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clees
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a hrony cat and her mate
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Nov 2 16:33 UTC 1995 |
A horny cat and her mate.
Nobody ever said that writers don't have an urge to share.
I'm not an exception. But sharing among my friends seems way
too easy. So therefore, I'd like to share my first story in
English with you. I hope you like it.
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| 37 responses total. |
clees
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response 1 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:42 UTC 1995 |
A HORNY CAT AND HER MATE
********************************************************************
* A short story by Rick Vermunt, translated from Dutch by myself. *
* I am 33; librarian and amateur short-story writer. Currently I'm *
* living in Amstelveen, the Netherlands. *
* e-mail: R.vermunt@ubvu.vu.nl *
* Many thanx to Mark Bruyneel who edited this story into more *
* acceptable English *
*
********************************************************************
Introduction by the Author:
Writing sure is my greatest hobby,though I don't pretend to be any good in
it. But as with all writers I want to share. Now sharing can easily be
done in Holland ofcourse, but I'm curious what you might think of it. Who
are, in fact more of a challenge than my friends.
Civilization. It seams there's enough to go round with it in our socalled
sophisticated Western society. In the era past the Restoration Period
we've apparently lost all contact with the supernatural. Mythical
figures like elves, pixies, giants, sorcerers, witches and so on, they
appear to have vanished from the face of the earth.
But believe, my beloved children, so we will be able to see things other
grownups have long forgotten to see. For they are out there, or what?
A HORNY CAT AND HER MATE
I. The living.
My inner voice was playing tricks on me again:
Is this it? Is this the challenge I've always been looking for? Tell me, is
it? This thing called life...sucks anyway.
"I think it's the end", I replied to my inner self; that liked to play the
role of my critical father.
I was dazzled. My mouth felt dry and something nauseous stuck in my throat.
I had to admit I was scared. No, terrified was a more fitting term.
I stood shaking all over in the Doorway to the Living. Darkness sprang
towards me forming a sheer impenetrable wall. I tried the lightknob without
any result and the light spread by the dying fire in the hearth wasn't
enough to ease my state of terror.
Reluctantly I started forward into the livingroom.
"Ouch!" my foot struck an object lying on the floor. It was an ashtray.
Gradually my eyes settled to the dimness in the room and I could
vaguely make out the objects that had become familiar to me in the last
couple of months. There was the neo-classical Louis 35 chair, the so-called
antiques mrs. La Bete used to love so much, the old crummy clock, numerous
bric a brac. But most of it was out of place. The chair was tumbled
over, the clock was smashed to smithereens. A total disastead
gone through the room. All furniture pieces lay disarray, some of them were
smashed to bits or looked as if they were ripped apart. The only pieces that
seemed to have survived were the sofa and the cocktail table, with, how odd,
three brandy glaglasses on it still intact.
They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil went
on.
A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the back of
the sofa.
Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still intact:
Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning of
the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of
that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the
lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had
to know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped
on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with...
"Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."
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clees
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response 2 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:50 UTC 1995 |
This part can be dismissed, pasting is harder than i thought,
hehe...
glasses on it still intact.
They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil went
on.
A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the back of
the sofa.
Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still intact:
Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning of
the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of
that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the
lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had
to know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped
on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with...
"Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."glasses on it
still intact. They weren't where I expected them. Did I really? That ol' devil
went on. A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay sluggishly draped over the
back of the sofa. Black velvet. I knew who owned this cloth when it was still
intact: Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the house. Although the other meaning
of the word would have covered the meaning it also. This piece of cloth had
been part of her sexy, low cut dress she always used to wear. The kind of that
gives a catlike appearance. Lisette, playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the lord,
that old goat. Now, where were they? Insecure I walked further into the room,
still not eager to do it. But I had to know. I had to see. I slowly walked
towards the sofa. As I came closer it became clear that the sofa screened off
a gruesome display. When I stepped on the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It
was wet, soaked with..." Waiter. Yes sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes
the same."glasses on it still intact. They weren't where I expected them. Did I
really? That ol' devil went on. A rag, also a victim of destruction, lay
sluggishly draped over the back of the sofa. Black velvet. I knew who owned
this cloth when it was still intact: Lisette La Bete, the mistress of the
house. Although the other meaning of the word would have covered the meaning
it also. This piece of cloth had been part of her sexy, low cut dress she
always used to wear. The kind of that gives a catlike appearance. Lisette,
playdoll, lovecat, sexpuss of the lord, that old goat. Now, where were they?
