The sinister house down the lane, a scene of brutal murders over twenty years ago, has long been avoided by all who know it is rumoured to be haunted. Those that do venture into the lane at night say they can hear the screams of the murdered couple echoing from the house.
Late for Night College, twenty-one year-old Jane Ford takes the lane shortcut past the old house in order to arrive at her classes on time. She tries to make light of it when the others in her group find out she took the lane. Eventually they dare her to spend the night in the old house. Emboldened by drinking wine, she rashly accepts the dare, but talks the others into joining her.
In the house, she soon realizes that supernatural forces are at work. With the help of three men and a supernatural being, she soon discovers the desire and love that is smouldering in her petite untouched body.
It is a tale of one woman’s journey from inexperience to full and sensual womanhood where she finds strong love for another. Can Jane nurture that love and find the happiness that has eluded her?
“Hi, Wendy, Jane,” Barry Jones called as they walked into the college entrance. “What have you two been up to?”
Wendy, seemingly unable to hold back the information she had that no one else did, burst out excitedly. “Guess what, Barry. Jane took the shortcut past the old house on the way here tonight.”
Barry turned his eyes toward Jane and raised his eyebrows as though in disbelief. “Really? You actually went past the old house, the one down the lane?”
With a small nod, Jane shrugged and glared at Wendy. She was embarrassed at the attention and annoyed that her friend had revealed that she had used the shortcut. “Yeah, yeah I did. But it’s nothing to get excited about.”
“Yeah,” Barry agreed with a small, hesitant, grin. “I’ve been there a few times myself.”
Jane thought he was lying. She didn’t know any of the boys who would pluck up enough courage to go anywhere near the old house. In fact, she would not have had the guts herself had she not been late for class. “Yeah, right,” she muttered almost under her breath.
Barry turned to Wendy. “I’m having a party later at my place. Mom and Dad are away for a few days, so I’ve got the place to myself. Want to come?”
Wendy giggled. “Gosh, yes, I’d love to. What time?”
“Straight after night school. You can come as well, Jane. But you have to bring a bottle.”
Jane thought that he had only asked her because she was standing there with Wendy. She had a reputation for being a bit of a prude and did not get many invitations to any party the guys were having. She shook her head. “Nah, thanks Barry, but I gotta do some chores for my mom.”
Barry gave an unsympathetic smile. “Still tied to the old gals apron strings huh?”
“I value my parent, Barry, unlike you,” she retorted angrily. “You should do more to help yours out.” She was annoyed because she seemed to be the only one who did home stuff when everyone else seemed to have lots of spare time to party and do their own thing.
“Yeah, right,” Barry muttered.
When the class was over, Wendy said. “Why don’t you come to the party, Jane? I’m sure your mom won’t mind, just this once and it’ll do you good. You don’t seem to go out much anymore.”
Jane thought about it. It was true she no longer had much fun with the others, not since her dad had died. And it would be nice to party. Even if just occasionally. “Alright, I’ll come. I just need to let Mom know where I am—she worries about me if I’m late home.”
There were about twenty of the old gang at Barry’s, and beer and booze was flowing freely. Jane put the bottle of wine she had bought from the supermarket on the table and poured herself a glass of white wine from an open bottle. Gin, whisky, brandy—there seemed to be just about everything there. Someone put on a CD and a few couples were dancing to the music. A boy she did not know sidled up to her, a hand rolled cigarette pinched between thumb and forefinger, the sweet smell of the hash coming from his clothes.
He held the cigarette out, smoke curling from the end. “Wanna drag, doll?” he said, blowing a cloud of smoke over her.
She coughed as the sweet smoke got into her lungs and firmly shook her head. “No thank you. I don’t touch the stuff, and you shouldn’t either.”
“Suit yourself,” he muttered with a shrug and walked away. She drained her glass and went to the table for a refill. She took another drink then she became bored and drained her glass before refilling it yet again.
“Hi Jane, want to dance?” A voice said in her ear.
She turned and her tummy gave a flip. Oh God, it was Johnny Ainsworth. Her heart began a fierce tattoo in her breast and a sweet pain of idolization swept through it, rendering her speechless.
She had always had a crush on Johnny Ainsworth, almost since forever, it seemed. And, as she got older, it hadn’t diminished. His handsome six-foot two-inch muscular frame towered over her and his dark brown eyes twinkled as he looked down into hers. He was such a gorgeous hunk that he made her heart rate increase painfully. She felt faint. Johnny Ainsworth actually wanted to dance with her. How amazing was that?
