The Inn at Southerness

I'm sure that eventually every couple moves past the honeymoon phase of their relationship. And even when both partners are being extremely intentional about their relationship, sometimes they get out of sync and unfortunately Andrew and I were having our first experience with this tension.

I'm sure it had something to do with the changing of the seasons and us both getting busier at work. Andrew's case load at the firm always ramped up in the autumn and my classes got much more intense in the second half of the semester.

The days were getting shorter and the mornings were colder. Andrew was stressed and I was tired so making love for connection took a back seat for the first time in our relationship.

After yet another small tiff over something that didn't matter, such as leaving the lid off the jam jar, or misplacing my glasses for the third time in a day, we both went to work without kissing goodbye.

During some down time in my office, I was feeling guilty for being so stubborn with Andrew that morning. I shot him an apology text and he replied with one of his own.

We should get away for the weekend, drive up North and be just the two of us.

That sounds great, babe. Want me to find us a place?

I agreed and sat back feeling a little better and knowing that this season of disconnect would eventually pass.

When I got home that night, Andrew was already there watching TV on the sofa. His shoes and socks were littered across the floor in a path from the door to the living room and suddenly the good will I had for him evaporated yet again. I walked past him to the kitchen and grabbed a soda, taking it to the bedroom. I sat on the bed and played on my phone waiting for my anger to mellow.

After half an hour or so Andrew appeared in the doorway.

"Elsa, I booked us a room at a B&B up in Southerness for this weekend."

"Okay," I chirped back without looking up from my phone.

"Should be good to be out of town for Halloween. I'm sure the pubs around here will be packed."

"Mmhmm," I agreed.

"Alright, I'm gonna watch telly," he said leaving slowly.

"Have fun," I said knowing how passive aggressive I sounded.

That timbre of interaction continued through the week. One of us would try to be nice and the other would reject and vice versa. Finally Friday arrived and after leaving work a bit early we packed the car and headed North. It was a three hour drive to Southerness. I made Andrew take a car sickness pill so he would sleep the whole way. Any time we went further than the outskirts of the city, he got ill.

I listened to some radio as I drove to keep me focused. The station I landed on was playing some Halloween classics like Michael Jackson's "Thriller" and "The Monster Mash."

My GPS led me to the Bed and Breakfast that Andrew had booked for us. The small building looked ancient, but I had grown accustomed to that having now lived in the UK for three years.

I shook Andrew awake and he slowly rubbed his eyes.

"I'm going to go check us in," I said. I turned back to leave a peck on his cheek. The point of the weekend was to reconnect after all.

Crossing the lawn to the front door I noticed a young man carrying wood to the back door. He was tall and broad with a full reddish-brown beard and a navy blue cable knit sweater that clung to his shoulders. He gave me a light-hearted nod as he saw me walk past, I'll admit it gave me a bit of a thrill to be looked at that way by another man with my husband so close by in the car.

I pulled the door to the inn open with a loud creak and stepped into the dim entry. A black cat skittered past my feet and on into the house. 'That's seasonally appropriate' I thought, also noticing the abundance of cobwebs in that first room.

I stepped into the lobby and up to a well-worn dark wood desk. Room keys hung on a board behind the desk and the keys look just as old as the in itself. A tall grandfather clock stood ticking in the corner and the black cat had curled up at its base.

A big brass bell sat on the desk and I picked it up to ring for service. While I waited for someone to appear I noticed what I thought was a crucifix hanging on the wall. That seems pretty normal for a Scottish inn, but upon closer look I realized it wasn't the form of Jesus hanging on the cross. I couldn't tell what it was. I took a small step forward to try and figure it out when the door behind the desk opened, startling me.

A woman, looking to be in about her mid-50s stepped into the lobby. Her once black hair was lined with silver and pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a high colored lace blouse and a skirt which gave me flashbacks to Frau Blucher from Young Frankenstein.

"Hello," she said in a deep, placid voice.

"Hi, I'm Elsa Bennett. My husband Andrew Bennett made a reservation?"

The woman looked at me cooley before answering, "Yes it is here. Andrew Bennett one room for two nights."

She looked up at me again but didn't make another move.

"Do you, uh, need my credit card?"

