Robert Desmond - House of Evil

Newton had insisted that they answer the advertisement and they had spent the entire evening drafting a reply and choosing the best of their wedding pictures to accompany it. They had received an answer within a week, a friendly letter of acceptance along with a check for airplane fare and instructions to meet a Mr. and Mrs. George Blackwell at the San Francisco airport on a date less than a week away. It had been a frantic time for the next few days, packing, Newton quitting his job, saying goodbye to everyone, but at last they had arrived in San Francisco and been surprised to find that their new employers were not the elderly couple that they had expected.

After a drink together to get acquainted, they had all left the terminal in the Blackwells' expensive shiny black Chrysler and driven into the city itself where George had given them a fistful of money and told them it was an advance for clothes and personal items that they might need up in the mountains where they were going. She remembered now how Newton had practically fainted when the older, white-haired man had told them what their salary would be. It was more than they had dreamed possible! More than three times as much as Newton had been making at the service station back home! And there were supposed to be what the Blackwells had called "premiums", to be paid every few months, if the young Parker couple "worked out all right". As the big car had sped northward toward the Oregon border, Mr. Blackwell had explained how he had made a virtual fortune on real estate holdings in California and had decided to retire while he and his wife were still young enough to enjoy themselves. He had gone on to relate how they had searched all over the west coast to find exactly the right spot to build a luxurious home with servants' accommodations nearby, a spot where they could have privacy in lovely natural surroundings, and how excited they had been when finally they had found and bought the property at Quail Lake. Nadalee had been proud when he had said that she and Newton had been chosen out of over two hundred couples who had answered the advertisement from almost all over the United States.

They had arrived at Quail Lake that evening, been given a large bundle containing their uniforms, and then the Blackwells had escorted them by flashlight to the roomy, nicely-furnished cottage that was located about three hundred yards from the main house. It had all seemed to be a fairy tale, too good to be true, and she had been filled with childish happiness over the elegance of their new home and the seeming windfall of money they would be earning simply as servants.

That had been a week ago. But now, despite the fact that Newton was well pleased with the way things were working out, she was nervous and always plagued with a feeling of unexplained anxiety, as though her welfare were constantly on the verge of being irredeemably destroyed, not only by George Blackwell's insolent behavior, but also by a strange mixture of unreconciled feelings inside herself. She had been struggling with herself, as was even now, against an overpowering resentment at her husband's miserly displays of affection toward her even while she wanted more than anything to please him and be a perfect wife. She knew she was being silly but it was becoming harder and harder – especially lately, during the short time that they had been at Quail Lake – to endure the strong sense of loneliness that she felt.

Well, she decided, there was no time right now to dawdle over such unimportant matters. She was merely a young newly-wed and Newton surely realized what he was doing, even if she was unhappy to the point of misery sometimes, and besides, his apparent coldness toward her was probably only because he worked so hard to please the Blackwells and that his mind was filled with plans for the farm that, now, in one short week had become less "the dream" and more of a reality in her mind. Her mother had warned her against selfishness, had said, "If you can't be certain your man is leading you in the right direction, you shouldn't have agreed to follow him in the first place."

Nadalee noticed the clock on the wall behind the big desk that George Blackwell had occupied less than five minutes ago. Heavens, it was almost five-thirty, only twenty minutes before her husband would be expecting her back at their cottage, and she still had most of the study to clean! Despite her troubled state of mind and the embarrassment she had suffered in the room, she knew that Newton would be absolutely infuriated if for any reason the Blackwells were dissatisfied with her work as a maid. Sighing, she straightened up and set herself to the task of finishing the task with a fresh burst of energy, praying that she could do a decent job and still be home before she was missed.

Twenty minutes later, almost to the second, Nadalee hurried through the garden toward the forest path that snaked through the towering trees along the lake to the cottage. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of a menacing growl behind her. After what seemed an eternity, she turned slowly and saw that it was Buck, the huge black-and-brown German Shepherd that was nearly always at Braun's side. She had forgotten in her haste that the bald servant usually allowed the dog to run free in the afternoon.

"Go home, Buck, go back!" she commanded with shaky authority. But the ferocious-looking creature would not budge and sat there a few yards behind her, snarling as he moved his head up and down to scan her body, eyeing her as though he were human. She was frightened half to death but could not help but admire Buck's raw animal magnificence. Even perched on his haunches, he was imposingly large and feral, even exciting… His chest was as broad as a young boy's and she allowed her eyes to roam from its huskiness down along his fawn-colored belly to the hairy sheath aiming up between his powerful hindquarters. For some reason, the canine's furry sex organ reminded her of the sight of George Blackwell's erected penis under his woolen trousers, how it had jutted out so lewdly and yet had been mysteriously exciting. The German Shepherd's ensheathed maleness now had the same alarming fascination about it, like some mighty hidden strength that was threatening but oddly thrilling as well.

Realizing what she was doing, she quickly raised her eyes and stood there in confusion for another long moment, wondering if the beast would attack her. Then, suddenly, she heard Braun's deep voice calling Buck back to the house and watched with relief as the big dog rose and turned to trot off, his dark pod-like testicles swinging heavily down between his back legs as he went. They looked to be as large as, if not actually larger than her husband, Newton's!

A couple of minutes later, she was already halfway home, still trembling from the shock of her encounter with Buck. She stopped at one of her favorite spots along the trail, hoping to calm down a little before she arrived at the cottage. She peered out through an opening in the evergreens at the idyllic mile-long lake shimmering like molten fire in the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a brilliant blaze of orange and gold that softened and finally faded in the rhythmic green water that lapped at the glacier-formed rocks and the exposed down-curving roots of pines along the edge of the shore. Good Lord, it was a beautiful place! She had to admit that she had never seen anything so utterly breathtaking anywhere in Oklahoma. She felt the coolness of the air wafting over her skin, her wide green eyes full of the poetry of nature as she gazed out at the oblong body of water nestling in the bosom of the high peaks surrounding it.

Just as she turned to leave, a hawk came into view, circling up high over the lake and then gliding silently down on the still air to flash in the sunlight like a hover of gold. Oh, if only she were that free, that free to soar and feel the bloom of young womanhood in her limbs, free to be herself and not haunted by whatever it was within her that seemed to enslave her almost as much as Newton and the Blackwells.