Editor’s Note: Our beloved Amanda Lynn does such a great job keeping the gears of the Juicy Secrets machine turning that it might obscure her considerable skills as a writer. It’s been over five years since her last story (despite my dropping the occasional hint), so it gives me enormous pleasure to unveil the first installment of her latest — a spooky, sexy tale that ranks with her very best. It’s a slow burner, but once it gets to the sex, the heat generated is enough to cut through steel. Please enjoy, and don’t forget to comment!
By Amanda Lynn
The headlights of Kate Miller’s weary old Chevy cut through the pitch-blackness of the quiet back road. The car was old, older than the fourteen-year-old girl who was slouched in the passenger seat, glumly scrolling on her phone.
Kate and her daughter Leah were travelling to Kingsport on a journey that would take at least two days. Kate was starting a new job there, and intended to make a fresh start—moving on from a stifling career and an unhealthy marriage. Though Kate was eagerly anticipating their new life to come, she understood why Leah wasn’t. Leaving her friends behind and having to attend a new school in the fall could be rough for a teenage girl.
“When are we gonna stop, Mom?” Leah asked, not bothering to lift her gaze from the screen.
“Another hour. Getting bored?” Kate asked.
Leah responded with a grunt, shifting her weight as if searching for comfort in the cramped space.
After another ten minutes of driving, an unsettling feeling began to curl in the pit of Kate’s stomach. Why did it seem as though she had to press the accelerator harder and harder just to maintain normal speed? She swallowed nervously, gripping the wheel tightly. Come on, don’t quit on me now, girl, she thought, as if sheer will was enough to keep the car going.
Suddenly, warning lights lit up the dashboard. The car coughed and sputtered, and Kate barely managed to steer far enough off the road before the engine gave up entirely, going dead beneath what appeared to be the only streetlight for miles around.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she slammed her fist down on the steering wheel in helpless frustration.
“What’s wrong with it, Mom?” Leah asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.
“I don’t know, honey,” Kate replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned the key in the ignition, only to be met with a disheartening silence. She twisted again, then slumped back in her seat, barely holding back an urge to scream.
“Oh, no. What are we gonna do?” Leah cried, her worried eyes filling with panic.
“It’ll be okay, sweetie. I have that roadside assistance package. I’ll call a tow truck,” Kate assured her, fishing around in her purse with a mixture of hope and dread.
“Mom, I can’t get a signal,” Leah said, holding up her phone. “What’s going on here? I was using it not two minutes ago!”
Kate swiped her phone, only to get the same disappointing result. Zero bars. “Damn it!” she huffed in frustration. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she climbed out of the car, desperately hoping the world outside would be kinder. She walked around to the rear, halted and stared at the phone again, feeling a wave of panic wash over her. What the hell are we going to do now?
Leah was by her side. “Any luck?”
Kate shook her head.
“Are we going to walk to the next town, or maybe see if there’s a house close by?”
Kate frowned. “No, that wouldn’t be wise.” She pondered the matter for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll have to rough it out in the car tonight, sweetie.”
As they turned back to the car, headlights split the darkness behind them. Kate hesitated for a moment. Should she wave them down? Ask for help? It was a risk. It could be a carload of serial killers for all I know.
The car slowed as it neared them, but didn’t stop; it just rolled past. Kate’s heart sank—at least, until the brake lights flared. The vehicle reversed, gliding to a halt beside where she and Leah stood. Her gaze flicked over the car’s highly polished surface, from the large fins jutting from the rear quarter panel to the gleaming script—Continental—embossed in polished chrome along the front fender. She was no expert when it came to cars, but it was plain to see that this car was a vintage classic, and in flawless condition.
The rear passenger window slid downward. Kate couldn’t see anyone in the blackened interior at first, but then she caught movement, and a face appeared: a woman with bright eyes and a warm, captivating smile. Kate felt a smile forming on her own lips as she sensed that, somehow, everything would be all right. There was something else in the air as well, something mysterious that seemed to pull at her.
“Hello there. Are you having trouble with your vehicle? Do you require assistance?” the woman asked.
“Yes. It just died. I was going to call for a tow, but can’t get a signal,” Kate said, waving her phone about.
