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Strictly Business	By : Nastyzak Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 4073 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Fandom is Gravity Falls. I don't own it or the characters and don't get any money for my writing.

Chapter List
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1
The car’s GPS was never a hundred per cent accurate inside the big round valley and the high bluffs that closed off Gravity Falls from the rest of the world, but Stanford and Fiddleford had customized Dipper’s phone with one that worked fairly well. It took him into town, then to one of those meandering back-country roads, and he followed the cracked asphalt two-lane that wound up into the hills.
He remembered that somewhere in that direction, though not on Lumber Ridge, lay the abandoned church that had collapsed into what Stanley called the Jurassic Sap Hole, where solidified tree sap preserved a prowl of dinosaurs. Nobody seemed to live out this way. He passed three tumble-down abandoned farmhouses, one of them little more than a weedy heap of rotting boards and a moss-covered stone chimney.
After a few miles, he crossed the narrow concrete bridge over the steep-sided gorge of Owashu Creek. To the right he saw the decaying, rusting remnants of a railroad bridge that followed the same route. Most of the trees lining the way up in the hills were evergreens, but he saw yellows and reds along in there too. Fall was coming on fast.
Then the GPS warned him his turn was coming up. He glimpsed two tall, new-looking red-brick pillars ahead. On either side a seven-foot-tall cast-iron fence led off to the left and right. He turned onto the narrow drive and saw the address, 661, in black iron numerals on the right-hand gate pillar. He drove through at about ten miles an hour, because the freshly-asphalted drive ahead was as curvy as a drunk snake, and he heard a clacking behind. He braked and looked over his shoulder. The gate glided shut, and it clanked as it locked.
“Well, they did expect me,” Dipper muttered.
The house, a long way down the drive, was three-storied. Though it looked very rustic—it was a log house, after all, made of long-lasting redwood logs—it did have a new green roof and obviously modern windows and doors. Plus off to the right a new-looking white frame three-car garage, and in front of that a circular parking apron paved with bricks.
His phone rang just as Dipper reached the house. He parked and answered it. “Brobro!” said his sister’s voice. “How are you doing, Brobro?”
Something about her voice made him ask, “Are you eating sugar packets?”
She laughed for too long. “No, just feeling mellow. Hey, heads up, you’re gonna get a job soon!”
“Out on Lumber Ridge,” he said. “I just got here.”
“Woah-oh! Take go-oo-ood care of that haunting, and if you play your cards right, you may just get an investor in your company. She’s loaded!”
“What? Who is?” he asked.
“You don’t know?” Mabel asked, laughing like a loon. “Well, prepare to be surprised, brother of mine!”
“Mabel, what’s up? There’s something really odd about this.”
“Odd, weird—right up your alley, Dip! Hey, and who knows—you might find something right up her alley, too! Wink, wink!”
“You’re impossible,” he told her.
She laughed. “Sure I am, but what’s your point?”
His sister hung up on him without saying anything more. He popped the trunk, got out, and retrieved his suitcase and briefcase, which held his basic diagnostic tools, plus a silver mirror, little bottles of henbane and wolfbane, some freeze-dried garlic, and a pint of consecrated water. He left the larger heavy canvas bag in the car. He probably wouldn’t need any heavy artillery.
Dipper felt prepared. All right, spooks, it may be five minutes to four in the afternoon, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s high noon.
Dipper took a deep breath. The house was impressive, though lonely. It was quiet there in the woods, with only the birds and the breezes. The road, he had learned from the GPS, went on for about another mile and petered out—probably an old logger’s track. No noises of traffic at all.
Anyway, the house looked fancy enough so that whoever it was could afford his services. And his expense account.
Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to the front door and rang the bell, hearing it chime a tune inside: “Rich Girl,” he thought, a goldie moldy oldy, as Stanley would say. The heavy door opened silently, and Dipper stepped inside. “Hi, I’m with—” he broke off. Nobody stood there to greet him.
Then the door closed and the person behind it and closing it was—
“Pacifica!” Dipper exclaimed. “Your family owns this house?”
“No. I do.” She ran her cool blue gaze up and down. “Hi, Dipper. You’re looking good.”
“So are you,” he said. “I like your hair shorter like that.”
She shrugged. “Easier to take care of. Come on into the parlor, and let’s catch up a little.” He noticed but did not mention her lavender top and her cut-off jeans—cut-off, but Wild Childs, a super-expensive brand. The room they entered had two tall windows looking out on to the front lawn, creamy walls, and furniture that looked antique and costly. Looking over her shoulder at him, Pacifica asked, “Do you have your ghost-laying kit?”
“Everything I need is in this case,” Dipper said, holding up his kit. “I have more things—a weapon or two—in the car and my office, but I doubt I’ll need to get them.”
Pacifica clicked on two lamps. “I saw you’re driving a hybrid.”