Insecure I walked further into the room, still not eager to do it. But I had to
know. I had to see. I slowly walked towards the sofa. As I came closer it
became clear that the sofa screened off a gruesome display. When I stepped on
the carpet I heard a squishy sound. It was wet, soaked with..." Waiter. Yes
sir? It looks like rain. Yes and it tastes the same."
see what I mean?
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clees
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response 3 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:53 UTC 1995 |
I giggled. It really got to me.
I could distinguish more parts of her dress.
A shoe. Pierre's loafer.
I took a deep breath and stepped around the sofa.
2. Excitement.
It was thrilling! Yes! Sure it was. My first serious adventure, and no
parents to stand in my way. Yes yes yes.
But is it wise? That's the phrase my father used. Was it sensible for a girl
of seventeen, to be thrust into the wide, dangerous world, right from under
mother's wings? Was it wise? Heck! I was seventeen, I was a grown up girl, I
was ready to take anything. A whole year away from home!. Wow! My friends
were green with envy. Them with their outfits, ready for marriage and
boredom, and sherry with the neighbour houswife. Well, not me. I wanted to
live! Meeting new people, have adventures, excitement, seeing new horizons
and maybe, God forbid, have my first affair.
Whether I desired to lose my virginity to some drunk horny old man who has
no respect for women, my father had asked. They are at hand by thousands in
Holland as well, daddy I countered. O, we had our fights over it, alright,
but in the end he gave in. Following I registered with an au pair agency
and waited for a reply.
It came sooner than I had expected, and a couple of days later I rang the
bell of the La Betes residence.
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clees
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response 4 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:55 UTC 1995 |
They owned a castle on the banks of the Dordogne in France, a touristrap for
Germans and Dutchies. It was immediately clear that they belonged to the
nouveau riche. Snobs. When I entered their livingroom I could see all kinds
of "antiques" in various styles, a clashing display of taste and distaste,
but it wasn't clear which one had the upper hand. If I would pass my
interview, to be held at their house, they would become my employers for a
year, all expenses paid for. He said he was in business. Sure, a
businessman. She was in being gorgeous: an unearthly beauty mixed with an
exotic sensuality. She made the impression of a predator on the hunt to me.
She eyed me with calculating contempt.
She was dressed in a low cut, tight fitting black velvet dress which
increased this impression even more. He was every bit her match.
He wore a smart black Armani suit combined with a black shirt
and tie. From his breastpocket stuck a bright red pochette. He was handsome
in a way only ugly men can the picture he had a
black goatee and dito ponytail.
"She is young, isn't she?" the mistress asked the master.
"She will suffice."
"When?"
"Soon."
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clees
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response 5 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:57 UTC 1995 |
"Perfect. Hire her. Let's get things over and done with. We can't afford
to stall things forever."
"Certainly, mon cherie."
Ah, mon cherie, the language of love. I considered it rude though to speak
about me as if I wasn't even present.
The strangest thing about it all was that they explicitely had asked for an
au pair. But they didn't even have children. Was I expected to be a
lady-companion? And if so, whose?
"Bon. You can consider yourself hired. It's a deal. Welcome to our humble
household. We'll be looking forward to be enjoying your young company.
Lisette will show you your quarters. After you've settled in we expect you
to join us for dinner."
Just like that.
3. Dinner.
Soon after dinner I excused myself to my bedroom. I was tired because of the
journey, I told them. This was only partly true. I just simply had to get
out of there.
Dinner had been pleasant on the whole, but at a certain point dinner
conversation had taken a disturbing twist.
That had been when Lisette, after a long period of eating in silence took
word.
Before that the Pierre had been doing all the talking.
