The places we go

Ola

A/N Story based on a quirky half-dream I had. However, for the life of me, I couldn’t decide on one particular ending, as this story kept evolving into a little Cerberus with four heads (or rather, four tails). So I decided to post the beginning as one chapter, and two different endings as chapters 2 (sadder) and 3(more steamy). Chose one to read, or try both! I hope you enjoy )

---

Someone was trailing me, and being the unassuming person that I was, I had only just realized it. God only knew then how long this game of cat and mouse had been going on, and most importantly, why it was happening. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone around this abandoned old mansion. Children were kept away with tales of haunting ghosts. Teenagers didn’t seem to want to set foot on the property either, abandoning their wild adventurous spirits as soon as they came close to the tall iron gate surrounding the estate. That alone should have warned me away. As for adults, they just had enough common sense to ignore the place and pretend it didn’t exist.

I should have known it wasn’t natural for youngsters not to exploit such an opportunity for exploration. I should have known something terrible must have happened here to leave such an extensive piece of land lying fallow. But my eyes had always been drawn to the two lions sitting atop the stone pillars flanking the main gate, guarding the pathway that curled from sight behind the trees. Was it because I had walked by this property twice a day, everyday, on my way to school that I had become immune to its strange repulsive forces? Perhaps I should have invested more money into my lodging situation and rented out a room in the dorms, like every other student. But no, I just had to rent something out of the way. Cute and cheap, but far. By the way, I needed to buy myself a bike. It would save me a few more minutes in the morning, and I would be able to eat a proper breakfast instead of grabbing a muffin as I ran out the door. At least, I was getting exercise. But then, I might regret my decision when winter came with a flurry of snow storms. But that was neither here nor there. There was no use thinking of the future if I was mugged, kidnapped and killed today. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

This day hadn’t even started off too badly, to hint at later problems. I haven’t been late, and even had the time to whip myself a cup of coffee for the road, which was a first this semester. A month into classes, I was still doing relatively fine, if I do say so myself. Even lunch had been more palatable than the usual cafeteria fare. So why this sudden stroke of bad luck? Okay, so perhaps I shouldn’t have stopped by that big gate to peer into the gloom of the forest, trying to get a glimpse of the white façade of the house. Yes, I knew it was white. I had seen it a few times, when the wind blew, and the forest lessened its embrace around the edifice, and let me catch a glimpse or two. Never much, just enough to grip my interest and keep me coming back, curious about how big it really was. And today, unable to see the slightest bit of white through the dancing trees, I had stopped on my trek back home and impulsively decided to go look for it.

In the several months I had started living in this town, I had never seen anyone on this part of the road on my daily walks. Today was no different, so with one last look both ways, just to make sure, I marched up to the side of the gate where a thick pillar, half again as tall as I was, met the rest of the fence that ran around the property. I wedged my feet against the rough stone and my hands against the cold metal and pulled myself up. I didn’t get too high up before the weight of my bag started to drag me down. Damn all those books. Well, there wasn’t anything breakable in it. Pens, notebooks… off they sailed across the fence to land with a soft thud and a cloud of dust on the other side. Now that I think of it, that had been an incredibly idiotic act. How the hell would I have gotten my bag back if I couldn’t have managed to climb over the fence? But that’s a moot point since here I was, traipsing in somebody’s backyard, trying not to get jumped, while my backpack lay safely hidden between a bush and the back of one of those huge pillars at the entrance. Not that I had a knife in it or anything, but anybody whacked on the back of the head by my biology book would have felt faint. And I had a chemistry one too, just as heavy and even less inclined to be useful in class.

