Welcome to FROST HARROW, my new modern (1990s) gothic horror series! If you’d like to support this and my other work, go to www.CushingHorrors.com and become my patron! You may also enjoy the Scribe Award-Winning MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE – In print, for kindle, and for all e-book formats. And check out my retro-horror-comedy classic CANOE COPS VS. THE MUMMY as well as my other books. Now… On with the show!
ELEVEN – COLIN
Colin Frost pulled the young maid into the side corridor and kissed her full on the lips. He’d had his eyes on the girl for the last month, ever since she came to work in the household. They’d flirted on and off for just over a week. Colin had had enough foreplay. Now it was time to get serious.
She looked up at him with her dark, Filipino eyes, the eyes Colin found so alluring. “Not now, mister Colin,” she said. But her eyes told him she didn’t mean it.
He put his hand under her blouse and squeezed her firm, ripe breast.
“Not now, silly man,” she said, trying half-heartedly to push away from him. “I have work to do.”
“No one will notice, as long as the work is done by morning,” whispered Colin. He backed her up against the door of one of Frost Hall’s numerous storage rooms, turned the knob, and leaned against her. The door opened, and he pressed her inside with his body while kissing her.
She giggled. “No, no. Really. I can’t.” She turned, tried to slip away, but he grabbed the hem of her dress.
“You can,” he said, spinning her to face him once more. “You will. I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you.” He embraced her and kissed her again.
She leaned into the kiss. Her hand found his crotch, and she gave him a playful squeeze. “I’m sure you’ve said such things to many women before.”
“Never,” Colin lied, tracing a line of kisses down her neck. “Only you.”
“Oh, mister Colin,” she gasped. “And you promise you will speak to immigration about extending my visa?”
“Of course I will. How could I bear to be without you?” he said, knowing full well he’d have her fired and move on to someone new within a month.
He turned her around, and she leaned over an old couch, covered for storage with a white sheet. He hiked the girl’s skirt up over her ass and pulled her panties down to her knees.
“Be gentle, Mister Colin,” she cooed.
Colin Frost smiled.
Their coupling knocked over the table lamp and plunged the room into night. A dim moonlight filtered into the chamber from the small, high window.
By the time the lamp broke, both Colin and his plaything were too busy to notice the shadow that passed over the moon, or the red eyes peering at them from the shadows, or the faint musky smell that permeated the darkness.
TO BE CONTINUED…