Chapter 2: First Night Jitters (no sex)

Over eleven hours of moving left Sonja feeling exhausted and tired. Her arms and legs ached from constantly lifting and unpacking boxes. She managed to unpack her entire room in a few short hours but that didn’t stop her mother from pressuring her into finishing the rest of the house. Her mother, naturally, spent the entire time screaming into a phone as she made a token effort of unpacking her office boxes.

Sonja groaned as she crawled out of her private tub. Her arms shook from the effort of standing up. Her legs wavered and she clutched to the side of the wall until her head cleared. Grabbing a towel, she dried herself off and slipped into her favorite gown, a white silk affair that caressed the tops of her feet and clung to every curve. She found it while unpacking and couldn’t resist setting it aside for the night. She felt sexy wearing it and swayed her hips as she padded back into the main room.

The fabric clung to her hips and hung from her breasts, dancing across her skin with every movement. The lace tickled her nipples, hardening them in the cool air of her room.

She faltered in the bedroom, suddenly unsure of why she wanted to feel sexy for an empty room. No boyfriends waited on the bed for a chance to feel her up in hopes of getting laid. No girlfriends to giggle over gossip. Everyone was still in Illinois and she didn't know anyone in California.

Pushing it aside, she turned off the light and made her way blindly back to her bed. With a sigh, she slipped into the cool sheets and waited for the bed to warm up to her body. A moment later, her exhaustion dragged her into sleep.

***

Sonja stood disoriented in darkness. She blinked with confusion and looked around, trying to find the walls of her bedroom. In her memory, she distinctly remembered crawling into bed, but now she stood with no memory of where she was, how she got there, or even what the hell was going on.

Her toes curled on the ground, sliding on some slick surface. It felt textured but smooth. Like the surface of a bookcase. She looked down, but couldn’t see anything. In her vision, she saw swirls of something dark around her, giving her only flashes of her legs and nothing of the ground below her.

The air was hot and humid; it choked Sonja as she turned around. The back of her throat burned with an acidic taste tickling her esophagus. She covered her mouth as she tried to orient herself.

And none of them made any senses as she stood in the middle of nowhere, peering through tearing eyes. Mist, or what looked like mist, swirled around, just out of her focus. Frowning, she turned around slowly, then jumped as one of the misty tendrils brushed against her. It left a burning sensation on her right shoulder.

“Ouch!”

A woman’s cruel giggle echoed out in the darkness, then faded just as quickly. She spun around, looking for the source, but couldn’t see anything in the mist. She clutched the burn, then slowed to a stop as she felt her nipples rubbing on naked flesh. Surprised, she peered down at her nude form and gaped with surprise.

Sonja distinctly remembered pulling on a nightgown before crawling into bed. But, now she stood unclothed in the mists. Sweat clung to her large breasts and she watched a droplet slide down the valley of her cleavage. It followed the curve of her stomach, around her belly, then disappeared into the patch of dark hair above her sex. She gulped as the heat rose around her, suffocating. More droplets of sweat poured down her face, chest, and back. She felt it pouring down the small of her back, a maddeningly delicate sensation that stole her breath way. She tried to gulp in cooler air, but only humid heat flooded her lungs.

“He will kill you, cow,” giggled the woman right in her ear.

Panic flared to life in her veins and she spun around, trying to find the speaker. She saw no one but stumbled as she saw the mist gathering together. Something rushed her from the darkness. Through the mists came walls glowing cherry red and streaked with white. They moved dangerously fast, leaving sparks that burned her vision. She flung her arms in front of her face, trying to protected herself.

The mist slammed into her with the force of a sledgehammer; the concussion threw her back into the wall behind her. She slammed into it hard, her naked flesh sizzling instantly on the cherry-red metal. She screamed in panic, clawing at the metal and trying to pull herself from the burning surface. Her fingers cracked on the metal and she felt her flesh being peeled from the bone.

Sonja’s scream woke her as her body threw herself up into sitting position. The scream echoed shrilly against the walls of her basement room, barely muted by the soft white carpet and hastily hung pictures. She gasped, clutching her blankets as she fought to breathe. Fading nightmares still clung to her thoughts, leaving her flush and overheated. For a long moment, she could do nothing other than gasp at the wonderfully cool air and stare at the walls, terrified they would burn her again. But, when the room remained cold to her skin, she hesitantly reached out for the nearest wall. Shaking, she pressed her palm on the wall and let out a long gasp of relief at the icy surface.

