by Mike Shade
He smiled and held out his arm, elbow crooked. "If Madame would come this way."
She reached up for his arm and curtseyed, rolling her bright blue eyes. "It's my honor, sir. Lead on, MacDuff."
He grabbed his notebook and pen as they passed his desk. "What did you say in here? Dark eggplant with creams and greens? How would you work in the violet motif? And you don't think eggplant is too dark for the office? This is where I'm going to be greeting potential clients. I suppose the fire will warm it up..."
"There's a lovely wallpaper with hints of violets on it -- quite tasteful and masculine." She turned her head to look around again. "With those windows and the right lighting, the room would feel warm and very male instead of dark, and you'd make one hell of a statement."
He smiled happily down at her. "I knew I could count on you to help me bring this place back to its original splendor. Come on, lets see the rest of the house -- I want your initial reactions first and then maybe you can come back in a few days and take another look -- refine your ideas."
"Anything for you Jason darling." She blew him a kiss and grinned as he rolled his eyes. "Have you decided what you're going to do with all this r...Ow! What was that?"
He frowned at her. "What was what?"
Diane rubbed her butt and frowned. "Something just bit my butt."
"Something bit you?" His frown deepened and he looked behind her as if expecting to find a dog or a bug of some kind. "It's too early for mosquitoes..."
"Probably an ant or a splinter that wormed through my clothes. I'll live. So, what are you going to do with all the space? Rent it out?" She seemed willing to let it go and they headed deeper into the house, stopping to touch a fine piece of woodwork here or discuss the quality of the flooring there.
He told her about his plans to use the place as a showcase, for his work and for her own. He admitted that he didn't want to share Violet House with anyone, he'd become quite possessive of the old girl. "I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like she's mine and I'm going to keep her that way, even if I will be rattling around this big old place."
"Well, the spaces are interesting and we'll have a blast making it right." He got a long, slow, teasing glance. "I guess that means your best friend and interior decorator can't barter hours of work for room and board?"
"Hm... well I don't know about that -- I wouldn't want to cramp your style though and I kind of like it quiet." He pointed to the servants’ stairs at the back of the kitchen. "Why don't we go upstairs and you can take a peek at the children's suite, see if those rooms suit you at all."
"Maybe for an office in the future, Jas-baby." She stretched up and kissed his cheek. "Ricky and I are happy downtown, you know that. I was yanking your chain -- and you're so serious and dear, you didn't even jump." Diane's laughter echoed as they mounted the stairs. "Christ, can you see one of my parties in this neighborhood?" Funny, her laughter seemed to echo a remarkably long time.
"I was going to put no parties in the lease," he admitted with a grin before turning back to the matter at hand. "Someone split the dance hall into three rooms up here -- I'm going to save it for last, but I am going to put it back into its former glory. Maybe I'll even let you throw a party in here once I'm done."
The air got chill again, a stiff breeze pouring through the open doors, causing swirls of dust and pieces of wallpaper to fly up into the air.
"Jesus! Talk about a draft!" Diane blinked. "You have the windows open up here?"
"No, this place is just drafty as hell. I haven't been able to figure out where it's coming from yet. I'll eventually track it down."
Diane nodded, wandering through the rooms, nose wrinkling. "Hate these cheap walls. It'll be stunning when they're gone. Is there a connection to the children's wing from here?"
"Yeah, there's a secret passage that goes from the governess' closet to the servants’ stairs and there's a hidden passage, well it was originally hidden I imagine, but it's open now, at the end of this dance hall. Come on, I'll show you -- there's some great built in furniture in the children's rooms."
He jotted down notes as she enthused about each room, nodding as her ideas fell in nicely with his own.
"You want to scour the antique stores with me when I start trying to furnish the place?"
"You know it! And I know I saw a wardrobe coming up for auction for the governess' suite!" Diane's eyes were shining. "Oh, Jas-baby! We're going to have such fun!"
