The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) (13 page)

Daphne
copied and pasted everything over into another file and emailed it to herself
and then deleted it. More munition for their future divorce, if needbe.

She
scrolled back down to the end of the chat, where Becca had typed a few more
sentences.

Guess
I missed you, baby. But I want to be with you forever, too. See you soon!

Daphne
turned the computer off with a frown.

By
the time Richard got back in the late afternoon, all the bedrooms were as done
as they were going to be.

“Pet,
dear – help me carry things in.”

Richard
had not just bought liquor – he’d purchased an entire store. “How many people
are you having over tonight?”

“A
few – enough – whoever shows up.” He started arranging bottles on the desk in
the library, turning it into a make-shift bar. “They’re going to spend the
night, so I had to buy extra. I don’t want anyone sobering up before they have
to.”

Daphne’s
lips twisted at that, but they were
his
friends.
He
could deal
with them. “I’ll get Arthur to bring a tray of glasses in here, and an ice
bucket when it’s time.”

“Good.
See if he can bring the martini shaker too? Assuming the kitchen’s unpacked.”

“I’m
sure it is.”

If
the desk weren’t so overly large, like all the other furniture in the house,
there was no way it’d hold all the bottles Richard’d gotten, muchless the
glassware. The Master’s portrait looked down, still unhappy, as Richard brought
a bottle of brandy out of a bag.

“Since
when do you drink brandy?”

Richard
shrugged. “I don’t – but someone else might want some.”

Daphne
inhaled to ask if he’d buy a gold toilet too, using that same principle, but
the sound of the phone ringing cut her off. Richard blanched.

“I’ll
get it –“ he said, practically running for the door.

Becca.
Daphne ground
her teeth together – until Richard shouted from the other room. “It’s for you!”

Daphne
walked out, maintaining her composure, and took the proffered phone from
Richard’s hand. “Hello?”

“Daphne!
It’s Beth – from the antique store?”

“Of
course!” She cupped her hand over the receiver to tell him, “It’s Beth, from
yesterday.”

Richard
nodded, and went back to the library.

“I’m
sorry to give you such late notice, but I won’t be able to come tonight.”

“Oh,
that’s fine – it was late notice for us to even ask you.”

“It’s
just,” Beth started, and then laughed nervously at the far end, “I spoke to my
aunt.”

Daphne
perked up. “Really? What did she say?”

Beth
sighed. “Well, she’s old, and remember her memory’s not what it used to be – but
she said the girl who lived there had severe mental disorders, from even when
she was a child. It made her see things, and talk to people who weren’t there.
She did it all the time, my aunt heard her, said it was like she had an
invisible best friend.”

“Like
kids do,” Daphne said, trying to explain things away.

“Yes,
but hers never went away. My aunt would hear her talking to herself when she
walked outside her room, when she was a teenager. I mean, she was clearly
crazy, which was why her folks kept her locked up there – but my aunt said the
girl never wanted to leave the place, either. Between the therapy and the
medications they put her on – they wound up having to keep her to herself most
times. That’s why they hired tutors for her, they didn’t want her to leave the
house and go out to school.

“But
then she started riding that horse, and going out to horse shows – my aunt said
she really came out of her shell, and almost had a normal life. She was even
finally talking about going off to college, when the horse spooked and threw
her. It’s a shame, really. She was such a pretty thing, and so messed up inside
her head.”

“Wow.”
Daphne bit her lips in thought. Had…the Master…no, he couldn’t have…could he?

Beth
sighed on the far end of the line. “My aunt said she’d only talk to me if I
promised her one thing.”

“What
was that?”

“To
never to go into your house again.”

“Oh
come on,” Daphne said with a snort. “Why?”

“Too
many bad memories. She just doesn’t want me to go there.”

“It’s
not like she’ll know. I promise
I
won’t tell her.”

Beth
snorted. “It sounds crazy, I know. But I’m a woman of my word – and also I work
on Saturday mornings.”

Daphne
nodded reluctantly, even though the other woman wouldn’t see it. “All right.”

“I
do still want to be your friend, Daphne. I hope this doesn’t mess that up – we
get so few new people to talk to in town. I can’t wait to hear all about your
party afterwards, at lunch sometime this week.”

