House of the Depraved

**Author’s Note: A couple things, just so I don’t mislead people. This story is different from most on this site. Before reading this story, understand, it’s not intended as a story with quick pay-offs. There’s a whole bunch of erotica but it’s mixed with horror. Also, despite the seemingly innocuous title and subject matter, this story gets darker and more intense as it advances through the chapters. It’s definitely not a happy romp through sexual escapades and there are disturbing elements. Beyond that, hope you enjoy!**

*********************Jayce*************************

The seven of had made a pact and come hell or highwater they were going to through with it. They’d talked about it over dinner at Famous’ Steakhouse. They’d dressed to the nine’s for the occasion, the guys in suits and blazers, ties and vests, the girls in evening formalwear, tight dresses and elegant blouses, bared backs and swept-up, teased hair. They were all close; some were closer still. Jaime and Camden had a kind of on again, off again thing while Lane and Jayce were just starting to become aware of the electricity between them. Just the occasional exchanged glance, her blue eyes would meet his grey and it was like time stopped for him. By the curl to her lips he knew she felt it too.

Like most things, Camden had arranged the dinner. Or as he called it: The proposition. He arranged most everything: the broomball and volleyball teams, the dorm parties with the pony kegs, rock climbing in the Canyonlands, base-jumping at Alta. Whatever he imagined he made real, and brought his friends along. The kid was a whirlwind, a self promoter, a cocky asshole, an impossible liar and Jayce’s best friend and roommate. He’d known Camden two years; or it should be said, he known Camden in as far as anyone can know that kid. Knowing Camden is like knowing a rock star. You know him as much as he shows you, nothing more. Recently Jayce had been seeing him less and less. He was always seemingly wrapped up in one drama production or another, (and some would say one girl or another) sleeping at the theatre most nights. Still Camden had found time to slip the immaculate invites under our doors inviting us to dinner; on the house, it said, and there was no way we were going to miss it.

They’d arrived to find Camden seated at a round table in the direct center of the dining area. He was talking animatedly on his cell phone, his tie pulled loose around his neck, the top couple buttons of his white button down left open in purely casual fashion. He was drawing looks from the snooty waitstaff, but in classic Camden fashion, didn’t even notice or care. Jaime whispered something to Lane and she snickered, which drew Camden’s attention; A look of surprise at his friends sudden arrival, quickly swallowed whole by that smooth player smile he wore as he rose with an effortless ease.

“How y’doin’, Darlin,” he murmured to Jaime, embracing her and kissing her cheek before greeting the group in turn. He welcomed Jayce last. “Jayce,” he said with a wicked smile and rigorous handshake “glad you could make it. Haven’t seen you in weeks, man.” He turned to Jaime. “My boy’s lost without me.”

“Y’know somehow I manage,” Jayce said smiling back.

He winked and ushered them to their seats. To Jayce’s surprise, each of their wineglasses was already full. Camden and Jayce were 20, the rest were 19, all underage. It didn’t bear asking how he’d been able to order them. “Camden’s charm,” Whitney had called it “He hypnotizes you with that good ole boy Louisiana drawl and before you know it, you’re lending him your pickup truck, six days of food and a leaky tent, and worst of all you’re going too.” Everyone seemed to acquiesce to Camden to some degree. Only Camden would’ve been able to draw out six people to a steakhouse a good mile and a half from campus on the flimsy pretense of a proposition. It was a credit to his charisma.

The group of friends indulged in the wine, a cabernet sauvignon Camden informed them, and soon after plates of filet mignon and prime rib were brought out. The food was absolutely delicious, the conversation light and easy. Jayce chatted up Lane, while Camden and Jaime whispered intensely. Whitney was rolling her eyes at some sexist joke that Logan had told but Alex had buried his head in his arm, laughing uncontrollably. It didn’t matter that Alex was Korean and city-born and raised or that Logan was born in the backseat of a ’78 Chevy pickup and raised on a mustang farm down south; they just clicked as friends and were rarely apart. The dinner was such easygoing contentment, friends just enjoying each others company, being indulged in the kind of finer things that college students rarely get to partake in; that Jayce had almost forgotten the reason they were there. The mood was light, and the wine was flowing freely.