He grinned down at her, his own excitement growing again. Not that he wasn't excited by the place anymore, but living there day to day and working on it dulled it a bit. Getting to see the place through new eyes again was great.
"There's an attic and a tower room upstairs -- I think I'm going to make the tower room mine, but the heating's pretty scarce up there so I settled into the master suite for now."
"Oh, a tower room? Wicked! Where?" Diane was bouncing, grinning at him. He'd taken a few steps when the oddest sound came from the stairwell, a heavy bouncing.
Frowning, he moved carefully toward the bottom of the stairs, holding his hand out to make Diane wait behind him.
A croquet ball.
It was just resting at the foot of the stairs -- an old, battered, blue croquet ball.
"Dammit I should have checked up here when those tiles started moving. I bet I've got a raccoon or something living up here."
He turned back to Diane. "Maybe we should skip the tower room -- I wouldn't want you to get bitten. I'll head up there with a stick or something later and get that thing out of my house."
"Shouldn't you call an exterminator?" Diane reached down and picked up the ball, dropping it almost immediately. "It's cold, Jason! Freezing!"
"Heh. I'll bet that's where my drafts are coming from, too. I never thought to check up there." He picked the ball up, frowning. It was freezing. Far colder than it was outside.
"Weird. Kinda creepy, even." Diane frowned, head tilting. "I'm not sure if I want to run downstairs or go up and check."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to start spouting the favorite local rumor."
"Rumor? What rumor? Share?"
He sighed, wishing he'd not said anything, Diane wasn't going to let this one go. "The local gossip mill has decided that the place is haunted. That that's the reason most people don't stay very long."
"Wicked! A ghost? Really?" She grinned. "Have you seen any? Can we hold a séance? Or an exorcism?"
He laughed. "No I haven't seen any -- there aren't any ghosts, Di. And maybe a séance at Halloween. If I have the dance hall done by then. If not you're going to have to wait until next year."
"Dammit." She pouted, pursing her lips and bumping him with her hip. "You sure? I bet it would be fun to restore a haunted house, you could tell the press, publicize..."
Jason heard the front door swing open, heard the ring of the doorknocker.
He shook his head as he grabbed her hand and headed down the stairs. "I don't want that kind of circus in here, Di. I want people to like Violet House for itself, not because of some stupid superstition."
"Okay... okay. It was just an idea. Honest. Was that your doorbell? Great sound." Her little legs were working hard, boots pounding on the steps.
"Yeah, I got this brass doorknocker and one of those amplifiers so the sound makes it through the whole house, just in case I'm upstairs like today."
He grinned back at her and then went to get the door.
The door was swinging closed when he got there, a scrap of newspaper fluttering to the floor.
Frowning, he picked up the newspaper, flipping on the light switch so he could read it.
It was the crumpled clipping with the photographs of the Ogletrees -- mother, father, daughters.
"That's odd..." He thought there'd been a boy in the picture as well. He wondered why Gladys was giving it back to him and why the gregarious woman hadn't waited to come in and talk.
"What is? Who are they? They original owners?" Diane looked around his ar
m. "Man, someone's torn that up. I'm surprised it's survived."
"Yeah, that's what I mean about it being odd. I could have sworn there was a boy in this picture. Gladys -- my next-door neighbor brought by a bunch of clippings about the various owners -- the last one did a fair bit of research. And she took this one back with her for some reason. She told me about the original owner's son -- kid died of tuberculosis. I'm pretty sure he was in this picture."
"Yeah, there's somebody's hand, here." Diane pointed to a pale smudge holding one little girl's arm. "Looks like he's just been torn off."
He nodded and opened the door, looking around for some sign of Gladys or of the missing newspaper. "Weirdest fucking thing -- there's lots of that here, like the raccoon or whatever it is up in the tower room, makes you see why people want to make up ghost stories."
"Yeah. Seems pretty harmless though. Did you want me to go ahead and order the window dressings for the kitchen and office and that wallpaper? Or do you want samples first?"
