The Ivy – Sixth Floor
Prologue
Kirk felt badly for the woman, but he couldn’t see a way forward.
“Ms. Martinez, I understand your frustration. I can file the paperwork, but the court won’t grant you a restraining order without some sort of proof. Your husband has to have done something demonstrable, that is, something we can show the court as proof that he has said or done threatening things. If not, he, or his lawyers, will claim that he has a right as a father to see his children. The fact that you still live with him will, obviously, be a sticking point. If you could show some estrangement…” he trailed off as the woman broke down into tears.
Kirk felt obligated to take pro bono cases, but he never enjoyed them, at least not until they were over. He couldn’t think of one case he’d enjoyed in the eight years he’d been with the firm since law school.
“Ms. Martínez?... Ms. Martínez don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”
“But I don’t have proof like you say,” she replied tearfully. “But he has been extraño, different, ever since he had that interview.”
“What interview, Ms. Martínez?
“It was for a cleaning job in some building on the east side. I don’t know what one. But he look at me different now. He whisper things to me like he is some other person. I don’t know what is going on but I see in his eyes,” she said pointing to her own eyes. “…I see the demonio
In his eyes.”
“Ok, Ms. Martínez. I’ll file the paperwork, but maybe you should be speaking with social services. I don’t think the court will help you here.”
She started quietly crying again.
He slowly packed up his brief case and after giving the woman a hug, left the apartment where she had taken the kids.
His heart broke for her, but he couldn’t do much more. She had no recordings, no phone calls, no pictures or police reports, just his word against hers. She was pretty shaken up, so he didn’t doubt the guy did something, but he just had no real legal recourse.
He just hoped nothing would happen to her. He hated these cases.
Kirk looked at his watch as he walked back to his car. “9:15AM”. Good, he’d be at his desk by ten he thought.
- I -
The phone rang on his desk and glanced at the clock. Four o’clock, he’d need to finish up to meet Charlotte by five thirty. He was pleased to have gotten so much done today. His meeting with Ms. Martínez had not taken as long as he thought it might which had given him a leg up on the mountain of work on his desk.
“Hello.”
“Yes, is this Mr. Kirk Soliman?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes. This is Kirk.”
“Oh, Mr. Soliman, my name is Cynthia Wheeler, I am the building liaison for The Ivy on Lakeshore.”
Kirk sat up, surprised.
“Oh, Ms. Wheeler, yes. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Mr. Soliman, I wanted to inform you that an apartment has come open here in The Ivy and I wondered if you were still interested.”
“Oh, yes, of course. We’d be very interested in the apartment.”
“We?”
“Yes, my fiancée Charlotte and myself, er, me,” he said, nervousness creeping into his voice.
“Oh, very good. We do like young couples. They add such a nice energy!” she replied.
He could hear her scribbling something. Maybe his engagement would actually help get the spot.
The Ivy was one of Chicago’s most exclusive buildings. Built in the early part of the 1900’s overlooking the vast Lake Michigan horizon, it had stood as a beacon of exclusiveness for over a century. Getting an apartment in the building was a cross between a lottery and admission into an exclusive secret society. One of the senior partners in Kirk’s firm knew the right person to give Kirk’s name to and mysteriously an application had appeared on his desk. He filled the document out and, following the instructions, sent it back to the address of another legal firm in the city, Grant, Fuller & Thom. Months had gone by with no word from the building and frankly Kirk had forgotten about it, lost as he was in his work.
“So, we will see you and Charlotte at 6pm sharp next Tuesday, August 9th for your interview. Do you have any questions?”
The notion of an interview wasn’t much of a surprise to him given how exclusive the building was. But as he was the one applying for the apartment, he wasn’t sure why anyone else would need to come with him.
“You would like Charlotte to come as well?” he asked.
“Yes of course. The committee will want to meet you both. After all, it would be her home as well would it not?”
“Oh, of course, yes. I’ll see if she if available next Tuesday.”
“Mr. Soliman, this will be the only appointment time we will offer. It would be best if she were able to accompany you.”
There was a pause as these words sunk in.
“I see,” he finally replied. “I’ll make sure she is with me.”
“Excellent! We look forward to seeing you Mr. Soliman”
“Thank you, Cynthia. See you next Tuesday.”
He put down his desk phone then wondered how they had gotten his direct line. He had only put down his cell number on the application.
He pulled out his cell phone and made the call that would change their lives.
“Hey honey…I’m good, yeah. Hey, what are you doing next Tuesday?”
***
The revolving doors off Lake Shore Drive opened in to and expansive marble lobby. Two small seating areas were set up, one each side of the door, affording a comfortable and warm spot to wait for a car or taxi without braving the icy winds that could blow off the lake.
