“YOU FUCKING DID WHAT!!!”

“It was a sort of spur of the moment thing.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to, you know, speak to me first?”

“I honestly didn’t expect anything to come of it.”

“Oh and that makes it all okay does it?”

“I know I...”

“Don’t you dare even try to wriggle out of this.”

“I...”

“You have done some stupid things in my time, but this? This is a whole new level of stupidity.”

The voices crashed into silence.

Fifteen year old Scott looked over at his one year younger sister, Mary. She looked terrified. They had never heard their parents argue like this. Ever. The occasional raised word every now and then, but never on this scale. Never with such ferocity. Scott saw the tears at the corners of her eyes. Something had to be done. It was just that he didn’t know what.

“It’ll be okay.” Scott whispered to her. It didn’t sound sincere. Even to his ears. Scott descended the stairs, leaving his sister to sob quietly at the top. Hesitantly he entered the kitchen. “Mum, dad, what’s up?”

His mum glanced at him then turned a gaze that could freeze Hell onto his father. “Your father,” There was a short pause that positively dripped venom. “Took it upon himself, to buy another house.”

“A house?” Scott was astounded. “Why?”

“See! Even your son gets it!”

“I...” Tried his father again.

“Don’t!” His mother held out her left hand, palm outwards towards his father, “let me stop you right there.” She turned and headed to the fridge, lifting out an un-opened bottle of wine. A large glass was also liberated from an upper cupboard. Armed with glass and bottle, she stormed from the kitchen. A quietly crying Mary entered in her wake.

“What’s going on dad?” Scott lifted an arm as Mary slipped into the offered embrace.

Their father sighed deeply and retrieved a mug from the cupboard, flicking on the kettle. He nodded to the kitchen table and it’s attendant chairs. “You might as well take a seat.”

Scott pulled out a chair and sat. Mary followed, sitting on his lap like she used to do when little, holding tightly to the arms he folded around her. Their father pulled out his own chair and sat down.

“A couple of weeks ago,” He started to explain. “I saw a house nearby up for sale. It seemed a stupidly low price, so. I put in a cheeky offer, not expecting much. And it, er, got accepted. The owner is after a quick sale. Needs the money apparently.”

Scott rested his chin on Mary’s shoulder, struggling with concepts that he didn’t quite fully understand. “But aren’t we in a recession? Hasn’t the housing market collapsed? If we sell our house now, will we not get less than what you bought it for? Negative e, e, eq...”

“Equity. Yes.” The kettle boiled and their father stood and started to make a coffee. He paused, “You want one?” Scott and Mary shook their heads. “That is the case. This house would never come close to paying for the other one. However, it was a slow day at work,”

“Obviously.” Scott interrupted.

“And I did a bit of research. You know how interest rates are rock bottom at the moment?” Scott nodded his head. He knew they were at a quarter of a percent. A record or something. They were always going on about it on the news, though he didn’t quite understand why that was important.

“Well, rental yield is still quite high, as is demand in the area. So, out of curiosity, I phoned my mortgage provider. Turns out- I did a bit of enquiring- that the rental income we could get from this house is higher than the mortgage payments. That excess just so happens to make up the difference between what we -your mum and I- pay for this house and what we would have to pay for the other one. With interest rates so low and no sign of changing any time soon, it was too good an opportunity to let slip. You follow?”

Scott nodded his head. He didn’t really follow. Mary sniffled on his lap, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jumper. “So,” Scott cautiously started as his brain struggled to process all the new information “We get someone else to pay for this house, by living in it. Whilst we live in another house which we -you and mom- pay for. And at the end, you end up with two houses and the renters with nothing?”

“Exactly! And it won’t cost us any more money.” He took a large sip of his coffee.

“Do we have to move schools dad?” Mary asked.

“No, it’s only a few streets away, that is the beauty of it. You can both stay at the same school, you will keep your friends and our commutes won’t alter.”

“So why is mum so angry dad?” Asked Scott.

“Because I never ran it past her first. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting the offer to be accepted.”