“Tuesday?”
Daphne offered. By then all of Richard’s friends should be gone.

“Tuesday,”
Beth said, sounding relieved.

Daphne
went upstairs to shower and found Richard already standing inside, singing a
song she didn’t know. She looked down at the tile, remembered kneeling there, feeling
the Master’s cock at the back of her throat --

“Care
to join me?” Richard asked, peeking out from behind the curtain and then
ducking back.

“I’d
only get you dirty.”

“Do
you think I’d mind?” he said. His voice – it was his but – “I could help you
polish that bruise off of your ass. There’s a lot of soap in here.”

No.
It was all his. She hadn’t heard anything strange.

“I’ll
wait for my turn, thanks,” she said, slowly backing out of the bathroom.

Daphne
tried to look polished, but not too polished. She put on a spring dress,
brightly colored, enough make-up to make her look older, but not harsh, and low
heels that tapped the floor of every room she walked through, as though she
were a prancing horse.

Guests
began arriving at six. All of them insisted on helping with their bags after
seeing Arthur. They seemed nice enough, although flustered from their assorted
journeys, and everyone immediately availed themselves of the bar.

“Glenn,
this is Daphne –“ Richard began, and introduced her to everyone, in a blur of
names. Glenn’s wife, Sharon, was an imposing figure, twice Daphne’s size in
every direction, neck completely obscured by pearls, and Roger with his wife
Tiffany, and James with his wife Patricia. Daphne tried to remember them all,
she’d heard Richard talk about them before, but it was hard to keep track of
them when they were all so intense and wore so much black.

Arthur
escorted the last wave back down the stairs from their bedroom. Tyler and his
wife Nalo. Nalo gave Daphne a quick smile – she was the only one who looked as
nervous as Daphne was.

“This
place is positively quaint, Richard,” Glenn announced, having settled into a
glass of wine.

“You
said it was a strange, but – “ one of the other men shook his head.

“Nonsense.
This is an up and coming area, and you all know it. Are we all here?” Richard
asked, taking control of the conversation again. “Do we all have drinks?” Men
and women lifted up their glasses. “Then let’s go on the tour!” Richard
announced, and led them out of the library like they were an upscale pirate
band.

Daphne
tagged along at the back of the group, and listened to Richard narrate the
trip. He told them of how he’d found the place on an obscure real estate
listing, like the owners hadn’t even really wanted to sell it, but how when
he’d come here his first time through – without Daphne – he’d fallen in love.
He had a story for each room already – what it had been, what it would be when
they were done with it, and Daphne realized he was making everything up on the
fly. Her husband, the expert at spin. It’d worked on her, hadn’t it?

For
her part, every time they changed rooms, she remembered what the Master had
done to her there. The hallways that they’d fucked in, the statue that she’d
clung to as he’d whipped her, the massive four-poster where he’d taken her ass
now ceded to Glenn and Sharon. Her passion with the ghost infused every space
in this house – all the times she’d posed for him, gone looking for him, been
waiting for him – how could everyone else not feel it?

She
felt a warmth behind her – like a hand, cupped against her ass, and turned
quickly. Her imagination? Or him, reminding her he was there?

Nalo
stood beside her, as the men talked of freshening drinks before dinner. “How
can you live here?”

“Excuse
me?” Daphne blinked.

“With
so many eyes looking at you all the time?” She pointed at the nearest statues.
“It’s horrifying.”

Daphne’s
jaw dropped, unable to defend herself. “Nalo, don’t be rude,” Tyler chastised
her, and pulled her away, before Daphne could answer.

Arthur
had the entire table set by seven. There were ten of them, and she and Richard
were at opposite ends of the table, so that they could look down on all their
dinner guests like royalty. Nalo was on one side of her and Sharon on the other,
with Patricia and Tiffany after them, so that one half of the table was women
and the men were free to talk ‘business’.

“You’d
think they get enough of that during the work week,” Nalo said, with a small
frown.

“Does
your husband travel as often as Richard?” Daphne asked. “By which I mean, a
lot. Like half the time.”

“Yeah.
We got married a few months ago – I only see him on the weekends, really.”

“Glenn
doesn’t travel often enough,” Sharon said.

“I
thought he traveled with Richard?” Daphne asked.

