..On a fuckin Friday.” I said in disbelief. “Hey is this a good outfit.?” Amy asked. I stared at her. Tight black shirt. You could tell she wore...no bra. And a black and green checkered skirt about six inches above her knee. And to top it off she was wearing these Goth boots that just scream fuck me. “You look hot.” I said trying not to get hard. “Why thank ya Psycho. Now let’s go. I want to introduce you to some people.” Amy said as we left the house. We walked and held hands. Her hand would. I’m not sure you can actually call this a basement. It was more like a deep area in the crawlspace that only extended under the kitchen. At some time in the distant past it was used as a fruit cellar for canned goods. A shelf held a series of canning jars, covered with layers of dirt but full of unidentifiable foodstuffs. They all had paper labels on them that were pretty much unreadable. The one thing I managed to read when I wiped off one of the jars was “1958”. This was seriously old stuff.. More

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