Emily's Attic

Foreward: The ancient Celts called Halloween 'Samhain', and for them it was a day that did not exist in time; a gateway between the old year and the new. Because the veil between the realms of the dead and the living are so thin on this day, spirits and mortals have the opportunity to walk together and mingle their existence. The setting for this story is All Hallow's Eve, Halloween, this day-between-days.

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When I was a little girl, I often spent much time in my Grandmother's attic, sifting and sorting through old boxes and trunks. I recall a floor-length folding mirror up there, tall and dusty. I would stand before the middle mirror and close the other two sides around me, caging myself in with an image of myself every direction I turned, and echoing into the reaches of infinity within the reflections of the silvered planes. In this way I was never alone.

But then, I was never alone in the attic. My parents had been killed in a car accident before I was too young to mourn them, and I went to live with my Grandma Emily. Grandpa Jack had died before I was born, and it was just me and Emily, so I suppose I should have felt very much alone- but in the attic I surrounded myself with ghosts of the past, memories waiting to be discovered and explored. It was these long forgotten nicknacks that kept me company, and in childhood, it was to these things that I attached myself, spoke with and divulged my secrets to.

My Grandma Emily died this past month. It has been many years since I have visited the attic- I stopped venturing up there sometime during my early teens, recognizing that only babies played games of the imagination. And so, perhaps, this attic has not been visited for twenty-some odd years, and now I climb the wharped wooden stairs to the dusty realm of my childhood.

I am not sure what has drawn me to Emily's attic this afternoon, other than the comfort that this place brought me in my youth. I have inherited my Grandmother's century old farmhouse, and have just finished bringing in the last of my moving boxes, stacked them in the living room, taped up and labeled neatly. It is my place now, as are the things inside, but half of these objects are long forgotten, lost somewhere in the recesses of my mind. I am on a journey of discovery.

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Ascending the stairs that led to her Grandmother's attic, Katherine Mallory was assaulted first with a musty smell, and secondly with large ammounts of dust. Peeking her head up into the attic, she could see dust motes dancing lazily about in the sunlight that the room's only window provided, and laying in a thick coating on the floor. Scrambling excitedly up the steps, she smiled about herself, taking in each trunk and pile; the small square window; the rusted birdcage in the corner; there in the center of the room, a folding mirror. Her eyes drifted down to the floor, noting scuffed footprints in the thick dust.

"What the...?" Kathy bent down, tracing a line near one of footprints with a drawn finger. A small circular track had also been made, the imprint of the rubber at the base of a cane. So, the attic hasn't been untouched these past years. Judging by the freshness of the footprints, her Grandmother had visited the attic not long before she died.

Kathy tried to imagine her Grandmother struggling up the steep stairs, pausing every so often to take a rest. It must have taken forever for the old woman who could barely walk. And she had a nurse. Why didn't Emily call the nurse to fetch something from the attic if she needed it so desperately? Kathy boggled at the notion. What could have been so important?

Intruiged, she followed the trail in the dust, which ended abruptly near a wall, and then turned around. The footprints thickened here, the dust muddled. There was a spanse near the edge of a wood panel in the floor that seemed to be cleared of grime and boasted several smudged fingerprints. In sudden realisation, Kathy sat down indian-style near this spot, curiosity her motivation, and dug her fingernails along the edge of the board. A few minutes and a splinter under her thumbnail later, the board relinquished its task of guarding her Grandmother's hiding spot, and Kathy set it aside, peering into the space under the floor.

A box. Covered in packing tape. Kathy grasped her fingers around the small parcel, extracting it from its nest. Turning it over and examining its outer surfaces, she found the end of the stiff and powerful tape. Pulling on it almost frantically with excitement and anticipation, Kathy threw the tape aside, tearing and digging.

When she had finally finished with her task, she set the box in front of her, unopened, staring down at it. It was cardboard, and she could see places where the tape had torn off the surface layer. A box. And Katherine Mallory was scared of it.

