The Hallows Rest

Let me start this out by saying I am no writer. I'm a literary agent. Some of my best friends and clients are amazing storytellers. If it wasn't for one of these gifted and persistent individuals pushing me, I would not be writing this at all. Samantha you owe me big!

Two years ago I attended a horror writer's convention in New England. The conference was appropriately set over the Halloween weekend. I was working for a small publishing house at the time, and we had recently expanded into horror fiction. The trip was in hopes of spotting new talent.

My boss booked me at a small 10 room bed a breakfast known as the Hallows Rest. It was near the conference and promised to be "A true picturesque New England experience" at least according to the brochure.

The Hallows rest was a beautiful Victorian house converted into a hotel. It boasted botanical gardens, an arboretum and a lovely little duck pond. I was really looking forward to some R&R, when I was confronted with Mrs. Greta Shibley, world's most rude front desk agent.

Mrs. Shibly glared across the front desk at me from the towering heights of her three inch orthopedic platforms. She was probably in her mid seventies. Her coke bottle glasses covered dark piggish little eyes clouded by cataracts. Her nose was long and pointed. The haphazard bun in which she wore her white hair would have made any witch proud. I looked both ways for flying monkeys and then greeted this formidable adversary.

"Felicity Powers I have a deluxe room for two nights." I said in my best professional voice.

"Sorry Mam we are all booked up." Her voice had a deep froglike scratchiness, and I was expecting an evil cackle at any moment.

"With all do respect Mrs." I glanced at her name tag "Shibley. My employer booked this hotel over a month ago, surely there is a mistake."

"No" She said, giving me a stare that would make ancient ninja masters proud. "There are no rooms available for you. There is a Best Western just in town."

Now I was getting angry. "I have a reservation here, not at the Best Western and I am staying here!"

My voice must have been a bit louder than I intended because suddenly a handsome man in a well cut suit stepped behind the desk. He nudged Mrs. Shibley to the side and said. "What seems to be the trouble here madam?"

I felt myself melt a little, this guy was hot, and maybe Captain Dreamy could get me past the Wicked Witch of the West. I was staying at this hotel, now it was a matter of principal.

"My name is Felicity Powers, I have a reservation for the next three nights, and your front desk agent refuses to give me my room assignment, or explain what happened to my room."

Captain Dreamy pushed a few buttons on the computer in front of him. "I'm so sorry for the error; we do have one room left."

"No!" Mrs. Shibley cried, "You can't give her that room!"

He turned and gave her a very hard look. "Mrs. Shibley you may go." I watched in stunned silence as the old bat took off into the back rooms of the hotel. I felt bad for her, but then he addressed me again.

"Mrs. Shibly has worked at the hotel for over fifty years. She has very strong feelings about the rooms. Room Seven, the only remaining room, has a very masculine theme. She never allows women to stay in it. I assure you however, it is a lovely and very comfortable room. It also has an excellent view of the gardens. I am Donald Pierce by the way, head front desk agent, and can help you with any and all concerns, during your stay."

The line almost sounded like a come on, or maybe that was wishful thinking. Donald was definitely channeling George Clooney in a big way. I slapped my professional smile back in place and took my keys and headed to the stairs. Two flights later I was regretting packing three pairs of shoes, and half my makeup collection. You have to love the do it yourself aspect of smaller hotels, but seriously, would it kill them to hire a bell boy.

The third floor had four large suits, including my room. The hall way was covered in luxurious oriental rugs and tasteful wall sconces lighted the way. The hotel had preserved much of its original charm by not switching to key cards. I fumbled with the sticky old lock for a minute and then entered room seven.

My first impression was that "masculine décor" was an understatement. There are hunting lodges that look downright metro compared to this room. The walls were papered in a deep hunter green and the windows were obscured by think burgundy velvet drapes. Several antique hunting prints helped to pitch the rooms testosterone level to somewhere between a Vin Diesel movie, and the Super Bowl. A leather couch and dark wood bookshelf completed the first room.

The bedroom was dominated by a giant four poster bed, so tall it had a step to get into it. It was dark wood and carved with lions. It was once again burgundy and hunter green and hunting prints had been replaced by animal head trophies. The Caribou above my bed was not going to make for a restful night.

