Home · Stories · New The Cabin Fever by double down 99
CHAPTER 1 – Deception
The first guests arrived just after three, their expensive tires crunching on the gravel of the circular drive. From the window of my studio, I watched them unfold themselves from a gleaming black sedan. Kyle, broad-shouldered and radiating a confidence that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Reba, who lingered by the car door, her gaze already fixed on the lake, not the house. She was the one who mattered.
Hans materialized at my elbow, a silent, steady presence. "They're here," he stated, his voice a low rumble that never seemed to change pitch. He wasn't asking; he was simply confirming the start of the performance.
"I know," I murmured, not taking my eyes off Reba. She looked fragile, but I recognized the set of her jaw. It was the same look I saw in the mirror when I was forcing myself to pick up a brush. "Let them settle in. Bring them to the main salon in twenty minutes. I'll be down."
He nodded once and was gone, leaving me with the scent of turpentine and the weight of my father's legacy pressing down on my shoulders. This lake house had been his sanctuary, his laboratory, his prison. Now it was my weapon. And Kyle and Reba were the ammunition.
I smoothed the front of my linen tunic, a deliberate motion to center myself. The curator persona settled over me like a comfortable coat. I was Oly, the enigmatic artist who ran exclusive retreats for the creatively blocked and the spiritually adrift. I was a guide, a facilitator. I was not a woman seeking revenge for the patents stolen from my dead father.
Downstairs, the salon was bathed in the soft, diffuse light I loved, filtering through the tall windows overlooking the water. Kyle was standing awkwardly by the fireplace, while Reba drifted toward the far wall, her fingers hovering just above the surface of an abstract landscape.
"Welcome to Willow Lake," I said, my voice smooth and calm. They both turned. Kyle's smile was practiced; Reba's was a flicker of genuine curiosity. "I'm Oly. I hope your journey was pleasant."
"It was… scenic," Reba said, her eyes still on the painting. "Is this one of yours?"
"No," I answered, moving closer to her. "This was my father's." I stopped beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "He believed art should be felt, not just seen. The texture is everything."
I reached out, my fingers tracing the thick impasto of a paint stroke. "See how it rises from the canvas? Like a fossil." My knuckles brushed against her arm, a contact so light it was almost imaginary. She flinched, a tiny, almost imperceptible shudder. I held my hand there for a second longer than necessary before pulling away. "The retreat is about finding your own texture, your own truth."
She finally looked at me, her blue eyes wide and searching. "My truth is that I haven't painted in three years."
"Then you're in the right place," I said softly, letting the promise hang in the air between us. I could feel Hans's eyes on us from the doorway, a silent, vigilant audience. The first brushstroke had been made.
CHAPTER 2 — Brushstrokes of Desire
The morning sun slanted through the studio windows, turning the dust motes dancing in the air into a galaxy of tiny stars. I had arranged the easels in a loose circle, a modern-day Stonehenge for our creative ritual. Kyle and Reba stood uncertainly by their assigned canvases, while Hans leaned against the doorframe, his presence a silent, grounding weight.
"Today, we work with partners," I announced with my voice calm and measured. "The exercise is called 'Transference.' One person paints while the other guides their hand. You don't speak. You only touch. The goal is to let your partner's energy flow through you onto the canvas."
I paired Kyle with Reba first, watching as he awkwardly placed his hand over hers on the brush. His touch was hesitant, almost reverential, and Reba's shoulders were tight with tension. They were trying, bless them, but they were painting like strangers.
Then I paired myself with Hans. His hand was warm and firm over mine as I guided the brush across the canvas in bold, confident strokes. I could feel his breath against my neck with his body pressing close behind me, and the familiar comfort of his touch sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the studio's morning chill.
After a few minutes, I switched the pairs. "Now, change partners."
I moved to stand behind Reba, my heart beating a little faster. "May I?" I asked softly, my hand hovering over hers.
She nodded, not looking at me, her focus on the canvas. I placed my hand over hers, my fingers curling around her slender digits. Her skin was soft, warm, and I could feel the faint tremor running through her arm.
"Relax," I murmured with my lips close to her ear. "Let me feel what you want to paint."
