Ashley Bach is a native or rural Pennsylvania living in the Greater Philadelphia area. She is a graduate of Temple University's MFA program. Her work has been featured in Maudlin House, Drunk Monkeys, Sledgehammer Lit, and elsewhere. You can follow her at @alchmiclimblnce, @alchemical_imbalance on Instagram, and read more of her thoughts at https://alchemicalimbalance.wordpress.com/.

Happy House

I thought since I knew where you worked, you should see where I worked. I had the key to the model apartment since it was my job to unlock it in the morning and at the end of the day. It being Saturday, I didn’t have to worry about the leasing agents coming in as we sat on the couch in the living room and made out in the master bedroom, simulating domesticity.

When you asked if we should fuck there I laughed because I thought you were kidding. I really would’ve if it weren’t for those bedclothes. No one ever washed them. Who knew how dirty they’d be. I pictured us moving the covers and having dust flume out from the threads. You were looking at me like you were hurt by my laughter. I saw the top of Landon Hall in the distance through the bedroom window.

There was a time I was obsessed with Landon Hall. I broke in once or twice after meticulously studying videos of urban explorers breaking into the place. I had always wanted to break in with somebody. You asked if I wanted to fuck there. I said, “Let’s go.” I figured you would regret the suggestion once we got inside, if you weren’t joking.

The place had two akitas and an old man guarding the place. I took you to the rusted gates. I told you how it was the most expensive abandoned building in the country. Knowledge was my love language.

We used the rust to help us grip the gate. We prayed while we put our asses on top of it and allowed ourselves to fall into the bushes. We laughed when we survived. We kissed when we were out of the bushes. This kiss was spontaneous. I took it to mean there was something real going on and we weren’t just going through the motions.

There was no sign of the dogs. The guard’s truck was absent from the main entrance. You said we were home free. I couldn’t help but be sad that it was easy. I had been here before. I didn’t need to explore. I wanted to give you the full experience.

The narrow, dusty, deteriorating hallway led to the foyer overlooking the grand entrance and its black-and-white diamond linoleum. The last thing the mansion had been before being abandoned was a church that was on the first floor. I wasn’t sure about fucking in a church. All was quiet. I expected creaking, but the mansion had been built to last. It was somehow pristine and dilapidated, as if it looked haunted by design.

You took one side of the hall, I took another. When I least expected it, you came up from behind and sucked on my neck like a vampire. I laughed. You asked where we should fuck. I suggested we do it standing up. You said you didn’t know if you could do that. I told you there were other things we could do. I had you unzip your pants and spit onto my hand. As I pleasured you, I told you how the rich man who had the place built had it built to get away from the water after his wife died on their yacht. You told me to talk about something else. I said how the man also funded the making of the Titanic only to have his son and grandson die. You said to talk about something besides the man who had the place built. I didn’t have anything else to talk about, so I said nothing. When finished, I wiped it on the wall so there would always be a part of you there. Unless it was torn down.