"let's rest a minute girls and have another drink," he proposed.

"in a minute harlen, just a moment bro," she muttered. then, her orgasm began. i was afraid she was going to break my teeth, she humped so hard. near the end she actually screamed.

"god em, you'll wake the fish," he advised. I figured that emerson enjoyed that more than i did, but i wasn't truly certain. we sat there naked, drinking and intoxicated.

"and all this was recorded, carlee?" emerson asked.

"i hope it was, and it's likely illegal." we laughed.

"look at my balls em," harlen said.

"besides being hairless, they looked almost like when i used to bath you bro."

"no, they feel swollen." she cupped them in her hand.

"no, but they're not moving in my hand either, is that a bad sign?" she asked.

"you used to tell me that they were trying to run away from you em, when they did that."

"i miss the hair bro, that was the best part, the way it felt in my hand." i wasn't about to claim responsibility for the missing hair. we finished our drinks. there was a lot of love around.

"gosh, this has been a great night," i said.

"and it'll get better when the games begin later on," harlen stated. emerson clapped.

"there'll be games?" she asked, enthusiastically. games, i thought, that may prove interesting.

"get dressed sis, before i turn you over my knee and spank your ass," he said. "we have an early day tomorrow," he added. emerson didn't move. her eyes sparkled.

"is that a threat or a promise, brother?" she smiled.

"the early day, or the ass beating?" emerson just sat there with her tongue hanging out.

"both are promises, love." she jumped at him and they held each other tightly. harlen had rung her chimes, and i didn't think for a moment the promise of an early day made her that happy. i walked back to the hot tub, feeling like a third person. i sat down and turned it up a little. it felt pretty damn good. i didn't need another drink, but i wanted one anyway. i was naked in the kitchen when harlen stuck his head in the door.

"we've gotta go baby."

"i'll drive you, if emerson didn't bring her car."

"oh, that's alright carlee, it isn't far."

"no harlen, it's too late for you two to be walking down the highway." i took a sip of my drink and went to the bedroom, picking my clothes off the floor. the mcdowells lived on harmony lane. it's was about a half a mile from my house. harlen sat in the back and emerson sat beside me in front.

"we could have walked, carlee," she said, as she put her hand on my naked thigh."

"nonsense baby, there are some weird things around here, wild cats and werewolves and mad river men, i wouldn't hear of you walking this time of night." there was an old house in the woods on the right. i was fascinated by it. the place was abandoned, the windows were broken, it was falling apart, i never failed to notice it when i drove by though. it was a two storey house, god, it was spooky, but i loved it. the road sign going up to it read "chuckles lane."

"the old billingsly mansion, boy, are there stories about that old place," emerson said.

"I haven't heard them, can you tell me emerson?" i asked.

"sure, i'll call you tomorrow," she replied.

"the place interests me, i've been thinking about asking my landlords to look into it," i said.

"well, don't invite me if you move in carlee, i wouldn't go within a mile of the place." i smiled and turned right on harmony lane. their house was the fourth on the left.

"god, the lights are all on, did you do that harlen?" harlen was snoozing.

"sorry, do what, em?"

"leave all the damn lights on?"

"no, sugar, i didn't," he replied. i could see a late model mercedes in the driveway.

"daddy's home harlen."

"oh shit," he replied.

"what's his first name?" i asked.

"scotlin," emerson answered. "special agent scotlin mcdowell, you'll like him carlee, he's really cool."

i let them out, and drove slowly home. i eased in chuckles lane. i stared at the old house in the reflection of my head lights. fantastic. i thought. and a history too. i could see my computer desk sitting on the second floor. i sat there, dreaming for a while, then, i decided to get a closer look. the highway was deserted, it was probably pushing three am. i lit a cigarette, and took a deep draw. "i can breathe again," i said to myself, before i started coughing. when smoking was my favorite hobby, before it was a sin to smoke, marlboro cigarettes had a deal where you could submit labels from packs for merchandise. i had gotten a four cell flash light that i carried in my glove box, i also had a fly rod, three jackets and a radio, to mention just a few. now they cost thirty dollars a carton and i smoke a quarter a pack of canyon cigarettes a week, that's about all you can stand of them per week. this one was excellent though, just like this night had been. i got out of the car, and headed to the house, coughing all the way. there was a fog around it, eerie, and silent. an animal howled, "the children of the evening, what music they make." i thought. after thunder storms, fog is my second most favorite element, "it comes in on kitty cat's paws, carlee." my dad always said. lots of kittens tonight.