Charlotte took Kirk’s hand as they walked toward the reception desk. She had taken this evening’s interview rather seriously. While Kirk was still in his suit and tie from work, Charlotte had changed from her work clothes into a far more chic and feminine Chanel outfit belying her family’s wealth. She was six years younger than Kirk, but she looked like a woman of sophistication well beyond her years.
The designer outfit consisted of the telltale Chanel matching top and jacket in soft pink with a matching skirt down to just below her knee. She accessorized with a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace, a smart gold watch and fashionable four-inch heels also in soft pink. She had even taken the afternoon off from work for a trip to the spa. Stockings weren’t appropriate for the late summer heat but her long smooth legs had a healthy sheen to them, like they had been shellacked, Kirk thought. Her makeup was flawless, and she had her chestnut hair styled at the spa in long soft curls that swept over one shoulder.
She was absolutely stunning. The review board had no chance, he had thought to himself when he saw her.
“May I help you,” said the uniformed man behind the desk.
“Yes, we’re here to meet Cynthia Wheeler. We have an appointment at six o’clock,” Kirk replied.
“Very good. I’ll let Ms. Wheeler know Mr. and Mrs. Soliman have arrived.”
Charlotte squeezed his hand as if excited to be called Mrs. Soliman. Getting an apartment in the Ivy would be the foundation for her standing in Chicago society. They would soon be married and start a family and Kirk would later leave his law firm to start his career in politics. Mayor, then congressman and then perhaps Governor or senator and the Ivy would be the foundation for their new lives as they climbed up the ranks.
Soon enough, Cynthia Wheeler came out from a door just beside the reception desk to greet them.
“Mr. Soliman, Ms. White. How do you do, I’m Cynthia Wheeler, we spoke on the phone.”
“When had he given Cynthia Charlotte’s last name,” he wondered to himself.
“Very pleased to meet you Ms. Wheeler,” Charlotte started in. “What a beautiful lobby, is this Italian marble?” she asked gesturing to the dark swirling stone that made up the lobby’s floor. The stone continued up the walls in lighter shades, punctuated by mirrors every fifteen feet or so.
“You have a good eye, Ms. White. Indeed, it is Italian marble and is original to the building. You’ll find many such treasures throughout the building, as well as all the modern amenities we all take for granted, of course. We like to keep the finer things intact. It gives the building its charm and feel.”
“Well, it’s simply lovely,” Charlotte remarked, adding a 1000-kilowatt smile. Charlotte could charm the bark of a tree when she wanted to.
“I’m so glad we have someone with decerning tastes looking at the apartment. In fact, the original tenant of the apartment is responsible for this lovely marble, Mrs. Mell. Shall we go up and see it before we sit down with the board?”
“The Board,” inquired Kirk?
“Yes, the interview is with the building’s five-person Board including the building’s Chairman, Mr. Grant. They won’t expect us before six thirty which should give us plenty of time to see the apartment.”
“That sounds perfect,” responded Kirk trying to seem at ease with the situation.
He was not at ease. He wasn’t uncomfortable either, but he was definitely not at ease with this entire thing. He had felt pressure to perform well, not just because it was an interview and he was competitive, but because he knew how much this meant to Charlotte. She had some pretty serious plans for the two of them, all of which her parents supported, and she had pounded into his brain how important The Ivy would be in their success, as if anyone cared where they lived.
He had also learned that Charlotte’s parents had tried twice to get into this building both before and just after she was born but had been unsuccessful. Like a parent who hadn’t gotten into Harvard, her parents wanted her to live at The Ivy. He was also not at ease with what he expected the cost to be. You were not allowed to buy an apartment in The Ivy, and you had to sign a lease for a minimum of three years, or so he had heard. In fact, he was not sure what the rent would cost but it had to be considerably higher than his current apartment in Lincoln Park, itself not a low rent neighborhood.
They followed Cynthia Wheeler to the elevator at the far end of the lobby from the spinning doors they had entered through. Soon they were heading to the sixth floor, a little less than halfway up the fifteen floored building. The elevator let them out in to a nicely lit and welcoming hallway that ran left to right as they stepped off. There were only four apartments on this floor, two on either side of the building. Two faced toward the waters of Lake Michigan, and two faced back toward the city.
She turned left heading down the hall toward the north side of the building. The Italian marble was still visible in places, but a more modern façade and carpeting had been incorporated to give the hall a more current feel. As they walked down the hall, Kirk noticed small figures carved into the stone just below the crown molding perhaps every ten feet or so. They weren’t grotesque figures, that is to say they didn’t have expressions of horror, but nor were the happy expressions. They seemed to have almost a blank, haunting look and he felt their eyes seemed to follow them down the hall. They were just creepy he thought.
Soon they came to a modern door at the end of the hall to the right with a shining chrome handle that looked brand new.
“Here we are, 601” said Cynthia, pulling a key from her suit jacket pocket.