“What’s the house like dad?” Broke in Mary.

“Good question. I’ II show you.” He stood and made his way to his briefcase tucked away and forgotten in the corner. He laid it flat on the countertop and popped both the catches at the same time. He rummaged inside and pulled out some sheets of A 4 stapled together at the top left corner. He handed it to Mary. Scott rested his chin on her shoulder again as he looked down. First thing he noticed was the price. It made his eyes water. The second thing was that it was detached, not terraced like their present one and actually had a garden to the front and not the concrete slabbed pavement they had outside at present.

“It’s got a driveway!” Scott exclaimed

“And a garage.” Added their father. Mary turned the page. There was text about council tax band, heat efficiency and some other adult stuff that was of no interest to Scott. It was hard to tell but it appeared the rooms were bigger. The kitchen certainly was.

“It even has a basement.” Their father pointed out. “We could get a pool table in there, maybe a dartboard. A proper man cave, away from the women.”

“Oi!” Complained Mary.

Scott was sold. Mary turned the page. Bedrooms. And they were bigger as well. Two of the bedrooms had on-suites. The last page had local information and a picture of the back garden. Which was about four times the size of their present one, which was large enough just for the rotary drier and that was it.

“And mom doesn’t like it because?” Scott asked.

“Ah, well, she hasn’t seen it yet, I never got that far.”

“Should have led with this first.” Mary pointed out. Their dad reached over and tussled her hair.

“I know that now clever clogs. I just wasn’t expecting her to go full PMT on me.”

“PMT?” Scott was at a loss with the acronym.

“Ask your sister about it.”

“Don’t.” His sister warned before Scott even opened his mouth, glaring at her father.

“Are you going to show her now?” Scott asked.

Their father sighed. “No, I’ll leave it for a bit. Let her calm down.” He took the brochure out of Mary’s hands and placed it on top of his briefcase. Scott’s legs were starting to go dead; he could feel the onset of pins and needles, so he unceremoniously shoved Mary off and stood, alternately shaking his legs. A basement, that would make a cool den! Scott thought. Awesome.

Scott headed back to his room for some FIFA football action on his computer. He was about to click on the FIFA icon on the desktop when he remembered something. He clicked on Google instead, typed in ‘PMT’ and hit return. He scanned the results. “Oh.” There was a knock at the door and he quickly closed the window. “Yeah?”

Mary bounced in, all excited, and waving her tablet as she leapt onto his bed, “I bags the other bedroom with on-suite.”

“Huh?”

Mary raised and reversed the tablet so he could see what was on the screen. She had already found the estate agent on-line, and the house, and was currently looking at the pictures. There were more pictures online than there was in the brochure. “I said, I bags the other bedroom with the on-suite.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Scott wasn’t that interested in a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Besides if his sister had her own, then that meant she wouldn’t be spending any where as much time as she currently did in the present house toilet, of which there was just one.

“Just look at the size of the rooms! I could have sleepovers and shit!” Scott looked down on his sister, sprawled out on his bed. The last couple of months had seen a marked change in her wardrobe and taste. Out had gone K-pop and your generic mass produced, family friendly pop. In came angry angst ridden wailing from the likes of My Chemical Romance and other wrist slashing barrels of joy.

Her clothing quickly followed suit. Pastels and flowers beaten to death and buried in a shallow grave by the all-encompassing black. Yes, that’s a really nice colour, but do you do it in black was now king. Or was it queen? She was still going on about her new room in a house their parents had not even bought yet. Her knees bending as she casually kicked her heels to and from her arse. And holy shit what an arse! Mary was wearing some sort of Lycra type leggings -black of course- that had been tailored, stitched, glued or something, so that it followed every contour exactly. Scott had never really noticed before, mainly because the black tunic thing she normally wore as well, came down to mid-thigh. As she collapsed on his bed and generally squirmed about, the hem of the aforementioned tunic had risen to her waist, leaving one hell of curvy rear open to his gaze. How did the Lycra follow those contours and disappear into the crack of her arse like that? He could park the front wheel of a bike in that crack.