Jayce had a lot on his mind; namely Lane. He was lost in her. That night she was something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. A slender brunette, she was always pretty, but that night she was absolutely jaw-dropping. She’d worn her hair up exposing the smooth line of her neck, and her blue eyes shown so brightly from her fair skin and delicate features, they seemed electric. Her lips were pursed knowingly. No doubt she’d caught my eyes tracing her slender arms, and the soft curves of her perfectly rounded breasts, somewhat petite, but nicely accentuated by her blouse. Everything about her screamed sensual; He had this overwhelming compulsion to touch and hold this beautiful, exotic creature. When he leaned in to whisper, he smelled lilacs and the floral scent of her hair. “Seeing you in red makes me want to throw you on the table right here, and have my way with you. The hell with consequences,” Jayce snarled, loosening his tie playfully.

“Oh?” She teased, feigning innocence, touching the tip of my nose “I wonder if they’ll clear the dishes for us if you ask nicely.” This was how they teased each other. For him it was an outlet of my sexual frustration; for her, it seemed to be pure amusement: testing to see how far he’d go.

“I think every male in the room will empathize with me all the same,” Jayce said, intertwining his fingers with hers, tracing kisses along her knuckles, up her wrist and along her arm. Angelically soft. She giggled sweetly.

“My, Jayce,” she whispered breathlessly “it’s like you never seen a girl in a dress before.”

“Never a girl like this,” He’d pulled her closer. Their chairs were touching and spurred on by the airy feel the wine had left him he was grazing his kisses up her arm along her shoulder. He could tell she was flushed from the wine and the heat but even moreso his attention. He always seemed smoother flirting with her than any other girl. A clink of a fork against a glass, turned her attention. Reluctantly his as well.

“Hate to interrupt you two,” Camden had turned a sly smile on them. He was the one who’d called the toast and was standing. Lane and Jayce turned their gaze over their friends, Lane sheepishly, Jayce a touched amused. Jaime was smiling, Logan was snickering and Whitney had pressed her hand over her mouth, embarrassed for them; like they’d been caught. Lane blushed prettily and Jayce downed his up of wine with resounding fervor, motioning for Camden to continue. He did without hesitation. “Bet y’all are wondering why you’re here. First you tell me. Why….are you here?”

“The booze,” Alex boomed, holding his glass up. He was Korean and slim, always well dressed with spiky black hair and a dimpled smile. The kid tried to fight every Asian stereotype he could. He’d adopted Logan’s drawl either subconsciously or on purpose and he even bought a pickup; an old rusted and rambling Toyota that didn’t always start or stop. Still he couldn’t help the fact he was fairly brilliant and musically talented.

“The company,” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulder, swaying a little from the wine, and no doubt a touch of whiskey he probably had before arriving. He was notorious for carrying a flask around, sipping surreptitiously at sporting events, movies even in class. Not like he was a raging drunk, it was just the way he was brought up. He was the classic cowboy archetype. Always in blue jeans and flannel, well built, handsome and muscular with a thick bull neck and dirty blond hair. He’d been teased endlessly about having to dress up for the dinner, but he wore his rented tuxedo well, even combed his hair. Clearly he was drunk though. “Good wine, good food, but most of all good company.”

“Yee-haw!” Alex hollered, and the rest of the table hooted in agreement drawing nasty looks from the more sophisticated patrons. They couldn’t help themselves, playing up the country-boy persona when Logan was around, and apparently being in a fine restaurant changed nothing.

Camden turned his unfaded smile on Whitney. “What about you?”

“I’m the one who keeps you guys out of jail,” Whitney chided, but her brown eyes twinkled with mirth. She was a small girl, cute in her petite way, mousy comes to mind, pale with a smattering of freckles across her nose with glasses and shoulder length brown hair. She seemed born to be a librarian; except when she got drunk. Then she became a hellcat, swearing like a sailor and making out with hockey players and musicians and whoever else happened to be present. There were a couple nights Jayce and her went out to the bars together and somehow, someway before the night was through she’d ended up on top of him, her lips pressed firmly to his. He couldn’t for the life of him tell how it happened. The next day though, like clockwork, she’d act as casual as can be, like nothing happened. Everytime. They all suspected she purposely made herself look innocent as possible just for the shock value later on. Jayce, for the life of him, never knew what to make of her. “Besides, I’m sick of hearing Camden’s insane ideas secondhand. I want to be at the groundbreaking. For once.”

Camden chuckled and nudged Jaime. “What about you, darlin’?”

Jaime exchanged a look with Lane, a shared smile. “We made a bet.”