Charlotte again squeezed Kirk’s hand as she knew immediately this would be an apartment facing the Lake. Cynthia opened the door and stepped in, ushering the young couple in as she removed her key from the door and shut it behind them.
The three of them walked through into a large foyer with a sizeable closet that could easily accommodate all manner of coats necessary for the Chicago climate. It also had a large oil painting of an elegant woman in a 1920’s style gown that looked to be a soft creamy peach satin. Opposite the painting was a large ornate mirror likely original to the apartment, perfect for checking one’s appearance before heading out.
Kirk examined the painting more closely. He was correct in his guess of the time period. “Miss. Evelyn Clara Rose. 1921” the small plaque on the ornate frame read. The woman was beautiful and the more he examined the painting the more enamored of the her he became. It was as though she was speaking to him.
“Rose was her maiden name,” Cynthia offered, noticing how intently Kirk was studying the portrait. “She later became Mrs. Evelyn Mell, marrying into one of the strongest political families of the time. She was an early member of The Ivy family and was instrumental in the building’s rise to prominence. She saw to it that the first six floors of the building were only rented to young women of certain means. That rule was done away with in the 70s and now the building allows all floors to be rented equally. Interestingly, the sixth floor’s four apartment have never had male renters except for Mrs. Mell’s husband. You would be the first Mr. Soliman. Right here in Evelyn Mell’s apartment!” Cynthia mused, noting the irony.
Kirk nodded, not able to take his eyes off the painting.
“It is a lovely painting…but, why is here?” Charlotte asked.
“It was hung here in memory of Mrs. Mell at the request of her estate. It has hung in that spot I believe since it was hung here by Mrs. Mell herself. It’s said she was so in love with her self-portrait that she put it opposite a mirror so she could look at herself all day. Maybe not the nicest thing to say of someone. Anyway, I’m afraid it must stay where it is per the agreement in the lease.”
“Well it is very lovely. Honey let’s see the rest of the apartment,” Charlotte cooed at him, tugging him away from the painting.
Passing through the foyer the hall continued forward into a large living area and connected to another hallway that led to the kitchen on the left and a hallway down to the various bedrooms and bathrooms.
As they walked into the empty living room, Charlotte again got excited. In the late afternoon, the apartment did not get the setting sun’s light directly, but it did create a wonderful view of the lake and shoreline in its stunning beauty with no glare on the windows. The views were simply magnificent.
“As you can see, we’ve just finished renovating the entire apartment and updating all the fixtures and appliances. Everything from the wood paneling in the front foyer to the kitchen cabinets are new. The only things we didn’t touch are some of the original hard wood and marble floors and fixtures,” explained Cynthia as they moved through the open spaces.
Charlotte had already started to decorate the place in her mind. A dark wood desk for the office, soft modern couches for the living room, a king bed for the master bedroom and his and hers children’s rooms in pink and blue. Kirk didn’t think he had ever seen her smile so long or so hard as the twenty minutes they spent talking with Cynthia and walking through the apartment.
Kirk liked the apartment as well. It was nicely updated and had a killer view. It was clearly a place that screamed “you’ve made it.” And he appreciated that the new updates hadn’t destroyed the history in the wood floors and marble facades on portions of the walls and bathrooms. It was the carvings and reliefs though that just threw him off a bit.
In each of the marble facades left in the apartment, perhaps ten or so around support columns in the powder room, and down the hallways were carvings and reliefs of Greek or Roman women. They were small, not particularly obvious but once you saw one, they weren’t hard to see. There was nothing particularly wrong with them, they weren’t creepy like the ones in the hallway to the elevators, but still, they were just oddly out of place in the apartment. Cynthia had explained that Mrs. Mell had adorned the apartment and the hallways of the sixth floor with these reliefs made for her in Italy.
“You can read all about them in the history book about The Ivy,” Cynthia told them.
She looked at her watch.
“Ah, now, shall we head back to the elevator, we don’t want you to be late for the board interview.”
****
The last of the boxes had been unpacked weeks earlier but it was only now that Charlotte felt the apartment was set as it should be. In the end, they had spent a small fortune updating their furniture for the new space, but they had both felt that it was a good investment in their future. If they were going to have The Ivy’s address, they wanted to look the part. Besides, her parents, her mother in particular, were so pleased they had gotten into The Ivy, they insisted on buying most of new pieces for them.
In her decorating, Charlotte had tried several different configurations in each of the rooms, save the dining room, making Kirk push couches and chairs around rooms interminably. He had to say though, now that she was finished, he liked their new apartment. He even liked the portrait of Miss Evelyn Clara Rose. So smitten with her was he that he made a point to say hello to her every time he entered the apartment. Charlotte, however, was much less fond of the portrait. In truth she had issues with it that bordered on animus and acrimony and told Kirk she would soon find a sheet to hang over it. There was something not right about it and that he was so enamored of it, of her, made Charlotte resent it even more.
