There's Something Horny With The House

It felt like a dream. Three months ago, Sophie Deveaux received an email informing her that her great aunt Desiree Breckenridge, who she did not know existed, had just died at the ripe old age of 100 years old. What's more, as the youngest adult woman in the family--she had just turned 25--she would inherit Desiree's estate, a large 60-acre estate in New England. She would also inherit a very large sum of money and Madame Breckenridge's valuable collection of antiques.

Sophie was in shock. She was also, frankly, quite skeptical. Sophie's mother had never said anything about her mother's sister. Sophie's family never put much face time in with any Aunts, uncles or cousins on either side, but she was aware of her other relatives, at least. When Sophie told her mother about the email and asked whether she actually had a great aunt Desiree, her mother confirmed it was real, but was clearly uncomfortable. She strongly urged Sophie to sell the house and forget about the whole thing.

"I only met Aunt Desiree once, when I was 18," Sophie's mother said. "She was... strange. I didn't like her and made very sure to steer clear of her and that house once I married your father." Her tone grew more anxious and almost defensive as she talked about her aunt.

Sophie was content to take her mother's advice, but she had to admit she was curious about whatever made her mother, normally a strong, confident woman, so nervous. She was even more intrigued when the estate manager, Mr. Oakwood, asked to visit her in person when she said planned to sell the estate.

"As executor, it is duty to do everything I can to make sure Madame Breckenridge's affairs are carried out as she envisioned. She felt strongly that the house should stay in the family if at all possible."

So Sophie invited Mr. Oakwood to her apartment in Brooklyn, NY. Though was already quite successful, a senior creative director at a popular advertising firm, she was still young and primarily focused on enjoying the thrills of being young in the city.

Sophie was a statuesque beauty--5'11" with long legs, a curvaceous figure, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes--she never had to look for a party: She was always the belle of the ball at every restaurant, bar and club.

She split her place, a small loft, with her best friend, Karen Weiss. Karen was a painter. She worked as an artist at the ad agency with Sophie by day and made her own art by night.

Karen was more of a homebody, but she would still go out with Karen and make she didn't get into too much trouble, provided she didn't get into trouble herself. She was a classic New York girl: A bit short at 5'6", with big blue eyes that could pierce your heart, and plenty of curves when cared to show them off.

Both Sophie and Karen were living in the moment. The idea of living, or even spending summer weekends, in a deep sea of trees, rather than in the city (or at the beach!) sounded incredibly boring. But when they met, Mr. Oakwood, a strapping black man in his 30's in a sharp tailored suit, made a strong impression.

"This is a beautiful home, Ms. Deveaux," he said, laying out pictures of the home and the grounds. "With the market as it is, most people will never get the opportunity to live in a house like this. And it is stuffed to the gills with priceless treasures. Surely, as a creative with fine taste in art, you will find something you want to keep."

After a long discussion, Sophie and Karen stepped away to talk. They agreed that Mr. Oakwood was very hot. "Like, is he going to show us around?" Karen asked, giggling. And he made some excellent points. Still, Sophie kept was her mother said in mind. And besides, she couldn't see herself going full remote to live alone in the woods. If she kept it, the house would simply be a vault for a bunch of cool stuff she'd never see or enjoy.

"I understand," Mr. Oakwood said. "I will begin the process, contact a realtor and an appraiser to start assessing the value of the estate." He stood up and stood to go, then turned back and place a large ring of old keys on Sophie and Karen's kitchen table. "Until we make the sale, the estate is yours. These are the keys. Please, if you have time, please go and check out the house. Go exploring. There really is so much to see and do there if you it a chance."

"Would you be able to give us a tour?" Sophie asked, throwing a flirtatious Hail Mary.

"Oh I wish I could," Mr. Oakwood said with a glimmer in his eye. "It's quite a hike for me... When the auction and estate sale go through, maybe? Ms. Deveaux and I will have to handle business up there at least once or twice, eventually. But I would not wait for me to see the house. By then, it will be too late to change your mind."

Mr. Oakwood left the apartment, and the two roommates' attention turned to the keys. The large wrought-iron key ring was large enough to fit around Sophie's head. There were around 50 long, black keys were worn and weathered, but there wasn't a speck of rust on them. Each one had a round panel at the top with a name ornately written in cursive, and a either a word or symbol on the other ebd,

The seed was planted. They were obsessed with the keys. "I think great aunty Desiree was into some kinky shit!" Sophie said, laughing as she held up a key that said "Lady Desiree Breckinridge" on side, and "insatiable" on the other. For weeks, the roommates played with the keys, texting each other the names and symbols, joking about what they would find up there. Eventually, though, the jokes turned to genuine curiosity. Before too long, Sophie rented a car and car the two of them made the four-hour drive from New York to Breckenridge Manor to see for themselves.