The Haunter Of The Threshold

by Edward Lee

  “Yes, honey, and don’t worry.” Another pat on the knee. “It’s okay.”

  “I...I—Oh, Jesus, Sonia!”

  Sonia laughed. “He told me about that the day after it happened.”

  Hazel was still trembling at the jolt. Suddenly she bubbled over with the need to confess. “I’m sorry! It was the night when the drama department did Lear, and I got drunk, remember, and–”

  “Yes, Hazel, I remember. And I got tired and left early and made Frank promise to drive you home—”

  “And—and—Holy fuck, Sonia! I didn’t mean to, and it was mostly my doing ‘cos I was so crocked! And—damn it—I’ve felt like such a shit ever since but—but—but...you knew all along?”

  “Yes. It’s no big deal.”

  Hazel was practically apoplectic. “You’re my best friend and I fucked your fiancé, and you’re not mad? ”

  “Not at all.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still speaking to me!”

  Sonia put her arm about Hazel’s shoulder, then gave her a peck on the cheek. “Honey, I’m a liberal college professor and so is Frank. We both know that humans are human and sometimes people falter when their inhibitions are down. Jealousy doesn’t exist in my relationship with Frank. So there’s no need for you to get all weird anymore whenever the topic of Frank comes up.”

  Hazel looked fretfully over. “But he doesn’t know about—”

  “About the little fun-session you and I had last winter after the faculty Christmas party? Of course he does.”

  My God... It took Hazel several moments to come to grips with this eruption of information. “Sonia, I swear, I never meant to deceive you–you’re very important to me!”

  “And you’re important to me too, Hazel,” Sonia said more like a mother calming down a child.

  Hazel felt desperate that Sonia believe her. “The only reason I didn’t tell you was because, because I know how much you love him and I thought if I told you, then it would ruin everything for both of you.”

  “You were sweet to think that,” Sonia passed it off. “But just forget about it all now—”

  “But-but, you know, we didn’t really even do much,” Hazel continued to stammer. “We-we didn’t really even have sex, er, intercourse, I mean. We just—”

  “Relax!” Sonia laughed. “He told me all the gory details.”

  Hazel gulped again.

  “Frank and I have done open-sex stuff before, and we probably will again.” Now Sonia was checking her lashes in the flip-down mirror. “It’s just a matter of acknowledging the human sex drive and the need for periodic diversity; it’s proof that he and I are secure in our relationship. But now that I’ve told you—please—stop acting all stressed whenever the topic of Frank comes up. Everything’s cool.”

  Hazel felt herself deflating in relief as she drove on. Thank God, thank God, thank God... Though her assignation with Frank would rank low on the Richter Scale of cheating, Hazel had always felt horribly about it, for her inebriation had been what stoked him. Once he’d driven her back to her apartment, she’d more falsely than truthfully claimed to be too drunk to undress. Would Frank help her? “Well, all right.” Once she’d been naked, he managed several double-takes at her body. The excitement of exhibiting herself gorged her nipples, which had a way of plumping up more profoundly than most women. Frank had been trying to slip her nightgown over her head when her hand had found his crotch and begun to rub. “Come on, Hazel. What are you doing?” but by the time he’d gotten around to making the objection, she’d already pulled his cock out and had finagled it erect. She’d tossed the nightgown aside, sitting on the bed’s edge, and whispered, “Just let me suck you off. All I wanna do is taste your cum.”

  “I...,” Frank had responded—then he was in her mouth. The excitement sucked Hazel’s belly in; she had to knead her privates with her hand while her lips tightly slid back and forth over Frank’s sensitive penile flesh. Each time she drew back, she tasted that delectable viscid saltiness of his pre-cum. Eventually she coaxed him prone on the bed.