He became aware that the room was silent. Scott dropped his gaze to meet that of his sister’s. She stared back for a few seconds, and then slowly, purposely, turned her head round to look behind her. She turned back.

“Were you just staring at my arse?”

“No. I was staring at the Taylor Swift poster on the wall.”

Mary turned her head again to glance at the bare, poster free wall. She turned back with a frown on her face. “There isn’t a Taylor...”

“Yes, okay, I was staring at your arse. When the fuck did you get a ‘grade A’ arse?”

Mary flipped the case cover over the screen of her tablet and slipped from the bed. “And when did you start being such a perv?” she fired back.

It was like a switch had been flicked on in his head as he suddenly noticed things about her that he had never noticed before. Like what a pair of legs she had, and how the Lycra seemed to accentuate the muscles and suppleness of her legs as she strode from the room. She shut the door firmly behind her. Scott let out a blast of air through his mouth. “Wow!”

It was Saturday morning. It was EARLY Saturday morning. Normally Scott would still be in the land of nod, but they were off to see the house. He wasn’t particularly bothered about it, but his sister was positively bouncing off the walls with excitement. They met the estate agent at the house and she had hardly opened the door and Mary was in. There was a plaque on the front door- “A man’s home is his castle”. Scott thought that was a bit tacky.

There was a squeal of delight from upstairs. The estate agent laughed! “It looks like the house is a hit with someone already.” The furnishings and carpets were still there, but all the possessions, paintings and detritus of family life that had been in the brochure pictures was gone. His mother started up a conversation with Sarah, the Estate Agent.

“Where is the family that lived here? Have they emigrated or something Sarah?”

“Sadly not. You know that really bad train crash a few weeks ago?”

“Yes, what a terrible tragedy. So many killed.”

“Unfortunately, the family that lived here were some of the unlucky ones.”

“The whole family?” Asked his mother, aghast. Sarah nodded. “Jeez, that’s horrific.”

“So who owns it now?” Asked, Scott’s father.

“A distant relative. Turns out he runs a business that was hit hard by the banking scandal and needs funds as soon as possible to avoid going under.”

“So that’s why my offer was accepted?”

“Yes, the new owner can’t afford to wait and with the housing market being as sluggish as it is at the moment, what with the recession and all.” Sarah shrugged. “The kitchen.” she stated somewhat needlessly, as they entered it.

“Ohhh, I like this!” His mother went straight over to the nearest countertop and ran her hand over it in delight. Scott took a closer look. He didn’t know much about countertops other than his mother went proper ballistic if he used a knife on it without using a chopping board or plate to protect the surface. He rapped a knuckle against it. It looked to be some sort of black stone with sparkly bits through it. There was no hiding his mother’s delight as she opened drawers and cupboards. One wall of the kitchen was sliding glass doors that opened onto a flagged patio leading out into the back garden. Two walls had countertops with cupboard space above and below, one of which contained a large glass topped cooker, and the other wall had a large fridge freezer and sink. The fourth wall was open plan to a dining area. In the middle of the kitchen was a freestanding countertop that was surfaced in the same glittering black stone, with more cupboards underneath and a small sink with a single flexible pipe sprouting from the edge like a miniature shower head. A couple of tall stools were placed around the outside of the central preparation area.

Scott’s mother was still opening a shutting doors and drawers. The sliding movement of the drawers proving to be a source of great joy. His father in the mean-time was looking at a bank of switches on the wall. He pressed one of the buttons and the countertops were bathed in a bright light emanating from underneath the upper cupboards.

“Ooo ... Now that, I DO like!” Exclaimed his mother. Sarah politely guided his parents from the kitchen. The decor in the rest of the house was at odds with the modern day functionality of the kitchen. There was a lot of wooden panelling on the walls, decorative coving, muted light, false ceiling beams and an obvious attempt by the previous owner to shape the house like a Tudor building. Just not very successfully. The plaque on the front door started to make a bit more sense to Scott. His father was in different, his mother not so impressed.