“Yeah, a Preetus,” he said. She raised a questioning eyebrow, and he sighed. “It’s got more than a hundred and seventy thousand miles on it. I could afford it. Uh, no need to drive something that a ghost might just mess up. You know.”
She sat on a sofa, which looked like an antique camelback design, framed in oak and upholstered in plush red velvet. She, and patted the cushion to urge him to sit next to her. “I don’t really care about the car. I ran into Mabel today. She thinks you can help me with my ghost problem.”
“We did it once before,” Dipper said, smiling as he sat. “Remember the lumberjack ghost?”
“I can’t forget it,” Pacifica said. “Scary shit, man.”
Dipper blinked at the mild vulgarity. “Uh—yeah, it was. But you got rid of it.”
She didn’t smile this time, but said, “Hey, I couldn’t have without your help.”
“He turned me into wood,” Dipper reminded her. “You were the one who opened the party gate and got rid of him.”
“But you gave me the courage to do it,” Pacifica said. “And, you know, most of the rest of that summer we had fun and, um. I, uh, I’ve missed you two.”
They reminisced for a few moments—the golf contest, Pioneer days, Weirdmageddon, all that. Then they lapsed into an awkward silence. “Uh, so,” Dipper said eventually, “This is a really great place. And it’s yours?”
“All mine, paid for in cash, and me all alone in it,” Pacifica said. ‘I kinda broke off with my family. Oh, I keep in touch, but I like long-distance calls more than being lectured to in person, and now I’ve got enough of my own money to live any way I like. And I like Gravity Falls.”
“This is a huge house,” Dipper said. “How many rooms?”
“Twenty-four that are open, twelve each on the first and second floors. The top floor’s just empty now, you know, room to expand. Maybe rooms for a staff when I get some. So—like I say, it’s all mine. I’ve barely moved in and haven’t hired any help yet, but there’ll be a cook and a maid and maybe a gardener and maintenance person. So far it’s just me. And the ghost. One of the second-floor bedrooms is haunted.”
“Tell me about the house,” he said.
“First, let me tell you how I was able to buy it.”
She went through the story, ending with, “We closed in March and I’ve spent nearly a million and a half on buying it and fixing everything—the interior was a wreck and I had a lot of repairs and remodeling done. But now it turns out there’s a damn ghost in this place. It scared the pee out of my decorator and her team, and they resigned without quite finishing the job. That one room is still a shambles, and the ghost is still there. I don’t know the whole story, though I asked some people in the History Museum and they knew some, I guess you’d call it folklore. Have you ever heard of the Findlestone haunting?”
Dipper frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, talk to your hunky uncle, what’s his name. He knows about all the creepy places.”
“You mean like right now?”
She kicked off her shoes and bent her knees, folding her calves beneath her. She had very nice knees, he noticed. “I’ve got time if you have. And I am paying you.”
Dipper made the call and caught Gruncle Stanford just as he finished his daily jog. When he asked about the haunting, Stanford said, “Let me get a glass of water. All right . . . there. Findlestone? The old abandoned place on Lumber Ridge?”
“That’s the one,” Dipper said.
The old man said thoughtfully, “Well, that place was deserted about two decades before I even moved to Gravity Falls, in the 1950s, I think. The people who owned it were pretty well off, money from mining and railroads if I’m not mistaken. I’m not clear on the reasons, but the townsfolk told me that something scared the Findlestone family so badly that they packed up and moved to Arizona. I do recall that about the fourth or fifth year I was in town there was a county auction that sold the property for past taxes, but nobody ever built there or did anything with the house. I never got around to investigating. My hunch is that it may be haunted. If so, the ghost may be an ancestor of the Findlestones, but it’s only a hunch.”
Dipper thanked him. He told Pacifica what Stanford had said and asked, “Well, where do you want me to start?” he asked Pacifica.
“Let’s sign the contract,” she said. “Then you can take your stuff up to the guest room. We’ll have dinner before anything happens. The ghost doesn’t walk until midnight.”
“Okay.”
She walked to an escritoire—another antique—and opened the fold-away top. “I’ll sign and date these,” she said. She bent over, giving Dipper a great view of her rear end, in those tight cut-off designer jeans. He heard her scribbling, and then she walked back, doing that catwalk stride that made her movements sort of snaky.
“Three copies,” she said, offering the stacks of paper and a pen to Dipper. “You sign and date them, leave me two, and take one for your files.”
He did and tucked his copy into his briefcase. “All right,” he said. “Let me start by--what’s this?” He stared down at the twenty-dollar bills she just had thrust into his hand.
“Your advance,” she said. “Five hundred in cash. When you finish, I’ll just deduct it from the final amount.”
“Oh, I don’t usually—”
“This is business, Dipper,” she said firmly. “It’s strictly business.”

