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A naive young brunette wants to take a bungee jump.

Then I overheard my mom saying that Mrs. Thompson was a stripper. Guess what happened next?"

"What?" asked Audrey more intensely than she meant to be.

Ember gave her trademark smile and continued, "A couple of years later she was busted for prostitution! I don't really know what happened to them after that, though, because they sold the house and nobody heard from them again.

After that, people started calling it 'slut house.' Now there's you, and, no offense, but you seem to be pretty slutty, Audrey. Some people even swear that the place is haunted! So, seen any ghosts so far?"

"Huh?" Audrey asked, almost too troubled by her own thoughts at that point to acknowledge the question.

"Earth to Audrey!" exclaimed Ember, "Ghosts. Seen any ghosts?"


"Uh, no," answered the blonde.

"Well, you've gotta let me know if you do!" Ember urged, then added, "Maybe we could get a Ouija board and have a sleepover sometime!"

Ember simply had no idea how much gravity her words held. Audrey had already been so confused and torn by her recent actions, actions that eerily mirrored the story of Tasha. There was so much guilt threatening to swallow her up recently that she, too, had been thinking about suicide lately. But Tasha had actually committed suicide. Audrey had never really believed in the supernatural, but something strange was going on in her life. Either she was mentally ill, or there was a ghost.

"Yeah," Audrey replied, deciding that there was no harm in trying, "Maybe you could spend the night this weekend?"

"Definitely," Ember answered, then slyly added, "and if all else fails, who knows? Netflix and chill?"

"I'll just have to make sure it's okay with my dad." Audrey added quietly.

The girls sat down to eat, and they were joined by some of Ember's other friends. The topics of conversation were typical of teenage girls; they gossiped about boys, relationships, and fashion. Audrey ignored them. Audrey was lost in her own head.

* * *

By the time Audrey pulled Beastly into the driveway, she had grown uncomfortable with how wet her panties had become. What would it be like to strip naked in front of strangers? She would be exposed and helpless, then they would bend her over and fuck her. There would be so much cum. Maybe they would tie her up and fuck her for days.

She snapped out of the fantasy as she remembered that she needed to shift the car into park. Maybe she really was a nymphomaniac, or maybe it was something else, but she had to get herself under control. So she tried to make herself think of things that would keep her mind off sex. In the end, she decided she should listen to music or play guitar, but first there was something she really needed to do: She immediately made her way to the laptop with the potentially incriminating video and deleted it.

When Paul got home Audrey was already in the basement playing guitar. Although she usually preferred the light tones of an acoustic, she had opted to break out her late mother's Les Paul electric for the first time since the move. Audrey then plugged it in to the 1960's Marshall tube amp, which also came from her mother who had always been a huge fan of Led Zeppelin. Finally, she began to play some high gain Lamb of God metal riffs. The amp was perfect for keeping the tone of the guitar's crunchy double humbuckers clean, and the riffs not only served as good finger practice, they were also difficult enough to keep her mind totally focused. It had worked until she felt a hand on her shoulder, which practically made her jump.

"Sorry," said her father, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's. . .okay, daddy," she said as she adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder, accidentally causing feedback to scream through the basement for a few seconds.

After she positioned the pickups away from the amp and palm-muted the strings, Paul continued, "It's been a while since you broke out your mom's old stuff. Any. . .special reason?"

"Not really," she answered, even though they both knew that the truth was fa

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