Come In Boys

Their great night seems to crumble in the daylight

Photos copyright: The Author

There is often a hint of naughtiness in folklore tales which gets edited out in the retelling. When I first heard this one from Malta I was sure that was true so I have spiced it up a little.

Author’s Note: I have experimented with telling a large part of this story in second person which is quite limiting. The jury is out on whether that point of view works, so it may get a re-write. Let me know what you think.

SUPERNATURAL | FOLKLORE | EROTIC

The interview room is grey and plain. A single window of frosted glass allows some daylight in whilst a strip-light hums quietly overhead.

“You’re telling me you were a little bit ‘under the weather’ when you left the bar.” Constable Martin looks sceptically at Jed and Rick across the table. He shuffles the pages of their statements with the air of a man who dreads the mountain of paperwork they threaten to generate. “Isn’t it possible that you got confused and went back to the wrong address, or maybe you just imagined it all?”

“We weren’t drunk, if that’s what you mean. And how could two of us imagine the same thing?” Jed says, leaning forward.

The policeman looks down at the page in front of him. “You meet this woman on the street. You don’t think she is a prostitute because you get the impression she is ‘a bit posh’. She says she has been locked out of her house and asks you to help her get back in.”

“You follow her a short way to a large house on Saint Monica’s Street. All the lights inside the house are lit. You had thought that she might be up to something, but reasoning that no one breaks into a house where all the lights are on, you decide to help her. This is in no way influenced by the fact that she is tall, slim, with long blonde hair, wearing a dress with a slash up the side and has great legs.”

“When you try the door you find it is stuck rather than locked and a good shove with your shoulder opens it. She thanks you, says her name is Juliette and invites you in for a drink.”

“Inside, the house is sumptuously decorated, there is the sweet smell of scented candles and she offers you a glass of smooth, mature whiskey. You sit on a comfortable sofa and she sits opposite with her dress falling open to reveal her long legs.”

“One drink turns into two and then she says she would like to offer you another reward. She stands up and bends over to kiss both of you. The view you are getting down the front of her dress suggests that she is not wearing a bra. She kneels down in front of Rick and begins to unbutton his fly. As she takes him in her mouth she pulls up her dress to reveal she is not wearing any knickers either. You take this as an invitation to slide into her from behind.”

“She is hot and wet…” Constable Martin pauses and crosses something out on the statement. “Too much information,” he says. “After some twenty or thirty minutes,” Constable Martin raises an eyebrow and makes another correction. “After a short period of time, you are both spent and flop back down on the sofa.”

“Having had sex with you, Juliette declares that she is now tired, thanks you again and sends you on your way.” Constable Martin turns over another sheet and stares at Jed and Rick. “You have stated that everything was consensual, that you had,” he lifts a sheet of the statement, “a bloody good time, and that no money changed hands.”

“All true,” Jed said. “Otherwise, why would we be here?”

The constable looks down at the statement and continues. “The next morning, you remember that you have left your jacket containing your wallet and passport behind in the house. When you return to the address you discover that the building is derelict and boarded up. There is no sign that it has been lived in for years. Are you sure you went to the right address?”

Jed opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a knock on the interview room door.

A second policeman appears carrying a jacket.

“You found it.” Jed stands up.

“My colleague knows the address you mentioned and agreed to go over there and take a look,” Constable Martin sighs.

“It was in the ruined house you told us about,” the police officer says. “Your passport and wallet are still in the pockets.”

Constable Martin folds up the statement and hands it to Jed. “Case closed. Now piss off and stop wasting my time with stupid ghost stories.”

Jed and Rick follow the other policeman out of the room. “What did he mean, ghost stories?” Jed asks as they walk down the corridor.

The policeman looks at him over his shoulder. “There’s a local story that, before the war, a glamorous woman lived in that house. It’s said that she enticed young men inside. Some people think it was just for sex, but others say that some never came out and she fed on their blood to keep her good looks.” He opens the door to the reception. “She must have liked you - at least she let you go.”

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