had taken place and wasn't sure how to act. I figured the thing to do was just ignore it and play like it never happened. I sneaked a peak at Katherine to test my theory and immediately knew that the shit was going to hit the fan when we got home. "What type of architectural design is this place?"

"It's the design known as 'Butt Ugly'," my wife said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

I smiled at her comment and then looked at Ms. Brooks as she unlocked the arched black door and pushed it open.

  

  

Erotic Horror story, part 2

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