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The stairs ended against a stone wall. Julie felt around for some way through, her finger depressing a small button. The wall spun. She looked through...the gap she’d created into a long room. A small, tweedy man sat reading Turgenev in an armchair. He looked up and smiled at her. Behind him, on the wall, was a tall grandfather clock. Its machinations were open to the world and truly horrific. The gears were made of broken bone and grisly sinew. The pendulum hung from ropes of intestine. And the. "The funny thing is, for all the years that we have been doing this; we never bring it up outside of that time between dinner and bedtime. In the mornings, it is as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened the night before. The three of us seem to have a pact of silence about our lusty nights, and it doesn't carry over to our daily lives."This story just got more and more incredible to me. I was dumbfounded and I wasn't sure how I felt about it all. I had to agree with Sue: it was. More

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