  In a near-69 position, she continued to suck with an unforgiving slowness; she wanted him pining to come. Alternately she took her mouth off the slick shaft to suck each testis. Evidently Frank hadn’t felt right about making his own oral reciprocation but it had been of his own volition to grab the plainly visible vibrator off the nightstand and play the buzzing tip over, first, her majora, then her clitoris. She’d let that subconscious sewer open in her mind, then imagined him pissing right through his erection into her mouth. That idea alone had trebled her yearning, and it trebled again when her mind’s eye saw him cracking her hard across the face with an open palm. She almost came when she pretended he was fucking her outright, then, and simultaneously reducing blood-flow to her brain by clamping his hands about her throat, but it wasn’t until she shifted the image from him to Sonia that her climax unreeled. She’d merely dreamed of kissing her, and that’s when the orgasm crested and exploded. His cock popped out of her mouth as she cringed in the girding spasms of pleasure, her pussy suddenly beating like a frantic heart as her back arched and her toes curled and she squealed until the sensations ebbed. Then she limpened, lying back inert, and grinned at him. When he rubbed his corona against her lips, seeking re-entry, she grinned all the more and shook her head. “I’m not going to. I wanna see you do it yourself.”

  “What!”

  “You heard me. The only way you’re coming now is to do it yourself.”

  “Why you little cock-tease bitch, ” but that was the reaction she wanted. It was with adamance that he bolted up, straddled her stomach, and began to masturbate. The fingers of his free hand twisted a nipple until pain spiraled, and when she said, “You don’t have the balls to choke me,” that same hand clamped onto her throat and squeezed harder than she thought he’d dare, and it didn’t let go until her vision had half-dimmed. He bucked, then the first bolt of his ejaculant landed in a diagonal line across her breasts. When she shot her mouth open wide, he leaned over and let the rest fall right in. She idled the lump slowly on her tongue, then let it slide into her belly with a gulp. Once swallowed, the warm mass seemed to throb and even grow warmer, absurdly, as if it approved of its new home.

  “You wanted to taste it,” he said, still mad from being manipulated, “Well, there you go,” then he squeezed out a final bead and smeared it over her lips.

  “That was fun,” she slurred, “but a real man would lick off the rest.” She slid her finger across the line of sperm that lay across her breasts.

  “Yeah, that’ll be happening,” came his snide reply as he packed his penis back in his pants and pulled up the zipper.

  “Well, then,” she asked, “what do you think of this?” and she leaned over, took the spoon out of an empty coffee cup, then meticulously scooped up the remaining semen. Frank stared, agape, as she sucked the spoon clean.

  “What are you doing teaching in the English Department?” he questioned. “You should be in porn.”

  “Naw,” she murmured. “This is more fun, but you know...If you were a real man, you’d piss on me now.”

  Frank burst out laughing.

  “Come on,” she cooed. “You’re ticked off I wouldn’t finish blowing you, so here’s your chance for revenge. Deep down, all men want to piss on women. I read that somewhere. It’s your remnant caveman genes kicking in. Come on, Frank, don’t be a pussy. Piss all over me. You know you want to.”

  Frank was honking laughter now. “Hazel, do yourself a BIG favor. Avoid alcohol at all costs. It turns you into a whory nitwit. And you might want to go to sleep now. You and Sonia have an eight o’clock class to teach and, believe me, you’ll be packing a mighty hangover.”

  He headed for the door, still chuckling. She grinned at him through slitted eyes, her cheek resting against a pillow. She raised one leg to arrogantly display her red-muffed sex and said, “Thanks for taking me to King Lear...”

  Frank laughed some more and said, “You’re a
loony.” “So?” she replied. Then he left, chuckling away...

  In Hazel’s Me-Generation mentality, inducing a man to masturbate on her wasn’t nearly as severe a breach as intercourse or oral sex to completion. Nevertheless, when she woke the next morning, she couldn’t have felt more despicable. Sonia was her great Secret Love and her closest friend. What kind of FRIEND does that make me? Now, as she drove along the steadily curving road, getting farther and farther away from city-life and closer and closer to the cradle of nature, Hazel’s relief washed over her. Anyone else would’ve ended the friendship immediately, for having been so outrageously betrayed. If that had happened...

  I might not even want to live anymore, she considered.

  “Unhook me here, will you?” Sonia’s request summoned Hazel out of the memory. Sonia was leaning forward as best she could, trying but failing to disconnect her bra-clasp. “I swear my boobs get bigger every day. This bra’s killing me.”

  “They’re making milk, they’re getting ready,” Hazel said. She reached over and unsnapped the clasp.

