Excerpt from KRANTZ & EDGAR:

"Dinner at the Panderleys"

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That night, we had a dinner of roast lamb, boiled fish and stuffed cabbage. As I was the only guest, it was awkward to beg off eating anything. I gagged down a bite or two of both meats but nothing could get me to touch the vegetables. Mrs. Panderley made a joke about me being a finicky eater as a child. Old Panderley snorted derisively but made no comment as to do so would imply a less than proper host.

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Before we had our dessert of some manner of preserves, I watched the old fellow nod off once. This must have been a common sight as neither Mrs. Panderley nor the servants seemed to take notice.

 

Rather than retire for brandy and tobacco—which I have always detested—Panderley was sent straight to bed. It was left for Mrs. Panderley to entertain me. I wrung my hands with delight!

 

“I confess I am utterly ignorant of vintages, Doctor,” she said. “I'm sure your palate is superior to my own. Might you pick a suitable liqueur for our nightcap?”

 

“I would love nothing more, dear lady.” I then stepped to the liquor cabinet.

 

“None of those will do, my friend. Poor dear Harold stocks only the most insipid of spirits in his own cabinet. We must find something rather more vigorous and robust to warm us this chilly evening.”

 

I did not think it was chilly at all. Indeed, I was already feeling quite warm. However, I said nothing of that.

 

“I'm sure I will have no difficulty coming up with something you will find most appealing, Mrs. Panderley.”

 

She gave me a coquette's smile and led me out of the study. A moment later, she drew a key from her bosom and unlocked a sturdy door that I had, until then, presumed to be a closet.

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“This is my husband's wine cellar,” she said as she took lamp in hand. “Do be careful on the steps. One of them has become loose and might prove your downfall.”

 

I gave a polite laugh at her little jest but as I followed the scent of burning whale oil, I did feel my way carefully down the wooden steps and along the stone walls. At a glance I was certain the basement was much older than the rest of the house and this piqued my antiquarian interests. But those interests, I confess, were rather less profound than my growing interest in the sashaying gown that I followed down the steps.

 

The cellar was well-stocked with numerous vintages filling a dozen rows of wooden racks. But my blood pounded in my head as I thought only of a more heady draught. I grasped Mrs. Panderley from behind, my hands on her waist, my lips on her bare neck.

 

I vowed to take her then and there, surrounded by the crumbling stones of the cavernous cellars of Panderley House!

Mrs. Panderley giggled like a girl then said, “Doctor, you've become indiscreet. I had no idea you felt this way about me.”

 

“Oh, I think you know exactly how I feel, Mrs. Panderley. And if not, let me make it very clear.”

 

With that, I drew her to me, pulling the hem of her gown off her white shoulder and half down to her waist, corsetted in whalebone. Pressing my middle portion hard against her own, I heard her gasp briefly as she felt the thrust of my passion against her.

 

“Dr. Krantz, I do believe you've quite forgotten the wine.”

 

“I have a taste for another nectar, Mrs. Panderley,” I said, as I kissed her neck again and caressed her delightfully rounded bosom. Her flesh stiffened under my touch, as had my own. “And I daresay, you do as well.”

 

She moaned in pleasure, even as she slipped out of my grasp. She set her lamp in a niche and hurried down an aisle between the racks. My puzzlement was short-lived as she said, “I must show you something first, Dr. Krantz.”

 

“I have something to show you as well, dear lady.” And with that I began to work on my buttons.

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She disappeared behind the racks but her voice carried through the aisles in a lovely sing-song. “Come to meeee, Dr. Krantz.”

 

I did so at once. Walking was a tad awkward at that moment, as I first had to pull my trousers back up, but I managed it. Certainly I had no trouble seeing in the dark so I left the lamp behind. Only the maze-like arrangement of the racks obscured my quarry.

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With but a few twists and turns, I spotted her again. She opened another door of which I was heretofore ignorant. A dim pool of light illuminated her before she laughed happily and disappeared into the doorway. She shut the door behind her.

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Aha! Clearly she had a secret boudoir prepared for her and I. The little vixen!

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I reached the door and pulled it open. The light within was not bright—only a single candle dripping on top a skull on a cobwebbed shelf. The room itself was small, with stone walls and yet another door was visible.

 

Mrs. Panderley stood disheveled but smiling, looking almost shy with her hands behind her, as she swayed first left then right. Yet the thing that truly captured my attention was an old, black coffin laying in the middle of the room.

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Oh, that's decadent, I thought.

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Read more in KRANTZ & EDGAR!

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