I guided her hand in a slow, sweeping arc, the cerulean blue spreading across the canvas like a sky opening up. Her breathing hitched, and I felt her lean back against me, just slightly, just enough for our bodies to make full contact. My breasts pressed against her back, and I could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her shirt.
"You have a beautiful touch," I whispered, my fingers tightening around hers. "You are so sensitive."
She made a small sound, half gasp, half moan, and her hand faltered. The brush slipped, and a streak of ultramarine blue slashed across the front of my white linen tunic.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she gasped, turning to face me, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"It's just paint," I said with a smile, unbuttoning my tunic. "It washes out."
I slipped the stained garment off, leaving me in just a thin camisole underneath. Her eyes dropped to my chest, and I saw the desire flare in them before she quickly looked away, flustered.
"Here," I said, taking her hand and pressing it against the blue stain on my camisole. "You made the mess. You clean it up."
Her fingers trembled as they brushed against my breast, the fabric thin enough that she could feel the warmth of my skin beneath. I watched her face, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breathing quickened. I could feel the heat building between us, a tangible thing that filled the space between our bodies.
"Oly," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes?" I murmured, my hand covering hers, pressing it more firmly against my breast.
She didn't answer, just leaned in closer, her eyes dark with desire. And then she was kissing me, her lips soft and hesitant at first, then more confident as I responded, my tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.
I could feel Kyle and Hans watching us from across the room, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the woman in my arms, the way her body molded against mine, the soft sounds she was making into my mouth.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavily, our faces flushed. Reba looked dazed, as if she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.
"I... I don't know what came over me," she stammered, her fingers touching her lips.
"I do," I said softly, my eyes holding hers. "And I think we should explore it further."
CHAPTER 3 — The First Stroke
The evening air was cool against my skin as I stood on the deck, looking out at the moonlit lake. The day's painting session had left me feeling energized and unsettled, the memory of Reba's kiss lingering on my lips like a sweet, intoxicating wine.
I heard the door slide open behind me, and I knew without turning that it was Kyle. I could feel his presence, a tense, angry energy that vibrated through the air between us.
"I found your father's patents," he said, his voice tight with accusation. "In the library I got the original documents. With the date stamp from before my company supposedly 'invented' the technology."
I turned slowly, my expression calm, unreadable. "And then what?"
"And you knew," he said, his eyes flashing with anger. "You knew all along. This retreat, this whole setup... it's just revenge, isn't it?"
I didn't deny it. "Is it so wrong to want justice for what was stolen from my family?"
"Justice?" he scoffed. "This is manipulation. You're using me, using Reba..."
"I wasn't using Reba," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Not at first."
Before he could respond, the door slid open again and Reba stepped out, her eyes wide with confusion as she took in the tense scene between us.
"What's going on?" she asked, looking from Kyle's angry face to my calm one.
"Ask her," Kyle said, gesturing toward me. "Ask her why we're really here."
I decided then and there to stop playing games. I crossed the deck in three quick strides, grabbed Kyle by the front of his shirt, and slammed him back against the railing. He grunted in surprise, his eyes wide with shock.
"I'm here because your company ruined my father," I said, my voice low and intense. "I'm here because I want to see you pay for what you did."
And then I was kissing him, a violent, punishing kiss that was all anger and possession. His lips were hard against mine at first, and then softened as he responded, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
Reba watched us for a moment, her expression a mixture of shock and hurt, then turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?" I said, breaking the kiss and turning toward her.
She stopped, her back to us, her shoulders trembling. "I... I can't watch this."
"Then don't just watch," I said, my voice softening slightly. "Join us."
She turned slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What?"
"You heard me," I said, holding out my hand to her. "Join us."
She hesitated for a long moment, then slowly crossed the deck and took my hand. I pulled her into my arms, kissing her gently at first, and then more deeply as Kyle watched, his breathing ragged.
I broke the kiss with Reba and turned to Kyle, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. His chest was broad and muscular, dusted with dark hair that narrowed to a trail disappearing beneath his jeans. I ran my nails through it, watching his nipples tighten into hard peaks.
"Reba," I murmured, taking her hand and placing it on Kyle's chest. "Touch him."
She hesitated for a moment, and then began to explore his body with tentative strokes, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, circling his nipples. Kyle groaned, his head falling back against the railing as I moved behind Reba, my hands sliding around her waist to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt.