It wasn't so much that Kathy was scared of the box, so much as she was scared of the sanctity she had disturbed by finding it. By opening this parcel, she was however indirectly but nevertheless disobeying the woman who had raised her. And what did Emily have to hide? Kathy recalled her grandmother: sweet, charming, loved by all. Unease. An image rose in her mind- that of her Grandmother rising from the grave and extracting revenge on her naughty kin, but she quickly pushed it aside. What if it is money? What if Emily had actually wanted me to find the package? With trembling hands, she opened the lid. Reaching inside, her hands felt a small stack of loose papers before her eyes could lay sight on the mysterious contents, but that was not suprising so much as the sight of what lay inside...

Her own eyes were staring back at her.

Kathy gasped, and papers rained into her lap and onto the floor, scattering this way and that. Her heart suddenly beating wildly, she stared down in shock at the mixture of papers and photographs on the floor. She blinked back her disbelief, and looked again. Sure enough, there she saw herself- staring back from black and white photographs... nude.

It took Kathy a few moments before she had collected herself enough to inspect the photographs more closely. The apparant age of the photos, along with the appearance of a man in a few of them solved the mystery. She had seen the man's photograph on the living room wall ever since she was a little girl, and could give him a name: it was her grandfather, Jack. And here was Emily- as her grandaughter had never seen her before.

The young woman in the photograph was quite stunning, quite fiery, and above all, quite naughty. Kathy blinked in amazement at the resembelence she had to her unaged grandmother. She followed her eyes along the curve of Emily's modest breasts, noted the barely-colored nipples, slightly upturned. Her hips were rounded, familiar, leading to long muscular legs, toes pointed and lips pursed teasingly. A single lock of raven hair fell into her face, and she held her head tilted slightly to the side, exposing the smooth, long line of her neck. Breathing excitedly and feeling incredibly naughty herself, Kathy looked at this photo, and another, then another. She found Emily in various positions; ass thrust up in the air and exposing her delicate folds; Emily dipping her finger into the depths behind her pubic hair; Emily with her tongue wrapped around Jack's cock; Emily with her legs parted, a wicked smile dancing on her lips, staring straight into the camera...

She heard a noise. Kathy jerked her head up, jumping as adrenaline ran through her body. Glancing around she scanned the attic, but finding nothing she attributed the noise to her overactive imagination, and her fear of somehow being caught looking at these things. Leaning against the wall and letting her heart settle, Kathy picked up a piece of folded paper that lay amongst the scattered photographs on the floor. It was yellowed, faded with time, but the black ink it had been written with was still untouched by time. Her eyes absorbing the long, thin handwriting, she read:

My Dearest Emily,

Have you ever had a feeling of excitement that your physical body seems unable to contain? You shake, sweat, and almost cannot see straight. For what... For what do you react so? For the unasked for, the flood, the unreserved and completely given affection of your beloved. It swallows you whole, and makes you beg to be devoured again, again, and after a rest... again. Is it odd that such feelings can be contained in a mere sheet of paper? That I speak not of an encounter of bodies... but a mingling of minds?

Rapture, my dearest, is a force outside of flesh. It is an energy of the soul, meant to be shared... and only truly shared when it is meant. I love you, my angel. Touch yourself tonight, and think of me. I am closer than you could ever suspect.

Eternally Yours, Jack

Breaths shallow, Kathy let her eyes dart over the words, and then over again, her heart aching and leaping forward in her chest. The sheer ammount of passion contained within these antique words sent waves of delicious heat searing through the highways of her body, igniting her skin down to her very bones with longing. She had discovered a new definition for the word sexy, and she found that it quite suited her. Reading the letter once again, she soon found herself with her eyes closed, breathing deep, hand tracing lines along the lengths of her inner thigh. Feeling delicious, she stretched out across the dusty floor on her back, and dug her hand once more into Emily's secret treasure box, withdrawing a small book imprinted with the words: MY JOURNAL.

The book was old, its gold leafing nearly transparant and worn. A shiver of excitement coursed down her spine as Kathy wondered what secrets the book could contain. It was so very naughty, reading these things, and the feeling of somehow being caught only added to her excitement. Sitting up, she held the book to the fading light and turned to the first page.

And Kathy read. The journal was not merely a day-to-day account of a modest woman's mundane life, but rather an explicit tale of a world cut off from the majority of the population. Here, Emily's world was peopled with characters of every personality and description, tales of the wild parties her and Jack would throw, in which they drank absinthe and had strange sex in the foyer with their friends. She read on; tales of bondage, domination; orgies that would put others to shame- but the entries that Kathy enjoyed most of all were the times Emily had spent alone with Jack, reading poetry, fucking on the oriental rug, or slipping behind a building near a busy street because the desire was so overwhelming.