"No, the room is paid for," Again she stopped and looked at me.

I suddenly felt very awkward, but Andrew appeared at the entry door with our bags.

"Hello there," he said cheerfully. The woman gave a small nod in response. The door behind her opened again and a middle aged man with a long grey ponytail stepped out. I assumed it was her husband and he looked us over with the same dark eyes as his wife.

The woman looked to her husband momentarily then back at me.

"You are an American?" She asked pointedly.

"Yes," I admitted. "But I've lived in Manchester for three years."

"Your husband did not mention this when he called," she said looking at Andrew.

Andrew's brow furrowed, "Was I supposed to?" He put a protective hand around my waist.

"Of course not," the man finally said with a laugh. He smiled and took a key from the board. "I'll show you to your room."

Andrew walked after the innkeeper and I followed. When I did look back I saw the woman watching me with squinted eyes.

The man, whose name was Douglas, took us up a steep, narrow stairwell to the second floor of the inn and down a narrow, dimly lit hallway and talked while we walked, "Welcome to Southerness. Is this your first time here?"

He didn't wait for a reply before continuing, "This inn is the oldest in the council and it's been in my family since it was built. We don't have a lot of traffic through the year, except in the fall around Halloween."

We arrived at our room and Douglas pushed the black skeleton key into the old doorknob and pushed open another door whose hinges were in need of oiling.

Andrew and I walked into the room and glanced around while Douglas spoke, "Breakfast is served tomorrow from seven to nine in the dining room. There's a path down to the beach behind the house. And tomorrow night there's a little gathering in the square for All Hallow's Eve; the locals put on a little festival honoring the Gaelic Samhain tradition."

"Samhain?" I repeated, not knowing the word.

Andrew answered me, "It's the Scottish festival to celebrate the halfway point between the autumn equinox and winter solstice. It's a time of transition in the year which symbolizes the transition of life to death."

Douglas smiled at Andrew, "You are correct!"

Andrew nodded, "My mother's mother was Scottish and she would talk about it every autumn."

"I knew you had some Scot in ye," Douglas nodded.

"It sounds like fun!" I agreed. Douglas fixed his dark eyes on me and I for the same feeling I'd had downstairs- that I wasn't all that welcome. But then his face cracked into a smile again.

"If you need anything, my wife, Mirren, was downstairs. My son, Logan and my daughter, Saoirse are running around here as well."

"Thank you, Douglas," I smiled at him.

"Our rooms are full this weekend and the other guests will be milling around in the parlour if you'd like to socialize. Otherwise, enjoy!"

Douglas set the key on the bureau by the door and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Andrew sat on the edge of the somewhat small bed and I turned to him with a questioning look.

"Where did you find this place?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from carrying out into the hall.

"One of the guys from the firm mentioned he'd stayed here with his girlfriend last Christmas. He said it was cozy and romantic."

I looked around the room again at the out of date furniture and the peeling rose embossed wallpaper, "I think the more appropriate words are creepy and rundown."

"I'm sure it's nicer than that," he said, kicking off his shoes. "Besides, we won't have to spend too much time in here."

I gave him a dirty look, "I thought one of the goals was to spend more time in bed?"

Andrew shrugged, "Or we can go explore the beach and the town. We should go to the festival tomorrow! My grandmother talked about it forever, but I've never been. I'm sure it will be fun!."

I sighed but also took off my shoes and unpacked my toiletries. I pulled off my jacket and pulled on a wooly sweater instead.

"Should we go down and mingle?" Andrew asked, stepping up behind me, running his hands under the sweater and over my stomach. It felt nice having him hold me like that and I honestly didn't want to mingle. Maybe we were finally in the mood at the same time. But then my stomach grumbled. Andrew could feel it and we both heard it.

"I hope they have tea and cookies in parlour," I said. We wandered together down the stairs to the parlour. If I had hoped that the common areas of the B&B would be more luxurious, I was sorely disappointed. The Victorian era sofas were faded and threadbare. The drapes which I assume had once been burgundy were now a sun faded pink. There were three couples already in the parlour. Most were already hovering with their tea and cookies. A girl I'd guess to be 20 with dark auburn hair was pouring the tea while Mirren, the strict woman from the front desk manned the cookies.