2
Lina had to break away somehow.
When her mother went shopping the next Friday, and not in a hotel room and naked with her naked husband, but modestly dressed in the greengrocers’ and the butchers’ and the pasty shops, Lina tagged along, looking for her chance to go her own way.
Finally, while Mother began a session of haggling with the dry-goods man, and with the excuse of wanting to look at some riding boots at the cobbler’s, Lina left her mother and walked along the wooden sidewalk until she reached the tavern.
There she paused to stare in over the swinging doors. Rough-looking men stood at the bar or sat at the tables—disgraceful, the way they drank at eleven in the morning, her mother often said—and the odors of beer and sweat streamed out. One of the men noticed her and yelled, “See anything you like, girly?”
The man behind the bar snapped something, and Eddie came hurrying over, barefoot and shirtless again. He pushed out through the door and pointed. “Guh-guh-go,” he managed. “Dah-dah-daddy says—”
“Listen!” she whispered urgently. “You mustn’t come tomorrow. My grandfather is suspicious and he’s keeping a watch on me. Can you meet me at the train station right now?”
He shook his head. “Have to ask my dah-dah—” he swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll luh-look for you.”
“In the shade of the arcade,” she said.
Eddie went back into the tavern, and Lina heard the men laughing at him. Biting her lip, she hurried back to the station and sat on a bench under the arched portico. No other passengers waited.
One train left Gravity Falls each morning. One pulled in each evening. Aside from that, the rail traffic was mostly valley freight, with a good many trains short-hauling fragrant redwood logs. Other trains came from mines and carried ore, though in recent times the mines had been affected by some superstitions about monstrous creatures down in the earth, and many had closed down.
After ten minutes, Lina caught sight of Eddie, hurrying along and carrying a quart-sized covered pail. She beckoned him back into the arched passage, and when no one was looking, she unlocked a door and he joined her in a square, windowless room, no bigger than eight by eight feet. She had lit an oil lamp on the wall. The scent of kerosene was strong, the air hot. “This is Papa’s office,” she whispered. “I stole the key.”
He held up the pail. “Bee-bee-beer,” he said. He concentrated hard. “I, I told Daddy that a man at the station sent for a buh-bucket of beer. I hah-have to bring back a half-dollar.”
She took the coin from her purse. “Here,” she said. “But I don’t drink beer.”
“I’ll po-pour it out on the guh-ground.”
He set the pail down and hugged her. She kissed him passionately, though he had not cleaned his teeth and his breath tasted as sour as the smell of beer. “Oh, Eddie,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder and could smell his sweat. It did not disgust her but somehow aroused her. She felt a dampness between her legs. “What shall we do?”
“Run away?” he asked.
“No. My grandfather would find us. He would track us down. Oh, I want you so! This is awful of me, but—listen. My grandfather comes into town every Friday night. He drinks with his friends and plays cards and never ever comes home before one in the morning. My mother and father sleep on the ground floor, the servants on the third, and only I on the second floor. That gives us a chance. That is our only time. But don’t come tonight! Grandfather is dreadfully angry with me and will have my parents watch me closely. A week from tonight. Are you brave enough to come in the dark? Grandfather will either ride his horse in or if the weather is bad, take the train as soon as he finishes his dinner, at seven o’clock. If you leave town at seven-thirty, you will not meet him. In the twilight and dark, how long will it take you to get to my house?”
Eddie thought and then instead of trying to tell her, he held up two fingers.
“Nine-thirty?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Then we can be together until midnight, dearest,” she said. “And then you will have to slip away once more. I wish that I may smuggle you into my room. It would be so nice to be in bed together. Oh, I want you so much! We must leave in a moment, but—let me give you a promise of my love.”
He let her unhook his overalls and they fell to the floor. When she knelt in front of him, he protested a little: “No bah-bath—”
“I don’t care,” she whispered. His member was already, as they say, rampant. She stroked it and kissed it. It bore a strong scent and the taste was sharp and tangy on her tongue. She didn’t care. She lavished it with her tongue, then took it into her mouth and sucked.
He groaned and reached down. She reached up and they clasped hands. He was breathing hard, the air rasping in his windpipe. Interrupting her sucking, Lina feverishly begged, “Move your hips. Thrust in and out, the way you would in and out of my—down there.” Then she took him in again, and, trembling, he began to do as she said, bending his knees slightly, moving his hips, stroking into her mouth.
“Mm!” she groaned. She had let go of his left hand, and he put it on the back of her head. He could not see what she was doing with her right hand.
In fact, she had worn no nether undergarments, and, reaching up beneath her skirts, she was pleasuring herself as she let him—she knew the word, for the older girls at school had used it in giggling late-night discussions—let him fuck her mouth.