Diane shifted from friend to colleague quickly and Jason wasn't sure if it was nerves that caused it or the fact that it was getting late and they were standing at the front door.
"I think I'll take a look at the samples first, Di. Not that I don't trust your judgment, but I want everything to be just perfect." He looked at his notebook, checking to make sure he'd written down all her suggestions. "I'll think these over and then you can come back and do another run through of the house with me next week? See if we're happy with your ideas for the rest of the house?"
"Sounds like a plan." She tilted her head again, looking at him. "You want to come have supper with me and Rick? We're doing Italian?"
Another cold breeze blew through the place, making the clipping in his hand rustle. "Yeah, I think maybe I could use some company other than my own for a couple of hours."
"Cool. I've missed you. Rick's got some cool new paintings that're going into an installation, too." Diane's hand was on his arm, tugging gently. "Come on, let's go. I'll drive."
"What's your hurry?" he asked as he checked to make sure he had his wallet in his back pocket. "You're not afraid of my house, are you?"
"Huh?" Her brown eyes caught his in a flash. "No, no. More scared of 6 pm traffic, right?"
He grinned. "Cool. I've got my wallet, let’s go."
He went back and grabbed his sweater from the coat rack by the mirror and headed out after Diane.
He tried very hard not to notice the sound of a slamming door as he left.
***
Jason stretched out on the bed, groaning a little as his muscles made themselves known. He'd been polishing the woodwork in the main hall, the kitchen and the office all day long, making it shine.
The motion of polishing, rubbing the wood with his hands... well it had been awhile since he'd taken himself in hand and it had been rather suggestive work. He'd been on the edge of horny all day and figured it was about time he did something about his own personal wood.
He reached over, setting his book and his reading glasses on the bedside table and clicking off the light. Eyes closing, he used both hands, sliding them over his skin, pushing the sheet and blanket to the side.
A cool breeze poured over him, sliding up his legs, around his balls, almost like a caress. He shivered, half of him wanting to pull the covers back up, the other half enjoying the wind. It was almost like having another person touching him. Or at least he guessed that's what it would feel like, he didn't know from experience.
The breeze came again, warmer this time, rolling against him, ruffling his hair.
Oh, God, it had been too long since he'd done this if it felt this good, if he couldn't remember it feeling this good. His cock was hard already, his balls aching just a bit. He flicked his fingers across the tips of his nipples, pretending the breeze was a lover's breath, a lover's touch. Gasping, his hips pushed up into the air.
Oh, God... the breeze swept over his balls, behind. The hairs on his balls twitched, his ass clenched. Gooseflesh popped up over his thighs, his belly. It was like the house that he loved so much loved him back, was making it feel so good for him.
He spread his legs, feet pushing into the mattress as he humped the air. He slid his hands over his belly, back up to his nipples again, down along his hips, his inner thighs, avoiding, for now, his needy cock. The house creaked, breeze blowing harder, seeming to wrap around his cock and stroke.
"Fuck!" He whimpered, gasping and humping up hard. He barely noticed what his hands were doing, all of his attention focused on the sweet slide of the wind on his cock. He'd never felt anything like it and it made him shake. It felt so real, like if he opened his eyes there'd be somebody there, but he knew it was just his imagination, knew opening his eyes would shatter the illusion, maybe make the breeze stop feeling so good. So he kept his eyes closed tight and just pretended he was sharing this with a lover.
The tugging increased, the breeze warming and increasing, pushing against his cock, his balls, his hips. Oh, God, he was going to come and he hadn't even touched himself. He gasped and shook and pushed up into the tugging, not caring anymore if it was the breeze or his imagination or a fucking thief stealing in to rob him blind.
His fingers slid into the sheets beneath him, holding on hard as he humped the air and he was coming, oh fuck! He cried out, cock spraying heat onto his belly.