"Biscuit?" She offered without a smile.

"Yes, thank you," I took a pumpkin spice cookie from her tray. She offered a biscuit to Andrew but his focus was elsewhere.

The young Scottish lass was sending very flirty eyes at my husband over her tea kettle and Andrew was not so subtly noticing her as well.

The spark of anger that lit inside me all too soon fanned to full flame as he too politely asked her for a cup of tea. She giggled as she filled his cup. I sat on one of the hard faded sofas and nibbled at my cookie and when Andrew sat next to me, I refused to look at him. He didn't seem to notice as his eyes were on the tea girl's very round arse.

She moved about the room refilling everyone's tea cups and when she got to me and realized I didn't have a cup, walked back to the tea tray without a word. I was struck by how incredibly rude this was but no one else seemed to notice and when I did catch a whiff of the tea it smelled bitter and harsh.

Douglas appeared with a fresh kettle of hot water and he started to make introductions. The girl pouring tea was his daughter Saoirse. There was another couple about Andrew's and my age on a holiday from London. The second couple was a bit older than us and said they lived in Scotland but they always came to Southerness for Halloween. The third couple was quite mismatched. The woman looked to be about sixty and her partner looked barely college aged. Neither spoke when Douglas introduced them and they left for their room immediately after emptying their cups.

All of us who remained made awkward smalltalk while the last of the autumn sun disappeared out the Western window. The entry door creaked open and the young bearded man I'd seen earlier came striding in. He grabbed two of the pumpkin cookies and took a seat in the chair nearest me.

"Hello there," he said plopping down.

"Hello," I answered, thankful for the attention.

"I'm Logan," he introduced himself. "I'm taking over the upkeep for my parents... I see you didn't get any tea, let me grab you a cup.

I would accept a cup as an attempt to show Andrew I could get a young Scottish man's attention, but as quickly as he sat stood to fetch the tea, his mother called his name.

"Logan!" We both looked up at her.

Her face had a twitch as if she were signaling to him. Logan blanked for a moment before suddenly excusing himself and dashing back to the kitchen.

I finished my cookie in silence and the parlour emptied as the couples finished their evening treats and went to their own rooms.

I yawned and gave Andrew a look that said I was ready for bed. He took another long gaze at Saoirse as he stood and we walked up to our little room.

As soon as the door was closed Andrew's hands were on my waist and his lips were on my neck.

"Andrew!" I protested but his hands traveled up under my sweater to my breasts. He bit at my neck, a move that usually made me swoon, but I was still angry.

"Stop it! I know what has you all hot and bothered and it's not me!" I pushed his hands down.

"Elsa, come on!" he responded trying to take my hands and pull me toward the bed.

"No! I'm tired. I drove all the way here then was treated like a freak by some creepy lady in this dusty old inn where my husband made eyes at some barely legal redhead! And this whole place smells like that rotten evening tea! I'm going to bed. You can help yourself in the shower." I gestured to the obvious hard on he had going on in his trousers.

"Elsa-" he pleaded but I was already pulling on a pair of sweatpants and putting my hair up for bed.

I saw the black teddy I had purchased the day before for this trip, hoping we were going to have some amazing sexual reunion, but tonight was not the night. Andrew retreated to the attached bathroom with a heavy slam of the door and I heard the shower start.

I climbed into the small bed and pulled the duvet up over my head. I heard the blood pulsing in my ears as I attempted to regulate my breathing enough to fall asleep. After a good while, Andrew came out of the bathroom and climbed into bed next to me. I tried my best to make it seem like I was already asleep and if he knew I was faking he didn't let on. After just a few minutes I heard the familiar sound of his soft snores. I rolled over to spoon against his back, having calmed down enough to know I couldn't stay angry and vowed to makeup in the morning. I fell asleep with my arm wrapped over his torso.

***

My eyes opened slowly and I couldn't see a thing in the dark room. I was confused for just a moment about where I was because I knew it wasn't my comfy king size bed at home. I sat up to look out the window for some idea of what time it was since the room didn't have a digital clock. The sky was pitch black so I knew it was still there dead of the night. As I sat up, the duvet slipped off my shoulder and I realized I was wearing just my black camisole tank top and a pair of black boyshort panties.