Like the glimpses I had seen of it, the house was white, but so much larger than I had anticipated. Although it rose no more than two stories high, it sprawled in what I guessed to be two wings, each in the shape of a T, joined by the vertical part of the letter. The central part of the ground floor was lined with tall, arched glass doors. A series of pillars flanked the two main doors in the middle. The façade was carved with trailing roses and the bas-reliefs of yet other pillars. The second story seemed much shorter in height, and lined with windows, to coincide with the doors below. The courtyard encompassed in between the two wings was raised on a slight dais, which could be reached by a series of stone steps, flanked again by twin lions looking on at the arriving guests of old. Short green hedges lined the path toward the door, while taller pines stood like guards in between the doors. The contrast between the dark green of the plants and the white walls was blinding and very effective in rendering the place clean and pleasing to the eyes. It had been the moment when I had noticed that none of the windows were dirty or broken, and that they all had curtains that I started to wonder whether I should have come here. I wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but I had the disturbing notion that hundred year old curtains would not have looked like this.

It had been a faint scuffle to my left that had alerted me to somebody’s presence while I had been engrossed in the house and crossing the driveway to come closer for a better look. Startled, I had whirled around, ready to ask forgiveness for trespassing, but had seen no one. Just in case the rumors about this house being abandoned were actually all false, I stepped off the driveway, and hurriedly walked to the side of the house. It was then that I saw him. Just a dark blur moving from behind a large oak. Not a righteous proprietor striding purposefully to this front entrance. I didn’t know who he was, or what he was doing, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that I would strongly prefer not to come face to face with him. And so, I quickly decided to leave. But as I swiveled on my heels and took a step back toward the exit, something made me pause. Don’t ask me what stupid idea came into my head, but as I realized that I had been thwarted in my attempt to get a peek inside the house, I had scowled at my pursuer –whether he saw the glare directed at him or not didn’t matter- and marched right back toward the house. Well, ok, so I more or less ran to it, skidding on the gravel lining the foundation, and tried the handle of the first side door that I came upon; undecorated, plain wood, perhaps a side entrance for servants. I tried to rationalize that hiding in the house far outweighed trying to beat it back to the main toad and out of this forsaken place. Despite all the logical disadvantages that my mind was coming up with, I just wanted, no needed, to see the inside of this house. And maybe I’d find a weapon there. Or maybe just old furniture, perhaps some paintings… And it wasn't yet certain that I wouldn’t also find some creepy old guy looking for me.

Biology book. Remember? … Oh damn. No. That’s the one thing I didn’t have with me right now. One more reason to get into the house. There was no saying what that guy could do to me once he caught up with me. And I had no doubts that he could. The one glimpse I had of him spoke of speed and strength. Just thinking of it threw my heart into my throat. Breath. Think of the door. See the handle? Put your hand on it and push downwards.

I was surprised to find it open. It wasn't supposed to be that easy, damn it! I stepped inside, closed the door as noiselessly as possible and threw the bolt home. Only then did I realize that I had been holding my breath and that I needed to get oxygen into my poor lungs. It wouldn’t do to faint in a random hallway. No of course not. I walked away and into a side corridor. Now you can faint. Just kidding. Don’t you dare! I strained my ears for the tell tale signs of my pursuer, but all I could hear was my frantic heartbeat, hammering in my chest. That is, until I realized that in my concentration in listening to him, I had closed my eyes. Now slowly more calm, I looked around and stared at the doorway by which I had stopped, drawing my head inside, then letting the rest of my body follow inside too.

Old furniture, check. Two arm chairs by the fireplace and a matching couch under the window, upholstered in ivory velum and embroidered in gold. Gilt lamps on white pillars that reminded me of those Greek temples from my long ago history class. Long, gossamer curtains, white of course, hung from ceiling to floor in a sweeping arrangement that nonetheless felt quite airy. Everything radiated light, and screamed of money, although in a very tasteful way, I had to admit. The expensive looking paintings were there too of course. A portrait of an older gentleman, and two landscapes, all in muted tones of earth browns, greens, and yellows. But the one that drew may attention the most was the seascape above one of the armchairs. Its waters tossed by an incoming storm, a small boat in the distance, riding them out. I kept on staring at the approaching clouds on the canvas. They were quite different from the peace and brightness in the room and I was intrigued by the contrast and by the person who had decided to hang it there. I would have liked to stay in that room –and was slightly miffed that it seemingly wasn't used; such a nice room, being all empty was sad- to sit on the couch and feel the warmth of the sun through the large windows on a chilly autumn day. But that, exactly, was the problem. The windows. Just as large as on the front of the house, they really looked more like doors opening onto the back garden than windows. Doors from which I could look out… and everybody could look in.