I unpacked and hung up my clothing and headed into the bathroom to freshen up. The room was huge, and tiled in a deep sapphire blue. A giant garden tub dominated one wall. A double sink vanity took up the other.

This was by far the best part of the suite, and I was very excited to spend some time relaxing in that giant tub. My Manhattan apartment has only a shower and water pressure that can be described as "Iffy" on a good day. Unfortunately the bath would have to wait I had just enough time to get the conferences meet and greet.

The drive into town was absolutely beautiful. New England's best season is fall. Not only are the colors of the leaves spectacular, but the air has a windy, salty chill to it that I have never experienced anywhere else. Ten pleasent minutes and I'd arrived at my destination.

The conference center was a large modern building with a few baby trees, and a perfectly landscaped lawn. I was not there five minutes when I ran into our star, and only horror novelist, Samantha Blake.

"Sam!" I exclaimed giving the pretty red head a quick one armed hug. "How's it going?"

"Great!" She gushed. Samantha is one of the most energetic people I know. It is very hard to believe that this tiny childlike woman writes some of the most terrifying horror fiction on the best seller list today. For the 500th time I thanked my lucky stars I was her agent.

"Have I missed anything?"

"Nah, let's get your badge." She replied and then took off full speed to the registry tables. I found myself struggling to keep up and cursing that I had not brought a single pair of flat shoes with me.

After registration I lost track of Samantha, and introduced myself to several up and coming young authors. I was feeling pretty good about the first night and ready to head out when I saw the bubbly red head out of the corner of my eye. I walked over to say goodbye.

"Come on Felicity, the night is young, come have a drink" Samantha cajoled, her round face and freckles making her look far too young to engage in the prospect herself. Sam is actually 34; I blame good genes, and maybe a minor pact with the devil.

"I'd love to Sam, but I really am tired and need to get back to the hotel" I replied as gently as I could.

"Ok" she shrugged "Where are ya staying?" "The Hollow's Rest"

"No way! Samantha responded with her usual boundless enthusiasm, "I love that place! It is super spooky."

I laughed, "The only thing spooky there is the front desk agent, Mrs. Shibley."

I launched into a rant about the old crone that had us giggling and got me off the hook. I was so not in the mood to drink with Sam tonight. The whole way home though, I couldn't put her comment about the Inn out of my mind. Oh well, I thought; leave it to horror novelists to find everything spooky.

I got back to my room and found the windows up. The room was freezing! It was fifty degrees out there. The bed had been turned down, so I chalked it up to the maid being from Siberia. I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose. It smelled like cigar smoke, well that explained the open window. I picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. To my extreme delight Mrs. Shibley answered.

"This is Ms. Powers, in room seven. I thought you might like to know that a member of the housekeeping staff smoked in my room. This is out of the question. "

"Miss Powers" She responded in a slightly saccharin version of her earlier croak, "I can assure you that no member of our staff would smoke in a guests room. Also I can assure you that no member of the staff has been in your room."

"Mrs. Shibley, someone has been in my room, the bed was turned down!" I counted backwards from ten in an effort to not yell at this infuriating woman.

"Bed turned down? I just bet. Well don't say I didn't warn you about taking that room."

With that terse remark I was greeted by a dial tone. The woman was past all patience! I was determined to have a good night, regardless of the Bitch of Eastwick. I ran a hot bath in the delicious tub. I grabbed my favorite shower gel, an inflatable bath pillow and settled in for a good soak.

The heat from the bath made my feel dizzy and slightly groggy. I felt a brush of lips on my neck and felt my body react, a tightening down low. This was followed by the sensation of strong hands on my abdomen. In my half awake state I lay back feeling nothing but pleasure.

Suddenly there were lips around my nipple. I felt the barest brush of teeth and then the zinging sensation of my breast being drawn deep into someone's mouth. The strong hands on my abdomen brushed lower prying my legs apart. Once again my body tightened with intense pleasure. Invisible fingers explored me slowly and thoroughly. The sensation of lips on my breast ceased as I felt lips and tongue explore my center. The water stirred as my unseen tormentor worked me vigorously. I cried out, my spine bowing, screaming my release.