“Oh?” Camden looked to Jayce to see if he knew anything about it. He met Camden’s puzzled look with a twist to his lips and a shrug.

“Yeah. See I think you have good ideas, Camden. I do,” Jaime said sweetly, bouncing a bit in her seat. The girl was always in a good mood. Blonde, pretty and tan, Jaime grew up in California and seemed to the live part. She was the most athletic of the girls, coltish and lithe with the prettiest legs Jayce had ever seen. Her expressive green eyes were always lit with a kind of inner light, her sunkissed features almost too pretty for the tomboy persona she put on. Everyone seemed to have a crush on her at one time or another to the point it became a running joke: Jaime’s harem. She was kind of naïve about the whole deal though, which only added to her charm. “I never know what you’ll come up with next, but most of the time it makes my day,” she began to laugh. “However Lane thinks you’re losing it.” Camden turned a mock-hurt expression on Lane.

“Seriously, Cam,” Lane stammered through her smile. “Like a few weeks back. You wanted to hold a séance around a bonfire to mourn the death of Hunter Thompson and recall his spirit.”

“A controlled burn,” Camden shrugged.

“While we danced around it,” She was speaking slowly now, emphasizing each point. “Naked, but for body paint and ornamental beads”

“You boys can see why, right?” Camden appealed to the guys in the room. They nodding chuckling. Jayce remembered that well. Camden seemed so earnest in his suggestion. Anyone else, he would’ve assumed they were joking, but Camden… “So wadja bet?”

“I bet Jaime that whatever you suggested there was no way in hell I was going to take part. Jaime bet I would.”

He was nonplussed. “And the terms?”

Lane blushed then and Jaime laughed. “It’s about our Halloween costumes,” Jaime said meeting Camden’s gaze, smiling beatifically. “If I win she has to wear the costume I want her to. You guys would like it. A country girl outfit we saw a couple days back, daisy dukes and all.” The guys hooted; Logan was slapping the table howling like a wolf, which drew a withering look from a couple bluehairs in a booth behind him. “If she wins,” Jaime continued, fiddling with the tight black choker around her neck “I have to feed the Psych department’s pigeons for a week, getting my fingers bit and my hair pulled by those little demons while she sits back with a lemonade or good book or whatever.”

“And you took this bet?” Alex asked Jaime. She nodded. “Even though it’s completely dependent on Lane’s feelings? She controls the bet!”

“See, I don’t think so,” Jaime said with a knowing smile. “I got faith in Cam. Whatever he came up with, whatever all this anticipation is about, I got a feeling it’s going to be good. Laney’s going to want to lose the bet. I trust this.”

“And here’s hoping she does,” Jayce said, toasting his glass against Alex’s and Logan’s as Lane slapped his shoulder playfully.

“Funny you should mention Halloween,” Camden said softly, tapping his finger against his lips, pausing for effect. His dark eyes were inscrutable. “That’s what this is about. How many of y’all have heard of The House of the Depraved?”

Bemused looks were exchanged. No one seemed to have any idea.

“Andy! More wine. Please,” Camden gestured to the waiter as he was walking by. He returned a few moments later to open a fresh bottle, refilling each of our cups. Camden waited until the waiter left before continuing. He paused as if trying to find the right words before pursing his lips resolutely and drumming his fingers against the table. “What about Andal’s Crossing?”

More bemused looks. Suddenly Logan slammed the table, lifting an intense gaze on Camden. “Shit-Yeah, Andal’s Crossing! That little shittown just across the county line. Freak-show used to come through there back in the day. My folks even took me once when I was knee-high. Albino dwarves, Living Doll women, legless boys that walked on their hands, the ‘missing link’. Scared me half to death,” He shook his head, eyes unfocused. “Hadn’t thought about that since the nightmares stopped.”

An awkward silence filled the table. No one seemed sure what to make of that. Suddenly, Whitney broke out laughing; a kind of helpless, breathless uncontrollable gale that left her doubled over. The suddenness of it broke the tension like a window pane; soon the whole table was laughing easy, even Logan smiled a little. The group was thoroughly drunk which only fueled everyone’s amusement. There was nothing funny about what Logan said, but it was so out of place with the genial vibe of the evening that they couldn’t help themselves.

“You ok, Whit?” Jaime touched her shoulder.

