A Haunting Love

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Chapter Four

Having been unable to hear what their mother and the strange hermit-looking man talked about, curiosity consumed the twins and they waited impatiently when the mumbling stopped and yet, the adults still didn't appear. Debbie craned her neck, trying to peek around the corner without being seen. As the adults suddenly walked into view, Debbie saw that the man was holding her mother's hand. He dropped it and then looked directly into Debbie's eyes.

This stranger looked ... stranger and stranger.

They sat, Ramona at the head of the table, with her children on each side of her and Mister Smith at the other end.

As dishes of food began to be passed around, the man spoke.

"Your mother tells me that you two are curious about what is happening next door, at the old Nettleton place. This is true, yes?"

His accent caused Debbie to stutter.

"Y..Y..Yes." The bowl of asparagus slipped from her fingers and thumped on the table, but didn't spill. She blushed. "Sorry," she said.

"Well, that is a simple thing to answer," said the man, scooping out a huge helping of Lasagna. He held the last spoonful to his nose and drew in a great breath. "This is smelling divine to me," he said.

Ramona scrunched up her face, somewhere between happy and trying to tell him that the accent was too heavy.

He passed the bowl to Robby who stared at it. It was a third empty and Smith was the only one who'd been served. He blinked and took some, unconsciously taking less than he usually would have.

Debbie had been waiting for Smith to go on, but he didn't, choosing first salt, then getting three hot rolls, and then asking for butter.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, leaning toward the man.

He looked at her through his wild hair and bushy eyebrows and grinned with startlingly white teeth. Debbie noticed there was a stick of some sort stuck in the hair at the top of the man's left ear, like some carpenters wore a pencil. The end of the stick looked like it had been smashed, leaving tiny slivers of wood bunched together. She stared at it and he saw where her eyes were. His hand reached up and felt the stick.

"This is a makeshift toothbrush," he said amiably, "Such as they use in the country I have come from. I have not yet had time to purchase a new one here in your delightful town."

Debbie's mouth hung open. Who used a stick as a toothbrush? Who went anywhere without a toothbrush? She shook her head and frowned.

"You are having some impatience, yes?" prodded the man, grinning.

Debbie blushed more, her face going sunburn red.

"Sorry," she mumbled again.

Smith laughed, and his voice sounded warm and nice, not at all like he looked.

"I should not tease you," he said. "That is bad manners." But then he took a bite of the lasagna, getting sauce on his moustache and beard, which he seemed completely unaware of. It was disgusting.

He smacked his lips and leaned back. "I work for the Nettletons," he said. "It is wished for that the old family house be restored. I am to oversee that process."

Had he said a comet was going to smash into the earth and kill everybody, the impact wouldn't have been any more profound.

Debbie gulped for air and ended up hyperventilating, getting dizzy and wobbling in her chair. Smith was out of his chair in a flash, catching her before she fell, while her brother and mother stared, uncomprehending.

"I need a bag," he barked, the accent suddenly much diminished. "Something she can breathe into."

Ramona jumped from her chair like a rabbit jumps when it's been shot, and scurried to the kitchen. She came back with a lunch sack and handed it to him.

Debbie was flailing weakly and Robby was ineffectually trying to get the disgusting man to stop touching his sister, but she was almost unconscious as her lungs spasmed.

"Hold her" he said to Ramona and he prepared the bag, slapping the open end over her mouth and nose. "Hold this to your face little one," he ordered.

Debbie's hands came up and pressed the bag to her face, half crushing it, but her head cleared almost immediately as she rebreathed air poor in oxygen.

Smith stepped back to his chair, sat down, and began stuffing lasagna into his mouth, alternating with bread and asparagus. He made noises of appreciation while Debbie got control of herself and her mother hovered over her.

"I'm fine Mom," she said, disgusted that this foul stranger had helped her. "Go sit down and eat." Her appetite was gone, and she sat, staring at her plate.

Smith paused, speaking with his mouth full, his words mushy. He picked up the conversation right where it had left off, as if nothing had happened.

"This renovation displeases you?" he asked, reaching for tea to wash down the food.

"You can't," said Debbie in a small voice.

"Debbie!" came her mother's astonished voice.

"Well ... he can't!" shouted Debbie. "It's not right!"

"Deborah Jean Franklin!" said her mother in a too-loud voice. "Where are your manners?!"

Smith held up his hand. "There is much passion in this beautiful almost-woman," he said, looking at her with piercing eyes. "This is America, yes? In this land you speak freely, is that not so?"

"Yes!" blurted Debbie. "And I say you should go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone!" she ended in a shout, her face red again, this time from anger.

"Debbie, you are excused to your room," said Ramona, her voice cold and sharp. "Freedom of speech does not mean you may be disrespectful to our guest."

Debbie's eyes were stricken and she ducked her head. Then it snapped back up, her eyes blazing. "I prefer to go to my room right now mother!"

She stood and stiffly turned to stalk out of the dining room toward the stairs.