It was growing dark. That attic had no electricity, and Kathy had brought no flashlight. Grabbing a grimy candle half-melted in its tarnished holder, she lit it with her cigarette lighter, pausing to also light a cigarette. Inhaling deeply she reflected on the photographs, the diary, but above all else the letter. Exhaling, she sent whispy tendrils of smoke curling toward the ceiling, dispering into the air, dissolving, and collecting near the ceiling. Kathy found her eyes drifting downward to a nearby photograph, and she picked it up, licking her lips as she observed the man within.

"Jack..." she whispered, exhaling rich smoke from her mouth; creating tiny spirits with her breath, as if summoning them. The spoken word cut through the silence of the attic, and for the first time Kathy was aware of the unnatural silence, the freedom from the usual noises of an old house settling, but it was soon forgotten. Her hand had found its way once more to her inner thigh, and staring at the picture she let it wander to the warmth between her legs.

"Jack..."

Her hand met the restricting thick cloth of her bluejeans, and she was unsated in the dull, muted touch. Placing the photo almost reverantly down on the floor, she unbuttoned her pants, wriggling them down and off. Once more she parted her legs, and eyes closed, Kathy touched warm flesh this time, her fingers tangling amidst gingery pubic hair and grazing over soft folds. Dipping her finger into her hot liquid depths, Kathy soon brought it upwards, rolling the tip enticingly over her swollen clit, lips parted eagerly. Touch yourself tonight, and think of me. I am closer than you could ever suspect. The words echoed faintly within Katherine's mind over and over, and she gasped softly as she pleasured herself, body afire with a need for such longing in her life; a need to be so consumed; a need for what Emily had. For the first time in her life, Katherine Mallory was not content with herself. She wanted to be Emily. She lay her hands to her sides, wanting to see herself, wanting to see what Jack saw in Emily.

Lying motionless propped against the wall. Kathy let her breathing settle, though her body remained unsated. She picked up a photo of Emily, and stood, studying it. Walking to the mirror in the center of the room she glanced from the photo to her reflection. Peeling off her shirt and bra, she studied her figure in the dim light. Not bad. If I were Jack, I'd fuck me. But then again, it isn't really the sex that I want, so much as to be desired in that way. I want the abandon, the flood. I want to be loved so completely. Dropping the photo, she ran her hands slowly, teasingly over her breasts and sides, following the motions in the mirror. Staring deep into her own eyes, Kathy mouthed the words "I need you", hands weighing her breasts and pinching the hard points of her nipples. One hand began its descent downward, brushing like a breath in a path over her stomach, and then she froze. In the reflection of the mirror, Kathy could see someone sitting on a old trunk behind her, watching.

Shrieking, Katherine whirled around to be confronted by no one. She backed into the mirror, toppling it over and glancing to the spot where only seconds before she had seen the figure of a man. The space was occupied only by dust and air. Kathy looked left... then right. She was alone.

"God, Kathy..." she reprimanded herself outloud, willing her heart to settle. "You and your boogeymen. Grow up." I'm just so scared of being discovered. Its childish, really. Besides, this feeling is half the fun. Laughing a bit in spite of herself, she brushed dust off of her rear then bent downward to right the fallen mirror.

Emily...

Kathy froze once more, hearing a voice. Was it in her head? Was it from downstairs? Was it from behind her? She turned her head, slowly, glancing back over her shoulder and saw... Nothing. Dismissing the voice as her imagination, Kathy struggled the mirror upright, and opened it wide, only again to be stunned into shock. There in the glass, standing only a few inches behind her, she saw her grandfather.

Emily...

Her first reaction was to run, but as she felt warm, gentle hands on her shoulders, her fight-or-flight instinct was lost. Turning her head Kathy saw nothing, but felt the brush of lips against hers, soft and sweet. "Jack?" she whispered.

Emily, Emily, my Emily... my angel, my dearest wife, my beloved... I want you, Emily...

