Rick threw his duffle onto his bed as Booey did the same. It was late, and they were both tired and hungry, but at least he knew he could walk into the plant tomorrow morning with a clear idea of what his new job entailed.

            “How did you find out about this place, anyway?” Booey griped.

            “A friend of a friend of a friend,” he replied. “So it's not the Ritz. I like it.”

            “It's a dump.”

            “It feels like home.”

            “I feel sorry for you,” his friend groused.

            “Well, it's gonna have to do until we get paid and can get an apartment.”

            “That'll probably be a dump, too.”

            Arguing with Booey was always a no-win situation, so Rick dropped it. He looked around at the worn but comfortable-looking furniture. The wallpaper had sailing vessels on it, and there was even a barometer hanging on the wall between the two windows. “It reminds me of growing up on the east coast,” he said. “I bet the windows open up to the sea.”

            Walking over to the nearest one, he pushed aside the white lace curtain and stared out. As he'd expected, their room looked out over the front of the inn. In fact, he could see the sign reading Crow’s Nest Inn down below. In the distance he could see the waters of the bay. Still further out, the blinking light of a lighthouse caught his attention. “Hey, Booey, I see a lighthouse! We'll need to check it out sometime.”

            “Lighthouse, schmite-house. I'm dead dog tired, and I'm starved, to boot. When are we gonna try to find a place to eat around here?”

            “Let me take a pee first, and then we can walk back into town.”

            “Aww, man. I bet nothing's open this late!”

            Rick glanced at his watch. “It's not even seven. There has to at least be a bar open that serves sandwiches or pizza.”

            “That guy at work, what was his name? Bill something.”

            “Bill Caffey?”

            “Yeah. That guy. He mentioned some place called Sebastian's. Said it wasn't  far from this place. How 'bout checking it out?”

            “I'm up,” Rick agreed, heading first for the bathroom.

            Once the sun had gone down, the temperature had dropped. They decided to walk the couple of blocks to the pizza parlor after grabbing their jackets from the car.

            The cold felt invigorating. This late in the day, traffic was practically nonexistent. “Guess this place really does roll up the sidewalks at closing time,” Booey remarked. It was one of the few times Rick had to agree with him.

            They found the parlor with no problem. It wasn't  hard to spot with the moving neon lights spelling out the establishment's name, and the number of cars parked up and down the street.

            The place was noisy, but a comfortable noisy. The smell of pizza hit them the moment they opened the door. Halloween decorations hung from the light fixtures and above the bar, while old movie posters of The Wolfman, Frankenstein, and  The Creature From the Black Lagoon  adorned the walls. Aerosmith was on the jukebox, but the music didn't drown out the laughter and conversation.

            A passing waitress bearing a tray of long necks took their drink order and told them to seat themselves. Rick confiscated an empty booth that still bore refuse from its last patrons. Another waitress dropped off their drinks and cleared the table before taking their order. Rick settled for a large pepperoni and sausage pizza while Booey checked out the females.

            “Okay. I think I've finally found something positive about this place.”

            “What?”

            “This town has some fine looking XY chromosomes.”

            Rick nearly spewed his beer. “Hey, genius. XY chromosomes are male. Females are XX.”

            Booey blinked. “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah, I'm sure,” Rick laughed.

            The latest song wound down. At the same time, the front door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. And five raving beauties.

            “Ho-lee shit,” Booey muttered almost reverently, staring like someone had whacked him across the face with a two-by-four.

            Rick snorted, his beer to his lips for another sip as he also checked out the new clientele. Booey was right. They were undeniably, heart-stoppingly beautiful. What his dad used to call a real Dutch mixture, too—a blonde, a redhead, a brunette...

            He froze.

            There she was. The black-haired angel from earlier in the day. He was so shocked at seeing her walk into the pizza parlor, he inhaled his drink and started choking. Booey pounded him across the back a few times before getting up and going over to introduce himself.