“Oh,
he does. I just wish he were gone more.” Sharon gave both of them a pursed
smile, and took another sip of her wine. “So what are we going to do with the
rest of our weekend here? What entertainments do you have planned?”

Daphne’s
mouth opened. “Um – I thought everyone was just spending the night. There’ll be
breakfast tomorrow, of course –“

“We’re
going to be here for two nights – and I didn’t see a TV in our bedroom. A place
this big – do you have croquet? Badminton?”

“There’s
the library.”

“It’ll
have to do, I suppose.”

“I
like to read,” Nalo said, trying to help. Daphne gave her a quick smile – and
Arthur emerged from the kitchen with the first course.

Salad,
soup, and finally steak, all of it impeccable. Richard’s associates were suitably
impressed and the table was littered with the bottles of wine they’d wrested
away from Arthur over the course of the evening.

Laughter
percolated up from the men’s side. “Come on. Somebody’s got to have a cigar –
Tyler – you’re usually good for a Cuban. Don’t hold out on us now –“ Glenn was
saying, and sure enough, cigars were pulled out. Sharon fluttered at this, saying
something about asthma, using that as an excuse to go outside.

Daphne
glared down the length of the table “It’ll stay in the walls, Richard –“

“It
doesn’t matter if it stays in the walls. We own them.”

Daphne
frowned. Alcohol would have helped her impression of this night immensely. She
looked around the room at the slurring men, gesticulating wildly with their
half-thought ideas, and the women who either whispered to one another – surely
unkind things about her or the house – or hovered near the men, trying to be
included in their conversation, and again, even in a room full of people,
Daphne felt incredibly alone.

Then
underneath the table a hand reached up and touched her inner thigh.

She
gasped, but no one heard her. She tried to close her legs, but hands as strong
as steel pushed her knees back open, and the sensation of heat, of probing
fingers, moved higher.

She
almost said the word
Stop
aloud. But what if anyone else at the table
heard her? What would they think?

What
would she tell them anyhow? The truth? No one would believe her. The only other
sober person here had been Arthur, and he’d left an hour ago.

She
fought the Master with her thighs, trying to hide herself from him. She would
have excused herself, only what was the point, where could she hide? Daphne
licked her lips and realized the enormity of her predicament.

There
was no place in the house where she could be away from
him
. No where
he
couldn’t follow her.

He
wasn’t just the Master of the house now – he was the Master of her.

It
was frightening and impossibly erotic at the same time. She was as trapped here
with him as she had been in the dungeon, bent over, chained. Slowly, ever so
slowly, she gave in.

He
spread her knees wide beneath the table, hands reaching up her thighs. Sensing
that she’d abandoned herself to him, he started in on her, using a finger to
pull the fabric of her underwear aside and another to massage the entrance of
her pussy – he wasn’t content just to have his way with her, he wanted her to
enjoy it to, he was going to make sure that she came here, in front of so many
other people, she wouldn’t have a choice –

All
these people here thought she didn’t matter – they’d almost ignored her
completely, except for politeness’s sake. Little did they know what was
happening to her underneath the table’s edge, how the Master’s fingers were
rubbing inside of her, how insistent his thumb was on her clit, how much he
wanted to own her right under their very noses, how much he wanted her to come.

She
tried not to think about what was happening to her, and it felt as though she
were pulled in two – the drab ignorable housewife above, the incandescent woman
hidden underneath. She clutched at the edge of the table, her knuckles turning
white, she could feel her face flushing, her nipples harden, her wetness
soaking through her underwear and likely staining her chair, and and and -- she
came. In quiet shudders that would have looked like moments of distraction to
anyone else, biting the insides of her lip, pleasure pulled from her body,
spooled onto the Master’s hands below.

When
she was done she sagged forward, leaning on her elbows, looking like one of the
very drunk men, and thunder clapped outside as rain began.

Sharon
turned to look at her. “Now’s when you’ll find out all your house’s dirty
secrets.”

“What?”
Daphne flushed with guilt.

“All
the shit the realtor and inspector didn’t tell you about. All the leaks and
floods.” Sharon seemed pleased that the very house might wash away around them,
as though it would serve someone like Daphne right.

“Oh.
Yes. That,” Daphne limply agreed.