The Samhain Stone

Nat's eyes swept the room: "So here we are," he said, his voice no more than a whisper, "on the very night that Winter performed his darkest deeds. At the very time of year he believed the wall between our world and the dark became tissue thin. It is said that the stone remembers everything, it never forgets, and that if you were to listen to it's voice you would hear the screams of the victims, echoing down through the decades to warn us." His voice trailed off and a silence seemed to flood into the room Rose had the distinct impression that everyone, including herself, was holding their breath. The silence stretched on, no-one moved. Everyone was straining to hear something in the silence. After what seemed like an age Nat's serious expression finally cracked and the broad, grin appeared on his face: "Well, it was worth a tr...."

And it was at that moment that all hell broke loose. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, pitch blackness so deep that, for a moment, Rose thought that her vision had failed. Then the screaming started, a high pitched wail that seemed to erupt from the walls around them. The suddenness of the noise made Rose jump out of her skin; a shock that was heightened when the portrait behind her suddenly blazed with light, and came alive. Rose backed away from the image, clutching her chest as the man in the portrait suddenly stretched out his arms towards her, his face lit up with a malevolent, cruel expression.

It took her a moment to realise that she had been tricked, that this too was a con. The image was not a portrait, but a video image. It occured to her that, if she were to stretch out her hand to touch it, she would feel the smooth texture of a television screen. All at once the lights in the the room came on and Nat was revealed, smiling sheepishly, by the stone. The entire group, Rose included, dissolved into laughter at the practical joke. When they had calmed down Nat held his hands up apologetically.

"I'm sorry to end on such a fake note. I just thought everyone needs at least one scare on Halloween and, if the stone isn't going to provide one, I needed insurance. I hope you don't mind. I just wanted everyone to get their money's worth." This last comment was directed at Rose with a knowing smile.

The group took it all in good humour, although Rose was still left with a disappointing sense of of being cheated. Nat indicated the door back down the tunnel and told the group, if they retraced their steps, they would find a second complementary drink at the bar. This seemed to be enough and the group began to file out. Feeling warm she removed her jacket. Rose hung back, waiting while Nat shook hands with everyone as they left. She saw him bend down to whisper some words into Jenny's ear before she too left through the door. While she waited she took a closer look at the stone. As she suspected it showed no signs of age. Like the painting she was sure it was a fake.

"I get the feeling I have failed to convince you." His voice came from quite close to her, making her jump.

"You promised me something real." she said, looking up at him.

"And you haven't had it?" He eyes were studying her intently. she had the urge to look away, an urge she resisted.

"I'm sorry, a video installation, a sound system and a half built wall isn't the same as reality."

He nodded, "Fair enough, I am a man of my word." He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. Opening it he counted out the money and held it out. Rose had already decided that she would offer to buy him a drink with it and yet, when she reached out to take it, he pulled his arm back.

"How about this, double or nothing?" He was smiling and, for a moment, she did not know if he was being serious.

"How does that work?" she asked, "what else is there to see? I made it through the big finale."

"You wanted to see something real? Give me one more chance. I promise you won't be disappointed."

Intrigued she nodded. The idea that, whatever it was, it was to be a private showing for her and her alone was too tempting to turn down. Smiling Nat opened a heavy wooden door Rose had not noticed before. Looking back to see if she was following him, he stepped through. He led her out into a corridor which he followed until they came to another heavy door. From his pocket he produced a weighty iron key which he fitted into the door and turned. As the door swung open it revealed a dark staircase leading downwards. He turned to look at her:

"Do you trust me?" he asked mischievously.

"No, not at all." she answered, laughing.

"Very wise." he said and, turning, began to make his way down the steps, leaving her alone in the corridor She waited for him to return before realizing that this wasn't going to happen. He was seriously expecting me to follow him down to Christ knows where. She had seen enough horror films to know that this was a particularly bad idea. But that was in horror films, when the man inviting strange women down to his cellar was usually a creepy, hunchbacked monster She knew she could just get back to the cellar of The Halfway House. That would be the sensible option and she was, above all things, sensible. But she was still curious about how this would end, and she wasn't ready to say goodnight to Nat just yet. She was pretty sure that this had been his plan all along, but knowing this wasn't enough to dissuade her.