  “Ah,” Sonia gusted. “That’s better. They definitely need a break, and I definitely need to get bigger bras.”

  “They’ll be even bigger when you’re due.”

  “Christ, I hope not.” Sonia cupped them a moment with her hands, to unrest them from the bra.

  “You’re going to breast-feed, I hope.”

  “Of course.”

  “They say the longer you breast-feed, the stronger your child’s immune system will be.”

  “I feel like I’ve got enough milk in these to breast-feed ten kids, Hazel. Jeez...”

  Breast-feed ME, Hazel mused. Her sex actually twitched when she imagined herself sucking milk from one of Sonia’s nipples. She would suck and suck and suck. What would the milk taste like? And what would it feel like to Sonia as the suction pulled it out of her?

  Oh, God, I’m so fucked up in the head...“If you don’t mind my asking...Is it safe for pregnant women to continue having normal and regular intercourse?”

  Sonia rolled her eyes. “Hazel, is that all that’s ever on your mind? Sex?”

  You don’t know the half of it. “Come on. Answer the question.”

  Sonia’s shoulders slumped. “Normally, a woman can have intercourse throughout her term, but wouldn’t you know it? Not me.”

  “Why?”

  “Risk factors increase the chances of complications. One, I’m over thirty, and two, my side has a family history of miscarriage and premature birth. So my doctor nixed intercourse for the entirety of the pregnancy.”

  “Bummer,” Hazel said. “But I’m sure you two have found plenty of ways to work around that.”

  She blushed gently. “Let’s just say that Frank gives an amazing oratory.”

  When Sonia’s dash-mounted cellphone rang, she peeked at the caller ID. “It’s Frank!” Her face seemed illumined. “I’m putting it on speaker...Hi, honey! We’re on the road now. God, I really miss you.”

  Hazel smirked.

  “I miss you too, baby,” Frank replied, his voice scratchy over the reception. “When will you be at the cabin?”

  “A little more than two hours, maybe less. Hazel’s driving.”

  “Hi, Hazel,” Frank said.

  Hazel slowed down when she noticed she was doing 85. “Hi, Frank. Keeping the nature trails hot for us?”

  “You bet. And the camping’s great. This is my second night out. It’s so beautiful out in these woods. After Henry’s funeral, I took off, haven’t been back to the cabin yet, but hope to meet you there tomorrow morning or afternoon.”

  “Don’t get too cocky out in the wild, James Fenimore Cooper,” Sonia urged.

  “Natty Bumpo, you ain’t,” Hazel laughed.

  “Don’t worry. I’m pretty impressed with myself for pushing forty. I’ve hiked almost all the way up the summit, and there’s no trails at all. I’m kind of blazing my own.”

  “What’s the summit?” Hazel asked.

  “You’ll see when you get to the cabin. Just look west. It’s called Whipple’s Peak, a thousand feet up. It’s all covered up with woodland, but there’s this fascinating gorge that cuts right in the middle of it.”

  “Frank!” Sonia complained. “Are you crazy? You’re a geometry teacher, not a mountain climber!”

  “It’s nothing, honey,” the voice insisted. “And it’s really getting me to appreciate nature.”

  “You’re there to go over Henry Wilmarth’s effects! Not climb mountains and sleep in the woods, where there’re bears and snakes and—”

  “Relax. Henry’s papers are in order for now—all that’s left is probate. And Whipple’s Peak isn’t even a true mountain, but in a sense, it’s still part of Henry’s work.”

  “A mountain?” Hazel questioned, “or summit or whatever it is?”

  “Yeah, supposedly there’s a cottage at the top. Henry and my father found it over a decade ago, and I want to see it.”

  “A cottage,” Sonia sputtered. “Of all the things...”

  “They called it the Gray Cottage. Henry probably has some old papers in the place, which I’d need to see,” Frank continued. “The whole thing’s kind of curious.”

  “Just do me a favor, Frank!” Sonia furthered her grievance. “Come down from there right now!”

  “Tomorrow, like I said. I’ve almost found it, and I can’t stop after coming this far.” The noises crackled over the line. “And, honey, I’ve found out more since we last talked. When I got here Sunday—I’ve told you this part–the first thing I see is Henry’s body. He’d killed himself the night before.”

