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ofloveandblood

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     “Hey Babe, come here!” Mark Hodder hollered up the basement stairwell to his wife Brandy. There was no answer from above and the sound of the vacuum running overhead suggested why. Mark scowled, feeling every bit the part of the kid at show and tell whom nobody is listening to; this was important.

     The matter of such urgency was in the form of a large opening in the cold slab of concrete that made up the basement floor. Mark had come down to toss a load of clothes into the washing machine when he’d damn near stepped into it. The chore of laundry immediately took a back seat to curiosity. The washer lay to the side of this peculiar aperture meaning the clothes could still be done. However, getting to the tool bench or lawn and garden equipment would be a little trickier for it lay on the other side, but it was still doable.

    Walking from the bottom step, Mark made his way back to the hole. Standing at its edge he peered into complete darkness, immediately wondering just how far down it went. Was it the fabled bottomless pit or did it just go twenty feet before stopping? The light of the basement didn’t shed much light on Mark’s query, and the nearest flashlight was upstairs in the kitchen.

    Wanting to know something about this new fixture in his home Mark stepped back and looked around hurriedly for something to drop. His eyes fell upon the laundry basket first, but that wouldn’t be suitable for this experiment. He thrust his hands into his jeans pockets, hoping to feel some stray change he’d missed but there was nothing but a few pickings of lint.

    “Damn it,” Mark swore aloud. Checking his pockets for a second time was more of a subconscious thing; as if because he willed it, some change would magically appear beneath his fingertips. “What can I use?”

    Desperate now, he looked towards the washer and dryer machines. A few jugs of bleach and fabric softener rested on top of the gleaming white appliances.

    “Could drop that thing of bleach down in there, and see how that goes?” Mark inquired to himself as he made his way to the washer. He picked up the bottle of Clorox and noted its considerable weight while running his gaze from the jug in his hand to the jagged circle that was a menacing, black blot on the grey concrete.

    With a defeated gasp Mark sat the jug back on the washer, a resounding thud echoed in the mechanism’s hollow cavity.  I can’t drop this down there, Mark shrugged his head in the direction of the gap. Brandy would have a shit fit if she knew I wasted the bleach; especially when there are clothes to wash.

    Putting his hands behind his head he entwined his fingers, keeping a lookout for something to catch his eye as he searched fruitlessly. On the adjacent wall hung a set of screwdrivers, wrenches, hammer, and a few various saws tinged in rust. Each a prime candidate for Mark’s needs, but the idea just wasn’t very appeasing. He knew just as soon as he’d chuck one of the tools into the great unknown something would happen and he would need it.

    “Ah, to hell with it,” Mark exclaimed with an air of defiance. “I’m the man of this house and I say the bleach goes!”

    Grasping a hold of the jug, Mark turned towards the center of the basement. Though the words he spoke were bold they lacked a firm backing. With every step he took he dreaded the reaction of his wife when she found out what he had done.

    Mark whistled a happy tune, as if he had not a care in the world, of which he currently didn’t. That would all change just as soon as he dropped the jug down the hole, practically dropping the bomb on a heated argument.

    “Perhaps I’ll just unscrew the liquid and dump some of it,” Mark reasoned with himself. That seemed a better choice than his bombing raid idea. “I should be able to hear it splash when it hits bottom, assuming that it’s not too-too deep.”

    A smile tickled the corner of his lips. Brandy was very meticulous woman. When she finally comes down and sees what just appeared in our basement over night she’ll be more interested in the disappearance of the Clorox. And to think, most men get to fear their wives for reasons such as adultery or some other behind the back misdeed.

    This is the sum of my fears, Mark thrust the jug to the ceiling as if presenting it to God himself. But God do I love her for it.

    A chuckle escaped from Mark just as a shout resounded from the stairwell. Mark’s eyes followed the sound for just a moment which was all it took. His leg kicked into something placed on the basement floor, and he gave a startled grunt. The object shot from his foot, filling the basement with a sliding sound. Stopped in his tracks Mark gritted his teeth while his body went rigid in horror, waiting for what was inevitable...the sliding noise to stop.

