Wicked Wednesday: Room 172

The chain that once held the iron gate shut tight now hung limp and lifeless, rusty broken links scattered on the cement below.  He shoved the gate, surprised at just how weak and brittle it felt against his hands.  It creaked open slowly, and he pulled her inside.

The grounds beyond the gate were a mess of unruly weeds.  Ancient trees loomed overhead, unrestrained branches casting a pall of darkness that seemed foreboding even in daylight.  The narrow footpath - or rather the portion that wasn't covered by weeds - was speckled by fuzzy green moss that seemed to be spreading the further they walked.

"Jimmy, I wanna do it in one of the cells.  You think we can?"

"Oh yeah, baby," he said.  "We'll do it in all of them."

The footpath twisted and turned through a jungle of overgrown crabgrass and foxtails.  The path led them to the main house, a dark and lifeless edifice dating back almost two hundred years.  The facade loomed over them as they approached, long shadows staring at them through broken windows.  

Crumbling brick and tiny bits of glass crunched beneath their feet as they walked up the staircase.  There was no door; the entryway was dark, cavernous.  They stood there for a moment, staring inside.

"You ain't gonna chicken out, are ya?" she asked him.

"No way," he said, though his voice was shaky.  His nerves stood in stark contrast against her fearlessness as she stepped inside, her jacket already off and cast to the floor before she'd crossed the entryway.  As she took off her T-shirt she broke into a run, by this time almost out of sight.  As she turned the first corner he gave chase, doing his best to ignore the nagging voice in his head, the one telling him that they shouldn't be there, that he was afraid, that it could be dangerous.

He raced after her, encountering discarded clothing strewn about the gloomy corridor.  By the time he caught up to her a tiny pair of pink panties was all that kept her from nakedness.  His heart pounded now, less from the physical exertion and more from his own pervading sense of dread.

"You're a lot less naked than I am," she said, and pulled him close.  They kissed hungrily, demonstratively, his hands groping her body before sliding beneath the waistband of her panties and sliding them down to her calves.  She reached down to help, stepping out of them and leaving them forgotten on the floor.

She untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head.  Then she unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans while he used his feet to take off his shoes.  They continued to kiss after both were naked, their hands roaming over the other's body until they could stand it no longer.

"You want to go into one of the rooms?" he asked.

"One of the cells?" she clarified.  "Hell yeah!"  She walked further down the hall, her slender body moving gracefully until she stopped at the last door, and opened it.  Room 172.  My old room.

That's where I found them.

-Jack

Picture prompt; no verbal prompt this week

Source: pxleyes.com