Her heaving breasts slowed down and she calmed down to breathe normally. She used her blanket to wipe the cooling sweat from her face and arms before trying to dry her nightgown. She gave up after a few seconds and peeled the front of her nightgown from her front. It gave her a sucking sensation as it parted from her sweat-slicked body. She groaned at the disgusting wet feeling.

An errant breeze filled the room, swirling around her face and diving down into her nightgown. She let out a gasp and jumped as she felt the sweat drying on her skin, puffing up her nightgown until it met resistance with the clinging fabric. She tugged even further, desperate for coolness after her dream. The breeze continued to slide down her body. It felt good and she used both hands to peel away the fabric to exposed her heated skin.

A few seconds of cooling wasn't enough to relieve her. She crawled up on her knees, spread them for balance, and then peeled off the soaked nightgown.

Naked once again, she rolled over and planted her hands on the icy wall, stretching out on all fours and spreading her legs further. The cool air ran along very inch of her body. It followed every curve, teasing her nipples, and rustling through her pubic hair and leaving her shuddering with relief.

A few minutes later, she knelt on her bed as dry as the summer’s night. Reaching over, she flicked on the light and jumped as the room flooded with the yellowed light. She ran her hands through her long, red hair and pulled it back into a pony tail. She tugged a few errant strands back into place and slipped off her bed.

She felt free and alive, the intensity of the super-heated dream only a fading memory. Her breasts, heavy and large, sagged slightly, but the cold air felt good. She turned around, the noticed the wind came from the door of her room. She distinctly remembered closing it tightly, but now a piece of tissue fluttered between the floor and the frame.

Rolling her eyes, she closed and locked the door. Grumbling, she padded into her closet. “Can’t win, can I?”

Nothing appealed to her, but she found a huge t-shirt in the corner. For a moment, Sonja tried to remember how she got it, but then she remembered the date, and a clumsy attempt to get her into her pants. Grinning, she yanked it off the hanger, ignoring the metal wire as it clattered to the ground.

“This gets closer to me than you ever will, Steve.”

It only took a moment for her to pull it over her head and nestle her body into the right places. The fabric stretched around her hips, holding it tightly and she felt warm already. Stretched out slightly, she peered around her room, at the wooden chests and large dresser in the corner. Her bed matched perfectly, a set bought together right before the move.

Sonja left the walk-in closet and took a deep breath. Wide awake from the nightmare, the room felt enclosed and suffocating. For a brief moment, she felt the walls from her dream coming back and she rushed for the door, cracking it open. The cool breeze blew away her nightmares and she let out a sigh of relief.

A sudden need for fresh air welled up inside her and Sonja decided that the outside was a better place to be. Giving her room one nervous look, she padded up the stairs.

The kitchen was cool, but not as cold as the basement. The breeze swirled through the kitchen and she noticed the back door cracked open just like her bedroom. Strange memories rose up of the kitchen filled with wood smoke and the sound of sizzling meat over an open flame. A woman’s giggle rose up in her thoughts and she shivered with discomfort. She fled for the back door, fleeing toward the icy breeze that blew away the memories.

Pausing at the door, she peered outside. Seeing nothing but evening mist, lit up with moonlight, she slid back the chain and bolt and stepped out onto a tiny porch. Wood creaked with her weight, but the aged porch held.

Sonja paused just outside the kitchen door, looking across the good-sized backyard. Tiny tendrils of mist swirled up from the ground, moving like a snake with no home or body. She watched the fog for a while, but it only danced in the summer breeze. Taking a deep breath, she felt the anxiety slipping away. The last of her nightmare faded as she watched the mist slide through the trees at the back of the lot.

The swirling brought her attention to a darkness in the corner of the lot. A shape came out, of some structure made of brick. Curious, she peered around and listened to the buzzing of insects in the air and whispering of bats feeding on them. Nothing else broke the gentle sounds of summer, so she risked stepping down the stairs. Each step squealed with her weight.

Her bare feet touched the ground and she froze, the warmth and comfort of bare dirt was a stark contrast compared to the rough wood stairs or even the cold of her basement room. Around her, the buzz of insects continued to rise and fall, a symphony of the night that wrapped her in a warm comfort. The scents were different, the wind leaving a different caress, but for a brief moment, Sonja could almost pretend she was still in Illinois and not near some ocean.

A faint annoyance at her mother rose up like bile and she looked away from the backyard. A yellowed light drew her attention from the upstairs. Looking up, she saw the light of her mother’s office was still on. A flicker of blue and white told her more than she wanted to know: her mother never stopped working.