Ramona watched her go and then her eyes went to her son, who had sat mute and stiff throughout the whole exchange.

"Would you like to tell me what's going on here?" she asked in a voice that made it clear she expected to be told what was going on.

Robby didn't know what to do or say. He couldn't just admit that they'd played in the mansion for years, that they felt ownership of the dilapidated place. That would lead to consequences that couldn't possibly be happy.

"It's haunted," he blurted. "The ghosts will be unhappy. They might do things," he suggested vaguely.

Ramona, whose own spirit had been dampened many times by thoughts of that old house and the pain it had seen, but who had never thought even once that she might be "haunted" by an unhappy ghost, laughed, her voice at the edge of panic. Then her giggle box fell over with a silent thump and uncontrollable giggles gushed out of Ramona's mouth until she was gasping for breath, almost like her daughter had been. She tried to take a drink of tea and choked on it. Now she was trying to laugh and cough at the same time. Twin dribbles of tea dripped from her nostrils.

Again Smith was on his feet and pounding her back lightly, helpless to do anything else.

Robby just stared.

All the tension Ramona had felt building, and only partially released by her earlier crying session in the car, flooded out with her laughs. It was a catharsis she needed badly and, even though she was afraid she'd fall out of her chair she was ecstatic at the feel of all that unwanted tightness flowing out of her body. Then she thought of what she'd look like falling over, lying on the floor, tea running out of her nose, and she laughed even harder. Her brother ... her dear sweet brother was there. He was going to be here next door for a long time ... maybe forever ... and that thought made her feel even better. She drew in a racking deep breath and finally got control of her diaphragm. Now all she had to do was pull in more air and she'd be fine.

Smith stood up, staring down at the woman. "All the women in this family have these breathing problems, yes?"

That made Ramona laugh too, but this time it was a short, normal laugh. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with her palms and, then grabbed the napkin to rub under her nose. With her cleared vision saw that Debbie had returned to the bottom of the stairs and was staring curiously at the scene in the dining room.

Ramona pointed at her. "You!" she said. "If you've found your manners you may return to the table." Then, a few more giggles chuckled out of her mouth.

Debbie turned and went back up the stairs.

Ramona felt sad at that, but waved Mister Smith back to his chair.

"Ghosts," she said, and giggled again.

"I'm thinking there are no ghosts," said Smith, beginning to eat again.

Robby, flushed with shame and anger at his mother's laughter, just sat. His appetite was gone too.

"Lots of people think there are ghosts," said Robby sullenly.

His mother heard the anger in his voice, and she calmed. "Robby, I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. I think I was just laughing because I needed to laugh. I don't think you’re silly or anything like that," she said. "But I also don't believe in ghosts."

Robby, his heart sinking, knew beyond his years that nothing he could say would undo what was going on.

"I'm not really hungry," he said. "Can I go?"

Ramona's first instinct was to say "No," but she heard the sadness in his voice and nodded instead. He got up and walked heavily to the stairs.

When his footfalls were gone, Robert Nettleton, looking ridiculous in his sauce-smeared false moustache and beard, looked helplessly at his sister.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "They shouldn't care so much about what happens over there. Nobody else does. I don't understand it." she said.

"Are you sure they don't know?" he asked. "About who you really are I mean?"

"Bobby, I've never told them anything. Just that our parents were gone. I avoided talking about it, not wanting them to be affected by ... our past."

There was more meaning in her voice than that associated with the house and grounds of the Nettleton Mansion. Robert wanted to tell her about their mother's jewelry box, that he'd found in the wrong room of the mansion, with things in it that had been put there by someone other than their mother, including a watch that had to have been their father's. He was distracted by the pain in her voice. It reminded him of his own pain.

"I missed you so much," said Robert.

"I wanted to die at first," said Ramona. "But then I met Richard and it wasn't so bad. And then when the twins were born I was happy Bobby ... really happy."

She looked at the strange apparition at her table and then looked away. As long as all she did was hear his voice she had a picture of 18 year old Bobby Nettleton in her mind.

"Didn't you ever find a girl? To love?" she asked.

"Oh, there were girls, I suppose, but none to claim my heart," he said. "My work was such that there was no time or place for romance anyway."

"That's so sad," said Ramona, her heart going out to him.

"I'm young," he said. "And I'm rich. I won't be alone for long. Not in the good old U.S. of A."

"I'll have a talk with the kids," said Ramona. "I'll try to find out what's really going on." She stole a peek at him. "I'm glad you're back Bobby. I missed you too."

He grinned. "Come over and see me sometime. Bring some more of this delicious food. I won't have electricity for two more weeks, and then I can get some appliances in there and begin cooking for myself. Man, I've missed food like this."

"When do you think you'll go ... public?" she asked.

"There are six liens filed against the place, from contractors who say they have been doing upkeep. That's preposterous and I don't want them to know they're dealing with me. All they are doing is grubbing for money. More will probably come out as soon as the word gets out that I'm back. I have several court appearances to make as Mister Smith and then I should be able to throw away this horrible hair.