I was now awake and fully aware. Pleasure rapidly turned to dread, as I scanned the bathroom for my unseen assailant. My body betrayed me, begging to be touched and toyed with again, but my mind was uneasy. I dried off quickly and left the bathroom with the towels in a sodden heap.

That night did not pass easily for me. As predicted the stuffed animal heads gave me nightmares. The most disturbing was of an incredibly handsome young man telling a group of rough looking characters to mount the caribou over my bed.

"My trophy can then look down at my other conquests." He said, seeming to look right at me with a lascivious grin.

I woke up early, dressed quickly and headed downstairs. The hotels continental breakfast was set in the front lobby. I spooned up oatmeal, a bagel, and a couple pieces of fruit. I sat down with a carafe of coffee and dug in.

My appetite was soon ruined by the arrival of Mrs. Shipley. "Made it through your first night then?" She said by way of greeting.

"Yes" I spat at her. This woman made me nuts. "And why shouldn't I?"

"No reason at all." She responded, her lopsided grin revealing very impressive dentures. "You know a single room just became available downstairs, we could certainly switch you into it." The old bat grinned with self righteous glee.

For a moment I was tempted. The room was a little creepy, but there was no way I was letting her win. "No thank you, we paid for a deluxe room, and that is where I am staying. Now if you will excuse me."

I rose to go and felt her claw-like grip on my wrist. "Miss. Powers, please that room is a den of sin and iniquity!"

I rolled my eyes and brushed off her hand. "What? Are you a vegan?"

Mrs. Shipley stared at me in confused silence and I made my escape. Ok I was pretty sure it wasn't the trophies that had her so hopped up about the room, but I couldn't think of anything else. Maybe the room was usually used for honey moons, or extra marital affairs. What I did know is I was going to be late.

The conferences first full day went well. I spent most of my time at the publishers table collecting proposals, business cards, and even a couple manuscripts. We had some excellent prospects lined up by the time I broke for lunch at three.

I grabbed soda and a sandwich and found Samantha dining with a couple of other writers. One I recognized instantly as Veronica Shelby, a vampire novelist. The other was Margo Bennet a foremost export on werewolves, if you believed her seventeen book series. Frankly, I had read the first two and given up.

I greeted the trio and sat down. The girls were in a tizzy over the lecture on characterizing villains they had been to that morning. I kept fairly quiet. Finally Sam turned to me and asked.

"So how was the Hallows Rest?"

"You're staying at the Hallows Rest?" Veronica asked, her blue eyes flashing with interest.

"Yes. Why?"

"It's one of my favorite hotels. If it wouldn't have been booked I'd have stayed there." She answered, but the lightness in her voice sounded forced.

"So how was last night?" Sam asked. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Yeah I guess. My room has these stupid animal heads in it. They gave me nightmares."

Margo's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Room Seven!"

"Um yeah" I responded unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "Look what is everyone so keyed up about?"

"Oh you know" Margo said "room seven is one of the more opulent rooms, huge bathroom good view, but very hard to get. I think we are just surprised."

"I'm not" Sam said. "My publishing company is great! You know they got me a room at the Captain Lindsey Inn in Maine when I was researching my book last year."

I gave Samantha a grateful smile as conversation turned to the haunted inn and Sam's experiences. I wanted to hug her when discussion changed to what my publishing company could do for these two best selling novelists. I cleared my tray and walked away with contact info for two amazing writers, my boss was gonna flip!

The rest of the day passed in a blur of conversation and lecture. My thoughts roamed back to my lunchtime conversation with the girls. There was something they were not saying and I was going to nail them down about it tomorrow. Now, it was time to go to the hotel, relax, and hopefully catch up on some sleep.

Back in the room I ordered room service and turned on the tube. My choices for Halloween weekend entertainment included one of the Jason movies, Halloween 3, and Fright Night. Bingo! I settled in for a fun campy evening.

Room service provided me with mixed vegetables, roast chicken, and a chocolate mouse pie to die for. I finished up, and placed the dishes out side. It was early, and I was exhausted so I decided to catch up on some reading. I had Samantha's newest book with me and figured I could finish the last hundred pages that night, and discuss it with her tomorrow.

