Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures) Read Free

pressed the council into sending the police, but Monroy traditionally donated to the yearly police ball, so no one thought anything would come of it. But in the meantime, a particularly zealous minister, one who had been ousted from his church in Virginia for being too puritan, would you believe it, rallied his convent to ‘bring down the house of sin’, as he said. The police could only watch as the parishioners arrived just before midnight, armed with torches, axes and God knows what, threatening to burn the house down.”
    “Good thing they didn’t,” Suzy said.
    “They got quite close,” the woman replied. “Ah, here we are,” she added and unlocked the doors. “Please give the doors a little push, they’re rather heavy.”
    *
     
    The woman flicked a switch and the room was batched in the warm glow from a chandelier, similar to the one in the entrance hall but several sizes smaller. Suzy dropped her backpack on the floor and looked around in wonder.
    The room was twice as large as her flat back in New York and many times as decorated.  On the high, beige walls hung at least three dozen paintings, small and large, oval and square, some portraying vivid landscapes or great castles, others depicting people and faces that stared at unknown horizons behind the artist. They were all in the same color scheme, with ashen highlights on backgrounds of rich browns and blacks, making many of the works appear monochrome. Suzy noted that many of them featured beautiful women and men in different poses and clothes shown against the same background or with similar objects.
    A massive bed on Suzy’s left dominated the room. Four sculpted poles rose from each of its corners to support a frame draped with linen cloth that was twirled around the wooden pillars. The huge bed frame was large enough for at least three people to sleep comfortably. Beside it stood an old chest of drawers with rows of glass bottles and a porcelain hand basin. Large candlestick holders stood along one wall between a pair of fragile-looking chairs. A group of absurdly large pillows occupied half of the bed. They looked very inviting to Suzy, still sore after the flight.
    Suzy walked over to a door opposite the bed and found a small bathroom. It felt cramped compared to the large room bedroom, but it sported a huge bathtub, complete with lion’s feet and a selection of soap bars arranged neatly on the edge of the tub. While the hostel cost more than the average, Suzy found it hard to believe that the room didn’t cost ten times what she’d paid. The woman next to her seemed to read her mind.
    “Most are surprised when they see the rooms, thinking they’d be more expensive,” she said to Suzy’s unbelieving stare, “but that’s because the hostel doesn’t meet some standards, which brings the price down a bit. Also, there’s no real lounge downstairs as we can’t install any air conditioning or fans – the pesky historic status, you see – and the lighting is rather poor.
    Suzy loved it. She couldn’t have dreamed up a gloomier atmosphere, and while that might not appeal to some fools – well, all the worse for them. She looked around at the paintings again. “That Monroy was kind of an art freak, wasn’t he?” Suzy said. “All these paintings must’ve cost him a fortune.”
    “Actually, he painted most of them himself, if not all of them,” the woman replied. “He was rather good, I think, but I haven’t found any record of exhibitions of his works. Perhaps he preferred to turn his home into a gallery for his guests. I believe many of the paintings are portraits of his friends.”
    “So what happened to the guy?” Suzy asked. “Did the mob get him?”
    “Ah, no, they didn’t,” the woman said and cleared her throat. “It appears that the guests fled quickly enough, but Monroy refused to leave the house. One of the guests said in a police report that Monroy had locked himself into a room and busied himself with a painting.