The car door opened, and the woman emerged from the car. She was tall and lean, dressed in an emerald-green gown that clung to her like a second skin. To call her elegant would be an understatement. In fact, she seemed the very embodiment of style and grace. Kate was left breathless.
“I’m not surprised,” the woman murmured. “This stretch of road is in a dead spot.”
“Naturally,” Leah huffed.
The woman chuckled. “It’s a good thing we happened along, then. I’m Claire, by the way. Claire Deveraux.” She proffered a hand.
Kate’s fingers curled around Claire’s, and for a heartbeat, something shifted—a flicker of warmth, a quickening of her pulse. Then it vanished, leaving only the faintest hum beneath her skin.
Leah, on the other hand, wasn’t even trying to conceal her interest in the woman. Her chin was tilted up, dark eyes locked onto Claire as if she’d just spotted a rock star in the wild, and she wore a bright, unguarded grin, the like of which Kate hadn’t seen in weeks.
“I’m Kate Miller, and this is my daughter Leah.”
“A pleasure,” Claire said, reaching to take Leah’s hand. Her gaze lingered on the girl. Kate could have sworn she heard her daughter sigh.
In the distance, the sky lit up, and the sound of thunder soon followed.
Glancing into the distance, Claire shook her head. “It’s going to storm soon, and I can’t in good conscience leave you two on the side of the road, even if you were able to phone for help. You will be my guests for the evening. My house is just a short drive from here.”
Kate was taken aback, to say the least. “My goodness, that is very kind, but I couldn’t impose…”
“Nonsense. It’s no imposition at all. In fact, I shall be glad of the company.” Peering through the window of her car, she said, “Charles, see to their luggage.” She turned back to Kate. “I assume you have luggage…?”
Kate guessed that Charles must be Claire’s driver. “Yes, of course. It’s – it’s in the trunk.”
The driver’s door opened, and a man in a dark suit emerged. He made his way to the trunk of Kate’s car, giving a slight nod as he passed. Kate fumbled for the key fob in her pocket, then popped the trunk, making a face when it took her three tries.
Claire opened the door to the car. “Is there anything else you need from your car before we go?”
“No, I’m good,” Kate said and glanced over at Leah.
“I’m good, too,” Leah chirped, still wearing that silly grin.
“All right, then. Hop in. Don’t worry about your own vehicle… I’ll have Charles take it to the garage in Walker’s Crossing.”
“Thanks so much,” Kate said, then pressed the lock button on the fob. The vehicle beeped in confirmation. They climbed into the back seat and settled in, Leah deliberately seating herself next to Claire.
Once Charles had stowed their bags, he returned to his place behind the wheel, and the car surged forward.
Soon Charles steered onto Blackthorn Lane. The headlights gave glimpses of tall columnar evergreens spaced evenly along the road, giving an impression of sentinels standing guard.
Leah was chatting animatedly with Claire, and Kate gave the woman an apologetic smile when their eyes met. At that moment, Kate felt that strange sensation again, washing over her for an instant. What was it like? A desire, a deep hunger for something she couldn’t put words to.
Tearing her gaze away, Kate forced herself to look out the window, at the back of the driver’s head, at her own hands – anywhere but at the face of the fascinating, unsettling woman who had rescued her and Leah from their predicament. I don’t understand these feelings. Claire seems perfectly nice. She’s doing us a huge favour – actually taking us into her home! And Leah has taken to her in a big way… What is it about her that makes me so jittery inside?
As they approached the end of the lane, the car turned onto a long, winding drive of white gravel, flanked by manicured hedges and decorative lights. Large wrought iron gates swung inward, and Kate caught her first glimpse of Claire’s house—more of a mansion, really—looming ahead like a dark vision from a fairy tale, all gothic spires and jagged rooftops.
The architecture was imposing, each turret and archway an intricate lacework of shadows. As the car rolled along the gravel drive, Kate took in the grandeur of the structure. Stained glass windows glowed like jewels, each a mosaic of shapes, scattering fragments of colored light onto the ground beneath. The red and gold hues danced in patterns, while the flickering lights from within gave the house an oddly warm yet eerie quality, making it seem as if it was alive and breathing.
