Radley's Home for Horny Monsters, Annabelle Hawthorne [howl and other poems TXT] 📗

building. The water around them bubbled with energy, tiny water spheres taking flight and hovering in the air.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” When Mike came, his vision went black around the edges. The world shrank to an infinitesimally small point , his back arching while he filled Naia with hot sperm. She let out her own shriek, pushing into him as her back spasmed, water-like ripples traveling down her spine and legs, then spreading out into the water.

“Oh, Mike,” Naia moaned, going limp beneath his hands. She sank into the water, and Mike joined her, the two of them easily floating side by side.

“Naia.” Mike was officially spent. He ran his fingers through her hair, sighing to himself as her fingers traced circles on his chest. “That was absolutely magical.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Naia kissed him on the neck. “Consider it a down payment.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me. This place.” Naia’s face was suddenly serious. “If you choose to stay, you will find out that there’s a lot more to do than just live out our days fucking. There are some really bad people out there, people willing to do anything to get their hands on this place.”

“Because of you?”

“The man who built this house didn’t just do it for me. He was a collector of magical items. These objects have tremendous power, and he hid them well. My job is to guard the house—because of the spring, I can never leave, so I was the best choice to be its guardian. Every time the house is passed to a new caretaker, I either make the pact like I have with you, or the new owner suffers an accident. Also...” Her face went blank for a second. “Damn. It’s that thing I want to tell you again. I just can’t remember, it’s so frustrating. Anyway, I can’t leave this room—or the fountain once it’s repaired, for that matter.” Naia stroked Mike’s stomach lovingly. “Please fix my fountain. I miss being outside.”

Mike stared at the canned lights in the ceiling. Magical artifacts? This night had taken a strange, impossible turn. “It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where these magic artifacts are kept. The house is big, but it’s not that big.”

Naia smirked, kissing Mike on the lips. “You keep telling yourself that.” Yawning, Naia stretched. “I’m exhausted. Once you get some of that muck pulled from the fountain, you and I can stay up all night next time.”

“Consider it done.” He stayed with her for a while, but the water grew cold. Bidding her a good night, he watched as she vanished beneath the water’s surface, the cool liquid flowing down the bath drain.

After drying himself off, he stretched out on the giant bed. Within moments, he was asleep.

THE BED WAS PROBABLY a hundred years old. God alone knew how old the mattress was. Somehow, Mike awoke from easily the best night’s sleep in years. He was in the same position as when he fell asleep. Yawning, he stepped onto the hardwood floor. His left ankle popped. Rubbing the back of his head, he strolled naked to the toilet to pee. Once done, he flushed the toilet, then stepped out into the main bathroom. The tub was still there, glistening in the light of the morning sun.

“Naia?” His voice quivered slightly. The events of last night were fresh in his mind, and he wondered how much he would crack if he discovered that it had all been a dream.

“I’m still here.” Her voice echoed from inside the tub. “I’m always here. Now go get some work done. You and I can play later.”

Mike laughed in relief. Washing his hands, he put on yesterday’s pants and a clean shirt, then left the room behind.

Breakfast was some of last night’s pizza, quickly reheated, and some soda. Mike quickly threw together a grocery list that would keep him fed for the week. He stepped out the back door, staring at the poorly-kept yard. The house itself was built near the top of the hill, and the back yard’s high stone walls ensured privacy. A wrought iron gate led out into the woods behind the home, but someone had strung a chain across the bars, a giant padlock holding it in place.

The fountain was in sad shape. Its giant basin was full of silt and dead leaves, with not a drop of water to be seen. Mike sat on the side of the fountain, looking at his laptop. A quick Google search yielded several ways he could begin to restore it, but he was either going to have to look for tools or buy them.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, adding the tools to his digital shopping cart. He didn’t feel like spending hours looking through the house trying to find what he needed, and the local home improvement store had a service counter pickup option, which would get him home and back that much faster. Closing his computer, he stood up to go back inside.

“Jesus fuck!” He nearly dropped his laptop. A stone figure tucked away in an alcove by the back door had startled him. Moving in for a closer look, he saw that it appeared to be a statue of a woman, but other than an ample bust, few details could actually be seen. She was covered in creeper vines, and Mike tried to push them aside for a closer look. Failing, he made a mental note to pick up some garden shears. Kneeling down by her feet, he expected to see a plaque on the pedestal she stood on, but it was blank.

“Damn near gave me a heart attack,” he muttered, standing up and walking in through the back door. He set his laptop on the kitchen table, listening to the sounds of the house around him. Nothing but silence. The others were still in hiding, but where would he find them?

His rental car, a green Kia, was still on the curb where he had left it. Leaves