"Where were you born?"
"In Nieuwegein."
"Quoi? How can you even pronounce that?"
"Nieuwegein, a little village somewhere in the Netherlands."
"Well, I know Amsterdam, or Rotterdam. But..., what was that again?"
"Nieuwegein. Oh...er...I mean, well, I've never been in Rotterdam."
"No? And les Pays Bas, Holland, is so small."
"It's, like when you are at school, as a kid. Cities seem so far away."
"And now you're here." Lisette laughed.
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clees
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response 6 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:58 UTC 1995 |
"In Rotterdam," Pierre said, "I was in a very different kind of work."
He rolled up his sleeve and showed a scar going all the way from his wrist
to the inner side of his elbow. "Look, this happened in some unsavoury pub
down town."
"Wow," I whispered, "What a big scar. Did you get it in a fight?"
"You could say that again. Does it scare you? Feel free to touch it if you
whish."
Lisette and Pierre exchanged glances.
I hesitated. The scar fascinated me, but I didn't know this man, and
touching him just like that...even with the invitation to do so...
Pierre looked me straight in the eyes.
Those eyes, strange, what colour were they? I couldn't make it out. They
were obscure, somehow.
Those eyes. Dragging me, hypnotising, dragging me towards this man.
My fingers reached out to his lower arm. The scar the scar the scar.
I came to myself.
Much to my surprise I noticed that my fingers actually were touching his
scar. Quickly I drew back.
"I'm sorry monsieur," I muttered.
"Don't be, I urged you to do it, the blame is all mine."
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clees
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response 7 of 37:
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Nov 2 16:59 UTC 1995 |
"Do you have dreams", Lisette interrupted. She seemed a bit cross and shot
a dirty look at her husband.
"Sorry?", she startled me a little me with that sudden change of subject.
"Do you dream?"
"Everybody dreams, I guess."
"What do you dream of, then?"
She gave me an intense look.
"All kinds of stuff, I think. Things of life. Most times I don't remember
them."
"You better not," she said, "Psychologists believe that most of our dreams
are so terrifying that people immediately repress them and put them away.
Chickening out, so to speak. They are dreams of our archetypes. The mythical
figures people don't believe in anymore. Creatures like gods, demons,
fairies and so on. The memory of a dream like that would be such a shock
that someone remembering it would go insane the very instant out of
selfprotection."
"How do you know that?"
She smiled at me wickedly and gave me a wink.
"I could answer by saying that I read a lot, which, as a matter of fact,
isn't true. No. I do remember all of my dreams."
"And you haven't gone insane?"
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clees
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response 8 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:02 UTC 1995 |
"Au contraire. The sweet memories of the horrors in my dreams...ah...such
inspiring thoughts. But I'm different from the ordinary man, ofcourse."
"Gosh."
"You can say that again. Those creatures, how strange they look. It goes far
beyond the capacity anynone's mind to deal with. Indescribable. So utterly
inhuman, alienlike. O, yes, a long long time ago, in the early days
of man, there were plenty of them. I can easily imagine someone dying of
fear by the mere sight of such a beast."
"Frankly, mrs. La Bete, I do not quite understand. My French, it isn't that
good..."
"Sure, sure," she dismissed my comment.
It was true, I so far have attempted to describe what I understood of her
story. It's obvious that I missed quite a lot.
Her husband took over:
"Can you tell us a dream you remember?"
"Beautiful dreams," I said and lightened up, "Dreams about knights riding
white stallions. Some exciting. That kind of stuff. But nightmares, never.
I guess they're all a bit the fruit of a small girl's f
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clees
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response 9 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:04 UTC 1995 |
...small girl's fantasy."
"What happens in these dreams?", Lisette wanted to know.
"Nice things, romances, adventures in exotic areas and such."
"Nothing erotic?"
"Sex?"
"Yes", Lisette replied. She leaned over to me with an avid look on her face.
"Tell me all about it."
The air in the diningroon seemed to come to a halt. Nothing stirred. Even
the candles burned silently and the little smoke they producedd climbed
straight upwards.