I could feel her heart racing beneath my palms, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. I rolled her nipples between my fingers, feeling them harden as she arched against me, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Take off his pants," I whispered against her ear, my teeth nipping at her earlobe.
Her hands shook as she fumbled with the button of Kyle's jeans, finally managing to undo it and slide the zipper down. His cock sprang free, thick and erect, the head glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.
Reba stared at it, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "It's... big," she whispered.
"Touch it," I commanded with my voice low and authoritative. "Take it in your hand."
She reached out hesitantly, her fingers closing around his shaft. Kyle groaned, his hips thrusting forward as she began to stroke him slowly, her movements gaining confidence with each pass.
"Good girl," I murmured, sliding my hands down her body to lift the hem of her shirt. I pulled it over her head, revealing her perfect breasts, the nipples tight and rosy in the cool night air. I cupped them in my hands, rolling the nipples between my fingers as she continued to stroke Kyle's cock.
"Get on your knees," I said with my voice firm but gentle.
She hesitated for a moment, and then slowly sank to the wooden deck, looking up at Kyle with wide, trusting eyes. I knelt behind her, my hands on her shoulders, guiding her forward until her lips were brushing against the head of his cock.
"Open your mouth," I whispered. "Take him inside."
She parted her lips slowly, her tongue darting out to taste the pre-cum beading at the tip. Kyle groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as she slowly took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his thick shaft.
I watched them for a moment, my own desire building to an almost painful level, then stood up and stripped off my clothes, my body humming with need. I moved behind Kyle, pressing my naked body against his back, my hands sliding around his waist to join Reba's on his cock.
"Does that feel good?" I murmured against his ear, my tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "Having both of us touch you like this?"
He could only groan in response, his hips thrusting forward as Reba took him deeper into her mouth, her head bobbing back and forth in a steady rhythm.
I reached down between my legs, my fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in tight circles as I watched them, the sight of Reba's lips stretched around Kyle's cock almost enough to send me over the edge.
"Stop," I said suddenly, my voice sharp with command.
Reba pulled back, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes questioning.
"Lie down," I said, gesturing to the deck. "I mean both of you."
They complied quickly, Kyle stretching out on his back, Reba lying beside him. I knelt between them, my eyes moving from Kyle's erect cock to Reba's glistening pussy.
"Who do you want first?" I asked with my voice husky with desire. "Will it be him or me?"
Reba looked from Kyle to me, her eyes dark with need, then reached for me, pulling me down for a deep, passionate kiss. I could taste Kyle on her lips, a heady combination that made my own desire spike.
"You," she whispered against my mouth. "I want you first."
I smiled, shifting to straddle her face, lowering myself onto her waiting mouth. Her tongue darted out, parting my folds and finding my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I leaned forward, taking Kyle's cock in my hand and guiding it into my mouth as Reba's tongue worked its magic on my pussy.
The three of us moved together in a rhythm as old as time, our bodies joined in a dance of pleasure and revenge, the lines between them blurring until there was nothing but the sensation, the heat, the overwhelming need for release.
CHAPTER 4 — The Masterpiece
The summer solstice arrived with a heat that made the air itself feel thick and heavy, pressing down on the lake house with an almost tangible weight. I had planned this night for weeks, orchestrating every detail with the same precision my father had applied to his inventions. Tonight, revenge would transform into revelation, and manipulation into mutual creation.
The studio had been prepared, the large easels moved to create a circular space in the center of the room. Canvases stood around the perimeter, each one capturing a fragment of our journey—Reba's first tentative strokes, Kyle's angry slashes of color, Hans's meticulous geometric patterns, and my own chaotic explosions of pigment. They were witnesses to our transformation.
"Tonight, we paint with our bodies," I announced as the four of us stood in the candlelit space. The flames cast dancing shadows across our skin, turning us into living artworks. "No brushes. No barriers. It is just sensation and expression."
I began with Hans, our connection familiar and electric. I poured warmed oil over his chest, my hands following its path, spreading it across his muscles. His skin gleamed in the candlelight, a living canvas. His hands found my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples as they hardened into tight peaks. I arched against him, my body humming with anticipation.
"Reba," I murmured, reaching for her. "Come here."