“The previous owner was a builder.” supplied Sarah “Who had a rather obvious historical liking, I’ll admit.” She smiled knowingly at Scott’s mother. “It would also appear that whilst his wife could tolerate some quirks, it obviously didn’t extend to the kitchen. Given the state of the kitchen, it appeared that he could have the house the way he wanted, only if the kitchen was built to her standards and built first.”

“A shrewd woman.” Agreed his mother. The hallway that housed the stairs also contained a mini LED chandelier. His parents both looked at each other upon spotting the chandelier and shared a look of wry amusement.

“Originally” carried on Sarah as she led them up the stairs “This was a four bedroom property, but the previous owner removed one room so he could add the on suites and space for fitted wardrobes. He also extended the building slightly to accommodate the extra space required for the kitchen. As a result the upstairs bedrooms are very spacious.” And they were.

They encountered Mary in one room, flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. “This is my room.” She stated possessively.

“Get your shoes off the bed!” scolded their mother. Reluctantly Mary sat up and swung her feet off the bare mattress.

“Carpets, fixtures and fittings, and furniture are all part of the sale.” Sarah carried on. “Obviously, if you wish to replace them with your own, if you purchase the property, then it will be at your own expense.” Scott’s mom and dad had a brief look in the en-suite and moved on. “This here is the master bedroom.” The bedroom was decorated in a modern fashion and the en-suite bathroom, which contained an actual bath, was in the latest style. It appeared the wife had put her foot down here as well.

The wardrobe doors were mirrored, which made the already sizeable room appear even bigger. His mother opened one door, which slid silently back on its runners revealing floor to ceiling drawers and a loose cupboard door on the floor next to a shoe rack. She slid the mirrored doors back to access the middle potion of the wardrobe. Just open space. She slid the last door across revealing more drawers and a cupboard missing its door, the reason for it being door-less readily apparent. The safe contained within having its door forced open to such an extent that it was useless. It was empty inside.

“The last room upstairs...” They all trooped into the last room, Mary joining them from ‘her’ room.

The room was painted in pastel colours where the walls weren’t clad in even more decorative wooden panelling. It was readily apparent that it had been a young girl’s room, and was the only room in the house to have a four poster complete with canopy for a bed. The four pillars, at best, could be described as having been carved by a very enthusiastic amateur. It appeared that the previous owners building skills didn’t stretch as far as joinery. Not that it was an obvious issue for Mary who announced straight away “I want that for my room.” Their father went over and gave one of the pillars a shove. It didn’t move. “It’s mine” Mary reiterated firmly. Their parents looked at Scott who just shrugged.

“If she wants it, she can have it” Mary didn’t even bat an eyelid, as though ownership was never in any doubt.

Sarah pointedly looked at her watch. “Just the garage and basement and a look at the back garden if you wish?” The garage was a plain single car affair with a lean too roof attached to the side of the house. No-one ventured into the back garden. They weren’t a garden type family. Access to the basement was through a doorway under the stairs. It was well-lit by more LED down-lighters, though the walls were covered in a stone effect covering.

“It’s like the access to a dungeon” Joked their father.

“That isn’t creepy at all.” Stated Mary, though to Scott’s ears, she didn’t sound remotely creeped out. The stairwell led down to the basement that appeared to be the same size as the first floor. It was well lit with LED down-lighters and without the boxes that had been in the brochure, was quite cavernous. The slightly dusty concrete floor had been patterned to look as though it was flagged. The walls contoured to look like they were of hewn stone. There was even a little alcove with iron bars across it to look like a widow.

“No man’s castle is complete without his own dungeon.” remarked their father as Sarah politely herded them back upstairs and back outside.

“I’ll let you think about it” Sarah said as she locked the door behind them. “I have some more viewings today but there will be someone in the office all day if you have any questions.” Sarah said goodbye and climbed into a little smart car emblazoned all over with the name of the estate agent along with the number, address and website details.