I swallowed hard.
Why was the temperature rising so much?
"None to be called erotic dreams whatsoever," I said.
"Don't be so blue. C'mon," Lisette urged.
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clees
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response 10 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:05 UTC 1995 |
Pierre came to help:
"I think that eroticism in dreams can't be considered pornographic since
they are the result of one's sexual subconscience. They won't ever be in
conflict with one's scruples. But, on the other hand everyone's
conscience differs, so it could very well be possible that ones innocent
dreams are to be considered reprehensible in daily life."
Lisette dismissed his remark.
"Yes, yes, honey we are all aware of that. She knows what I mean. Well, my
dear?"
"Sometimes," I said.
She wasn't satisfied with my answer and urged me to go on.
"In some of my dreams," she said," ...in some people's dreams. The ones
they like to forget because they do things with creatures beyond
imagination. Oh yes, the things they do..."
An angry look by Pierre was followed by his fist striking the table,
silenced her. After an uncomfortable moment the conversation subject changed
to a less controversial subject.
I was glad to retire from this weird night.
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clees
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response 11 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:06 UTC 1995 |
4. The dreaming.
Back at my room, I suddenly woke up. I noticed I was sweating allover. Had I
been dreaming? This thought brought me back to last night's conversation.
If so, was it a erotic one? And if not, why was I sweating allover? Hmm?
Nag, nag, nag. My old friend, my inquisitive inner self was back.
Flashes, images came to my mind. A cat, a very big cat entered my room,
purring with its little engine.
A black cat, with a velvet-like fur, aglow from the soft light beaming down
from the moon.
Graciously it had approached my bed, still purring. It had jumped on the
blankets, and like a kitten it had been trampling my sheets. Pulling them
with its huge claws. Steadily pulling away the sheets. After that it nestled
itself against my naked body caressing, purring, trampling, licking my neck,
licking my armpits as cats like to do in company much to the embarrassment
of those undergoing it.
Was there more? I wasn't sure. But, my better half was.
There were memories waiting to be recall
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clees
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response 12 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:08 UTC 1995 |
... memories waiting to be recalled, I was sure of it. But what?
Nothing erotic sofar. But it had been a monster of a cat. More like a
panther. But different.
O my God!
Suddenly I remembered everything.
At a certain moment the cat's caresses had changed into more deliberate
movements. Erotic movements. Finally I received it gladly as it mounted me.
Holy sh...!
Suddenly panicking I threw away my blankets to check myself, afraid of what
I might discover.
But there was more, wasn't there? There was more, you wicked little girl.
"Yes I know," I said to myself aloud.
Oh Yes! My mind sprang into memorymode again and I was shocked by the
next set of images from my dream.
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clees
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response 13 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:09 UTC 1995 |
O yes, I had lain there in utter ecstacy as the cat went on and on untill
it shot its semen into my loin, I cried out of joy for I was certain
that I had conceived from this godlike cat. I knew for sure that this
cat was the personification of some mythical god.
Again I checked my body looking for traces of a forbidden unification.
I couldn't see anything. I sure didn't feel differently. I didn't feel as
if I just had had intercourse with some...whatever or whoever. But the
dream was so vivid. What kind of a dream? Was all this due to the discussion
that was held at dinner? Impossible! I was not the kind of person that was
influenced this easily.
There must've been something else.
Indeed there was more, wasn't there my little one? Time to be ashamed again
of your filthy self, my dear.
Ofcourse there was. I wasn't done yet with this strange and all too
clear dream.
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clees
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response 14 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:10 UTC 1995 |
At a certain point the cat's face had changed. It had changed into...
and now my dream took another sick turn: into the face of Lisette La Bete.
My God! I could clearly picture her as she mounted me. Her eyes closed
with lust, her lips all over the place. And me, kissing her back.
Jesus!
A lesbo-sodomic dream? Now that's what one calls pornographic.
How could I? Tears came to my eyes as I rejected this picture. This
all too clear picture of me mating with a cat a woman. This wasn't me.
I was convinced of that. What was happening to me? Oh dear, oh dear.