the structure of the old house wasn't as bad as it looked from the road. all of the windows were partially broken. i stepped inside, this must have been the living room. i thought. the floor was hard wood, and pretty well preserved, the wood work looked good, and a huge fireplace loomed in the east wall. graffiti covered the ancient walls "for a good time call:" at least it wasn't my number. "kim-1996" a bunch of other stuff about kim. the kittens had followed me in. fog around my feet and across the floor. did i dare go upstairs? i dared.

the stairs leading to the second level were roomy, the railing had been removed, i saw the screw holes in the wall. i suddenly heard a noise from outside the house. i doused my light and listened again. i could hear footsteps, my heart raced. god, i should never have come here, not at this hour of the morning. i heard a board screeck on the porch, i hurried up the stairs. it was pitch black, i couldn't see my hand before me. as adrenelin pumped, i started getting weaker and weaker. a werewolf, no, a vampire, god.

"anybody home?" a pleasant voice asked from downstairs. he didn't sound malicious by any means, i looked down the stairwell and saw him, a dark shadow. "hello," he softly spoke, he made me smile. i turned my light on, shined it directly in his face.

"don't move," i said.

"don't worry," he answered. he was a beautiful man, from what i could tell, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, wearing a suit and a tie. "are you going to shoot me?" he asked, as he held his hands over his head.

"i haven't decided yet," i answered. "you have no business here at this hour you know?"

"and you do?" he answered.

"yeah, i'm thinking about buying this place." i walked slowly down the stairs. "name rank and serial number, buster," i said. he smiled a crooked smile that i had seen before, then, i knew exactly who he was. "wait, don't answer, it's coming to me, chuckles is talking to me." he laughed.

"fbi, scotlin mc, mc, mcdowell." he smiled. "if you'd said kimber billingsley was talking to you, now then, i may have been impressed. i am, count mcdowell my dear, velcome, velcome," said in his best transylvanian accent.

"i'm carlee, count, pleased to meet you." i walked down the stairs. " just left your house count, did you know that?"

"no, i didn't. my kids were gone when i arrived home. so, i just walked to one of my most favorite places in the world, followed the fog."

"it is exciting, isn't it?" i remarked.

"very," he said. "may i?" he scanned me with a bright pen light. "oh my," he said.

"what's wrong count?"

"nothing miss, absolutely nothing," he replied. i smiled. how sexy, i thought. "i don't remember any carlees around here," he said. "but, ive been away as much as i've been home.

"carlee's my first name, and you wouldn't know my folks scotlin. you don't mind me calling you that do you?" i asked.

"of course not dear, ah, do you smoke?"

"i'm dying to," i said. he reached for my hand and led me to what was left of the front porch. we sat.

"i hope you don't mind turkish?"

"i've heard it's very nice."

"tobacco, i mean."

"yes, tobacco," i said, grinning at him.

"you're flirty," he said. he lit a cigarette for me, then stuck it in my mouth, then lit one for himself.

"stout," i said, "but nice."

"puts hair on your chest, you know."

"oh, i don't need that, legs are trouble enough. do you?"

"not much on my upper thighs, but my legs are troublesome." he replied.

"on your chest, silly."

"oh, yeah, but i'm self conscious about it."

"can i feel?"

"you really are a flirt."

"come on, i won't pull, i promise." scotlin unbuttoned his white shirt. i felt. i all but purred, oh, maybe i did purr a little.

"well?" he asked.

"well what?"

"what did you think?"

"i don't know scotlin, promising," i grinned.

"and you promise that you don't have the same on yours?" i had to quit, or i was going to get myself in big trouble, i knew it.

"i promise," i said, as i took a long draw of the turkish cigarette and inhaled it down to my toes. "who is kimber billingsly?" i asked. scotlin was breathing heavily. he took a long draw, and said.

"kimber and monroe billingsly owned this spread some years ago, their lives ended in tragedy unfortunately. how do you know my kids?"

"harlen works for my landlords, odd jobs and stuff, i only met emerson tonight, i really like them both."

"they're cute kids," he said.

"they're beautiful, scotlin, just like their dad." he smiled.

"and you're sure you don't want me to check your chest for fur?"

"no, scotlin, i'm not sure, but i've just met you, and i've drunk to much, and i want to know about this place's history."

"i'm the expert carlee, i've studied this place and the happeninngs for many years."

"you'll teach me?"

"i'd be glad to." i took my top off.