She told herself that she had nothing to worry about. This was clearly a test, to see if she had the nerve. Reaching a decision she stepped through the doorway and began to make her way down. As reckless an action as it was, she didn't really feel that she had much of a choice.

The stone stairs curved downwards and she soon lost count of how many there were. She could hear movement below her, Nat presumably, so she followed the sound. The staircase was unlit and she took her time, feeling her way forward with her feet before taking each step. Soon a new light could be seen from below, a different kind of light: orange and unsteady. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she stepped out through another door and gazed about her in wonder.

Now this was more like it, she thought as she stepped into the room. It was much larger than the dining room upstairs and was lit by honest-to-God flaming torches that burned away in stone holders fixed to the walls. The flickering light was so weak that it failed to illuminate the high ceiling which was lost in deep shadow. The main contents of the room appeared to be ruined statues, free standing stone arches and columns, all of which appeared to be crumbling with age. It was as if the entire house had been built on the an ancient ruin. Eyes wide, drinking in every detail. Rose wandered further into the room, letting one hand trail against the tough stonework of a pillar, broken off at head height. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and then she saw it.

The stone structures formed a rough series of concentric circles and, at their centre, stood the stone. There could be no doubting what it was. It was larger than the fake copy upstairs, around eight feet by six, and was about four feet in height. But the first thing that drew the attention was it's colour, which was a deep, jet black. And there was a depth to it, as though the whole thing was a single, giant precious stone. As Rose made a wide eyed circumference of the room she could see veins of another colour lying deep, shimmering beneath the surface: a green light that appeared to shift and dance in a manner that reminded her of the aurora borealis. She approached the stone slowly, studying how the colours and shades appeared to shift as she altered her line of sight.

"That's incredible!" She breathed.

"Isn't it just." Nat answered. He was leaning against the far wall and she realized he had been watching her as she entered, probably studying her reaction. As she slowly approached the stone she slowly reached out, only to hesitate before laying her hands on the stone's surface.

"Why on earth would you not show this to everyone? You could make a fortune."

"Orders of the owner I'm afraid. He has made it quite clear the last thing he wants is for a horde of tourists tramping through his own little research project. By rights I shouldn't even be showing this to you"

She looked up from the stone and met his gaze. She suddenly felt nervous, a mix of anticipation and doubt, but she couldn't resist asking the question.

"So why did you?" He had moved from his position by the far wall and had moved closer to the stone, approaching it from the opposite direction. Rose could feel the nervous pressure in her chest growing. She hoped she knew the answer to her question. They had both started moving now, slowly circling the stone, keeping it firmly between them. There was something almost predatory about this but Rose could not decide who was stalking who. What would she do if he stopped? What would he do if I stopped?

"I wanted to impress you, I thought this would do it."

"So your idea of impressing a woman is to invite her down to a cellar to look at rocks?"

"Not just any rock but, pretty much. Did it work?"

She ignored the question, not quite ready to bring things to a head just yet. She reached out a hand to again touch the stone, it was cool to the touch, a mixture of smooth rock and rough rippled edges that spread like waves across it's surface. It had a liquid look to it, as of volcanic glass. Something about it made her think of an ocean at midnight, frozen and preserved. It occured to her that this too may be a fake but she dismissed the idea almost instantly. No, this was real. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. She was entranced by it. So much so that she was unable to tear her eyes away from it even as she heard the sound of Nat's boots echo loudly on the stone floor as he walked around the stone towards her.

She moved her hand over the stone's surface, feeling the swells and undulations of it under her palm. She sensed Nat's presence close behind her, and her breath caught as she felt his hands, strong and confident, take hold of her waist. Still unable to look away from the stone's patterns, but not wanting to ignore his attentions, she bent slightly, pushing her backside against him. She could feel his arousal, hard and straining, inside his jeans and it was that that finally broke the spell. Without turning, she took hold of his hands and slowly pushed them lower, so that his hands moved down over her skirt to the swell of her hips. She pushed back even harder into him, the clear evidence of his need lighting a fire between her own legs.