    And stop it did with a suddenness that was entirely eerie. The quiet didn’t last for long, it was soon parted by the creaking and groaning of the staircase as Brandy descended it. Mark watched as with every step more of his wife’s slender physique appeared before him. His manhood lingering on the tanned legs that seemed to go on forever until a pair of red shorts halted such erotic thoughts. Next came the yellow shirt she wore specifically for housework, and through it her small, perky breasts pushed delicately at the fabric. And then there was her slightly tanned face, with blonde hair at shoulder length and green eyes.

    “What are you moving down here-,” Brandy halted at the basement landing, her eyes widening to frightening lengths, her jaw threatening to drop to the floor. She pointed a finger, which shook noticeably, towards the hole. “Mark, what the hell is that?”

    “Well dear, my first guess would be a hole,” Mark gave a laugh, seeing full well that Brandy had not appreciated his sarcasm. A fact she went on to state in words.

    “Very funny smart ass,” she replied while shooting Mark a hard glare before redirecting her attention back to the floor. “No Mark, when did this happen?”

    “I don’t know,” Mark shrugged his shoulders, realizing he was still holding onto the bleach, he quickly placed it on the ground by his feet. “Last night I guess; or maybe the night before? I wasn’t down here yesterday so I don’t know. What about you?”

    “I wasn’t down here yesterday,” Brandy took a cautious step to the gap, her eyes squinting as if doing so would help her see the bottom. “If I had been and this was here I think I would’ve mentioned it. What could do this overnight? Did we have an earthquake?”

    Though there was genuine worry written all over his wife’s face, Mark struggled not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of her question. Still, he just couldn’t help himself in his reply.

    “I say an earthquake could,” Mark spoke in a matter-of-fact manner, “If we happened to live in California rather than Virginia.”

    “Get serious about this, Mark.” Brandy snapped back. Her eyes were a confusing mix of worry and anger. “This seems really dangerous. I don’t think we should be down here and maybe we should get out of the house.”

    “Relax Babe,” Mark soothed her, walking to Brandy’s side to rub her back. “I don’t think there’s any serious danger here.”

    “No danger here!” Brandy exclaimed, Mark’s attempts to calm her proving futile. “This hole appeared over night Mark and its not some measly crack in the concrete, it’s practically a damn pit. What if it gets bigger and the house collapses? Or it might be a sinkhole-"

    “Brandy, please calm down,” Mark spoke, wanting to reassure his wife but also enforce his point; his words were now laced with an edge. “If I felt we were in the way of any kind of harm I would’ve gotten us out of here already. Please just trust me when I say that we’ll be okay, this isn’t a sink hole, and the house is not collapsing so just relax, okay?”

    Brandy remained silent, no doubt weighing the possibility of a miscalculation on her husband’s end. Though skeptical she shook her head in agreement. Shifting focus to beyond Mark’s feet where the jug of bleach sat idly and guiltily.

    “Mark why is the bleach over here?” Brandy asked, walking past him to pick it up.

    Scratching his head Mark was at a loss for words, but not at a loss to smile. Brandy had reacted a little worse than anticipated basement's pit; so now the bleach would be something to help things seem normal to her again. Which was good for her sake, but Mark knew in light of recent circumstances, things were about to get blown way out of proportion.

    Brandy stood up with the jug but something else caught her eye, and she kneeled over once again to retrieve the object. She gave a huff obviously not pleased by whatever it was. Mark was in for it and he knew it, but he took in the view of his wife’s bent over backside as a token for his forthcoming troubles.

    “Okay, Mark the bleach was all the way over here and there's laundry laying out on this filthy floor.” Brandy shook each item for emphasis. "Want to explain why?"

    “Umm,” Mark gritted his teeth, and smirked. "Not really-"

    “Speaking of clothes,” Brandy looked towards him, her head tilted slightly. “Where are the rest of the clothes?”

    “Well,” Mark took a deep breath to psyche himself up; all the while staring at the floor to avoid eye contact. “Do you remember that sliding noise you asked about?”

    “Mm hmm,” Brandy groaned, her stare like stone, a sharp pointy stone.

    “That was me accidentally kicking the laundry basket into the,” Mark paused; he couldn’t say the exact word; so he pointed his finger towards it instead. “Into the thing over there.”