It was late October when Kirk was called away on a business trip with one of the partners. He didn’t have to travel that often, but this would be the first time Charlotte was alone in the apartment since they had moved in and she had to say, she wasn’t thrilled. She hadn’t gotten used to its vibe just yet she had told him before he left.
“It’s only two nights, honey. I’ll see you Friday,” he had told her Wednesday morning as he prepared to head to the airport.
She spent Wednesday night with her parents in the upscale northern suburbs and had intended to stay that Thursday as well but had gotten sidetracked at work downtown. It was twenty minutes to get to The Ivy apartment or well over an hour to get to their house and so she had called to tell them she would just head to her own place that night.
Upon entering the apartment later that evening, Charlotte stood in front of the closet and doffed her coat. As she hung it in its place, she felt a sudden icy shiver run down her back like eyes were watching her. She spun around quickly and upon finding no one there let out a relieved chuckle.
“Great, I’ve already started to freak myself out,” she voiced aloud.
Wine was what she needed, and she headed for the kitchen, but not before she glared at Miss Evelyn Clara Rose.
“Honestly, how could anyone expect them to leave this portrait up?” she mumbled to herself.
After a few hours, a light dinner and three glasses of wine, Charlotte had a pleasant drowsiness as she turned off the TV to head for bed.
Outside the apartment, in the hallway of the sixth floor, one of the small figures carved into the wall twitched. While Cynthia, the building’s representative, was not aware of their history or meaning, Mrs. Mell had been. These figures were replicas of roman lemures and larvae who in ancient Roman mythology were greatly feared spirits, ghosts of the dead, who caused, among other things, infection. These figures were put in this hallway for a very specific purpose that few, save Mrs. Mell herself understood.
Soon the lemures figure released itself from the wall, descending as a dark mist which floated silently first to the door of apartment 601, then under it, entering the foyer.
Charlotte turned down the long hall for the bedroom passing the darkened foyer. Unseen to her, laying low against the dark floor of the foyer, the black, wispy mist lay. She continued to her room and shut the door behind her.
Whispers softly bounced through the foyer like a light breeze. Commands were given and received. The mist continued on, wafting down the long hallway toward the bedroom door where Charlotte was preparing for bed.
It waited there, patiently for the right moment.
Soon the light from the bedroom was extinguished and quiet sounds of bed sheets rustling could just be heard beyond the bedroom door.
The dark haze entered the room, first surrounding the sleepy young woman. Without intention, her quiet breathing brought the mist into her body, taking in the wickedness, intoxicating her in its malevolent intent, infecting her.
But this was not it’s only orders.
She was instructed to open her heavy eyes and behold the form in front of her. In the low light of the bedroom, the form of a man the lemures had taken stood at the end of the bed. She was to be given instruction on what she was to do, and she would be taught how to do it.
Charlotte removed the heavy bedding from atop her as instructed.
She had worn a silk chemise to bed thinking of how she would reward her fiancée when he returned, but she now smoothed it down her soft body in anticipation for another’s touch. The shadowy figure lay atop her eager body as she moaned softly in response, deep in its thrall. She parted her legs urging it forward, begging it to penetrate her as a lover should. Soon she was in the throes of intercourse with this tutelary spirit, moaning and writhing as it pumped itself into her, kissing her with its vaporous tongue. It spoke to her, putting salacious ideas in her mind for later use. She was directed to reposition herself into several debaucherously, prurient positions, each time rewarded with a continued deep, pounding penetration into her wanton sex. Soon, as it coaxed her to climax, it inseminated her with its essence ensuring her obedience to its master and fell away, dissipating quickly.
Charlotte was left on the bed lamenting the conclusion of their coition, cupping her own breasts and pinching her nipples as the last of her orgasm faded. Soon she rose from the bed, her chemise falling down to her mid-thigh and she padded to the bedroom door and down the darkened hallway to the foyer. She rounded the corner and stood in front of the portrait of Miss Evelyn Clara Rose.
“Certainly,” she said languidly, and turned to the mirror.
She took several steps toward it and waited. A faint glow, an outline of a body, shimmered into the mirror as if inside the glass.
“Mmm, yes it was,” she replied running her hand over the silky fabric and up between her legs reliving the orgasm she’d just had.
Composing herself she looked again into the mirror and the faint shape within.
“Thank you for the instruction, I know what must be done,” she responded to the voice in the mirror.
Thanks for reading. As always, love it if you could leave a reaction or a comment! If you want to read ahead, check out the second half of the story as well as my other stories on Kindle - https://www.amazon.com/Alice-Duffield/e/B08MX1TLVK/ref=dp_by...