His hands began to bunch up her skirt, raising the hemline higher. She leaned her body back into his, feeling his strength against her. His mouth was close to her ear and she inclined her head to one side as she felt his mouth brush against the sensitive skin of her neck. The softness of his mouth mixed with the sandpapery feel of his unshaven face. She closed her eyes, relaxing into him. All of her focus was on how he felt pressed against her back, the movement of his hands as he slowly revealed her legs, her thighs and the dark fabric of her underwear and the feel of his mouth softly kissing her neck. Her skirt was now bunched up almost to her waist, and she felt his fingertips brush against the smooth skin that was exposed. She felt him bend down slightly behind her, and she let out a long slow breath as his hands began to explore her flesh. She parted her legs slightly, allowing him access as she felt the featherlight touch of his fingers exploring the soft skin of her inner thigh. His hand moved, maddeningly gently, over the fabric of her black lace briefs. She felt his breath, cool as an autumn breeze, against her neck and she wondered whether he was taking the opportunity to look down her shirt. Reaching up she began to slowly undo the buttons, one at a time, down to her waist. She heard his breath catch as her simple white lace bra was revealed. He pulled her shirt out from her skirt so that it fell completely open, exposing her toned stomach.

She turned to face him, and his shadowed face looked almost fierce in the flickering torchlight. For a second, she was almost alarmed by the clear need aparent in the way he was looking at her before she realized that it was only a reflection of her own desire. All pretence at wit and flirtatious banter were lost and forgotten; he wanted her, and that excited her more than she could have described. He bent low to kiss her but she retreated a step, feeling the press of the stone against her back. She wanted to prolong this moment, deny him for just a little bit longer before she allowed him to take her. She knew that when they started they would be unable to stop.

He said nothing, just gazed at her in a manner that was almost animalistic, and again she was reminded of a wolf. He was content in allowing her to make the next move. Holding his gaze she slid the briefs down her legs and stepped out of them. The patch of pubic hair between her legs as dark as the shadowed ceiling above them. Then, on an impulse, she took hold of the edges of the stone and pulled herself up so that she was sitting on the edge, her feet dangling. The stone was hard and cold against her naked bottom, but not uncomfortable. For a moment she thought he would object but he said nothing. Smiling she parted her legs further, revealing herself to him, inviting him in.

He advanced slowly, even cautiously; his hand reached out to catch the back of her neck and his mouth descended on hers in a hard, possessing kiss, one that she eagerly accepted. Her mouth opened beneath his and she accepted his tongue. His breath tasted of heady wine and, without breaking the kiss, she removed her shirt, dropping it on the floor. His hands moved to her back and, with an ease that suggested a high level of experience, undid the clasp of her bra. This joined the shirt in an untidy heap on the floor. She was naked now, apart from the bunched up skirt around her waist, and she had never felt so alive.

She threw her head back, letting loose a deep wordless groan that filled the darkened room, the torches appeared to flicker in response, as though her passion was an actual physical force. His beard was rough against the softness of her skin as he traced kisses down the length of her long neck, his tongue dipping into the notch at the base of her throat before moving lower.

Her nipples were small, dark, erect and firm against his tongue. He took one between his teeth and bit down gently, his tongue flickering against the tip. She had hold of his hair and pulled him closer with a passion that matched his. For a moment he lost control and bit down harder that he intended. Rose responded with a hiss of pain. He lifted his head to look at her and she thought, for a moment that he was about to apologise. She shook her head: "I'm not fragile. I won't break." She assured him breathlessly

And then it was her turn to press her mouth against his in a hungry kiss. When she broke the kiss she applied some pressure on his shoulder, not much, but enough to send a clear message about what she expected to happen next.