Ramona giggled. "It is horrible. Couldn't you have gotten something nicer?"

"I thought it gave me a colorful appearance," he said, wounded.

"Yes, but the color is so ... " she was searching for the right word.

He finished the sentence for her. "Crazy?"

She blushed. "I didn't say that. you said that."

"Well, I won't wear it when you come to call." He dug in the pocket of the coat he was still wearing and handed her a shiny brass key. "This goes to the padlock on the gate. I oiled the hinges and it now works flawlessly. I don't lock the house. Haven't gotten around to finding the right locksmith. The ghosts will keep everybody else away," he said grinning.

"What will I tell the kids?" she asked, a flutter in her stomach at the idea of going back to the house she'd stayed away from for so long.

"Bring them along," he said. "I have a feeling the disguise idea was a bad one ... at least with them. Who knows? I probably didn't need a disguise at all. Who around here would recognize me anyway? I think I only used it because it was such an exotic idea."

He stood up. "Now, I'd better go. You have two unruly children to deal with. If they give you too much trouble come get me and I'll come back and scare them half to death." He grinned again.

"I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not going near that mess you have on your face. I hope you have water over there," said Ramona.

"Water I have in plenty. The old well is still good and the pump worked fine once I replaced the leather gasket. It's cold, but I can always warm up some for a whore's bath on the wood stove. As for the kiss ... I'll save it for you..."

Ramona blushed. "That was a long time ago Bobby," she said.

"I know," he said back. "I really missed you Rami."

Then he went to the door and let himself out with a wave over his shoulder. Ramona stood and just tried to decide how she felt.

It took quite a while, as she turned the shiny brass key over and over in her fingers. Finally she went upstairs to talk to her children.

She found them together. They were in Robby's room. Robby was lying on the bed, while Debbie paced back and forth. She stopped when Ramona stepped into the room. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.

"Why is that old place so important to you two?" asked their mother.

Debbie slumped. Like Robby, she just couldn't confess to what they'd done for so many years. It was their secret. It wasn't their sexual play that was uppermost in Debbie's mind. It was the length of time the secret had been kept from her mother. She knew her mother would be hurt by the truth.

As they say, the best defense is a good offense.

"Mom" said Debbie, her voice under control now. "You treated that ... man ... like he was somebody special. You fixed your best dinner. We used our best dishes. You were excited, Mom. But when he got here you acted like you'd never seen him in your life. Who is he?"

Now it was Ramona who had a fifteen year old secret she'd kept from the two people she loved most in the world. And she had no idea how to tell them about that secret, and all the other secrets she had kept for their entire lives ... even beyond their entire lives.

"He's somebody I knew a long time ago," she sighed. "He looked differently than I expected him to and it surprised me. He was very important to me back then. That's all I can tell you about him. I want to tell you more ... but I can't. Not yet. In a few weeks, maybe." Her voice was defeated. She knew her children would not stand for that answer. "It's very complicated."

"How could you have known him long ago? It's obvious he's from some foreign country. I don't understand." Debbie's voice was defeated too.

"Mom?" came Robby's voice.

"Yes sweetheart," she said back.

"Do you trust us?"

That surprised Ramona. "Of course I trust you. I love you," she said.

"Okay, we trust you and love you too," he said. "How about this? How about you trust us when we tell you we really care about that house. We can't explain why, but it's true. And we'll trust you when you tell us that you know that man, and that he's not a bad man. He's not, right?"

Ramona smiled tiredly. "No, he's not bad. He's a very good man."

"He scares me," said Debbie.

"He would never hurt you for anything in the world," said her mother.

"Okay, if you say so, but he's still scary. That hair ... the way he eats. He eats like he's starving, or has never had good food in his life. It's just weird." Debbie went and sat on the edge of the bed, by her brother.

"He said he's going to restore the house. What does that mean exactly?" asked Robby.

"There used to be beautiful gardens all around it," said Ramona, her voice going soft as she remembered. "And the house was painted and the tower roof was covered in shining copper shingles. And there were beautiful rugs and servants and music. It was a beautiful place then," she said.

"How do you know that?" asked Debbie, her imagination fired by the description.

Ramona jerked, coming back to the present. Her words had been dangerous. "I ... ahh ... talked with Mister Smith about it. Back then he lived there." She folded her arms. "I think Robby's idea is good. I'll trust you two, and you trust me. In a few weeks there may be enough changes that your questions will be able to be answered. Maybe mine too. Okay?"

There was a duet of sighed "okay"s from the bed.

"Now, let's all go down and clean up together. I'm too tired to do it all by myself. For calling it such a special meal you two sure didn't eat much of it. I could warm some up if you want ..."

As if on cue, Debbie's stomach growled and she giggled. The rest of the evening was spent much more happily than before as they all put the old house out of their minds and were just a family.

The next day, though, after their mother had gone to work, Debbie charged into her brother's room, where he was still sleeping. She jumped on top of him, tickling him mercilessly.