'I must have gotten really hot,' I thought. It wasn't the first time I'd stripped down in my sleep. And the room was hot, way too hot. The furnace must have been working double time to have me sweating this much at the end of October.

It wasn't until then that I realized Andrew wasn't beside me. Andrew loved to spoon and cuddle in bed, but sometimes I needed a little more space on the hot summer nights, but he wasn't even there.

"Andrew?" I said quietly, peering around the dark room.

I pushed the duvet from my legs and swung myself out of bed. I padded to the little attached bathroom, but it was also empty.

I figured he must have not been able to sleep. He must have taken a novel down to the parlour to read where the light wouldn't wake me. Now was as good a time as ever to go apologise for losing my temper with him so I slowly opened the creaky door and went out into the hallway.

The hall was even hotter than the bedroom and I pushed some sweaty hair off my forehead. I turned left at the stairs and made my way down to the parlour. As I descended, I started to hear something. A pulsing? Drums? It was like there were drums far away, but it got louder as I walked down.

I turned right at the landing and stood in the doorway of the parlour. One beam of light came through the curtained window from a yard light but it was enough to see that the room was empty. I turned around to go back upstairs, but I was able to catch the time in the face of the grandfather clock in the lobby. It was just past one o'clock.

My eyes shifted to the wood stove that also sat in the lobby and I realized it wasn't even lit. Approaching it, I put a hand to the metal top and found it was cold; this stove hadn't been on for hours yet the whole inn was increasingly hot.

Then I felt it. The drum pulsing that I had heard coming down the stairs could also be felt. My bare feet on the hard wood of the lobby could sense the pounding rhythm. That meant the beat was closer than I had originally thought. I glanced around the lobby and the door to the kitchen. I had assumed that behind there was the main house where the owners lived. I took a step behind the large check in desk and saw the old brass doorknob rattling to the intense pulsing.

The thought crossed my mind that I should just go back to bed, but I had to find Andrew. I pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the kitchen. The music was much louder and now I could hear more than just the pulsing beat. There was a strange melody as well.

And then there was the smell. It was the same as the smell of that disgusting tea from earlier in the evening. A bitter, rotten smell was filling the air.

It was obvious where the music was coming from. A very large pantry stood across the room and the door was slightly ajar. Crossing to it, I peeked through the opening to find that it was not a pantry at all. I pushed the door open more to discover a set of stairs leading down. The heat, the music and the smell were coming from whatever was down those stairs.

I tip-toed down the first few steps and the stairs began to curve to the right. A glow of light appeared ahead of me and I knew I was about to discover something bizarre. I crept down to the bottom stair and attempted to keep myself hidden behind the wall well I peered around the corner. What I saw took my breath away.

It was a large circular room with hundreds of candles lit providing the glow. Ancient looking metal chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the room also bedecked with dozens of lit candles. The walls were lined with shelves of old leather-bound books and glass vials holding herbs and unknown concoctions. The floor was an intricate woodworking of a pentagram. Within each of the five points was a raised altar of sorts that held a bowl of burning incense which explained the awful smell permeating through the inn.

Two of the stone altars were empty but the three farthest away from me all held the other three couples who are staying in the end all engaged in various sex acts. The young couple from London had the man laying on his back on the stone altar while his wife knelt between his legs hungrily bobbing on his cock. The elderly woman lay reclined on cushions while her husband pumped his cock into her. The mismatched couple that had given me pause at the evening tea was quite vocal as the man was down on all fours as the woman knelt behind him, pegging him with a large black strapon.

The pulsing music seemed to have no source and it felt as if the music was coming from the floor itself, beating into the air its steady, erotic cadence.

I stood in the shadows in complete disbelief. I had never seen a spectacle like this in real life.

My attention was suddenly drawn to a dark velvet curtain that hung along the wall. It parted to reveal Logan, the innkeeper's son carrying out a sigil, followed by his parents. Douglas and Mirren were quite transformed from their dowdy innkeeper uniforms. Mirren wore a skin tight bodysuit of black crystal and Douglas wore a teal robe that had a train that dragged on behind him.