She lay back fully on the stone as Nat lifted one of her legs, and she whimpered with delight as he began to take small, playful nips along the length of her inner thigh, moving slowly upwards. She stretched out her arms flat against the rough surface of the stone and gazed up into the darkness above her as she felt his breath caress the parting between her legs and he was almost gentle as he pressed his mouth against the warm wetness of her sex. His tongue found her clit quickly and he began to apply pressure, moving in slow circles as she squirmed on the stone, arching her back and moaning with the sheer pleasurable indulgence of it. Pleasure that only increased when she felt a questing finger, then another, press in to explore the most intimate part of her. She hooked her leg over his shoulder, pulling him in closer as the pressure began to build. She lay there, on the stone, and for a moment she tried to imagine how many women had lay on this very spot, down through the centuries. She pushed away any thoughts as to the darker stories she had heard tonight. For a while the entire universe contracted down to the sensation of his mouth and tongue against what felt like the very centre of herself. She knew that, if left to continue, she would cum, and she didn't want that, not yet.

Sitting up she took his face in her hands, rewarding him with a soft exploration of a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. Slipping from the stone she began to undress him, lifting his black T-shirt over his head. He was, perhaps, a little skinnier than she usually liked her men, but there was a tight, muscularity to him: underneath the slightly gothic clothing was a body that would not have looked out of place on an athlete. She bent to take one of his nipples between her teeth, returning the favour with a sadism that brought a strangled cry from him, before he caught her in his arms and, laughing, pulled her to him for a kiss.

She fumbled with his belt, finally succeeding in undoing the buckle. She pressed her hand down inside his jeans and felt the rigid tower of his cock press back against the palm of her hand. Impatiently he pulled his jeans down without bothering to undo them. Breaking the kiss she took hold of his boxers and slowly began to pull them down. As she did so she left a trail of kisses down his chest, his firm, flat stomach. She tasted his skin there, just above his groin, letting her tongue draw out a slow circle around his navel. Again she noted the coolness of his skin. She knew what he wanted, and she obliged. Taking his cock in one hand, she raised it up, feeling it's weight. Looking up into his eyes she ran her tongue along the underside of it, all the way from it's base to the tip in one slow, sensuous lick. She parted her mouth to take him into her warm, wet mouth; the head of his penis was as smooth and full as juice-laden fruit and she savoured the feel of it on her tongue. She pleasured him for a short while, but her own needs could not be denied. Rising to her feet she whispered in his ear: "Take your clothes off and get on the stone." This seemed to break through his obvious hunger for her and, for a moment, he looked uncertain:

"Are you sure?" He whispered. For a moment he studied her, his expression unreadable, but then he followed her instructions and kicked off his boots and clothing. She watched him as he pulled himself up on the stone in a similar position to what she had adopted. She shook her head and, taking her meaning, he pulled himself fully into the middle of the stone.

In the meantime Rose had relieved herself of her skirt and shoes and was joining him on the hard rock surface of the stone. It's rough edges chaffed at her knees but she ignored the discomfort as she moved to cover his body with hers, straddling him. His hands found her breasts and she moaned into his mouth as she felt him squeeze her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She pulled his head up so that he could take one of her hard, erect nipples into her mouth. Her body felt as though there was a path of fire connecting all the pleasure centres of her body. This time, when he used his teeth, she groaned in pleasure and pulled him tightly against her.

Leaning back she gazed down at this delicious nude man between her legs. Slowly, teasing herself just as much as him, she began to move her hips, rubbing herself along the length of his rigid cock. She was so wet she slid smoothly along his length, the lips of her labia delivering their own soft, slow kiss as she gently rocked back and forth. She felt the pressure on her clit and the urge to take him fully was almost unbearable, but she savoured the feel of him, the almost savage look of desire in his eyes. As she moved, she placed her hands behind her back, offering him a vision of confident power, her breasts high as she rocked back and forth. His hands found her breasts, squeezing them roughly, his thumbs playing with the hard centres. She threw her head back, arching her back and pushing herself into his grasp.