"Wake up lazy bones!" she squealed. "Let's go see what that horrible old man is doing to our house!"

Robby tried to defend himself by grabbing his sister's breasts and squeezing them. It didn't work. All she did was lean into his hands.

"Mmmm that feels nice. I should have let you touch me a long time ago."

"I don't recall asking to touch you," he said, moving his hands in opposite directions and then back again, making her braless breasts bounce sideways. They were too firm to hit each other though.

She sat up and pushed his hands away. "So, come on, let's go!" she said excitedly.

"You're crazy," he said, his hands moving to her thighs. She was astride him like she was riding a horse. "We can't go over there any more. That man would probably chop us up and cook us on a campfire."

"No he wouldn't. You heard Mommy. She said he'd never ever hurt us, not for anything."

"That doesn't mean he'd be happy to see us. Besides, what are we going to do, just walk up to the place and say, 'Hi, we just thought we'd drop by. Seeing as how we yelled and screamed at you last night we thought we'd be all friendly today.'"

Debbie put her hands on top of his hands, which were on top of her thighs. She stroked the back of his hands with her fingertips.

"No, silly. We're going to spy. From the secret passage. Through the peep holes. I just want to keep an eye on him and see what he's doing. Besides, if our stash is still there maybe we can get it while he's in some other part of the house. Don't you want your watch?"

"Didn't mom say he used to live there?" asked Robby. "Maybe he knows all about the secret passages."

"Of course not," said Debbie firmly. "That's why they're called secret passages, because they're secret. Those were made when the house was new, and there's no way Mister Smith could have lived there more than what ... twenty or thirty years ago maybe? He's not old enough to have lived there before that. And he'd have had to be a little boy too if he lived there back then." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know what? I bet he and mom went to school together or something like that. And they played together, or he was her boyfriend, like when they were in forth or fifth grade or something. And he lived in the house and Mom lived wherever she lived ... where did mom grow up?" Debbie was getting animated by her imaginary assumptions.

"I don't know," said Robby. "But I'd rather stay here and play naughty with you. Maybe they played naughty when they were little," said Robby, his hands sliding up Debbie's thighs and onto her waist, moving ever upward toward her breasts again.

"Robby!" Debbie was scandalized. "That's our mother you're talking about." She screwed up her face. "Ewwwww, can you imagine mom with that ... man?!"

She jumped up, eliciting a grunt from Robby as her firm hard butt bounced on his stomach.

"Come on, get up, let's go!" she demanded.

Robby got up and unabashedly stripped off his PJ bottoms, showing his morning woody to his sister while he pulled on a pair of shorts. She stared intently at it, but didn't move to touch him.

"Maybe we'll play naughty later," she said, and then danced out of his reach toward the door, teasing him. She pulled her T shirt up, showing him her naked breasts and backed out the door.

"Come on baby, you want these?" she teased. "Come on, just follow little Debbie and maybe she'll let you play with them." She had to turn and run to avoid being caught and laughed as she ran out through the back door and into the yard.

Though she had run outside, Debbie didn't head for the fence to the Nettleton Mansion. Instead she ran around the house a couple of times, staying just ahead of her brother, teasing him. She ran like the wind and loved that he couldn't quite catch her. When he finally slowed down, panting for breath, she slowed down too, still walking, until they got to the back of the house, where no one in the neighborhood could see them.

Then she let him catch her. She tried to kiss him, as consolation for besting him in the race, but both were breathing too hard for it to really work. They waited until they were sure their mother wasn't coming back home because she forgot something. Then they walked to the fence where their "private entrance" was and slipped through.

As they penetrated the dense forest, they began to hear noises that were foreign to ears tuned to the normal silence of their fantasy play place. Instead of going to the root cellar, which meant they'd be exposed for the few seconds it would take to get to the entrance and down the stairs, they stayed to the woods and did a circuit of the house to see what was going on outside.

They were astonished.

There were trucks and vans everywhere, parked all over what had, at one time, been lawns and gardens. One had a sign on the side that indicated it was from a plumbing company. Another one was an electrical contractor. There were two from the local garden center, and they had a tractor with a bucket on the front that they were using to clear swaths of weeds and bushes away from around the house. There was a truck with no sign, but two men who wore white coveralls spattered with spots of color, suggesting they were painters. Another truck was from a roofing company. There was a tractor looking thing that had a long arm on the back, with a scoop on the end, and it was digging a long trench from the house toward the street. They winced as they realized if it kept going more of their cherished forest would be destroyed.

There were ladders up against the house in several places, and men on them, taking things off the house and others putting things on the house. The whole place looked different already, though most of that was just because of activity, and not substantive changes to the appearance of the house itself.

Still, it was obvious that the appearance would change. Already the house looked like it stood straighter, without the sag it had always seemed to have, like it was coming awake after a long slumber.