They watched the car depart.

“Well?” asked their father eventually. Their mother’s response was to leap into their father’s arms and kiss him deeply and passionately.

“Eurgh! Get a room!” Mary said as she looked away in disgust.

Their mother broke the kiss and poked her husband in the chest with a forefinger. “I’ll let you off, just this once, but if you EVER pull a stunt like this again, I shall kick you so hard in the balls, that you’ll sound like a choirboy for the rest of your life”. Mary rolled her eyes and headed for the car.

They drove into town, Mary and Scott allowed to wander the shops while their parents worked at the financial side at their bank before heading to the estate agents to hand over the details and the contact details of their solicitor so the legal ball could be set rolling.

Scott’s phone rang. It was his mother telling him to make his way back to the car. He was the last to arrive, his sister already grilling their parents over when they could move in and then moaning in frustration when she was told “not until the lawyers had prepared the paperwork.”

To Scott, the next couple of weeks seemed to drag, every day filled with Mary incessantly asking when they were moving. So it was with great relief when the day finally arrived. The week before the big move, they all went round as a family for a few evenings and striped the walls of the more objectionable colours - Like the pink and painted flowers adorning the walls in Scott’s room- replacing them with a colour pallet more in keeping with their tastes. Their parents had decided that they would get a higher rental value to their house - their old house now- being furnished, so they kept almost all the existing furniture in their new house. The faux ceiling beams downstairs, the pretend oak panelling and the pretend chandelier they decided to leave until they had sufficient funds to pay for their removal. The existing carpets and flooring in the bathrooms they decided to keep as well until the financial situation also allowed their replacement. They also decided to leave the basement come dungeon as it was. One of the first things their father had done upon receiving the keys, was remove the plaque from the front door. Mary, upon seeing its removal, quietly fished it back out of the bin when no-one was looking.

Their father did a cash deal with one of the delivery drivers at his work to ‘borrow’ him and one of the works vans for the Saturday and they loaded up and moved their possessions over several tips. The two houses being just a few streets away was an added bonus. Scott slept well on the Saturday night, exhausted by all the box carrying. Sunday was a day of excitement as they finally had time to explore all their new house had to offer, without all the rushing to and fro from the borrowed company van.

Their mother made a big thing about cooking their’ first proper meal’ in their new house on Sunday. Though the seriousness of it all was somewhat marred by her not being able to find anything, continually reaching for items and cupboards that weren’t there and burning the meal because her new cooker was more efficient than the old one she was used to.

A week later after they had ‘officially’ moved in, Scott was still finding himself walking back to his old home rather than the new one. A young family, unable to afford the deposit for a mortgage, had already moved into their old house. Which had greatly pleased his parents as it removed from them the burden of having to fund two mortgages. He inserted his new key into the equally new lock.

There was still a strong smell of paint in the air, though it always seemed to disappear after an hour or two in the house. Scott made his way upstairs to his new room, tossing his school bag at a corner and opening his windows wide to try and replace the paint tainted air. Switching on his computer at the wall, he pressed the on button at the front of the tower. His singular thirteen inch CRT had been replaced with two twenty three inch LCD models as a thank you from his parents for all his help during the move, and all the walls painted since. Whilst he waited for windows to load, the stripped out of his school uniform into something more comfortable. He pulled a pair of tracksuit bottoms out of the bottom drawer and kicked it shut with his foot. It sprung back out a little bit. He kicked it again. It popped back out a smidgeon. His computer beeped and he turned back to it.

“For Fucks sake...” : Windows is updating, please don’t turn off your computer: He glanced back at the chest of drawers. There was a small sliver of black between the drawer and the carcass, the bottom drawer not quite in line with the rest. He must have lost a sock or something behind the drawer or something. Scott dropped to his hands and knees and pulled the drawer out as far as it would go. He studied the runners for a moment, worked out where the release catches were. Pressing both catches in together, he slid the drawer fully out of the carcass. Scott put the drawer to the side and peered in. Sure enough something had fallen down behind the drawer. He reached in and pulled out one single blue ankle sock that definitely wasn’t his. He threw it into the bin. It wasn’t much use to Scott or its recently deceased owner. There was a pink sock is there as well. Scott pulled that out, though it didn’t feel much like a sock when it was in his hand.

