Hell House by Richard Matheson

with a needle pushed through the thread, and handed it to her.
    Edith moved toward the cabinet, a discomfited look on her face. She'd always hated doing this, although she'd never indicated it to Lionel. Stopping by the cabinet, she cleared her throat. "May I come in?"
    There was a momentary silence before Florence answered. "Yes." Edith pushed between the drapery edges, stepping into the cabinet.
    Florence had removed her skirt and sweater and was leaning over, stepping from her half-slip. Straightening, she draped the slip across the chair back. As she reached back to unhook her white brassiere, Edith stepped aside. "I'm sorry," she murmured;
    "I know it's—"
    "Don't be embarrassed," Florence said. "Your husband is quite right. It's standard procedure."
    Edith nodded, keeping her eyes on Florence's face as the medium hung her brassiere across the chair back. Her gaze dropped as Florence bent forward to remove her underpants. She was startled by the fullness of the medium's breasts, and looked up quickly. Florence stood erect. "All right," she said. Edith saw a stippling of gooseflesh on the medium's arms.
    "We'll make it quick so you can dress," she said. "Your mouth?"
    Florence opened her mouth, and Edith looked inside. She felt ridiculous. "Well, unless you have a hollow tooth or something—"
    Florence closed her mouth and smiled. "It's just a technicality. Your husband knows I'm not concealing anything."
    Edith nodded. "Your hair?"
    Florence reached up both hands to unpin her hair. The movement made her breasts hitch, so their hardened nipples brushed against Edith's sweater. Edith twitched back, watching the tresses of thick red hair as they rippled downward, spilling over Florence's creamy shoulders. She'd never examined a woman so beautiful before.
    "All right," Florence said.
    Edith started fingering through the medium's hair. It was warm and silky to the touch. The fragrance of Florence's perfume drifted over her. Balenciaga, she thought. She drew in a labored breath. She could feel the pressing weight of Florence's breasts against her own. She wanted to step back but couldn't do it. She looked into the medium's green eyes, looked down quickly.
    Turning Florence's head, she looked into her ears. I will not look up her nose, she thought. She drew her hands back awkwardly. "Armpits?" she said.
    Florence raised her arms and caused her breasts to jut again. Edith edged away from her and glanced down at her shaved armpits. She nodded once, and Florence lowered her arms. Edith felt her heartbeat thudding. The inside of the cabinet seemed very close. She looked at Florence unhappily. It seemed as if the two of them were stopped in time. Then she noted Florence glancing down, and lowered her gaze. She started at the sight of Florence's hands cupped beneath her breasts, holding them up.
    This is ridiculous, she thought. She nodded once, and Florence took her hands away. That's enough, Edith decided. I'll just say I did the rest. Obviously she has no intention of committing fraud.
    She watched as the medium sat in the chair, hissing at its coldness. She looked up at Edith. I'll just say I did the rest, Edith thought.
    Leaning back, Florence spread her legs apart.
    Edith stared down at the medium's body: the heavy, ovate loll of her breasts, the swell of her stomach, the milk-white fullness of her thighs, the parted tuft of glossy copper hair between her legs. She couldn't take her eyes away. She felt a drawing hotness in her stomach.
    She jerked her head around so quickly, looking up, that it sent a shooting pain through her neck.
    "What is it?" Florence asked.
    Edith swallowed, staring up across the wooden rod. There was only ceiling visible. She looked at Florence. " What? " the medium asked.
    Edith shook her head. "I think we can assume—" She broke off, gesturing with a trembling hand, then turned and pushed from the cabinet.
    She nodded to Lionel and crossed to the fireplace. She was sure she looked completely