A Haunting Love

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Six

"I'm home," Ramona sang automatically when she dropped her purse and keys on the sideboard in the hall.

"Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room. She heard nothing from Debbie and assumed she must be in her room, or someplace it was hard to hear.

Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner for her family. The questions came back to her as she handled pots and pans and dishes.

"So," came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her. "How was work today?"

Ramona looked at her daughter but didn't notice the tense set of Debbie's shoulders.

"Fine," she said automatically.

"Nothing ... interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.

Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk about, said, "Well, they gave me a new job. They put me in charge of taking care of all the financial documents associated with the renovation next door."

The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's awareness. She'd forgotten how upset Debbie was about that renovation. She turned to see Debbie on the balls of her feet, leaning forward slightly.

"I know you don't like what's going on over there," said Ramona. "But what's happening is happening. Rob ... Mr. Nettleton has a lot of money in the bank. He's their largest depositor, and they want to keep him happy."

Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her mother to be forthcoming with information. It hadn't worked, but that misspoken name was something she could press.

"What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ramona, confused.

"You said Rob ... before you said Mister Nettleton. The only Rob I know is Robby. What does he have to do with that?"

Ramona was flustered. Debbie was acting almost hostile toward her. Surely she didn't blame her mother for being assigned to the Nettleton accounts.

"Robby doesn't have anything to do with it," she said guardedly. I don't think you heard me correctly."

"I think you need to tell me what's going on," said Debbie, her voice full of accusation and an authoritative tone.

Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with her, and at the end of her emotional rope to begin with, snapped.

"No, Debbie, I think you need to tell me what's going on! Why are you so intent that nothing should happen to that house? Why is it any of your business what happens in that house? I want some answers young lady and I want them now!"

Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted. Debbie's face got that way almost instantly too. Both women started screaming at each other, their hands waving wildly. Debbie screamed demands to know why Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and why their mother was lying to them. Ramona screamed that she had happiness within her grasp and that it was obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that. It was fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly that neither could understand the other.

Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held out palm first to each snarling woman.

"Hey ... HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both of them.

The women subsided, both panting, their faces remarkably similar in appearance, and not pleasant to look at, for all that each woman was normally beautiful.

"It doesn't matter what's happening next door!" he shouted, to keep them from starting up again, but then dropped his voice. "Whatever it is, shouting at each other won't help anything."

He looked first at his sister and then turned his head to look at his mother, his hands still up.

"And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a family," he said firmly. "Mom ... what's for dinner?" he asked inanely. It was a bald faced attempt to change the subject.

Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at the counter in confusion. "I don't know," she said weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she said, "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it. "And mashed potatoes," she added.

"Okay then," said Robby, as if something momentous had been resolved. "I'm starving."

Debbie took a shuddering breath. She, like her mother, had a lot on her mind too. She knew what she had screamed, but her mother didn't appear to have actually heard her. She felt her mind twist slightly in her head as she recognized that the fact that her mother was acting so oddly had to mean that something powerful was going on. She felt a rush of shame for screaming. Robby was right about that. As much as she loved that old house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from her. Whatever was going on must be awfully important to her mother for her to act this way. The strange Mr. Smith was only part of it. As a young woman, Debbie had never given her body to a man, but she already knew the incredible importance of deciding to do that some day. And the fact that her mother had given herself so eagerly to a man - any man - was something Debbie instinctively understood was incredibly important. Though she didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow, it would all make sense eventually. She still itched to get answers to her questions, but she also knew that she'd have to be patient to get them.

She hoped she could make herself find that patience.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. She looked at her mother with an unspoken pleading in her eyes.

"Me too," said Ramona. "I have a lot on my mind. I shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your fault."

Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women rushed together and hugged. He watched in confusion as both of them started crying and apologizing even more. He decided that women were even stranger than he had suspected.

"I'm starving over here," he complained, rubbing his stomach.

"Then get a can of green beans and put them on the stove," said his mother tearfully. "Do you expect me to do everything for you?"

Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the pantry.

There was still some residual tension during supper, but it was manageable. All three family members tried to make idle conversation, but it all fell flat. Finally Ramona put down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.

"I'm just going to say something. I don't want to talk about it right now. You seem to have some emotional involvement with that house that I don't understand. So let me just say this and I want you to think about it before you say anything back ... both of you," she said, turning her eyes to her son. "Okay?"

Both teens nodded. There was a sinking sensation in Debbie's stomach.

"Okay," said their mother. "That property is owned by Robert Nettleton. It has been for years. He was overseas for a long time, but now he wants to come back and live there. It's his house. He's very rich and he has his money in the bank ... where I work. They want me to take care of his financial needs ... pay his bills and things like that. I can't turn that down. It's not exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being a teller. If I do a good job it may lead to more assignments like this. So, even though I know you two don't want anything to happen next door, I have to do this. That's what I want you to understand. I'm not doing this to hurt you or anything like that. Do you understand?"

"Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find the patience she had reminded herself to look for.

"Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to answer it," said her mother.

"Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.

Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words carefully. "There are some ... complications ... things I can't talk about right now."

'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself. She decided to push just a little.

"When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that mister Smith is ... important. Why is he so important?"

Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions. Questions about "Mister Smith" weren't in that number. She was too long in answering, and didn't have time to think about her answer carefully.

"He's Robert Nettleton's representative," she said. "He's important to the bank."

Debbie's stomach flip-flopped. Her mother had told her an outright lie. Or at least part of it was an outright lie. He might be the owner's representative, but that wasn't why he was so important. That much had been made perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.

"Right," said Debbie tightly. It was obvious she didn't like that answer.

"Debbie..." warned her brother.

"I'm not going to shout," she said to him.

Ramona knew something was wrong ... that her answer had been in error some way. But the kids couldn't possibly know who "Mister Smith" really was. It was impossible. Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the subject with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.

"I have to deal with him at the bank," said Ramona, trying to salvage something without knowing how. "I just wanted him to feel welcome."

"Oh I'm sure he feels very welcome," said Debbie tightly. Her brother's hand suddenly gripped her knee under the table ... painfully. She tried to push it away, but he was too strong. He did let off the pressure, but kept his hand there in unspoken warning.

Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more. "Maybe you should take him a plate tonight. I'm sure he'd feel more welcome."

Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into Ramona's brain. She could take him a plate of food. It would be a perfect way to see him again, privately. Her daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her consciousness.

"That's a good idea," she said. Both children saw a sparkle come into her eye and were mildly astonished. "That's a very good idea," said their mother, smiling for the first time that night. "It would be very neighborly!"

To her children's further astonishment she stood up, forgetting her own food and bustling about making up a plate.

"I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing." Ramona's eyes had a far away look in them now, as if she weren't paying attention to what she was doing.

Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck her children in a way that impressed on them just how important this man was. It was one thing to contemplate her being a sexual being. Everybody knew adults had sex. But that she would abandon her dinner and her children ... just like that ... was something that spoke volumes to them. It penetrated their own brains in a way that nothing else had, even watching their mother have sex. As the door closed behind her, they looked at each other.

"Can you believe that?" asked Robby.

"Who is this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.

There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy again. They didn't finish their dinner either, standing up and heading for the back door as if they had planned this all along. They stayed silent as they ghosted from tree to tree toward the house. Robby exclaimed at how different the outside looked. Repairs and paint just on parts of the back side of the house made it look completely different. His sister pulled at his sleeve to get him to move on. They made just a cursory examination of the back of the house. Their mother would have drawn attention to the front part. They strode almost calmly to the entrance of the root cellar and slipped down into the dark.

Again they had left without thinking about light, but they fumbled in the dark only a little, finding the hidden catch for the shelf-door and stepping into the tunnel. They counted steps, stopping a foot from the door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it slowly. The hinges still squealed a little and they left the door open to avoid making the hinges squeal again as it was closed.

Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master bedroom, Debbie got there first and pressed her face to the holes.

The room was empty.

She turned and whispered, "They're not in there."

They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to locate the adults. It was Robby who saw part of a man's body disappearing from view toward the grand staircase. Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no one appeared. They could both hear voices from lower in the house.

Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear. "You wait here. I'll go back and see if I can find them." He nodded, peering into the room.

Debbie found them in the formal dining room. Smith didn't have on his disguise, and was sitting at the head of a table that would have seated twenty-four comfortably. Her mother sat next to him. He was eating calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they were talking and she wanted to hear. Losing vision, she pressed her ear to a hole.

"... acting so strangely about this whole thing," she heard her mother say.

"It will only be another week or two before we can tell them," said the man around a mouthful of chicken. "This is delicious Rami."

"Thank you," said Ramona automatically. "I don't know if I can put them off for another week," she said.

"If you think they can keep quiet about it then tell them now," said the man.

"Bobby, they're just kids. They're smart kids. They started second grade when they were six because they already knew everything that first grade had to teach them. But they're still kids. This is going to turn their world upside down."

Debbie agreed with that evaluation of things already. She took time to peek, but nothing had changed. She put her ear back to the wall.

"...expect them to take it in stride. Why didn't you tell them a long time ago?" She only heard part of the statement and question, but Debbie knew it had to do with telling her and Robby what was going on.

"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," said Ramona. "You were gone so long, and in so many dangerous places. I dreaded any kind of special mail, for fear it world be notification that you were dead."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell them about me. You could have told them about me even if I had died, Rami."

"Yes, but then I'd have had to tell them who they are. They're good kids Bobby. They're smart and talented and I don't want this to change that. You know what it can mean to be who we are."