She approached hesitantly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desire. I took her hand, guiding it to my breast, covering it with my own. "Feel how my heart races," I whispered. "Feel the life beneath the skin."
Kyle watched from across the room, his expression unreadable, but the bulge straining against his jeans told me all I needed to know. He wanted this, wanted us, even as he hated what we represented.
"Kyle," I said, my voice firm but not unkind. "Join us."
He crossed the room slowly, his movements deliberate. When he reached us, I took his hand and placed it on Reba's cheek, turning her face toward his. Their eyes met, and I could feel the energy shift between them, the complicated history of their marriage momentarily suspended in the charged atmosphere of the studio.
"Kiss her," I commanded softly.
He did, his lips claiming hers with a desperation that made my own breath catch. I watched them for a moment, their bodies pressed together, then turned back to Hans, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue explored my mouth as his hands roamed my body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and hollow.
I broke the kiss and moved to stand behind Reba, my hands sliding around her waist to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. I rolled her nipples between my fingers, feeling them harden as she arched her back against me, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Take off her dress," I whispered to Kyle.
His fingers trembled slightly as he found the zipper, slowly drawing it down. Reba shivered as the fabric parted, her skin pebbling in the cool air. The dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing before us in just a pair of lace panties, her body illuminated by the candlelight.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" I murmured, my hands still cupping her breasts. "Like a Renaissance painting come to life."
Kyle could only nod, his eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of his wife.
"Now you," I said to Reba, turning her to face Kyle. "Undress him."
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but soon his chest was bare, his muscles tensing as she traced the lines of his body with tentative fingertips. I watched them, my own desire building to an almost painful level, then reached for the bottle of oil, pouring a stream over Kyle's back.
Reba looked up, startled, as I began to massage the oil into his skin, my hands working the tense muscles of his shoulders and back. Kyle groaned, his head falling forward as Reba continued her exploration of his chest, her fingers circling his nipples, her lips following the path of her hands.
"Enough," I said suddenly, stepping back. "Get on the floor. All of you."
They complied quickly, arranging themselves in the center of the studio, their bodies gleaming in the candlelight. I stood over them for a moment; a goddess surveying her offerings, then knelt to join them.
I positioned Reba on her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening with arousal. I knelt between her thighs, lowering my head to taste her, my tongue parting her folds to find her clit. She cried out, her hips bucking against my mouth as I circled the sensitive nub, sucking it gently, then more firmly.
Kyle knelt behind me, his hands on my hips, his cock pressing against my ass. I could feel the heat of him, the urgency of his need. I reached back, guiding him into me, groaning as he filled me completely, and his thick shaft stretching me deliciously.
Hans positioned himself beside Reba's head, his cock erect and waiting. She turned toward him, her lips parting to take him into her mouth, her hand wrapping around his shaft as she began to stroke him in rhythm with the movements of my tongue on her clit.
The four of us moved together in a primal dance, our bodies joined in a complex tapestry of sensation. Kyle's thrusts grew more urgent, driving me deeper into Reba's pussy as I continued to lick and suck her clit. She moaned around Hans's cock, her hips bucking wildly as her orgasm built.
I could feel my own climax approaching, a tidal wave of pleasure building deep within me. I reached down, my fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in tight circles as Kyle continued to pound into me from behind.
"Come for me," I murmured against Reba's pussy. "Let me taste you."
Her body arched off the floor, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her orgasm washed over her. I could feel her pussy contracting against my tongue, the taste of her flooding my senses. That was all it took to send me over the edge, my own orgasm crashing through me with the force of a tidal wave.
Kyle groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his own release, his hot cum flooding my pussy. Hans followed moments later, his cock pulsing as he filled Reba's mouth with his seed.
We collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and heaving breaths, the candlelight casting our sweat-slicked bodies in a golden glow. For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, the pounding of our hearts, and the lapping of the lake against the shore.
Then Kyle's phone buzzed on the floor beside us, breaking the spell. He reached for it, his expression changing as he read the message.
"What is it?" I asked with my voice still husky with pleasure.
"Nothing good," he said, his eyes meeting mine. "It seems our little arrangement has been compromised."
CHAPTER 5 — The Final Frame
The morning light filtered through the studio windows, illuminating the wreckage of our solstice celebration. The candles had burned down to stubs, the canvases stood like silent witnesses, and the four of us were scattered across the floor like discarded dolls.