As they came to a stop in front of the main doors, the car’s engine went quiet and a heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the distant sounds of thunder. Charles briskly exited the car, his footsteps crunching on the gravel until he opened Claire’s door, then marched around to do the same for Kate on the other side. With a sense of trepidation, Kate climbed out.
Leah had excitedly slid out behind Claire. “So cool,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Welcome to Blackthorn Manor,” Claire said, just as the first drops of rain began to fall.
***
They quickly ascended the heavy stone steps to the front door. The door was imposing—crafted from dark mahogany, clearly worn smooth by decades of use. It swung inward without so much as a whisper to reveal a dimly lit foyer, its walls lined with dark, ornate woodwork and adorned with vintage portraits and landscapes.
At the threshold stood a serving maid, dressed in the Edwardian style of the early 1900s; a crisp white apron contrasted against the muted gray of her dress. The peculiar choice of attire made Kate blink in surprise, as if they’d stepped through a time portal rather than a doorway.
“Welcome home, ma’am,” the woman said with a graceful curtsy, her voice warm as honey.
“Thank you, Milly. This is Kate and her daughter Leah. They will be our guests for a time,” Claire replied, her tone light but her gaze piercing.
Milly nodded in greeting, her eyes bright. “Yes, ma’am. The guest rooms are ready. I’ll see that two more places are set for dinner.”
“That would be splendid, Milly,” Claire said. Turning to Kate, she added, “Charles will show you to your rooms and see to your luggage. Do feel free to freshen up if you wish. Dinner will be served in an hour.”
When Milly gestured for them to follow, Kate stepped over the threshold with Leah at her side, absorbing the lavishness that surrounded her. A grand chandelier sparkled overhead like a constellation suspended from the high vaulted ceiling, its shimmering light reflecting off the polished marble floors. The air was thick with the scent of something floral—roses or lilacs, perhaps?—mixed with the faint, earthy aroma of old books. The scent seemed to beckon, leading Kate deeper into the mystery of Claire’s world.
Kate trailed meekly behind Charles with Leah close at her heels as they ascended the sweeping staircase to the upper level. The walls were lined with paintings so refined they could’ve graced the halls of a gallery. At the top of the stairs, they continued down a hallway that had also been decorated in the fine art of a bygone era.
“You are here, Mrs. Miller,” Charles said, opening a door to his right, “and you are here, Miss Leah.” He then opened the door to the left.
“Thank you, Charles. And please call me Kate. Mrs. Miller is my mother,” Kate said with a smile.
“As you wish, ma’am. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you again.”
Charles bowed his head slightly before taking his leave.
“Holy crap!” Leah exclaimed from inside her room. She’d ducked inside for a look while Kate was speaking to Charles. “Mom, check out your room! Mine, it’s… it’s awesome. I think our whole apartment could fit in the bath.”
Kate let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as she turned toward her own door. “Exaggerate much, kiddo?” she teased, though the words came out gentler than she’d intended. After all, she was also curious about what might be on the other side.
The knob was cool beneath her palm, polished brass that gleamed in the hallway’s warm lighting. She pushed it open, stepping inside—then stopped, the breath catching in her throat as she took in the view.
The room wasn’t just nice. Even the word “luxurious” seemed to diminish it. This was the kind of space that seemed to have emerged from a dream, the kind that made her chest ache with longing. “My goodness,” she whispered, glancing about.
The walls were adorned in deep, velvety wallpaper the colour of storm clouds, threaded with faint silver patterns that shone when the light hit just so. A four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, its frame carved from solid oak, the wine-red curtains tied back with silk cords that looked as if they’d been woven from gold thread. The bedding itself was a cascade of layers—crisp white linens, a duvet so thick it could’ve swallowed her whole, and at the foot, a fur throw that begged to be touched. Kate’s fingers twitched at her sides, her body already advancing into the room before her mind could catch up.
And there were details that made it seem like much more than a simple guest room. A writing desk sat near the window, its surface bare except for a single, elegant lamp and a leather-bound journal, open to an untouched page. Beside it, a crystal decanter of amber liquid—whiskey, probably—with two glasses, as if someone had known she’d want to pour herself a drink once she was alone. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something warmer like cedar, and the fire crackling in the hearth cast flickering shadows that made the room feel alive.