It was silent and Debbie darted a look. Smith had stopped eating and was putting his fork down. She pressed her ear to the hole.

"Ramona, it didn't ruin you. It didn't ruin me either. There's nothing wrong with who we are. Why do you think it would hurt them to know who they are?"

Her mother was silent for a moment. "There's so much pain, Bobby."

Debbie stole a peek again, and could hear Smith faintly speak.

"Not for them," he countered. "That's our pain, my darling. They can never feel that pain like we have." He reached for her hand. "Was there pain this morning?"

Debbie watched her mother's smile bloom. She wanted to hear better, but the sight of her mother's joyous face kept her eyes glued on the couple.

"No, it was wonderful. You know how wonderful it was." Debbie watched her mother lift Smith's hand and kiss his fingertips.

"Did you really come just to bring me this fine meal?" asked the man, moving his fingers to caress Ramona's face.

Debbie saw her mother's face take on a look she had never seen there. A look of sensuality ... of desire ... like only the very best movie stars could re-create on film.

"No," she said.

"Ah, then, my fine meal is finished. Perhaps you brought me dessert? My tongue still wishes for some sweet syrup to finish the meal properly."

"My children will wonder why it takes me so long," said Ramona wistfully.

"Will they come to this haunted place to find you?"

She shook her head firmly. "They'd never come here. No one comes here. I know what you think, but it's not my children who have been coming here." Then she tilted her head, like she was studying the man. "But I came here. I'm here now."

Debbie watched as her mother stood and Smith pushed his plate out of the way. They embraced, their hands sliding all over each other's bodies. The girl felt a thrill of unwelcome heat in her loins. She couldn't get used to seeing her mother as a sexual being. The most bizarre part of that was that Ramona was so unashamed about it!

"I want to taste you," said the man.

"Here?" laughed Ramona.

"What better place for dessert?" he said, lifting her by the waist and sitting her on the end of the table.

"You're horrible. My daughter was right! You're a horrible man!" laughed Ramona. But she scooted back on the table and leaned backwards, supporting her upper torso with her arms behind her.

Ramona was still dressed for work, in a sensible summer dress that buttoned up the front. It was white, and covered with a riot of colorful flowers that spilled across it in a swath that left one shoulder and parts of the skirt plain white. Debbie's mouth dropped open as her mother drew her knees up to her chest and then let them fall apart, spreading the skirt. Smith's hands lifted the hem and Debbie could see her mother had worn knee high stockings.

Just then Robby came up behind his sister and whispered, startling her.

"I thought you were coming back to get me," he hissed.

Debbie jumped and her forehead thumped the wall.

"Shhhh." She went and peered back through the peep holes. She was just in time to see Smith's head turning back to her mother. He kept lifting her mother's skirt, clear up to her waist, exposing her panties.

The dining room had multiple peep holes, as opposed to just one, like most other rooms had, and Robby was able to use another that was slightly higher than the one that was comfortable for Debbie to use. He looked and stifled a gasp as he saw Smith's hands slide along the outsides of his mother's thighs to grip her panties. He held his breath as his mother lifted her buttocks up off the table - what was she doing on the table? - and held it longer as Smith worked the panties up his mother's thighs until she had to bring her knees back together to let him slide them past them. Her knees fell back open, though, as he pulled the garment off her feet, working it over her shoes, which were still on. Smith stared at the woman's pussy, glistening in the light.

The fact there was light intruded upon Robby's consciousness and he realized that electricity had been installed. At least in this room. He couldn't see the light source, but it was good enough that he could see a sparkle, as of drops of ice or something, on the light fur that was between his mother's legs.

"What are they doing?" he whispered to his sister. Her hand waved at him and again all she said was, "Shhhh." Her eye was glued to her peep hole.

Both teens watched in stark disbelief as the man bent and began kissing the insides of their mother's legs, starting at the knees, and changing legs from time to time. His head got in the way, but it was obvious when he could go no further. Their mother's head dropped back, as if she were staring at the ceiling and a low moan came ripping out of her throat.

Both kids had heard of oral sex, of course, and knew other teens who claimed to have engaged in it. But that was a scenario that neither Robby nor Debbie had actually been able to quite believe was, in fact, real. It was like a legend that was fun to believe in, but not quite really believable. That their straight-laced mother not only allowed it, but obviously was enraptured by this, caused in them feelings that, before this, they would have explored in this very house, up in the girl's bedroom.

"Mmmmmmm Bobby, I'd forgotten how wonderful that is," moaned Ramona. Her voice was clearly audible through the plastered walls.

Smith pulled away from their mother's sex, leaning back. "Your husband did not do this for you?"

One of Ramona's hands lifted from behind her and reached for the man's head. She had to lean forward, but she grabbed his brown hair and pulled him back toward her.