I tried not to squeak as I realized my stupidity. Way to hide; I frowned and berated myself before cautiously sticking my head out into the hallway. The coast was clear. Time to leave, again. Except that as luck would have it, as I turned for a last, wistful look at this tranquil room, I met the startled gaze of my stalker through the glass doors. My first thought was that he looked so much younger than I had imagined, and damnably handsome. Dressed all in black, with bed-hair to match. Right on the heels of that thought came a simple “oh fuck,” for several reasons, all too complex to dwell upon at the moment.

I ran, heedlessly choosing a direction at random, as long as it was away from that room and from the door by which I had come in. doorways flew by, their contents a blur, and really not my concern at the moment. All I could think of right then was to get to the front entrance, out the door, and away from the little problem following me. Breathing hard, my heart in my throat –it seemed to like it there for some reason- I finally stumbled into a hallway with a stairwell. No front door yet, damn it. Aiaiai. I craned my neck pwards but couldn’t see much past the curve of the railing. Up or down? My heart kept hammering in my ribcage, as if unaware that I had stopped my headless flight for a few seconds of indecision, and that it didn’t need to pump so much blood to my legs. Its loud thumping kept me from concentrating and making rational decisions. Not that I had been making any today. As it was, I had no idea where I was, and how I could get out of this house. So I went up. Perhaps that guy wouldn’t think that I was stupid enough to hide in a room upstairs instead of seeking an exit. If I think of it, it probably wasn't the smartest move to pad up the stairs, staying to the edge of the steps to keep them from squeaking, and then randomly choosing a room on the third hallway and locking myself in the closet. But I wasn't thinking; I thought we had already made that clear.

At last, sitting in the semi-darkness, my thoughts slowly caught up to me. I still didn’t know whether the guy I had seen through the window had come into the house or not, since I haven’t stayed long enough to find out. I’m sure he was the one who had stalked me throughout the garden –he had that same strange stealth and grace of movement- but I had yet to decide whether he was a trespasser just as I was. Rumors and assumptions pointed to the positive, but what I’ve seen so far seemed to counter that idea. No matter who he was, and whether he belonged here, the house was clearly being used by someone. And that, my friends, was not a reassuring thought. But as time passed, and I heard no brouhaha from my pursuer, I slowly pushed open the closet door and opened it a crack to peak outside. When I took a good look at what was out there, I flinched in surprise and almost fell out of the closet.

This room, like the ones downstairs, was furnished. However, there was a world of difference in their appearance. The room in whose closet I was presently sitting was as modern as the living room downstairs had been old-world. Smooth, undecorated wood surfaces, glass and chrome. Sharp angles and flowing lines. And to top it off, a silver laptop glinted in the sunlight on a large desk by the window. The only familiarity with the rest of the house were the white curtains and the light colors. Here, as everywhere else, the feel of open spaces, air and light was refreshing.

