Read Online Friday Night in Beast House by Richard Laymon - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Laymon
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sounds.
Mark went around it, then stood up. It felt good to be on his feet. He fastened his belly pack around his waist, put his headphones inside it, then closed the pack. Hands free, he stretched and sighed.
I’ve really made it! I’ve got the whole place to myself!
And about five hours to kill.
First thing I’d better do, he thought, is take a leak.
But the public restrooms were outside. Now that he was in, he had no intention of leaving, not even for a few minutes.
If the house had an inside toilet, it wasn’t on the audio tour and he had no idea where it might be.
Might not even be hooked up.
Well, the cellar had a dirt floor.
What if I bring Alison down here?
He imagined her pointing at a patch of wetness in the dirt. What’s that?
Oh, I had to take a leak.
And you did it right here on the floor? That’s disgusting What, were you raised in a barn?
No, she wouldn’t say anything like that. Would she?
How about doing it in the hole?
No, no. What if Alison wants to see where I found the glasses?
Hey, Mark, it’s sorta muddy down here.
He chuckled.
She wouldn’t really want to go in the hole, would she?
Who knows? She might. I’d better not piss in it.
Maybe over in a corner, behind some crates and things.
He took a candle out of his pack, removed the matched from his shirt pocket and lit it. The candle’s glow spread out from the flame like a golden mist, illuminating himself, the nearby air, the dirt of the cellar floor, the brass stanchion and red plush cordon, and the hole a few feet beyond the cordon. Just beyond the hole, the glow faded out and all he could see was the dark.
Do I really want to go over there?
Not very much.
Even while in the cellar for tours during the day, he had never gone roaming through the clutter beyond the hole. Partly, he’d been afraid it might be off limits and a guide might yell at him. Partly, though, he’d always felt a little uneasy about what might be over there… maybe crouching among the stacked crates and trunks.
He certainly didn’t want to venture into that area now, alone in the dark.
Especially since there was no real need for it.
Pick somewhere else, he told himself. Somewhere close.
He turned around slowly. Just where the glow from his candle began to fade, he saw the bottom of the stairway. He continued to turn. Straight ahead, but beyond the reach of his candle light, was the barred door to the Kutch tunnel. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew it had to be there.
An idea struck him.
He chuckled softly.
Awesome.
He walked forward and the door came into sight. So did the opening behind its vertical iron bars. From the tours, books and movies, he knew that the underground passageway led westward, went under Front Street and ended in the cellar of the Kutch house.
Agnes Kutch still lived there. The locked door was meant to protect her from tourists.
And maybe to protect tourist from Agnes… and whatever else might be in her house. Even though all the beasts were supposed to be dead…
You never know.
And so with a certain relish and a little fear, Mark walked up to the door. Level with his chin was a flat, steel crossbar. He dripped some wax on it, then stood the candle upright.
When Alison sees this, he thought , she’lll never suspect it was me.
I ought to make sure she sees it.
Oh, my God! she might say . Look at that! Somebody… went to the bathroom there!
Somebody, Mark would say. Or SOMETHING. Maybe the rumors are true.
And she says, Thank God this gate is locked.
When she says that, maybe I’ll put my arm around her and say, Don’t worry, Alison. I won’t let anything happen to you.
After he says that, she turns to him and puts her arms around him and he feels the pressure of her body.
Imagining it, he began to stiffen. By the time he was done urinating, he had a full erection. He shook it off, then had to bend over a little and push it back inside his jeans and underwear.
After zipping up, he pulled at the
Mark went around it, then stood up. It felt good to be on his feet. He fastened his belly pack around his waist, put his headphones inside it, then closed the pack. Hands free, he stretched and sighed.
I’ve really made it! I’ve got the whole place to myself!
And about five hours to kill.
First thing I’d better do, he thought, is take a leak.
But the public restrooms were outside. Now that he was in, he had no intention of leaving, not even for a few minutes.
If the house had an inside toilet, it wasn’t on the audio tour and he had no idea where it might be.
Might not even be hooked up.
Well, the cellar had a dirt floor.
What if I bring Alison down here?
He imagined her pointing at a patch of wetness in the dirt. What’s that?
Oh, I had to take a leak.
And you did it right here on the floor? That’s disgusting What, were you raised in a barn?
No, she wouldn’t say anything like that. Would she?
How about doing it in the hole?
No, no. What if Alison wants to see where I found the glasses?
Hey, Mark, it’s sorta muddy down here.
He chuckled.
She wouldn’t really want to go in the hole, would she?
Who knows? She might. I’d better not piss in it.
Maybe over in a corner, behind some crates and things.
He took a candle out of his pack, removed the matched from his shirt pocket and lit it. The candle’s glow spread out from the flame like a golden mist, illuminating himself, the nearby air, the dirt of the cellar floor, the brass stanchion and red plush cordon, and the hole a few feet beyond the cordon. Just beyond the hole, the glow faded out and all he could see was the dark.
Do I really want to go over there?
Not very much.
Even while in the cellar for tours during the day, he had never gone roaming through the clutter beyond the hole. Partly, he’d been afraid it might be off limits and a guide might yell at him. Partly, though, he’d always felt a little uneasy about what might be over there… maybe crouching among the stacked crates and trunks.
He certainly didn’t want to venture into that area now, alone in the dark.
Especially since there was no real need for it.
Pick somewhere else, he told himself. Somewhere close.
He turned around slowly. Just where the glow from his candle began to fade, he saw the bottom of the stairway. He continued to turn. Straight ahead, but beyond the reach of his candle light, was the barred door to the Kutch tunnel. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew it had to be there.
An idea struck him.
He chuckled softly.
Awesome.
He walked forward and the door came into sight. So did the opening behind its vertical iron bars. From the tours, books and movies, he knew that the underground passageway led westward, went under Front Street and ended in the cellar of the Kutch house.
Agnes Kutch still lived there. The locked door was meant to protect her from tourists.
And maybe to protect tourist from Agnes… and whatever else might be in her house. Even though all the beasts were supposed to be dead…
You never know.
And so with a certain relish and a little fear, Mark walked up to the door. Level with his chin was a flat, steel crossbar. He dripped some wax on it, then stood the candle upright.
When Alison sees this, he thought , she’lll never suspect it was me.
I ought to make sure she sees it.
Oh, my God! she might say . Look at that! Somebody… went to the bathroom there!
Somebody, Mark would say. Or SOMETHING. Maybe the rumors are true.
And she says, Thank God this gate is locked.
When she says that, maybe I’ll put my arm around her and say, Don’t worry, Alison. I won’t let anything happen to you.
After he says that, she turns to him and puts her arms around him and he feels the pressure of her body.
Imagining it, he began to stiffen. By the time he was done urinating, he had a full erection. He shook it off, then had to bend over a little and push it back inside his jeans and underwear.
After zipping up, he pulled at the
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