I had read about ten pages when I started shivering. I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and tucked back in. A few moments later I was freezing again. I looked down and the covers had been pulled to my ankles. I felt a moment of dread and a chill run down my spine as I pulled them back up. A little more than a half hour passed and once again the covers were pulled down. It took all my will power to stay in the room and pull them back up. I was, and am a skeptic and I figured the drafts in the old house were causing them to slide down.

This time I tucked the sheet under me and returned to reading. I must have drifted off to sleep because I awoke feeling the covers forcefully pulled out from under me. "Stop it!" I screamed in terror.

Instantly the tightening in the blankets ceased. Now I was well and truly scared. I turned the TV back on, and found a John Cusack film on cable. I put on all the lights, and tried to relax. The movie ended, another movie began and still I was too freaked out to sleep. The clock warned it was 3 am. My alarm was set for 8:30, tomorrow was going to be a rough day. With that comforting thought I drifted to sleep.

I felt hands on my body brushing across my nipples. I caught a glimpse of amazing green eyes, before I was crushed in a kiss. My hands reached up and grasped soft, short, curly hair. He pulled back allowing me to look at him.

High aristocratic cheekbones kept his face masculine rather then cherubic. His large green eyes were framed by thick brows the same gold as his soft hair. His lips were thick and sensual. I gazed at him a moment longer and then looked down. He was naked save for a pair of riding breeches and a nasty scar covered his shapely chest over his heart. I traced it with a finger which he caught and brought to his lips.

I felt my heart flutter at his touch. I looked down to find myself dressed in a thin cotton chemise covered in lace. Very pretty, but not something I would have ever worn. It was too old fashioned; I was more the Victoria's Secret type.

My lover seemed to like it though; he caressed the lace near my breasts and ran his hands down the soft cotton. I let out a low moan as the prim little night dress was hiked up, revealing my lack of underwear. His eyes turned the color of fire for a moment as he slid his finger inside me. I cried out with shock. I was instantly wet and ready for him. He slid his finger out and stared into my eyes.

The red glint to his emerald eyes chilled me, and for a moment I struggled to wake up. I forgot everything though, as his hand brushed over me again. His fingers entered me and I arched my back. If just his hands were this good, I thought I would die of pleasure if he entered me for real.

He seemed to read my mind as his breeches disappeared. I gazed at him exposed before me. He was impossibly large, and I felt at once like a virgin, or a school girl. I screamed as he slid inside me, and was answered with an echoing laugh.

The pain was both horrific an exquisite. He pushed his way inside me inch by inch, and when I thought I could accept no more he pushed still deeper. I screamed again, agony and joy finding an uneasy marriage within my body. He used me with abandon. His hands gripped my breasts as his teeth dug into my neck. I clawed at him with my hands but could not find purchase. My fingers passed through him. My terror returned, only to be swept away by the rising tide of orgasm.

I screamed my release and once again heard his echoing laughter. He thrusted into me faster, each expert movement brought a new wave of pleasure. Over and over he brought me. I was mad with ecstasy and terror as his eyes swam in my vision. They created a chilling kaleidoscope dance of green and red. Finally I collapsed, my body unable to stand anymore joy.

I awoke with the alarm. I reached over and turned it off. The sheets were damp and tangled around me. I sat up slowly, and then curled in a ball of pain. I was impossibly sore. I shook my head. I had had erotic dreams before but this was ridiculous.

I staggered into the shower and washed my hair and body. The hot water seemed to release the tension and I was feeling much better. When I got back to New York I was going to have to try and start dating. When you are abusing yourself in your sleep it was time to get out more.

I dried off and went to the mirror to begin blowing out my hair. The dryer dropped from my hand. Written in the steamy bathroom mirror were these words.

You were incredible darling Adam

My hands shook as I wiped the message from the mirror. I ran out of the bathroom and threw my things in a suitcase. I got dressed in moments, and threw my wet hair into a messy bun. I was downstairs and at the front desk in record time.

Donald was at the front desk and greeted me with a friendly smile. It faltered when I explained I was checking out a day early. "I don't care keep the money!" I said, knowing full well my boss was going to have a kitten.