As they watched a truck left, and another one came. It was met by Mister Smith, still wearing his long black trench coat, his beard and hair only a little less tangled. Debbie thought she'd see old crusted lasagna sauce in that beard if she were close enough. She shuddered.

Smith was flitting from one place to another, talking to this man, or that, pointing and gesticulating. The tractors made too much noise for them to hear what he was saying, but it was obvious he was issuing directions to the contractors.

The great double front doors stood wide open, letting sunlight into the foyer, which had not seen such light in decades. Two men were climbing twin ladders, set only a few feet apart, and were carrying something square between them, up the ladder. Whatever it was it sparkled and glistened in the sun, in vivid colors of red, green, blue and a golden color that could only be called yellow by a blind person.

"It's stained glass!" whispered Robby, close to his sister. The men stopped at an open hole in the side of the house, where a window had been removed. Carefully they fitted the new window into the hole and did something to make it stay.

Another truck arrived, a larger one, with a flat bed heaped with all kinds of things. There was copper piping, and boxes marked as containing toilets and sinks. There were coils of black that looked like wire of some kind. Men got out and began carrying things into the house.

Yet another van arrived, this one marked as the delivery service for a dry cleaning establishment. Two people got out of it with folded boxes and went into the house.

Robby noticed that Debbie was panting, as if she'd run. He moved and saw tears running down her cheeks, dripping to the forest floor.

He reached out to touch her arm and she turned her tear streaked face to him.

"They're changing everything," she sobbed, melting into his arms. "I hate him!" she screamed.

Robby hushed her, but there was really no chance her cry had been overheard. He hugged her to him as she sobbed. Finally he let her go and took her hand.

"Come on," he said. "There's nothing we can do here."

He was just about to lead her back home, when a car drove into the chaos of vehicles littering the yard. They stared at the car.

It was their car.

Their mother was driving.

Crouching down in the bushes they watched as Ramona got out and stood in the open door, staring at all the other vehicles, and at the house. She didn't move for a long time. Then, reaching into the car and removing a leather briefcase, she took a few tentative steps toward the house.

"Maybe she's got something in there to make them stop," whispered Robby.

That hope was dented a little when Smith saw their mother and hurried over to her. He started to embrace her, plain as day, but then dropped his arms and stood back, looking over his shoulder at the contractors scattered around the grounds. He took her elbow and led her into the house.

"What's she doing here?" asked Debbie, puzzled.

"I don't know," said Robby, puzzled himself.

"We've got to get in there!" said Debbie, standing up.

"We can't get past all those people!" said Robby.

"The secret way, you Dodo," she said, looking at him like he was daft.

"I don't know Deb," he said uncertainly. "What if we make a noise or something? They could hear us and then what would we do?"

"There's no way they could hear us with all that noise going on," said Debbie. "You're chicken! Aren't you!"

As anyone knows, that's probably the best way to get a fifteen year old boy to do just about anything he probably shouldn't do, and it worked just like it would have on any other fifteen year old boy.

Debbie had to run to catch up to her brother, who was stomping through the woods in an arc that would bring them to the back of the root cellar.

"Be careful," warned Debbie, afraid she'd made him so mad that he might do something stupid.

"What's the matter? he growled. "You turning chicken?"

"I'm sorry Robby ... come on ... you want to know what she's doing in there don't you?"

He stopped and turned as she almost ran into him. "If we get caught, I am going to spank you. I promise!" Then he turned and went on.

They waited briefly in the bushes, watching the back of the house, but there was only one man on a ladder there, and all his attention seemed to be on where some boards had been removed from the side of the house.

They made the dash to the steps and skipped steps getting down into the cellar. Without waiting to see if anyone raised the alarm, Robby jerked open the secret door and they ducked into the tunnel. Again, they had forgotten to bring a candle, but again, they both knew the tunnel so well they could negotiate it in the pitch black with no problem. Still, Robby went first, while Debbie held on to his waist.

Robby pulled gently at the door. They had used it so much that it opened easily now, though the hinges squeaked. They had never thought to oil them, since whenever they were there they were alone.

There was a little light in the secret passage, coming in from the peep holes. While it would have seemed dark to most people, after the pitch black of the tunnel it was a little like being outside in moonlight to the teens.

There were thumps that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once as they stepped gently up the staircase. They saw nothing at the first peepholes, and then a painter at the third. Going on up a level, where the bedrooms were, they went to the peephole that led into "their" bedroom. The room was empty. Their box of treasure was still sitting where they had left it before.

They struck pay dirt at the big bedroom, with the four poster bed.

The teens peered silently into the big bedroom where they had played dress up so many times.

Smith and their mother were in that room, along with one of the people who had gotten out of the Dry Cleaner's van. Ramona was standing along one wall while Smith instructed the man on what to pack into the box. The hangings from the four poster went into one, and the curtains from the windows went into another.

"And everything in those chests." He pointed to the cedar chests where the clothing Robby and Debbie had worn for years was packed. "But you can get those another day. Do you think these can be repaired and cleaned?" he said lifting up a drooping corner of cloth from inside one of the boxes.