Whitney had been laughing so hard, she was wiping tears from her eyes as she struggled to regain her composure. “Yeah,” she tried, only moderately successful in her attempt to repress another wave of giggling threatening to bubble to the surface. “Just reminded me of something. Inside joke. Just ignore me.”

Camden had been waiting patiently. He was smiling wanly and his voice was soft. “He’s right. There used to be a freakshow there. Lived on long past the others of its breed died out. Folks in this area seem to have an unquenchable thirst for the taboo. Eventually the state shut it down but the building remained.”

“It was an eyesore but for whatever reason no one had the heart to knock it down,” Logan interrupted. “Eventually someone will put it to good use I imagine.”

“Someone has,” Camden said smoothly. “They turned into a haunted house. The House of the Depraved.” He slipped a flyer out from his jacket pocket and placed it face up on the table. The picture was blurred, but a building could be seen: a tangled mass of stone and rotting wood paneling under a thatch roof that loomed large in the foreground. Beneath the picture in Antiqua font were the words: House of the Depraved: Bring a Friend.

“Looks like the place is about to collapse,” Whitney murmured, eyes transfixed to the image. She wasn’t laughing anymore. It almost seemed like there was something she recognized in it. Like seeing a forgotten photo of a long-dead relative.

“It’s been there 80 years. I think it’ll last through Halloween,” Camden said dryly. “Here’s the deal: It’s been rated the best haunted house west of the Mississippi, but it’s fantastically intense. Last year a couple girls from this school couldn’t hack it and suffered a breakdown of some kind. They’re fine now, but they won’t talk about it. Believe me, I tried.”

“Says you,” Alex scoffed.

“Says everyone. Check the internet if you don’t believe me. They do one thing and they do it well: Scare the living bejeezus out of anyone who goes in,” Camden leaned back interlacing his fingers at the nape of his neck. He could see the flicker of interest in the eyes of those assembled. “I’ve heard it described as a cathartic experience. Boys and girls come out changed.”

There was a palpable buzz at the table. Jaime and Jayce exchanged an excited smile and Logan slapped Alex on the back so hard it caused him to spit out the wine he was sipping. Even Whitney seemed intrigued, her lips were parted in an almost smile, and she was glancing over at each of her friends in turn, eyes widening a bit, seemingly encouraged by reactions around her. Jayce toasted her and Jaime excitedly threw her arms around Camden’s shoulders, excited.

“What’s the catch, Camden?” Lane crossed her slim arms over her chest. She was trying to hold Camden’s gaze. It was clear she was drunk and struggling to keep eye contact, or the mock seriousness of her pressed lips.

“Who says there’s a catch, dear?” Camden almost looked innocent at that moment.

“‘Cause it’s you, Cam,” Lane chided. “There’s always a catch.”

There was a pause. “She’s right. Here’s the deal,” Camden said softly. The revelry died down a bit. Even Jaime disentangled herself from Camden then to sit on the arm of her chair; green eyes pinned on him, clearly as curious as Lane. “You have to sign a waiver when you go in stating to the effect that you are entering on your own volition and that were made aware of and agree to the three stated bylaws.” He went silent.

“Which are?”

“Rule 1: They’re allowed to touch you.” There was a shocked buzz at the table. Sarah’s mouth was a perfect “o” and Alex wore a bemused half-smile trying as if he was trying to decide if Camden was playing a joke on them.

“Alrighty,” Logan said in his slow drawl, seemingly speaking for the assembled. Jayce had heard of this kind of thing before at all the best haunted houses. If they can touch you, that’s one more limit they can cross to frighten you.

“Rule 2: They’re allowed to manipulate you.”

Jaime cocked her head, bewildered. “Manipulate us? What does that mean?”

Camden shrugged casually, downing his glass of wine before dabbing at his lips with his cloth napkin. “Beats me.”

“You don’t know!?” Whitney was incredulous. “Could be anything!”

Camden met her gaze firmly. “Could be. Don’t shoot the messenger though. The way it has been explained to me, is that they’re fully convinced they can cause you to do things you wouldn’t do ordinarily.” His smile looked awfully white at that moment. The bizarreness of what Camden was describing was too much. Jayce hid his smile behind my wine glass. Some of this was probably true, some Camdenesque Bravado. He just hadn’t decided which yet. The girls seemed to react most intensely. Sarah’s mouth was still agape, her brown eyes wide and unfocused. Jaime had self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest, apprehensively moistening her lips as if running through possibility after possibility. But Lane was absolutely still. Her lips were tight, her expression enigmatic and her pretty blue eyes were locked to every movement Camden made as if weighing his soul. Jayce, entranced by her intensity, dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin, thinking not for the first time how head over heels he was.