"No, Jack, I'm..." she found herself unable to continue. She found herself laced softly with fear, but it was being taken over by something else entirely. Her hair was brushed aside by invisible hands, and Kathy could feel hot kisses falling on the back of her neck. Licking her lips, she glanced in the mirror to see her young grandfather standing behind her, caressing her shoulders and absorbed in ravishing her senses, lips and tongue delighting the flesh of her neck.

Her mouth parted and her eyes fluttered shut as she felt large, strong hands slipping slowly down her sides. The phantom hands reached her thighs and then pulled her firmly against the front of the unseen man, a hardness pressing up against her ass as teeth scraped deliciously against her shoulder.

Say you love me, my Emily. I want to hear it again. I want to know how you desire me. I want you to want me as much as I want you...

Kathy's mind was in turmoil- this was all so very wrong of her- she shouldn't be doing this. I could say nothing, and hope he continues. Or I could lie and experience the full force of his desire. Jack was breathing excitedly in her ear, his hands carressing the soft curve near her navel, exploring. He wants Emily. This is so very wrong- but I could give him Emily. I could give him Emily, and so much more. Kathy found herself surrendering to temptation, rationalizing her deception. It was decided, and she felt no guilt, only anticipation at what was to come.

"Oh my love... how I've missed you. How I've thought of you so often... I want you, Jack, so very badly. I need to feel you... I need to taste your lips on mine once more." she mewed, then:

"Oh, how I love you."

The voice near her ear made a soft noise that sounded both helpless and grateful at the words- as if they were a form of divine nourishment to a starving child, and at once Kathy knew that it was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She felt herself being spun around to face him, and suddenly his lips were crushed upon hers, her mouth parting eagerly to drink in the deep kiss. His hands explored her body even as his lips bruised hers, and Kathy kept her eyes shut tight, her own hands roaming over his taut form.

She felt herself being lifted in the air, and opened her eyes. At first it was alarming to find herself seemingly levitating in mid-air, but the strong arms that held her were steady, and closing her eyes once more Kathy felt completely secure. She was lowered to a beaten fainting-couch, and could feel Jack pressing over her, his lips and tongue exploring the length of her neck, breath hot. His hands slipped downward, cupping her breasts, his mouth soon following. His teeth and tongue roamed eagerly across the hardness of her nipples, stirring heat in her body that washed through her very blood. Eyes shut tight, Kathy tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing him to her greedily as she whimpered under his attentions.

"Take me, Love... take me." she found herself pleading.

Dear God, Emily... Dear God, I want you...

Her legs were parted, a firm pressure on her thighs and then Kathy felt the tip of his manhood press insistantly to her opening. A moment later she found herself swallowing him, felt the delicious pressure as he slipped inside her, a soft groan echoing in her ear. And then, it was suddenly gone. Kathy could feel his body still pressed over hers and she moaned at the injustice that he had drawn himself out of her. She wiggled beneath him, trying to catch him once more inside her, but she felt herself pinned down with his weight and could hear a soft chuckling.

Patience, Love...

He moved downward. Kathy could feel his lips on her neck, then between her breasts, near her navel and finally along the inside of her thigh as he moved downward. She could feel his breath caught warm in the hair of her nether-regions as he paused, perhaps teasing her, or perhaps taking her in. Soon the pause was broken as she felt his tongue probing into her fertile flower; felt the lips of her cunt parting; felt the slick tongue slide its way over her aching wetness.

She gasped and Jack pressed his face hard against the warmth between her legs, his tongue dancing steadily over her clitoris. Kathy whimpered softly, her hands moving upward to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples as his tongue circled the tiny button, rolling over it- over and over and over it. Her body arched, and Kathy felt as if she was beginning to ascend stairs. Each level of pleasure she felt was like a new plateau, and as his tongue carressed her swollen clit she rose higher and higher, until she threatened to topple over the edge of some great, unseen mountain. Her body had begun to shake as she held back her desire to plunge into the waves of pleasure that threatened her, and soon it was too much effort. A moan rose up in the back of Kathy's throat, and as she began to come it transformed itself into a noise that sounded joyous. Jack sucked hard on her clit as this feeling overwhelmed her, ceasing all motions of his tongue and sending her into further euphoria as a powerful orgasm tore through the reaches of her body, devastating her, and then settled there, warm and perfect like a kitten.