"They're pretty old, but I'd say they're in fair shape. I have to tell you though, Mister Smith, this is going to be expensive. We'll have to re-weave a lot of the holes, and finding fabric - genuine period fabric - will be expensive too. It would be cheaper to just have new ones made."

"No!" barked Smith. "Only if something is too deteriorated to save. I want to save as much as possible. Expense is not an issue."

"Well, it's your money..." said the man, packing up the boxes. The other man came in and helped him carry the boxes out.

Debbie and Robby had to trade off using the peep hole. They whispered to each other as to what they were seeing. The voices were faint, through the wall, but there was only lath and plaster between them and the people in the room, and they could hear through that fairly well.

Debbie watched as Smith looked out of the bedroom door and then closed it. She heard the thunk of a latch being thrown.

"I told you they'd assign you to me if I wanted them to," he said to their mother.

"It was amazing!" said Ramona. "I got called into the president of the bank's office and he instructed me that I was to do anything you wanted me to."

Smith stood, looking at their mother. "Anything?" he leered.

"Bobby," said Ramona, "I'm here on business."

Bobby? thought Debbie. His name was Bobby?

"All work and no play makes ... Bobby a dull boy," he grinned.

"Do you have to keep that horrible thing on your face all the time?" asked Debbie's mother.

"Not when we're alone," said the man, and, to Debbie's astonishment he reached up and pulled off his hair.

Debbie gasped, stepped back and ran into the wall on the opposite side of the secret passageway with a thump.

Robby was at the peephole instantly, just in time to see the man throw a black, hairy mass on the bare mattress of the big bed. There was smooth brown hair on his head. Then he pulled at his beard and Robby saw sticky strings of something that had glued it to his face pull away. He tossed that on the bed too and stood, looking at Ramona.

"Is that better?" he asked.

Ramona was staring at the man, the briefcase hanging from her hand.

"You look so different," she said softly.

"It's been a long time Rami," he said.

"You're so handsome," she said.

"Not as handsome as you are beautiful," said the man who called himself Smith. He stepped toward Bobby's mother. "I missed you so much Rami."

Then, to Robby's astonishment, his mother rushed into the man's arms, into a kiss that was obviously voluntary and as heartfelt as when Robby kissed his sister.

Now it was Robby who staggered away from the peephole, running into his sister's soft body. She held his waist with her hands to stabilize them both.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"He kissed her," gasped Robby.

"What?!" said Debbie, her voice like a shout in the confines of the narrow hallway.

"Shhhh," said Robby instinctively. "She kissed him," he corrected himself.

Debbie shoved him to one side and pressed her face to the holes.

"They kissed each other," whispered Robby.

That kiss was still going on as Debbie's eyes focused on the adults. That, and a whole lot more. The now brown-haired and clean shaven man - the same man she had seen before when she peeked the last time - had his hand cupping her mother's breast, and Ramona's arms were wrapped around his neck.

Ramona pushed him away. "We can't Bobby," she said. She didn't make him remove his hand, which stayed right where it had been, lifting the breast, and squeezing it.

Debbie's mouth was hanging open. Robby tried to move her but she pushed at him with one hand.

"Is there a man in your life sweet Rami?" asked the man.

"Of course not," said Ramona. "But there are all kinds of people around."

"I locked the door," he said.

"The drapes are gone from the windows," said Ramona.

Debbie couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around the conversation. It almost sounded like they were talking about ... sex. But that couldn't be!

"No one is working on that side of the house. I'm on fire for you Rami."

Debbie bit her lip. This man called her mother by a pet name. Rami was obviously short for Ramona. Who was he? Why had he come to their house wearing a fake beard and moustache.

"You left me," said her mother, her voice accusing. She looked at the briefcase in her hand as if she'd forgotten it and set it down. Debbie's unbelieving eyes saw her mother's fingers go to the buttons of her white blouse and begin unbuttoning them.

"I had to, my sweet," said the man. "I thought I could save the world. Only that could have taken me away from you."

Ramona unbuttoned her blouse, as if she were alone in her own bedroom.

"I cried for you Bobby," said Ramona, pulling the blouse apart and out of the waistband of her skirt. She bared her lacy white bra to this stranger.

Debbie stepped back again, her hand covering her mouth. What her mother was doing made no sense of any kind ... in any way. It was like watching a dream, that couldn't be true, but that you were having anyway, and you couldn't make it stop.

Debbie's place was immediately taken by Robby. He gasped and his two hands went to the wall, making a small sound. He saw his mother turn and look directly at him.

"What was that?" she asked.

Robby stared at her flat naked stomach, and the bulging bra cups, with their deep cleavage showing milky white skin. The man was staring at his mother's breasts too.

"This house makes many noises," said the man. "Seeing you again makes me want to make a little noise too."

Robby watched, his brow furrowing, as his mother laughed.