    “You did what?” Though she had to have known she replied as if she hadn’t a clue, and very loudly at that. “That was mostly my clothes Mark! I can’t believe you kicked my clothes into that hole.”

    “Yes,” Mark chimed. “But remember I didn’t do it on purpose.”

    “And what was the bleach doing way over there,” Brandy interrogated, finger locked onto her husband who was a jittery mess from the questioning.

    “I was going to pour some down there to see how far it went,” Mark replied, feeling like a little boy explaining a bad deed to his mother.

    “Are you serious?” Brandy rolled her eyes. “God it’s a wonder you just didn’t piss down the damn thing.”

    “You know that’s a good idea,” Mark chuckled as Brandy shook her head. “Why didn’t I think of that? Good idea Babe! You want to come over hear and help me?”

    “No,” a gleeful smile worked its way across Brandy’s hard as stone expression. “Your index and thumb are fully capable of helping you with that.”

    Brandy erupted into a fit of laughter as Mark gave a sour expression. 

    “No, on second thought,” Mark replied, holding a finger as if a light bulb were above his head. “I think dropping my mean wife down the hole would be better to gauge the depth. See how long it takes for her screaming to stop.”

    “Yeah,” Brandy gave a doubting look. “Just you try it mister.”

    “Mark moved quickly towards Brandy with his arms outstretched and hands opening and closing. She screamed playfully while turning to protect herself, screaming to convince Mark that this wasn’t a funny joke. Her laughter made the statement null and void, and when Mark reached his wife he took great satisfaction in tickling her, and even more in kissing her.

    While a shred of normalcy returned to the Hodder couple; something was coming. Slithering its way through the dark confinement of the hole that had appeared in the basement floor. Invisible to the naked eye, the foreign invader emerged from the opening, and ran across the expanse of concrete flooring to where Mark and Brandy stood kissing, and groping at one another. Dashing at Mark’s leg, it crawled along his body and across his face before burrowing its way through a closed eyelid. Once upon the pupil its microscopic body dissolved into his bloodstream.

    Brandy pushed Mark to arms length; breaking the kisses which were getting more fired up by the second. Her eyes screamed want, but obviously priorities were overriding that animal-like desire. Mark breathed heavy; his jeans sported a slight bulge that was an erection before full maturity.

    “Not right now,” Brandy smiled to him.

    “Why not,” Mark asked, giving a pleading look. He was too worked up, in more ways than one, to abandon sex so easily. Brandy moved from in front of him and walked past towards the stairs.

    “There are still a few things that need to get done around the house Mark,” she reasoned. “And besides, I’m not about to sit my naked ass on that cold washing machine.”

    Mark, knowing it was useless, went ahead and played his smart-alecky card.

    “Well, what if I placed your butt on the dryer and turned it on during?”  Brandy gave a smile, and rolled her eyes. “That way you wouldn’t get cold and we could still get a little enjoyment out of the day. What do you think?”

    “I think you’re forgetting Honey,” Brandy smiled mischievously, Mark knew what was coming. “Takes the dryer a few minutes to actually get warm, by which time I’ll already be clothed and back upstairs anyways. And besides, if not the day, there’s still plenty of enjoyment to be had from a night.”

    Brandy bit at her bottom lip, and gave Mark a erotic look. No use and pushing the matter now, he was guaranteed some action tonight, as long as he didn’t do anything to screw up Brandy’s mood between now and then.

    “Okay,” Mark replied excitedly. “I’m going to hold you to it.”

    “I know you will,” Brandy replied matter-of-factly. “I’m going upstairs to clean up the bathroom, mean while, call somebody about this damned hole, will you?”

    “Yes dear,” the words slowly rolled off of his tongue. “I’ll get right on it.”

    Mark walked in step behind Brandy up the staircase, and after getting his mind out of her shorts; Mark realized he didn’t have a clue as to who to call over the “hole” situation. Mark headed to the kitchen, and fetched a beer from the fridge. The time was four in the afternoon, a Saturday so a beer at this time seemed almost necessary. Popping the top from the bottle, Mark started making his way for the house phone, his stomach starting to feel slightly nauseous.