“What’s the third rule?” It was Alex. His voice shook Jayce out of his reverie. Camden was steadily meeting Lane’s gaze. He gave no sign that he even heard Alex. Frustrated, Alex made as if to repeat his question but was cut short as Camden lifted a solitary finger in Alex’s direction. Wait. Camden had not lifted his eyes from Lane, his lips turned up at the corners hinting at humor. His dark eyes were cooler and veiled but no less intense. An inky black strand had fallen across his temple but he didn’t ebrush it away, nor did he pull down his silencing finger directed at Alex. And then it was over. Lane either saw something in his gaze that satisfied her, or didn’t, regardless she acquiesced with a lift of her chin to him and downed her glass of wine.

Camden lowered his hand then and turned to his own cup. His wine was empty so he grabbed his water glass and chewed on some ice, eyes turned on Alex, smiling faintly, taking his sweet time before responding. Jayce was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes pinned on Camden. Lane had leaned back and crossed her legs demurely, but he could see she was no less involved.

Camden finished the last of the ice in the glass, peering within and rattling the empty cup before slamming it down resoundingly. “Again, keep in mind, I’m just the messenger. This is what was told to me if I wanted to bring a group to the House, and I swore I’d tell y’all word for word.” He paused and met each of their gazes in turn before continuing. “Rule 3: No one goes alone. The House of Depraved cannot be found liable for what occurs to the solitary soul found within.”

Stunned looks flickered across all the faces at the table. “Not liable?” Alex began, shaking his head.

“But…why?” Jaime’s brow was furrowed.

“Found?” Lane whispered so softly only Jayce could hear. “By whom?”

Logan was rubbing the back of his sunburned neck slowly and Whitney’s lips were parted just a bit as if she was about to say something but could not quite find the first word.

“What the….hell….happens to someone who’s alone in there?” Jayce lifted his eyes to Camden’s. His voice sounded thicker than usual in his ears, hoarse.

Camden was the only one of the group sitting easy. He was slouched back in his seat, munching on some ice he’d emptied from Jaime’s cup while she was preoccupied. He smiled genially at Jayce as he rolled his shoulders back. “They wouldn’t say. No matter how graciously I’d ask.”

Another pervasive silence descended on the table. Each rule was weirder and more obscure than the last. Was this Camden’s idea of a practical joke? No, Camden never played jokes like this. The more absurd the idea, the more dead serious he was and this was no different. Jayce had lived with the kid long enough to tell hat Camden was judging each at the table by their reactions and taking amusement in overwhelming befuddlement. That wolfish smile was forever playing just beneath the surface. “You know you’re intrigued,” Camden insinuated. His eyes were on Jayce, but the words were directed at the group.

“Well,” Logan stretched languidly, a lazy smile on his lips. “I’m in.”

“So am I,” Alex leaned over and affectionately ruffled Logan’s shaggy dirty-blonde mane. Holding the big cowboy in a head lock he turned back to Camden. “You had me at depraved.”

To the surprise of Jayce, Whitney spoke up next. “I’m still thinking this is Camden’s idea of a hoax. But worse comes to worse, if this thing turns out to be real, I think it’s something that I need to see.”

“Do you now?” Alex flashed an intrigued grin.

“I have my reasons,” she said simply.

Camden leaned over the table and gave Whitney’s hand a tight squeeze with a smile. He turned his gaze on Jaime. “Darlin’?”

“Why Cam,” She teased, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “I’d follow you to hell and back. Didn’t you know that?”

“I never doubted.” He leaned in and kissed her chastely on the lips.

“Could be you’re going to do just that,” Jayce grinned at Jaime.

She shrugged, smiling sweetly in her silence. Jayce could feel Camden’s expectant gaze. With a satirical half-smile, Jayce lifted a silencing finger in his direction and turned to Lane. “Whatcha thinkin’ Laney?”

“I’m thinking he’s insane and the rest of you might be just as bad,” She said through a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Was that apprehension in her eyes? He couldn’t tell, he’d never seen that look before. The girl had always been cool and understated in her emotions.