"I haven't had a man in a long long time Bobby," she said, removing her blouse and folding it neatly. She bent over and placed it on top of the briefcase. Then, as if it were the most normal thing for his mother to do in the whole world, she unclipped and unzipped her skirt and bent over, stepping out of it. It joined her blouse as she stood before the man in only panties and bra.

"Oh sweet baby, I've waited so long too," the man said, tearing at his clothes.

Robby watched in stark disbelief as his mother reached behind her and the bra fell down her arms to reveal her soft breasts. She had brown nipples Robby had never seen, or could never remember seeing. They were much bigger than Debbie's pink ones, thick, and they looked firm, sticking out from her slightly sagging breasts. For some crazy reason Robby found himself noticing that those nipples didn’t' point straight ahead, like Debbie’s did. Instead like eyes with something wrong with them, they looked in slightly different directions.

Robby's eyes went to the man, who had somehow become naked, his penis standing straight out from a fluff of brown hair that was as wild as the man's wig had been. That penis looked long, but bent. The man was uncut, like Robby himself, but he was so hard that the glans of his penis seemed to press forward, like it was trying to escape being confined by his foreskin.

"Shit" said Robby under his breath.

"What's happening now?" came Debbie's plaintive soft cry.

"They're naked," he whispered.

Debbie shoved him sideways, and he pushed off the wall to keep from snagging on one of the upright boards that the lath was nailed to.

"Hey!" he whispered loudly.

"I want to see!" she whispered back, pressing her face to the wall.

Technically, "they" weren't naked yet, since Ramona still had on her panties. But Debbie's eyes were drawn to that long fleshy lance that was pointing at her mother. The only other one she'd ever seen was Robby's, and they looked the same and vastly different at the same time. Her eyes flicked to her mother, whose clothes seemed to have magically vanished since Debbie last saw her. Debbie sucked in a breath as her mother bent over and slipped her panties off. She stood up, holding them hanging off of her index finger, and let them fall lightly on top of her folded clothes like she had practiced doing that for years.

"You're so beautiful," said the man, stepping toward her mother.

"It's been so long," replied her mother.

Then they embraced, and that long thick penis slid naturally between her mother's legs as the couple kissed what was obviously a kiss in the French way. Her mother leaned forward into the man's body, her hands pulling him against her. Debbie was numb from the shock of what she was seeing. Children never see their parents as sexual beings, particularly not with complete strangers who are somehow vastly too familiar to be strangers. It almost made her head hurt.

Still, the curious girl inside her body wanted to see what would happen next. That part of her mind held her steady, her eyes staring through the peep holes, while another part of her brain railed that this was wrong, that she must do something to stop what was happening, that the man was not only destroying her house, but he was destroying her mother at the same time.

If Ramona was being destroyed, she didn't appear to mind much. She broke the kiss and stepped past Smith, pulling his hand, leading him to the bed. The mattress that had been sagging against the wall when Debbie was last here, was now back on the bed.

"I'm sopping wet for you," said Ramona.

Debbie gasped.

She saw her mother lie down on the bare mattress, uncaring that there were no sheets on it ... that it was dusty ... and assume what could only be called a pose of invitation, her legs spread wide, and her arms outstretched.

Smith sank down on her mother and Debbie saw her own mother's hand grasp his manly gristle and bring it to her pussy lips. She watched in horror as that tip of that hard thing penetrated her mother's sex and began to slide into her body.

Debbie stepped back a third time, her hands coming up to cover her eyes, as Robby crowded in front of her to look. He gasped too, because what he saw was the opposite. He saw the man on top of his mother, at full penetration, drawing slowly out until his penis left her, a string of white connecting them, before lowering his penis almost tenderly to kiss and then penetrate his mother's nether lips again.

There was a duet of moans, clearly heard in the secret passageway, of two people enjoying themselves to the utmost.

Then, before Robby's unbelieving eyes, Smith fucked his mother. There was no other word for what they did. Smith lunged and thrust hard, his buttocks clenching hard with each thrust, and Ramona's body shook, as if with punishment. Robby believed it was rape at first, and was ashamed that he was rigid in his own pants, and unable to break down the wall to save his mother.

But her hands came to Smith's back and caressed it, sliding to his buttocks and, as they clenched for another assault on his mother's pussy, her hands pulled, digging her fingernails into his ass, clearly encouraging the man to plunder her sex.

Now there were grunts from the man and little yips and squeals and soft wails from their mother, sounds that made heat bloom in Debbie's loins, despite her attempts to crush those feelings. And they made Robby's prick jerk in his pants and begin to leak. They were the sounds of real, live, honest-to-goodness sexual intercourse taking place between two people who were having a wonderful time engaging in that intercourse.

Decades later, there would be a popular slogan aimed at convincing kids not to take drugs, and not to have sex. It would be called "Just say no!"

Now, in this time, the sounds the teens could hear their mother and this stranger making very clearly said "Just say yes!"