            Rick continued to try and clear his burning lungs as he searched the table for some napkins to wipe his streaming eyes, but the waitress had yet to bring fresh table settings. He started to use the sleeve of his jacket when a tissue was thrust under his nose. Gratefully he accepted it and wiped his face. After a moment, he turned to the person who he knew had taken Booey's chair, finally able to face her without embarrassing himself.

            “Thanks,” he choked out. A good swig of beer cleared his throat, and Rick took a shaky breath.

            “Go down the wrong pipe?” she asked with an amused smile.

            “Yeah. Something like that.” He stuck a hand out. “Rick Carr.”

            “Kimberly Blakeney,” the dark-haired beauty responded, taking his hand.

            They shook, but he was reluctant to let her go.

            “Is Rick short for Richard?”

            “I wish,” he chuckled. “It's short for Frederick. Dad was Fred. Officially I'm a junior, but I'll be damned if I'll let people call me Freddy.”

            “I've never heard of a Frederick Carr. You must be new in town,” she commented.

            “Yeah.” He cleared his throat again and waved down a waitress. “What can I get you to drink?”

            She glanced at his choice of brew. “What you're having will be fine.”

            Rick nodded and held up two fingers. He used the tissue to wipe off the table, unable to look again at the woman for the moment. She was sitting so close to him, his cock was starting to migrate toward her like a needle on a compass.

            Heaven help him, she was every man's wet dream up close. Her eyes were a dark, dark brown, almost black. She'd pulled her hair back into a tail at the nape of her neck, but at the same time it revealed her long, elegant neck. Rick was a sucker for women's necks and shoulders. Booey often teased him about it, wondering if there wasn't something inherently wrong with a guy who didn't first get turned on by a pair of tits or a shapely ass. But Rick found nothing more inviting than a sweet expanse of unblemished skin that begged to be touched and kissed.

            Their drinks were delivered. Rick looked around the place, trying to find Booey. If he could catch the guy's eye, he'd give him the signal that he may be a bit late getting back to their room. If he was lucky, that is. But the guy was nowhere to be seen.

            “Looking for your friend?” Kimberly asked.

            “Yeah. I just need to make sure he stays out of trouble.” Rick managed a nervous smile. Mr. Cool, he could never be. The same for pretending to be Mr. Suave or Mr. Heart Throb. Those personas were not him, which was probably why he'd never had a lot of girlfriends in the past. Rick sent up a short prayer, hoping tonight his luck would change.

            “What about your friends?” he managed to stammer. The pizza arrived, smelling like manna from heaven. He grabbed a slice and rolled it first before bringing it to his mouth. “'Scuse me, but I haven't eaten since early this morning. Have a piece.”

            “No. No, thank you. I've already had dinner.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Those aren't my friends. I mean, not in the way you're thinking. They're my sisters.”

            Rick paused in mid-chew. “Your sisters?” he managed to ask, glancing back at the way the young women had headed. “How many do you have?”

            Kimberly laughed. It was deep and throaty, and his cock tried to stand at attention at the sound of it.

            “Four. I have four sisters. Actually, Sandy is my twin.”

            “Any brothers?”

            “No. No brothers. There's just Daddy and us. Mom died...” Her voice faded away as a look of intense sadness crossed her beautiful face.

            “Hey, it's okay. My dad died about ten years ago. Mom passed away last year. So, what brings you and your sisters to this place if you've already had something to eat?”

            “Oh...” She flashed him a quick smile. “Every now and then we like to play bare bellies and beer.” Kimberly gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “It's a silly game, really, but we enjoy it.”

            A huge whoop filled the back area of the pizza parlor. Someone cranked up the jukebox as it started playing an old Garth Brooks tune. The crowd parted slightly, and Rick caught sight of two of her sisters standing barefoot on top of a pool table. They had shucked their jackets to show they were wearing midriff tops with their jeans. Very thin tops that, if anyone cared to look, revealed glimpses of the undersides of their braless breasts as they gyrated and danced to the tune. Presently, a third sister joined them, which seemed to please the crowd who hooted and cheered.