My memory wasn't through with me yet. My dream wasn't through yet.
Oh no, there was more to come.
Girly, girly, how deep you have fallen...
A sudden loud noise interrupted our the tender lovemaking, however, and the
wild animal jumped off the bed.
I looked up and I could distinguish a huge goat standing in the doorway on
its hindlegs. Like the devil came to get me for being a sinner.
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clees
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response 15 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:11 UTC 1995 |
My mind realed at the memory of it. The devilish looking goat scared me to
death.
It bleated angrily at the cat, which, in turn hissed in fright. In two steps
it approached the cat and its paws reached out in order to grab it.
My dream stopped there.
I tried to convince myself that this was not the result of last night.
NOBODY HAD HYPNOTIZED ME TO BRING ME SUCH DREAMS.
Nothing has happened to you, girly. You're tired, that's it. See, there
is always a logical explanation for strange phenomena.
Huh? Why did I think of it as stange phenomenon? Dreams sure could play
dirty tricks on your mind, couldn't they? Like killing your little,
obnoxious cousin in a dream. Or a demon on your back.
There was nothing wrong with me. I was just a wicked little girl with the
horniest of dreams. Heehee.
My imagination must've been playing with little ol' me on as it found
itself uninhibited on account of my being weary from the journey to the
castle. That must've been the it!
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clees
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response 16 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:12 UTC 1995 |
But why would I dream things like that? I wasn't the kind of person to make
up such weird things. NOBODY COULD'VE IMAGINED THINGS LIKE THAT, THOUGH!
NOBODY!
Finally I went back to sleep and forgot all about it.
5. Before breakfast.
I woke up refreshed.
I felt renewed. I was glad I made this journey and was eager to meet my
employers at breakfast. I was vaguely curious about my feeling so energetic.
Now what did I do to deserve this?, I asked myself.
Was it the luxurious quarters I had to myself?
Was it the bed?
How could I know?
If I hadn't been a virgin at the time I would've known that I felt like
somebody that had a great sexual experience the previous night. But, I
didn't know, for I was a virgin and I meant to keep that state untill I had
met mr. Right, and I didn't mean mr. Right here right now with that.
The La Betes, stange people. A bit excentric, like the filthy rich could be
excentric. And o so decadent. Now, what did they mean by 'having' an au
pair? Well, merely becaouse. Since they didn't have any children, I was part of
their status. At least, that's how I saw it. I was nothing more than a
fashionable object. Wow! Maybe that's why they paid me so much more than other
au pairs generally got
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clees
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response 17 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:13 UTC 1995 |
I was a lucky one: no whining spoiled little brats to fuzz
over, all the time in the world to enjoy this life of luxury.
But, what then, was I supposed to do?
These kind of thoughts made me feel a little uneasy although I couldn't
explain exactly why this was so.
Did it have something to do with last night? I didn't know, my mind
was a blur concerning the previous night. As far as I could remember I had
been in a coma.
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clees
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response 18 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:14 UTC 1995 |
6. My first day.
Lisette appeared at the breakfast table wearing sunglasses. It was an
unsuccesfull effort to conceal an enormous black eye from the outerworld.
Apparently there had been a marital dispute between the sheets. I hadn't
suspected Pierre of being the kind of man to be violent towards his wife.
Somehow this sight made feel more at ease. Even the rich were apparantly
also subjects to platitude. That made them a bit more like normal people so
I decided not to pack my bags and hush off from this strange couple that
seemed so obsessed with sex.
The rest of the day consisted of getting used to the errands that were going
to be part of my daily routine. As I suspected they were more in need of
a maid instead of an au pair, and I understood that this would be the kind
of tasks for me for the next year to come. Lisette La Bete guided me
through the day without referring to last night's conversation. I guessed
it meant nothing more to her than the usual small talk normal people like to
engage themselves in.
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clees
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response 19 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:15 UTC 1995 |
Sometime during the course of the day I was introduced to their butler.
He was a sturdy looking man that greeted me with undisguised contempt. To
him I was nothing more than the hundredth bimbo in a long line of bimbo's
that had made their way to the castle.