I sat back on my butt, hard, and hid my face in my hands to stifle my incredulous groan. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Trespassing on a property that everyone thought abandoned was one thing. But breaking and entering? What the hell had gotten into me to visit this house? Why had I come in through that door in the garden? And, pray tell, why was I hiding in somebody’s closet? Yes, it was a closet. A closet that somebody made frequent use of, as noted by the fresh shirts hanging over my head. A closet that smelled remarkably enticing –like freshly mowed grass, with a hint of fruity undercurrents, wrapped in a manly, musky scent-. I pressed my nose into a white dress shirt and sniffled it appreciatively. That is, until my brain finally decided to work and to let me know that I should definitely not be sitting here. I didn’t know I could be such an idiot, but the events of the past few hours were very convincing as to the contrary. Sitting in that small closet, I finally realized the absurdity of my situation. Starting from the moment I threw my book bag over the fence, the past hour or so had been filled with mistakes, culminating in the fact that I was clearly hiding in my stalker’s shirt closet. The cherry on top of the cake. I didn’t want to think about what he would do if he found me here of all places. Nope. I’ll just shove the pesky image to some deep recesses of my mind. Fine, so they weren’t pesky. They were downright terrifying, which meant that the sooner I got out of here, the better.

With that idea I mind, I stood up and opened the door, only to tug it back close as quickly and soundlessly as possible. Of all the freaking time to have him walk into this room, why did it have to be now? No amount of silent swearing was making him leave. With a sigh a frustration, I sat back down for the third time, and tried not to tear my hair out. Granted, this was all my fault but… couldn’t I have had a little bit of luck? Just a little itty bitty piece of it? Just enough for him to go away, long enough for me to run the hell out of here, and never come back. I learned my lesson. I swear. I’d be a good girl from now on, and never step into anybody’s garden ever again, I promise, if only you make him go away! Now!

Obviously, there was no god out there who thought it would be a good deed of the day to help a poor girl in distress. Or maybe they were already all done with their daily quota of humanitarian aid, damn it, because the guy certainly did not look like was leaving any time soon. No, on the contrary, he was leisurely strolling around his room, taking a look out of his gigantic window, turning his laptop on… and then stopping in the middle of his goddamned room.

As luck would have it –and I’m still trying to decide whether it was good or bad luck- he stood right by the door, exactly where I could see all of him through the crack I had yet to close. From this close, I could see him much better than the fleeting looks I had previously gotten outside –of a lean, tall, dark haired, darkly clothed man. Now, the dark hair was revealed to come down to his ears. It was a bit mussed and feathery. His nose was a strong feature of his profile. It made him look … well, noble is the only word that came to mind, probably because I was sitting in a manor. He looked young. That actually made me pause for a second, and look at him with more curiosity. And boy did I look. Two possibilities for that. 1) He was just damn good to look at, as he stretched his hands up –a long way till he reached the exceedingly high ceiling- then bent backwards into a bridge. Holly molly. I clapped a hand over my mouth as my eyes bulged out. How the hell did he do a bridge? I’ve never saw anyone actually do one before. Especially someone so damn good looking. His shirt rode up, revealing a sculpted stomach over which I would have gladly ran my hands. Oooh, bad girl. Bad, bad girl. This was the enemy! But the choice number 2 –that I was analyzing the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses and coming up with an escape plan- was so much more palatable to my “independent woman” ego. But my little ego –hell, all of me- felt very threatened when he stood up from his stretch, took off his shirt in one fell swoop, and strode toward his closet. Toward my closet. Panicked, I scooted as far back into the depths of the closet as humanly possible, trying to hide behind a rack of clothes. For such a humongous house, this was one hell of a tiny closet.

Oh god, oh god. What do I do? Maybe I could jump on him when he opened the door and escape with the element of surprise. Or, I could make the phone ring, which would distract him, or I could lock the door maybe, or or… I could just sit dumbly on my ass and stare at him in undecided horror when he finally opened the door and stared right back at me. Up close, his eyes were a surprisingly bright shade of green. Open wide, pupils dilated, unblinking, and staring straight at me. Despite my growing panic, I wondered what thoughts were passing through his head. I clearly knew my own, though. They were very loudly yelling at me to surprise him.

Surprise him. Surprise him damn it, before he comes for you! The little voice in my head had a very good point. Almost feeling the jolt of reason that brought me back to earth, I sprang up from my crouch, shouldered him aside, and skidded toward the doorway, without a backward glance.