The Wake

Last summer, a University student named Seth paged through the classifieds looking for a place to live. He found one ad that said, “Man seeking roommate” in a house near the University that cost $400 a month. It seemed to fit Seth’s criteria so he decided to check it out.

When he arrived at the house, the owner was working in the front lawn without a shirt on. “He seemed like your average guy,” Seth said, “He was about 50 years old.”

As the owner showed Seth around, he thought it was “amazingly nice.” There were velvet drapes and couches in the living room. The front lawn had perfect landscaping and even a water fountain in the backyard.

Everything seemed normal until the man showed Seth the house he owned next door. In an enclosed porch, the owner pointed out some cracked wood and said, “I would have replaced this but I wanted to keep this ambience for the sexual torture chamber downstairs.”

Seth just laughed, assuming the man was kidding. He continued to show Seth around.

The place was nice, but Seth couldn’t see himself moving into either of the houses.

As he was leaving, the man said, “Wait a second, you have to see this.”

The owner brought Seth down a staircase to the basement. The two of them walked through a hallway and into a large room. It was a full-blown sexual torture chamber.

The walls were covered with fake, black stone. A bed sat in one corner with a leather sex-swing hanging over it. A metal cage, big enough to hold a person, was built into the floor. Beneath it were fake coals that shined red with the flick of a switch.

The owner walked toward a fake stone wall and pointed out some metal bars.

“People think these are towel racks,” he said.

Then he locked himself into them and hung there for a moment smiling.

After looking at the room a little longer, Seth asked, “What is this place for?”

“What do you think?” the owner said, “Sex.”