“I’m only going to do this if you’re in. You know that,” Jayce said lifting her chin his hazy grey eyes meeting her pools of iridescent blue. The wine had made him bolder. He was overwhelmed by a fierce affection for this girl at his side and really didn’t care who knew at this point.

“Oh! Thanks for not putting pressure on me,” she groaned as she slapped his shoulder again. By all accounts, the girl just loved abusing him.

“Good work, Jayce!” Jaime cooed.

“Lane,” Alex leaned in a bit, his voice perfectly reasonable. “I’m sure whoever we find in there is no more depraved than us. They might even switch them out in favor of us to get more of an authentic feel.”

“Won’t be the same without you,” Whitney chided. “You know how it is when there’s too many boys.”

“Surely YOU do, Whitney” Logan said chuckling as she shoved him hard but ineffectually which only made him laugh harder.

Lane’s eyes hadn’t lifted from Jayce’s. He could see her searching his grey depths. He was unwavering and cocky from the wine. “I think we’d both learn something,” he whispered, touching his thumb to his lips and then hers. “About ourselves, about each other, about these nutjobs at the table here. I think it’s something we’d regret not doing.”

The steely resolve in her eyes broke like the sun behind morning clouds. She seemed genuinely touched by his gesture. She grazed the backs of her fingers against his cheek fondly before turning back to the assembled. “I don’t suppose I ever really had an option,” Her eyes shifted to Camden and her smile was faint. “You sir, you’re a snake and you know it. You ever hear the word ‘no’?”

“Often and incessantly,” He’d stolen Jaime’s hand and was nibbling at her fingers playfully before she swatted him. “I’m just patient enough to wait until they turn to ‘yes’.”

Lane let loose a resigned sigh. “Whatever comes of this, comes.”

The table erupted in cheers and laughter. Jayce wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged the slender girl tight against him. “I’m trusting you on this more than I’m trusting Cam buddy,” Lane whispered against in his ear. “Don’t let me down now.”

Camden ordered the waiter to bring out the champagne. With a resounding pop and overflowing bubbly he poured everyone a glass. He called for a toast and the table lifted their glasses. With the content smile of the cat who fell in the cream, he nodded a bit. “I chose y’all for this, ’cause I knew if anyone would have the guts to give this a try it would be you six.” He paused, taking stock. “Y’all didn’t let me down. To us.”

“To us.” Our glasses clinked together, a crystalline keen followed by a comfortable silence at the table. The group was remarkably well composed considering how drunk everyone must have been at the time. The excitement was palpable but restrained, for whatever reason, but it wasn’t apprehension or anticipation so much as simple camaraderie between friends who’d set a unique joint course and felt closer than ever as result. Jayce’s smiles came easy, and the alcohol had put him in a good mood. And yet…and yet at the back of his mind, not even he could shake the notion, that people entering a suicide pact probably felt the same way at the time.

***

The walk back to campus was serene under the star-filled sky. Jayce was drunk, but he’d never felt so alive or in the moment as he did then. Lane and him had fallen back from the main pack. They were up ahead, the 5 walking arm in arm and loudly singing some old Bobby Darin croon number. How they all knew the words Jayce could never say. It often seemed that these friends of his were enigmas.

The scent of fall was thick in the air, but it was nothing compared to the sweet scent of Lane’s perfume which left him unable to think of anything beyond her. The girl was at his side, his hand snaked around her waist, hers around his; he loved how she fit so snugly by him; like she was meant to be there.

Then, all of a sudden, she nipped playfully at his ear. For Jayce that was the final straw. He was done waiting.

With his arm snaked about her waist he spun her. Drunk, she almost stumbled, her hair flying across her face, her blue eyes almost comically wide in surprise. Before she had a chance to react he pressed his body tight against her, looming taller than her, feeling the surprise gasp of her breath against his neck as her back smacked hard against the adobe wall of the empty storefront behind her. He crushed his lips against her, thinking of all the moments he’d been near her, dying, dying to do this very thing. She tasted sweeter than he could have imagined; cherry intermingling with champagne residue on her lips. He wanted to taste her soul. He could feel her heart racing through the black silk of her dress, and the press of her fingertips along his upper arms.