  “But I thought the cabin was ransacked,” Hazel remembered. “Couldn’t someone have murdered him and made it look like suicide?”

  “Nope. It’s true, someone went through the place looking for something, but they didn’t touch Henry’s wallet which was full of credit cards and cash. And, besides, Henry left a suicide note: a note specifically for me.”

  Something about the way he’d said that gave Hazel a chill.

  “It was right on the desk in his study. It read something like: My dear friend Frank: if you’re reading this, then I am already dead, and some other stuff. But at the bottom was a phone number he wanted me to call.”

  “A phone number?” Sonia asked, not happy with any of this. “Whose?”

  “I’ll get to that. First thing I did was call the authorities. First the county sheriff’s department came out, followed by an ambulance, which transported Henry’s body to the morgue at Laconia General.”

  “Frank!” Sonia yelled. “What was the number?”

  “It was a lawyer, in Laconia,” Frank said. “So I called him, told him what happened, and then he told me he had urgent papers for me, in the event of Henry’s death. Next day, I got Henry’s death report and took it to the lawyer, and-and...well, here’s the shocker.”

  Hazel and Sonia looked at each other.

  “Henry’s last will and testament left his estate to me,” Frank said.

  “You’re kidding!” Sonia gasped.

  “No. He left me the cabin and the ten acres of land it’s on, for one thing. That could be worth a lot of money, but he also left me the fifty grand in his checking account, plus some stocks and certificates. The lawyer’s not sure exactly how much it’s all worth, but it’s at least another couple hundred grand.”

  What a guy, Hazel thought.

  Sonia had her hand to her chest. “I’d say it’s wonderful but of course, not under these circumstances. Still, what a shock.”

  “You’re telling me,” Frank said. “I don’t inherit anything until the will’s out of probate, but I honestly can’t see Henry owing people a lot of money. Whatever it’s all worth, I’ll finally be able to get my father out of that shit-hole assisted living place in Concord and move him into something primo.”

  Sonia was stunned. “Oh, Frank, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. It sucks to have a family friend die in order
to make out like a bandit. I’m more pissed off than anything. I’m pissed off that he killed himself.”

  “It was probably something that had been brewing in him for a long time,” Hazel offered. “That’s the modus for most suicidals.”

  “Not in this case, I don’t think so. It’s all that damn storm. He never recovered from that. Dad talked to him a few times since May, said that Henry wasn’t himself anymore.”

  “It’s understandable,” Sonia reasoned.

  “Sure,” Hazel added. “He goes to Florida for a vacation and winds up witnessing one of America’s worst natural disasters . ”

  Sonia: “And surviving when so many others were killed. That would damage anyone’s psyche.”

  Another pause on the line, then Frank said, “But there was one more thing that Henry left me through the lawyer: instructions.”

  “To finish his work, the side project you, he, and your father were working on,” Sonia said.

  “No, no, that’s what he told me on the phone when he invited me up, but remember, that was ulterior, just to get me up there. The instructions said he wants me to destroy all of his papers and files. He said the theory is unworkable, and he didn’t want it ever released to the public because he’d be regarded as a crackpot.”

  “How strange,” Sonia said. “It was something you were working on for years.”

  “For me, yes, it was years, but for Henry and my father it was decades,” Frank said.

  Hazel had to ask, “What exactly was the nature of the work?”

  “Non-Euclidean geometric patterns, but—” Frank chuckled. “You girls are lit-heads. It’d be useless for me to explain.”

  Sonia didn’t have a clue. “Non-Euclid...”

  “I may be a lit-head, Frank,” Hazel admitted, “and a great many men I’ve dated think of me as something else that rhymes with that, but I took enough math to know that all geometry is Euclidean. It has to be ‘cos Euclid invented it.”

  “Did he really invent it, Hazel?” Frank queried, “or was he merely the first to understand the measurability of angles, planes, and points well enough to give it a name? Did mathematics exist before someone contemplated the equation one plus one equals two? Did plasma-physics exist a half-million years ago when the only proto-humans were awkward primates who didn’t have the sense even to use sticks for tools?”