He gave me one look and got on with his own tasks.
I shrugged and continued with my own, but after some time, as I turned a
corner down the hall on my way to the basement I bounced into him.
"Excusez," I mumbled, but he looked over my shoulder to check whether
anybody had witnessed our little accident.
"Not necessary, I've come to warn you."
"Warn me?," I looked puzzled.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently.
"Listen, mademoiselle, you have to listen to me. I have to warn you about
mr. and mrs. La Bete. They are not what they seem..."
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clees
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response 20 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:15 UTC 1995 |
"Mr. and mrs. La Bete?"
I didn't like him grabbing me like this, just as I didn't like any kind of
grabbing me in this manner.
"Listen, please listen."
"Let go of me."
He gave me a grave look and tried harder.
"No, no, listen to me. They are different."
"Well you can say that again."
"You don't understand..."
"I very well do. You don't want anymore than to fondle me, have a quick
grab or a sleezy touch here and there. Now, let go of me before I start to
scream."
"No no."
"O yes, indeed. Now, how does that feel, now your job is at stake, huh?"
"Your safety is more important to me."
Finally he got through to me.
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clees
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response 21 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:16 UTC 1995 |
"What do you mean?"
He sighed, relieved.
"Listen..."
"Helga?!"
Suddenly Lisette La Bete interrupted us. She rounded the corner of the
hallway and gave us an inquisitive look.
She frowned.
"Jules? Helga? What's going on here?"
"Ahem, nothing madame, we accidently bounced into each other and after
exchanging some apologies we lost track of time," the butler answered.
He has a very glib tongue, I thought.
Lisette turned towards me.
"Is that true, dear child? He didn't harass you? Feel free to speak,
Helga."
"Well," I started, "He warned me."
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clees
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response 22 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:17 UTC 1995 |
"Warn you?" Her frown became more pronounced.
"Yes, madame, he warned me about the steps to the cellar as he noticed I
wasn't walking too carefully when I bumped into him."
Lisette looked at Jules, but as a butler he was very adept at using his
pokerface in situations like this.
She didn't ask any further, and we continued with our affairs. Jules could
not find another opportunity to talk to me as Lisette burdened herself with
the task of coaching me in ironing the linen.
Dinner, fortunately, was without any incidents.
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clees
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response 23 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:18 UTC 1995 |
7. There's something in the dark.
I woke up from a dreamless sleep.
Something in the castle wasn't right.
God! I was sweating like a pig. I opened my eyes and was relieved to notice
there weren't any unexpected visitors in the room. Why was I relieved to
find myself alone? Why, my dearest?
My inner voice started questioning again.
Is there nothing you have forgotten about? Wasn't there a fling with some
wild animal? Hmm?
No! There wasn't! It was all just a dream!
Are you sure of that?
Yes! I checked myself, there were no traces of...oh my God...no traces of
intercourse.
But remember virgin Mary, our good Lord didn't leave any traces on her,
did he?
No, he left her with child. Harhar. He's God! Not some pheline halfgod, or
whatever!
O.K., relax, now what has happened?
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clees
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response 24 of 37:
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Nov 2 17:19 UTC 1995 |
I don't know...
Well, check it out.
I felt naked, which I, actually was. I jumped into my favorite pair of
faded blue jeans and put on a t-shirt.
I left my room. Why left the safety of my room I didn't know, I also
didn't know why I considered my bedroom to be safe.
Neither Some force seemed to drag me towards the drawing-room. Faint noises
came from behind the door.
I didn't want to open it, but I did it anyway.
I stepped inside. It was pitch-dark inside the drawing-room.
A wall of heat struck my face and I immediately broke out into a sweat.
As I approached the hearth I could see it was ablaze but, to my surprise, it
didn't cast much light. The darkness came from the room itself. Its
atmosphere pressed on me. This heat.
I heard the light pace of supple feet. Something came closer to me in the
dark. I stepped backwards untill the heat of the flames forced me to stop.
The flames tried to catch the legs of my jeans.
"Who's there?"
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