To his surprise, she immediately returned the kiss, her lips feverishly pressed to his as she held his face close. His hands ran up her hips and sides and played along the outer curve of her breasts, searching… finding…intertwining with her spaghetti straps sliding them down the silken line of her arms. Her fingertips worked deftly. Before he knew it she’d loosened his tie and had undone most of the buttons of his shirt. He couldn’t get enough of her. No matter how hard he kissed her, no matter how much of her he could touch, see, smell, taste, it wasn’t enough and it was driving him crazy. He was desperate. His bulging manhood was a rock, spurred by the feel and grind of her thigh. Her body was arched so sinuously; a painfully erotic posture. Their lips were frenzy. She’d break the kiss for a moment, desperately trying to catch her breath, moaning uncontrollably from the feel of his hands over her breasts and his fingers toying with her nipples. Then he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, and he’d be smashing is lips against hers once more; needing to taste her, unable to go more than a second without it.

Then she was trying to murmur something and she was pressing her hands against his chest, and he wasn’t comprehending, and she said it again. But all he heard was his heart pounding in his ears, and his eyes were unable to focus on anything but her lips. They were a breath’s length away, but for all he could tell it was an eternity; an endless yawning gap of space. She held his face before her, blue eyes intense, her expression was painfully earnest. She mouthed the words slow making sure he understood: “Behind you.”

Jayce spun around. He didn’t see anything at first. Apparently the rest of their friends had gone on ahead. It was silent; the street was dimly lit by streetlamps and the storefronts were dead. Then he heard a muffled high-pitch chuckle and he saw it: a group of 4 or 5 guys conversing under a distant streetlamp, feigning disinterest in Jayce and Lane and failing miserably. And over the other way, hiding behind a bush he could see a hand and the excited murmurs of kids trying to be quiet for fear of being caught. He shook his head. Apparently they were the evening’s entertainment. He caught their reflection in the bank window then and saw how ragged they must’ve looked. He noticed her lipstick had smeared over his lips and cheeks and his tie was askance and loosely hanging from my neck like a lanyard. His white button-down was hanging slack from his shoulders and was ripped in a couple places. He looked to Lane and she blushed and shrugged a bit. “Sorry, Jayce.”

Using the collar of his shirt he dabbed at the lipstick along his cheek, and ran a hand through his tussled dark hair. No use. The aftertaste of her lips continued to play sweetly on his tongue and mind. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “It’s alright. Just didn’t realize we had an audience.”

Her expression was momentarily pensive. She was chewing on her bottom lip. Then impulsively she grabbed his hand. “C’mon.” He could only grab hold as she led him back down the road towards the dorms. He was caught off and stumbled along some broken bottles as she pulled him and he fell dragging her down on top of him. “Just hold on, ok?” She giggled helping him to his feet, gently brushing the dirt from his shoulders. And then she was pulling him once more, leaving him to try to keep his footing. The rest of the trip back to her dorm room was a blur.

Jayce was dizzy and the room was spinning by the time they got in; dazed from the alcohol and the thrill of this dizzying brunette. He only caught glimpses of the room. The lava lamp cast a purple sheen on everything and the incense burning against the window sill added a woodsy pine aroma. He’d sat down on the bed for a moment to regain his bearings, but the second she shut the door, she was on him and he was awash in her presence: lost in her eyes and entranced by her lips. Her fair skin glowed purple in the light, his tanner flesh showing up darker. The dizziness was gone just like that, dispersed replaced by a different kind of lightheadedness, the kind of light-headed he’d get when she was near. There was nothing else in the world but this girl before him.

Easing him flat on his back, she straddled him smoothly, shaking her hair out of her face as she leaned in and kissed him hard. His hands found purchase along her slender thighs beneath her skirt and ran higher; causing her to draw in a sharp intake of breath; as satisfying a sound as he’d ever want to hear. Spurred on by this sweet girl before him, he pulled her already moist panties down, a pink frilly number that he would’ve killed to see her in, but was even more pleased to see her out of. He traced along the outside of her wet pussy and she moaned slowly. He could tell she was struggling to lift her dress away, distracted by the play of his fingers along her slit. It was tremendously entertaining to toy with her like this.

With considerable effort she finally successfully lifted the dress over her head, revealing the matching frilly pink bra and taut, beautiful pale white flesh. Her body was amazing: slender, with just the right hint of a curve at her hips and breasts, and flawless too, unblemished except for a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on her hip, now revealed by the lack of a dress and panties. What surprised him was the golden cross dangling around her neck. God, was he finger fucking a Catholic girl? That was an idea he could warm to.