            “That's bare bellies and beer,” Kimberly nonchalantly informed him.

            Rick watched for another few seconds, then turned back around in his seat. “Do you do that often?”

            “No, thank goodness. Sometimes we get bored, or we just need to get rid of the stress, so we come into town to let our hair down.”

            “Come into town? You mean you don't live here?”

            He watched as she took a long swig of her drink. Her lips were wrapped around the mouth of the bottle in a way that nearly made him lightheaded to think about having those same lips closed around the head of his cock.

            “Our farm is about ten miles outside of town.”

            “A farm?”

            “Um-hmm.”

            “What do you raise?”

            “Vegetables, mostly. Some flowers and herbs, but our biggest crops are vegetables. We come into town every weekend to set up a stall at the farmers market. That's what I was doing today, paying for our booth for this weekend.” She gave Rick a shy smile. “I saw you go by.”

            “I saw you, too,” he confessed. “I was hoping I'd get to see you again.”

            “So...enough about me. What brought you to Toppers Cove? We're not exactly what people would consider to be a hub of activity.”

            “Booey and I got jobs at the plant.”

            “Ah.” She smiled and took another drink. “I'd figured that much when I saw your car heading in that direction. But it still doesn't explain why you're here. Surely there are other places where you can find employment?”

            Rick stared at the table where he was making wet ring patterns with the bottom of his bottle. “We were employed. At a paper mill in Chicago.”

            “Paper mill?”

            “Yeah. Stationery and printer paper, that sort of thing. We also made the slick paper used by magazines. The division I was in produced those rolls of newsprint that newspapers use. With the rise of the internet, newspapers have really suffered. In just the past three years we've lost nearly a third of our sales.”

            “And with lost sales comes a reduction in the workforce,” Kimberly equated.

            “That's right,” he nodded slowly. “So instead of re-assigning us to another department, they let us go.”

            “Which leads us right back to where we were five minutes ago,” she laughed.

            Rick smiled. “Why we landed in Toppers Cove. Truth is, I grew up in Portland.”

            “Maine?”

            “Yeah.”

            “That's right up the coast!”

            “Yep. We lived there until Dad died, and Mom moved back home. But I remembered her talking about the east coast. About how much she loved it, and how she missed it. I remembered her talking once about the factory, so, on a hunch, I called to see if they might be interested in interviewing.” He held up his hands and gestured. “And here we are!”

            Kimberly started to say something more when Booey came rushing over to their table. “Yo, Rick! Rick!” He leaned over the pizza, nearly planting his arm in it, and panted, “Rick, we need to talk.”

            “Later, Booey. Kimberly, this is Brad Nelliman, otherwise known as Booey.”

            She laughed. “Why Booey?”

            “Rick! You and me, outside, now! ” Booey insisted. By the look on his face, Rick could tell the man was both deadly serious and truly fearful about something. But it wasn't as though this was the first time his friend had found out something earth-shattering that he had to immediately share.

            “Can't it wait?” he asked his friend, trying to be as obvious as possible that the interruption was not welcomed.

            The young man glanced at Kimberly, and his face went two shades paler. Swinging around the table to Rick's opposite side, Booey shoved his lips against his friend's ear.

            “Bad news, dude! Ditch the chick, and do it now! ”

            Rick's first reaction was disbelief. His second was anger. He turned to his friend to make it clear the man was rapidly getting on his last nerve. “Who the fuck do you think are, telling me who I can and cannot be with?” he demanded of the agitated man.

            Booey bit his lips. His eyes kept glancing back and forth between his friend and the black-haired woman sitting next to him. When it became obvious Rick wasn't going to budge, he leaned back toward him and hissed, “She's bad news, Rick. Really, really  bad news! They told me back there to let you know. She and her sisters...they're witches!”