"Don't talk," she commanded.

He leaned forward and the teens saw her lift her buttocks up off the table to push her pussy into his face as he regained contact. As he slurped - the only word they could envision for the sounds coming through the wall - his hands went to their mother's breasts, fumbling with her buttons, undoing her dress. He pushed her bra up off her breasts and began squeezing and pulling at her distended, dark nipples.

"AHHHHHHH," she groaned, part pain, mostly ecstasy. "I wish you had two mouths you beast." She pushed at his face again. "Just a little longer. Uhhhhnnnnggggggeeeeeeeeeee," she squealed, obviously having an orgasm as the man's face moved in between her thighs and his fingers punished her nipples.

When her cries died away Smith stood and his hands went to his belt.

"I have something that will take the place of one mouth," he announced.

If the twins had been astonished before, they were speechless as they saw their mother scoot across the table toward the man.

"My turn for dessert," she panted.

Smith pushed his pants down as their mother slid off the table, her skirt falling back to its normal place. She knelt in front of the man and the teens both gasped as she clearly took his erect phallus into her mouth. Her cheeks caved in as she sucked greedily.

Now it was Smith who looked at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

"Ahhhhh sweet Rami," he groaned.

Ramona obviously loved what she was sucking. She, too, made wet slurping noises as her lips moved all along the thick stalk that protruded from dark curly hair above a large full looking sack.

Debbie's loins were hot now. Seeing this completely impossible behavior on the part of her mother caused her brain to disconnect with the fact that it was her mother. As if she were watching two strangers, she felt her own pussy get wet enough to make those same noises she was hearing. Her hand went to her shorts and she unbuttoned them, slipping her hand into them to find her pussy was sopping. She stuck a finger in herself and curled it, pulling up to put pressure on her clitty. She couldn't stifle a little moan.

Robby was having his own difficulties dealing with what he was seeing. He had less problem with his mother's behavior, perhaps because most men want every woman to look and act like she loves sex. He was hard as rock, though, and wasn't sure he should be. His sister's moan caused him to glance at her and notice where her hand was. Feeling unaccountably better, he unzipped himself and hauled out his stiff prick. His hand stroked it as he peered through the spy hole again.

"Rami, my sweet, I'm about to explode," groaned Smith.

Ramona's actions left no doubt that if he did so in her mouth she would not complain.

"Not in your mouth my darling, please," he pleaded.

Ramona left off sucking him instantly and jumped backwards to land on the end of the table again, leaning back as she had before. She lifted her legs, spreading them and Smith, obviously delighted, supported her legs with his hands while he waded between her thighs. He had to let go of one leg and reach between them, but he surged toward her as she cried out in ecstasy.

"This is where I love to plant my seed," he said gruffly.

"Yes!" exhorted the mother of the stunned teens.

"I always wished I could have made a little baby inside you my sweet," panted the man as he began thrusting hard into their mother.

"I wanted your child," she cried out.

"Do you still?" he rasped.

"Yes!" screamed Ramona.

With that scream of assent, Robby's semen splattered the wall. Debbie heard his grunts of release and she had to squat as her pussy finally gave her the relief of sweet orgasm.

Inside the dining room, Robert Nettleton leaned into his sister and delivered his seed into her fertile garden, gasping with the force of his release, hoping that he really was creating life in her womb. Some dim part of his mind knew that was an insane thing to wish for, but he didn't care.

Neither did Ramona.

The adults might not have had reservations about whether or not Smith's sperm found one of Ramona's eggs, but Robby and Debbie cared very much about the possibility of this strange mysterious man from their mother's past getting her with child. While what they had seen was erotic in the extreme, and stimulated their own sexual desires, the thought of their mother having a baby by this man was something that did not appeal to them. On this, they agreed, discussing it in the root cellar and in the woods and even in the back yard as they tried to get home before their mother did.

What they could not agree on was what they were going to be able to do about it. They returned to their separate rooms to fret and think.

Debbie's primary thoughts were about how her mother had lied to her. She was not aware of any time in her short life when her mother had intentionally lied to her about something. She was old enough to realize that, whatever her mother was hiding, it was important to Ramona. At the same time, Debbie knew that when she lied - and she had lied her fair share of times to a number of people - that it was to cover up something she was ashamed of, or would get in trouble for. Debbie was, therefore, very upset about the lie. In a strange way she was more upset about the lie than she was about her mother acting like a slut with a complete stranger. But that seemed wrong too. It was obvious he wasn't a complete stranger ... not to her mother.

Debbie heard the door slam downstairs. Her mother was back ... back from her wild sex party with the man next door. Curiosity drove Debbie out of her room. She found her mother in the kitchen, washing up the plate she had taken next door. She was ... humming.

And she looked as normal as it was possible to look.

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