He imagined, as he floated back that he heard a soft, needy moan, felt a caress against his face. He turned toward it instinctively, nuzzling his imaginary lover, eyes staying tightly closed. He didn't want the illusion to end.
Lips, softer than anything he could imagine, covered his mouth, blowing soft, cool air into his lungs. He froze absolutely still. Suddenly he was caring if he had a robber in the house and he tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't, too damn scared of what he was going to see.
Suddenly the breeze stopped, the room growing chill and silent. His eyes flew open, blinking at the light that threw shadows from the trees onto his skin. His gaze flew to every corner, but the room was empty.
He let his breath out with a gasp, going limp as relief went through him. Shit, he'd scared himself with his imagination that time.
He pulled the covers up, dragging the corner of them and his arm through the come on his belly. Great. In his fright he'd forgotten about that. He wiped the mess up as well as he could with the edge of his blanket and then shifted the covers around so the wet wasn't touching him.
As he lay there, heartbeat slowly finding normal, he had to admit that that was the best orgasm he'd had in a long time. Maybe ever. At the same time, he was thinking maybe it'd be awhile before he tried something like that again.
Chapter Four
Jason had cleaned the kitchen, scrubbing until he'd nearly rubbed off the violets on the tile floor.
He had one of Gladys' zucchini loaves on a fancy antique cake plate, along with a pair of violet patterned, gold-edged fine bone china teacups, dressing up the breakfast nook.
Diane's window dressings graced the windows here and in his office. The wallpaper and paint in the office was perfect, masculine and warm and classy, just like Diane had said it would be.
His only regret was that he hadn't had a chance yet to replace the side panels by the front door -- they were still boarded up. However, Mother had begun to phone, wondering when her only child was going to invite her to see his latest project, or didn't Jason want her there for some reason?
The truth was he wasn't ready to have her here. He only had a few rooms finished. He was still a little freaked out over the incident the other night when he'd been masturbating, each breeze he felt made him instantly hard, even when he was outside, and he hardly needed that with his mother visiting him in the draftiest house in Boston.
Still, he couldn't come up with a credible reason that he was willing to share for her not to come, so coming she was.
Any minute now. He just hoped his uninvited pest, who he still hadn't ousted from the tower room, would stay quiet. The
last thing he needed was croquet balls bouncing their way down the stairs to his mother's feet.
"No funny business, okay?"
He wasn't sure why he thought the raccoon, or whatever it was, would listen to him, but he figured it couldn't hurt to make his wishes known.
The doorknocker sounded and he looked upward. "Please."
He took a deep breath and walked to the door with confidence -- it was never too early to get his head in the right place for an afternoon with his mother.
"Goodness, Jason, I expected to be greeted by an ancient and quite decrepit butler."
He grinned and leaned down to kiss her, arms going around her for a hug.
She stiffened and cleared her throat. "Not in front of your neighbors, darling, they're going to think you're seeing an older woman."
He rolled his eyes but closed the door before hugging her again and giving her a kiss. She blew air past one cheek and then the other.
"Come see my house, Mother." He held out his arm, smiling as she took it daintily, remembering Diane's enthusiasm compared to his mother's propriety.
He pointed out the mirror with the violet carving above it, the table with the hat and tray, proud of the work he'd done.
"Violets? They seem rather feminine, dear -- advertising?"
He rolled his eyes. "Mother..."
She patted his arm. "Show me the rest, Jason, darling. Show me the rest."
He took her into the office, explaining how it was originally a formal sitting room, pointing out the flowers worked into the eggplant wallpaper. "The house is known as Violet House. A lot of homes had a theme like that in those days. Mail would have been sent to Violet House rather than a specific street address."
He led her into the kitchen, which she proclaimed to be "quite charming".
He settled her at the breakfast nook and put on the kettle.
"Are you sure you're still gay, darling?"
"Mother!" There it was, right on schedule.
"Well you've bought this great big house -- surely there's plenty of room to stash a wife and some children."