Debbie leaned weakly against the wall behind her brother. She couldn't watch any more. The sounds were more than enough to make her feel helpless. She tugged at Robby, but now he brushed her away, staring at the tableau before him. Smith was wild now, his buttocks rising and falling at an astonishing rate as Ramona wrapped her legs around him.

"For you my sweet!" the man roared and he drove in one last time and stopped suddenly. His balls went from flopping all over the place to hanging straight down in that way that only happens when it's very hot. Then those balls jumped three times in a row ... not much, but enough to be noticeable ... and the man gave a long groan of almost despair. Then he pulled out and began to slide in and out of his lover again, slowly, as she took up the groan that got louder and higher in pitch until it was a whine that sounded like she was in awful pain.

Robby stared as he saw a ring of thick white build up around the man's penis where it went into his mother.

The man had ejaculated in her.

Robby's knees almost failed. At the same time he had to clench to keep his own penis from spurting. It was insane!

Ramona's whine of release ended in a gasped, "I love you so much Bobby," as the man collapsed on top of her and they were still, except for Ramona's hands, which slowly and gently slid all over Smith's back.

"I missed you so much, Rami," came Smith's muffled voice.

"Please don't leave me again," came the voice that Robby's ears told him was his mother's voice, but which he couldn't put with her face. It was just too unreal.

As Robby pulled his eyes away from the holes, Smith said "I'll never leave you again, my darling."

How the two teenagers got back to the root cellar they could not have told you. One moment it seemed as if they were in the dusty secret corridor between rooms, and the next they were standing at the bottom of the stairs that led up and out of the root cellar into the sunshine.

Brother and sister blinked, looking up into the bright light. Their emotions were in a turmoil, something they should have been used to, in the sense that their emitions were often at peak levels in this place, but they were unable to fully process what they'd witnessed.

As they squinted at the bright light outside, both had an unconscious desire to stay in the root cellar, where it was safe ... where they had hidden from imagined perils in the past, and now wanted to hide from something that seemed so strange that it felt ... dangerous. They had lived with their mother for their entire lives, but the woman they had seen through the peep hole acted nothing like the mother they knew. Her actions had been so casual, so blatantly sexual, in a way that looked as comfortable as what Debbie and Robby themselves had shared so many times. But that was insane! In all the years they'd lived with her they had never seen her exhibit one iota of sexual behavior.

Their mother obviously knew the man from the past some time ... some place. That much they knew. But the fact that he wore a disguise derailed their thinking. Why would he do that? Their mother had been expecting the brown-haired man for dinner. He was the special guest. And the disguise had thrown her too.

"What should we do?" whined Debbie, her voice small. She felt small in a huge strange world right now, like a small mouse who didn't want to expose herself to the hawk she knew was drifting on the wind somewhere up in that bright sky outside.

"My penis is hard," said Robby. He felt the need to say something, but couldn't think of anything else.

"What!?" asked his sister, turning to look at him.

"I got hard watching them," he said, his eyes wide. "Having sex," he added unnecessarily. Part of his mind was trying to cope with the knowledge he now had of what his hard penis could be used for. It was no longer theoretical. He'd seen what it could do ... what it would do someday. And the only woman he could imagine his penis doing that with was standing right next to him.

Debbie put her hand on the front of her brother's shorts. There was a big hard lump there.

He jumped as he felt her hand on his erection. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said.

They were both so confused that even something relatively normal for them seemed odd somehow. she took her hand away.

"What should we do?" she asked again.

"Go home?" suggested Robby. "I don't know what to do."

"Why would mom do that with ... him?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know," grumped Robby. "She acted like she loved him."

"How could she love him? Where did he come from?"

"I don't know that either," sighed Robby, remembering the way his mother had touched the man ... gently ... lovingly ... welcoming him into that intimate embrace.

"But she does love him," he convinced himself. He just couldn't understand her actions unless they were based on love.

"Maybe we could talk to her," said Debbie uncertainly.

"How are we supposed to do that?" scoffed Robby. "What do we do? Do we just say - Hey Mom, we happened to see you boffing the fuck out of that strange guy who showed up at dinner, and we were just sort of wondering why in the fuck you would do that?"

"Don't curse Robby" scolded Debbie automatically. "It's vulgar."

"Let me get this straight," said Robby, turning to her full on. "You're upset because I said the word, and meanwhile our mother is in there doing the word!"

"Well don't yell at me," she said, getting even more upset. "I'm not the one in there on my back with my legs spread!"

That image shocked Robby so much that his mouth opened and closed several times, like a goldfish in a bowl.

"Let's not fight ... please," she pleaded. There were tears in her eyes, glistening in a shaft of light coming from above.

Robby hugged his sister and she melted against him. Once again, their passion for each other insulated them from the strange and troubling thing they'd just seen. They felt safe holding each other ... a sense of normalcy. That passion flared in each of them and the hug turned into a kiss as they fed on each other's emotion.

Debbie pushed him away. "Let's go home. Mom went there on bank business. She'll have to go back to the bank. She won't be home until tonight."

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