Then her hands were at his shirt, undoing the final buttons and he helped her slide it off his shoulders, and the wife-beater as well. He saw her fingertips trace the muscled sinew of his abdomen and along his chest. Muscles earned from an almost unhealthy dedication to the club rugby he played. She seemed transfixed by his body, eyes tracing every line, every cord, every muscle. Her hands glowed pale against his dark flesh, and grazed a trail of lingering warmth wherever they passed over. Then they descended down to his suit pants. She unbuttoned them, and pulled them down his waist as he watched with the hint of a smile playing at his lips. Then the boxers went too, and just the tips of her fingertips were taunting over the tip of his hard, bulging member, teasing him. He sucked in a deep breath of air as she caught his cock firmly, and stroked a slow, painfully deliberate circuit up to the tip and then back to the shaft. Her touch would be insistent and then light, enough to drive him wild, and then it was fleeting. Seemingly, purposely manipulating his pleasure.

He must have been whimpering because he saw her eyes were narrow and she was smiling slyly. “Turn about’s fair play, Jayce.”

“Wha’?”

Her hand took his larger one, lifting it before his eyes. “This has been naughty.” That was about all the teasing he could take. He sat up, and smothered her lips with his own, as he reached around her and undid her bra throwing it aside all in one smooth motion. She gasped as he tackled her into the bed. His manhood was hard to the point of being painful…and with her splayed out so lovely on her sheets, he pinned her arms over her head, before beginning the slow drive of his cock in to her. He teased the outside of her laiba with the tip of his penis.

“Oh God,” she moaned as he began to enter her. Her slit was wonderfully tight but it was clear she wasn’t a virgin. Her eyes were unfocused as it seemed she was waiting for the full feel of him inside her, bracing herself. She was worried he was too big for her. “Be gentle, Jayce” she whispered, softly, almost like a little girl. He slowly trailed his fingers down her arms and through her silky brown hair. Her eyes were closed now and she was breathing slow and ragged. When his hands traced over her breasts coming to brace at her sides, he leveraged the rest of the way into her and she gasped again. “Gentle, Jayce,” she whimpered, unable to prevent herself from squirming. He was in heaven though; loving how her inner walls squeezed him so tight. Three was a rightness about it.

And then his hips rode into her, and hers could only follow suit as their bodies grinded against each other. Every ounce of his body was on fire, sensitive to the touch. And he could feel her hands everywhere, fingertips interlaced with his hair, along his lips, trailing the side of his neck. His were manipulating her hard nipples, working them as she whimpered, before pressing against her stomach and then back up again. Sweat had made her skin luminescent; and to him it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen; how her face was contorted with each thrust, pleasure and sweetness intermingled, and how she’d lick her lips just so or bite her lower one to fight through the frustration and pleasure. His hand pressed against her cheek, and her eyes opened then, brilliantly radiant pools of blue that locked on his eyes so solidly he couldn’t look away.

Still their bodies grinded and he could feel himself getting close. Her eyes closed once more and she was biting her lower lip again, crying out with every thrust and her hips bucked with every scream. She was already on the way there, and heading to the same edge he was. But the feeling was unbelievable. Inside her, nothing else mattered. He felt like this was where he belonged, and it was an epiphany he couldn’t recall having before. He found himself grinding harder and harder and she made the sweetest moans such that he could never get as deep as he truly wanted.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she was breathing fast and ragged. The heat was too much. And then he was there. He let a low guttural groan, and released inside of her, a streaming urgent trail of milky semen. He could feel himself getting soft, but was aware that her body was still grinding hard so close to its own release. He pressed a kiss to her slightly parted lips, stealing her breath once more, and after pulling out from her, he grazed my fingertips across her soaking wet cunt. He found her clit and concentrated his attention there, manipulating it with slow insistent pressure and she began to pant and then her moans took on a more desperate quality. He could feel her grab his wrist hard and when the moment came her fingernails dug deep into him. Her back arched sinuously against the bed as she released, crying out intensely from the pleasure and the frustration from before and just the intensity of the moment. Her lithe form shivered against the bed and he gingerly moved off her, giving her a chance to breathe once more. He gave her hand a squeeze to provide contact, but nothing more knowing how sensitive she was in that moment. She continued to pant and her forehead and cheeks and hollow of her neck glistened with sweat. Fondly, he ran his fingertips through her hair and waited for her breathing to slow and the shivers to subside.