GHOSTS

The staircase led down, towards the basement of the house. Bonnie took them two at a time, eager to get to grips with her oppressor. Susie followed behind, a little more hesitant.

"Bonnie," she said. "Do you really think we should be going towards the ghosts?"

"How else are we going to fight them?"

"But couldn't we go somewhere else?"

"We can't just leave. We're in our underwear. And even I'm not crazy enough to go through the door marked HELL."

"But they're ghosts."

"So what? You said ghosts didn't exist."

Susie shivered, feeling goosebumps pop up on her bare thighs. It wasn't very warm in the Haunted House. The eyes in the portraits on the walls of the staircase, old aristocrats with dark eyes and cold scowls, swivelled to watch them as they passed, which didn't feel very good when you were in your underwear. "I hope you're right," she said.

"I hope so too," admitted Bonnie, as they came to the end of the staircase.

A big set of double doors creaked open, leading out into what could only be described as a dungeon. A huge vaulted stone room with manacles and chains attached to the dripping granite walls, lit by flickering torches that cast an orange light into the gloom. In the middle of the room was a pool, as long and wide as any swimming pool, filled not with water but a roiling misty greenish-white substance that neither of the girls liked the look of.

At the far end of the room was a huge computer console, covered with blinking lights, and in front of the console sat Miss Trickett. She was a tall, exotic, coffee-skinned, raven-haired woman in a tight black silk cheongsam, and she was monitoring the house through a dozen or so computer screens. Bonnie blanched as she realised that their whole panty-clad ordeal had been recorded in high definition.

Her office chair creaked as she slowly revolved to face them, an evil grin on her face. Bonnie wondered why everything in this house had to creak so much.

"Why, hello, girls," she said. "Took you long enough to get here. Cute panties."