Kyle's revelation had shattered the fragile peace we had found. His company had discovered his absence, and worse, they had traced his location to the lake house. They were on their way, and they weren't coming alone.
"We need to get out of here," Kyle said, his voice tight with urgency as he pulled on his clothes. "Get out now."
"No," I said, my voice calm despite the panic rising in my chest. "This is my home. I'm not running."
Reba looked from Kyle to me, her expression conflicted. "Oly, they're not just coming for him. They're coming for all of us. They know about the patents, about your father..."
"Then we face them together," I said, reaching for her hand. "But not before we settle things between us."
I turned to Hans, who was already dressed, his expression unreadable. "You knew this might happen, didn't you?"
He nodded slowly. "I suspected. Your father made enemies. And he got the powerful ones."
"And you still stayed?"
"Where else would I be?" he asked simply, and I felt a surge of affection for this man who had been my constant, my rock, through everything.
Kyle watched our exchange, his jaw tight with jealousy and frustration. "This is touching, really, but we have more pressing concerns."
"Like what?" I challenged, turning to face him. "Like how you planned to betray me? Like how you recorded our encounter last night?"
His eyes widened in shock. "How did you know?"
"I know everything that happens in this house," I said coolly. "Now, give me your phone."
He hesitated for a moment, and then handed it over. I quickly deleted the recording, then smashed the phone against the concrete floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces.
"There," I said, tossing the remnants aside. "Problem solved."
"Not quite," he said with his voice grim. "They're already on their way. And they're not coming to negotiate."
"Then we prepare," I said, my mind already racing, formulating a plan. "Hans, secure the perimeter. Reba, gather all the patent documents. Kyle, you're with me."
I led him down to the basement, to the hidden laboratory my father had built beneath the house. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and old electronics, the walls lined with shelves of inventions, some completed, some still in progress.
"What is this place?" Kyle asked with his eyes wide with wonder.
"My father's sanctuary," I said, running my hand over a complex device that looked like a cross between a radio and a medical instrument. "It is also our salvation."
I showed him the device my father had been working on before his death—a prototype that could disrupt electronic signals within a certain radius. It was unfinished, but with a few modifications, it might just be enough to disable their communication systems.
"I need your help," I said, turning to face him. "I need you to help me finish this."
He looked at the device, then at me, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. "After everything I've done, after everything I've cost you... you still trust me?"
"I don't trust you," I said honestly. "But I need you. And right now, that's more important."
We worked in silence, our hands moving with a shared purpose, the tension between us slowly transforming into something else—respect, perhaps, or even understanding. When we were finished, the device hummed with a faint blue light, ready for use.
"It's done," I said, my voice filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension. "Now, we wait."
We didn't have to wait long. The sound of tires crunching on gravel announced their arrival, followed by the slamming of car doors and the shouted commands.
"Oly! We know you're in there! Come out with the patents and no one gets hurt!"
I looked at Kyle, and then at Hans and Reba, who had joined us in the basement. "Ready?"
They nodded, their expressions determined.
"Let's end this," I said, and together we ascended the stairs to face our fate.
EPILOGUE
Three months later, the lake house was bathed in the soft glow of autumn sunlight. The legal battles had been fierce, but in the end, justice had prevailed. Kyle's company had been exposed, the patents returned to my family's name, and the four of us had forged a new kind of relationship—one built on honesty, respect, and mutual desire.
I stood on the deck, looking out at the lake, when Reba joined me, her hand finding mine.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly.
"Just thinking about how much has changed," I said, turning to face her. "About how much we've all changed."
She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "For the better, I hope."
"Definitely for the better," I said, leaning in to kiss her gently.
Kyle and Hans joined us on the deck, their presence a comforting weight. The four of us stood there for a moment, watching the sun set over the lake, painting the water in shades of gold and crimson.
"What now?" Kyle asked, his arm wrapping around Reba's waist.
"Now," I said, my voice filled with a newfound sense of peace, "we create. Together."
And as the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, I knew that this was just the beginning of our story—a story of art and passion, of revenge and redemption, of four people who had found themselves in each other, and in the process, had created something beautiful and lasting.