A quick glance in the light of day set his pulse racing as he looked down at a pair of very lacy pink panties. He stretched them out between his two hands against the summer light coming in through his window. “Wow” They were sexy as hell. He brought them to his nose and took a tentative sniff. It was a weird smell. Partly dusty, partly wooden from the un-painted bare wood inside the dresser and the barest hint of flowers or something, most probably from the washing powder.

That they were so intimately linked to the previous inhabitant of the room, who just happened to be a teen girl, was extremely erotic to Scott. He tossed the pants onto his bed and, after a couple of failed attempts to line the runners up, slid the drawer back into place. The drawers now lined up perfectly. Windows was still updating. He lay down upon his bed and pulled out his hard cock and started to stroke it with one hand whilst he picked up the lacy pink panties with the other. He imagined the previous owner lying naked but for the panties, lying on the very same bed, squeezing a breast with one hand whilst the other rubbed her pussy through her panties. “Oh fuck yes...” Scott moaned as the girl in his mind similarly moaned.

Her legs splayed wide open as her hand feverishly rubbed her pussy, back arching off the bed as she came. Scott’s back didn’t arch, but his toes certainly curled as warm white cum erupted from the tip of his cock to splatter across his t-shirt clad chest.

“Eurgh.” He muttered as he milked the last of the cum from his cock. Scott sat up slightly so he could remove the soaked T-Shirt. He used the dry bits to mop up the remainder of cum from his hands and around his cock. He slipped his new found favourite possession under the mattress and pulled a clean T-shirt out of the drawer.

For the next few mornings and nights he had several very enjoyable wanks, dreaming about the girl and her pants, sometimes on her own, sometimes with Scott. He really wished he could have seen her in them, felt her body through them. Once, he briefly even considered grave robbing to bring his fantasy to reality. He quickly discounted it though. He didn’t know where she was buried, or if she was even buried and not cremated. And even if she was buried nearby, it had been weeks since the accident. So she probably smelt a bit, and not in a good way.

Mary still wanted her four poster, as amateurishly carved as it was. To Scott it appeared more the principle of having one than because of any aesthetic reason, the thing was god-damn awful in his eyes. That didn’t stop her badgering their father about it to such an extent that he eventually handed her a screwdriver set and pointedly remarked that “God helps those who help themselves”.

As their parents left on Saturday morning for the weekly shop, and to trail round carpet and curtain showrooms, Mary bounded into Scott’s room armed with the screwdriver set.

“Come on, give me a hand big bro’” Scott sighed and paused his game. When his sister was in one of her missions it was better just to either get out of her way, or help her so she would leave quicker. She dumped the screwdriver set on the bed “How does this come down?”

“How the hell would I know? I didn’t build it.”

“You’re a bloke; don’t you know blokey type shit?”

“I know about as much about joinery as you know about cooking.”

“Low blow bro’, low blow ... Look, how hard can it be?”

“‘How hard can it be?’ The famous last words said before many a death. Only beaten in stupidity stakes by ‘Hold my beer, I’ve got this!’”

“Ye’ of little faith ... come on, shift your arse.”

Scott couldn’t see this escapade ending in anything other than a blue light fast drive to the big building with the equally big ‘H’ on the roof and ‘Hosp’ on the side. He went searching for the stepladder. With copious amounts of un-helpful advice from Mary, he set about dismantling the canopy “Woah! Watch it! You damn near took my head off!” Mary danced back as Scott swung down a crosspiece.

“Why the fuck do you want this anyway M?”

“It’s nice.”

Scott looked at the terrible carving “Really? Been to Specsavers lately, because I think you are overdue.” It took most of the morning to dissemble the canopy.