Return to the Haunted House Pt. 03
Lying in bed, bathed in sweat with a beautifully slim, toned, and lithe woman who had invited me to her home for afternoon of filthy fun. It was nearly 5 PM and I expected a text from a friend of the woman sweating beside me.
"Sarah's on her way back," I told Kacey, "Did you want to come to the pub for dinner?"
"Tempting," She replied, "But I'll pass tonight as I have a number of classes to run tomorrow."
"Fair enough," I said, "If you change your mind, you know where we'll be."
Kacey encouraged me to use her bathroom to freshen up, which I enthusiastically accepted. Ten minutes later, I kissed Kacey goodbye and made my way to the pub and waited for my old colleague and part-time lover to return from Adelaide.
After embracing, we took our seats and browsed the menu. Sarah looked great in her business suit if a little frazzled from the conference.
"How was it?" I asked.
"Long, but good," Sarah replied, "Made a few potential contacts."
"Fantastic," I said, "You are the best lead converter I ever worked with."
"Ha, flattery will get you everywhere," Sarah smiled, "How was your day with Kacey?"
"Really good!"
"Yes, she is really good, isn't she?" Sarah chuckled, "Did you get suitably 'acquainted'?"
"We did, twice."
"I'm glad she took care of you today because I'm pooped," Sarah confessed.
"Understandable," I agreed, understanding that there would be no sex tonight which suited me because the tank was empty.
"I would like to utilize those non-bedroom skills of yours to help me draft a couple of proposals, if you're okay with that?"
"Of course, I'd love to help you."
Sarah regularly consulted me to edit and enhance business proposals or sales pitches from time-to-time. Our collaboration and complimentary skills were the keys to our team's success back when we worked together in Western Australia. Sarah brought in the business, and I ensured that we delivered the results to the clients. The profit margins were high, and the employee bonuses flowed like honey.
While Sarah smiled at my enthusiasm to lend my assistance, I noticed a tinge of sadness in her eyes. My thoughts drifted back to what Kacey said earlier. Thinking back to our time together, I could not think of a time that I ever considered making a pass at Sarah. That was not the relationship we had. Sarah and I were corporate monsters, driven by the need to be the highest performers and the most richly rewarded.
If Sarah had confessed to Kacey that she lamented that I had not expressed a romantic interest then that was a retroactive wish, borne from regret that Jamie turned out to be a bad choice. Besides, had we hooked up then there was a risk of upsetting the business dynamic, plus it is not wise to 'dip into the corporate inkwell.'
Sarah and I ordered our meals and chatted innocuously until the food arrived. Following several drinks afterwards, we jumped in her car and made the short drive back to her mansion with the million-dollar sea views.
"You want to stop at the haunted house again?"
"Sure," I replied, knowing what Sarah had in mind.
The sun was setting, and its dying light cast long shadows across the land. The contrasting spectrum of orange and blues reminded me of our first visit all those years ago. This time, there were no buildings to explore. The house and the stables were long since demolished. However, the land was grossly overgrown. The entrance gates that I knocked over on our first visit had been removed, but the general outline of the boundary remained.
"Look, there's the cellar," I said pointing to the stone steps that led to a hollowed-out space in the dirt.
"Yeah, I remember that" Chuckled Sarah, "I was scared stiff."
The shell of the former cellar was overrun with weeds. We moved on to discover that the courtyard retained its intricate brickwork, albeit covered in moss and rogue grass. Again, we identified where the stables once stood, but now the trees and shrubs were out of control, making traversing the property a challenge.
As we stumbled around, we discovered remnants of the previous owners that we recognized from our first visit. Items like glass medicine bottles, buttons, and scraps of leather bridles that called back to an older era.
"Shame the house isn't here," I said, "I'd rail you like there's no tomorrow."
"Would it be as good without the kids illegally drinking in the next room?"
"I guess we'll never know," I smiled.
As the shadows lengthened further, navigation required the torch app on our mobile phones to get around. As we reached the southern boundary of the property which was at least an acre in area, we noticed the fence was constructed of six-foot high chain link steel replete with barbed wire. In front of us, we noticed a large hole created by bolt cutters.
"Ha, that's how those teenagers got in here," I chuckled.
Back in the day, three sides of the property had boundaries of high stone walls that were impossible to climb. Access from the road was by the double gates (which I accidentally toppled) and a smaller front gate, covered by a stone archway that was rusted closed.
Sarah and I never ventured to the southern boundary on that visit. Rather, we observed the approach of the underage drinkers from the upper floor of the house, coming at us from the courtyard. At the time, we wondered how they had scaled the stone perimeter and now we had the answer, there was no stone wall there.
Where we stood, the lights of Old Willunga twinkled in the distance. The sight was romantic, and Sarah pulled me close as we stared into the night.
"So?" I asked, after a moment of silence, "You gotta go?"
"Ha, yes!" Sarah giggled seductively, "That's why we're here and I'm busting."