Unwilling to draw attention, Sonja padded out into the backyard, enjoying the soft, moist warmth of the ground and the gentle touch of the summer wind. Her annoyance faded as she thought of fairies dancing in the wind. She always liked fairies, the thought of someone watching over her, protecting her from evil. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms up into the air, turning around slowly in a phantom dance.

Bare feet against the soft ground, the wind as her dance partner, Sonja finally started to relax ever since she left her home, her real home, so many days before. It was only a short dance, but it left her feeling alive once again. Giggling, she slowed to a stop and found herself near the back of the yard, fifty feet from the house and close to the woods. The buzz of the insects was still strong, louder the closer she was to the trees. A bat flapped high above, feeding on the buzzing. Sonja still felt safe in the backyard, as long as the insects made noise.

Turning around slowly, she saw the structure that caught her attention before. It was a massive brick oven and grill. On the left side, a rusted metal grill about seven or eight feet long was permanently mounted over a bed for coals. At each end, a large rusted bracket was positioned for some sort of pole or spit. Sonja paused for a moment, trying to remember how large a pig was. She decided it was large enough for one, maybe even larger.

Reaching out, she stroked her fingers against the yellow bricks of the grill. The edges were smooth, worn down with years. A thin layer of soot covered everything, streaking her fingers.

Well used too.

Looking over the rust, Sonja realized that the grill didn’t see any use since the house got painted. Trailing her fingers still against the brick and mortar, she caressed the grill, padding around it as she tried to picture the massiveness of it. The oven was even larger than the grill, large enough for a horse, if only one of those toy ponies. Maybe even a larger one, since she couldn’t imagine how large a pony really was.

She paused at the iron door, rusty with age. Black grease and soot coated the handle. To her surprise, her hand was trembling as she reached out for it, pushing with increasing force. It refused to move. She wrapped her fingers around it and pushed harder; it resisted until she threw her strength into it. The handle snapped suddenly, the metal ringing out as she fell forward. Her body slammed against the brick, her breasts crushed against the metal door. In her hand, a drop of blood dripped from a cut in her palm.

Sonja shook as she pushed herself away from the oven door, staring down at the soot stains that covered her breasts, a charcoal highlight of her body. Or at least, the parts that interest most men. Lifting her hand into the moonlight, she peered at the shallow cut along her palm. The handle clattered to the ground, followed by another drop of bright blood. Even in the moonlight, the crimson droplet almost glowed as it hit the ground, soaking into the summer dirt almost instantly.

She stared at it for a long moment, until one more droplet splashed to the ground. Frowning, she knelt down to tear off a strip of her shirt; she didn’t like Steve that much. Just as her fingers clutched at the fabric, staining it crimson, a warm wind howled through the woods.

As she watched, the mist boiled away in a tidal wave of summer heat. The breath caught in her chest as the wind slammed into her, tightening the skin even as the last tendril of mist melted under the onslaught of the spectral breeze. Sonja clutched herself tightly, almost kneeling on the ground. The heated wind rushed her again, plunging up under her gown, leaving sweat glittering on her naked skin.

In the distance, something snapped a branch. From between the branches, she heard a woman’s giggling coming closer. It wasn't a cheerful sound, but the cruel chuckle from her nightmares.

Sonja’s head snapped up, the frost and wind forgotten. Around her, she realized that the song of summer was gone, the insects were silent.

She was in danger.

Fear sparkled through her veins, an icy dripping down her spine. Another branch snapped and it felt closer, louder. Almost painful as it echoed through the backyard. Pressing her legs together against the heat, she could only stare out into the backyard, in the direction of the growing sounds. It grew closer, a thudding of someone, or something, walking toward her. The ground vibrated with every step, the grass rippling as she felt the footsteps pounding in sync with every fourth heartbeat.

Above, she saw the golden light of her mother’s office, but even in fear, she couldn’t bring herself to call out for her. She was so busy, she probably wouldn’t have responded even if she did.

Movement caught her attention, but it didn’t come from around the house or along the woods. It was a moth, white wings fluttering frantically. Next to her feet, the feather-light touch caressed her foot as it sputtered around, turning in a small circle, but never going anywhere. As Sonja watched, she saw mist rising from its body like ice melting from the white wings. As the mist faded, the moth struggled to remain aloft. It fluttered to the ground, growing slower with every passing pulse of heat. She found herself begging for it to survive, unsure of what to do.

Trembling, she reached down and cupped it. It’s dying wings folded and unfolded in her hand, dropping tiny drops of ice on her palm. As tears burned her eyes, the moth fell to its side. The wings fluttered once more and the moth ceased to move.

“No,” she whimpered.