Kate paused in mid-step when she spied the ensuite, then slowly tiptoed inside, switching the light on as she crossed the threshold. Leah hadn’t been lying—it was an awesome sight. The space was vast, all sleek marble, polished chrome and reflective glass, but the shower was the real spectacle. A broad rainfall head dominated the ceiling, a handheld wand was fixed to the wall, and embedded jets lined the sides for what had to be the ultimate in self- indulgence. It wasn’t lost on her how out of place this ultra-modern bath seemed in a house that was so reminiscent of an earlier era. Still, she was almost childishly eager to try it out. After spending most of the day driving, a hot shower was exactly what she needed.
Stepping onto a thick, lush bathmat, Kate began to undress.
***
In the room across the hall, Leah had the same idea. She’d already explored the room, taking the time to peek into drawers and closets. A rumble of thunder brought her to the window. The light from downstairs did little to split the darkness outside.
Stepping back from the glass, Leah tugged her top off as she moved toward the bed, then kicked her sandals away before slipping out of her shorts and panties. Now nude, she paused before the full-length mirror and examined herself.
Leah was well-built for her age—lean, wiry, a younger echo of Kate’s more womanly frame. Her brown hair, streaked with hints of faded blue, was casually tied back in a ponytail, and her wide eyes gleamed with restless energy. That gaze traced her reflection now, lingering on the swell of her chest, the taut plane of her stomach, the tuft of dark curls between her legs.
A sudden throb pulsed low in her belly, and she pressed her thighs together. That feeling started the moment she had arrived in her black car. That first glimpse of Claire had shifted something inside Leah, leaving the teen unsettled. Hungry, even.
Making her way to the shower, she stepped inside, turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Steam quickly filled the space, and Leah stepped beneath the hot spray, letting her body relax in the soothing heat. She began to wash herself, and the pulse in her groin grew increasingly acute as she applied soap to her body. Closing her eyes, she pictured Claire in the shower with her, smiling seductively. Leah groaned.
Fumbling for the shower wand, she activated it, adjusting the spray to a gentle pulse, then brought it to her breasts. Her nipples were already stiff.
The water’s flow hit her like a spark, sharp and electric. Leah gasped, arching her back as the spray stimulated one taut nipple, then the other. The heat, the pressure—it was too much, yet not enough. She bit her lip, stifling a whimper, placing her free hand against the tiled wall for balance.
Claire.
Leah whispered the name; tasted it on her lips. She pictured Claire, the way she’d leaned in just a little too close when they’d been introduced, the way her fingers had brushed Leah’s wrist when they shook hands. “So young, so pretty,” Claire had whispered as they drew apart, softly enough that only she could hear.
Leah hadn’t understood the way she’d shivered when the woman spoke those words. Hadn’t understood why her skin still tingled where Claire touched her.
She didn’t understand now, either.
Leah pressed the wand against her clit, the water’s pulse sharp, insistent. Her hips jerked forward; her breath came in ragged gasps. She was already so close, her body wound tight, nerves singing. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, slapping her free hand against the tiled wall.
Leah’s mind flashed with images that left her lightheaded—Claire’s lips parting in a sly grin, the way her tongue had flicked out to trace her lower lip while she was looking at Leah.
Now, she could feel Claire’s presence, as if their hostess was standing next to her.
Phantom fingers trailed down her spine; imagined lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “Let go for me, sweetheart,” Claire’s voice whispered in her mind, velvety and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart.”
Leah’s body obeyed.
The orgasm hit like a freight train. She jerked violently, her back arching, her thighs trembling. The wand slipped from her fingers, leaping about in the shower as she came, her mouth open in a silent scream. Pleasure wrecked her, coming in waves until her body shook with the force of it.
Spent, she collapsed against the wall and slid down to sit on the tiles, her chest heaving. The shower pounded down on her, but she barely sensed it. All she could feel was the echo of Claire’s presence, lingering like a fingerprint on her soul.
Leah’s fingers trembled as she reached up to touch her own flushed cheek, her throat, her lips—as if she’d actually felt Claire’s mouth claim hers in a heated kiss.
She couldn’t figure out what happened.
She didn’t know.
But her body understood.
And it wanted more.
Soon to come: Chapter Two!
13
2
8
3
3
2
2
3
1