The naughtiness of it, the dirtiness of it, excited her. She sank her first and middle fingers into her slippery slit, finger-fucking herself, and used the middle finger to tease and stimulate her clitoris. She felt her orgasm building and tried to adjust her sucking so he would not get to his before she reached hers.
Lina had begun masturbating in school, instructed by her fellow students. She had become expert at it and, except for those few days a month, she did it almost every night. A month or so earlier, unusually frantic, she had even made herself bleed.
She knew that would happen, sooner or later. Evalyn, a classmate who had first showed her how to indulge another girl orally, had advised her, “If you ride horseback really hard, you can get rid of it. That way your first time with a boy will be pleasure without the pain.”
Although she wasn’t quite clear on the details, Lina thought that now she was rid of it, and good riddance to it. Now she could plunge her fingers in as deeply as she could reach and did not bleed. She couldn’t wait for Eddie to explore her with his shaft and verify that she no longer—
She felt him tensing, and she increased the speed and intensity of her fingers. Yes, she was going to peak in a moment—
And ah! He spurted hotly into her eager mouth just as she quivered and tingled and her own fluids gushed over her fingers. And she didn’t care that his dick tasted so strong this time, and she swallowed greedily.
When the moment ended, he pulled her up and kissed her. He didn’t seem to mind that her mouth tasted of him. He hastily pulled his overalls up and fastened them. Lina wiped her lips with a handkerchief. “A week from tonight,” she said. “You will see the well-house on the far side of our house. Remember, we live where the tracks end. I will watch for you from my window. I can come downstairs quietly and slip out the kitchen door. I will come for you and you’ll take off your shoes, and if we move very silently, I can lead you up and into my room. And then it will be like our wedding night, dearest, and I will please you in every way you want.” She patted his member through his overalls. “You will come, won’t you?”
He nodded, his face scarlet.
“I know there are tales of strange creatures, little men and giants with horns like bulls. Do you have a weapon? Can you get one? Bring it for your protection. And a lantern for the long stretch along the tracks. When you see the lights of the house through the trees—my father and mother never retire until ten—then you may put out the lantern. When you find the well-house, look up. My room is the second-floor window. I will kneel there from nine o’clock on, watching for you and waiting for you to—” she bit her lip. “To fuck me, dear Eddie. To properly and fully fuck me, as much as you want.”
She cautiously unlocked the office door and peeked out. No one was near, and a small knot of men on the platform had their backs to the station, talking and laughing. To the right, a wagon-yard stood crowded with carts and farm wagons, but no people. “That way,” she said, quickly kissing Eddie again. He hurried, pausing around the corner to pour the beer on the ground. Then he ducked out of sight, going through the yard and back to the tavern, where he set the empty pail on the bar and gave his father the half-dollar. “Take these yonder,” his father said, handing him two steins of beer and pointing to a table.
Eddie did. On the way, one man tried to trip him, but he managed to avoid his outthrust boot and to deliver the beers without spilling. One of the drinkers, a logger, heavily bearded, said, “Here, sonny boy, this is for you.” He held out a dime between forefinger and thumb. Eddie cupped his palm to receive it, but the man leaned forward and spat into his hand. “Don’t spend it all at once,” the logger said, and others around roared with laughter.
Eddie laughed, too. He went back to the bar and scrubbed the spittle off with a rag. Let them laugh. They didn’t know what he knew—that a few minutes earlier he had shot his seed into the mouth of the prettiest girl in the valley.
As for Lina, she relocked the office that her father used for only three or four mornings a month and sat primly on the bench until her mother returned, followed by a ten-year-old street boy who lugged her two wicker baskets. “Come, let’s get out of this heat,” she said to Lina.
They boarded the private train, Mother gave the boy a few pennies, and they settled in for the backwards ride to their house. Fanning herself, Mother sighed. “Such a hot day. Did you find your boots?”
“They didn’t have a pair I liked,” Lina said.
Her mother sniffed. “What have you been eating?”
I should have bought a licorice whip, she thought. But she said, “Oh, a man had sausages, and I sampled one.”
“You mustn’t do that,” Mother scolded. “Things like that might be filthy!”
“I didn’t eat as much as I wanted,” Lina said. “Did you buy any candies?”
Mother said coldly, “Some boiled sweets for the parlor candy dish.”
“May I have one, please, to take out the taste?”
Mother gave her an exasperated stare. “Greedy girl. You will spoil your lunch.”
“No, I won’t, I promise. Just one small candy, please?”
Rolling her eyes, Mother found the white paper bag and held it out. Lina took a lemon drop from it and popped it on her tongue. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t speak with something in your mouth,” Mother said. “Candy before lunch time. You are really the naughtiest girl, Lina!”
“I know, Mama,” Lina said. She felt like laughing in her mother’s face. But she only repeated softly and slyly, “I am the naughtiest girl.”
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