“Oh my god, Emily! What are you wearing?”
Emily stood in the open curtains of the changing room, wearing a vintage papier-mache mask and an Edwardian style tea-dress. Tasha stopped combing the racks to fix her with an exaggerated sneer.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Emily asked, swishing the lace skirts of her dress.
“Where do I even start?” Tasha sighed, pretending to throw her hands up in exasperation.
Emily turned back to the mirror behind her and peered at her reflection through the eye slits in the grotesque scowl that hung over her face. “I like it! It’s exactly the kind of thing people wore in the 1900s. And this dress is in such good shape for how old it is!”
Tasha rolled her eyes and leaned an elbow on the rack. “Okay, sure. I’ll give you points for historical accuracy. But no one will be able to see your body in that!”
Emily lifted up her mask and glanced at her reflection again. The style of dress didn’t suit her body exactly. She had a small enough frame for the 1930s style, but the stiffness of the fabric stuck out awkwardly around her curves. It didn’t look bad, by any stretch, but her figure was definitely obscured. “I’m okay with that,” she replied, but her voice wavered with uncertainty. “Halloween is supposed to be scary. I don’t know why it has become all about sex.”
Tasha shook her head. “Emily, how old are we now?”
Emily turned to her roommate and laughed nervously. “Twenty-nine?”
“Yeah, twenty-nine. And have you ever properly slutted out for Halloween?”
Emily paused, picking at her lower lip. “Well, there was two years ago at Damon’s party…”
“Yeah…” Tasha said, crossing her arms, “when you dressed as a Victorian ghost.”
“I wore a corset…” Emily protested.
“Underneath a high-collared velvet dress, so no one could see a damn thing. And that hair you were rocking…” Tasha pretended to shudder at the memory.
Emily took the mask off and looked down to hide the pink that was creeping across her face.
Tasha noticed. “Look,” she said, her tone softening. “If you wanna wear that, more power to you. Rock the shit out of that horrible mask and grandma dress. Be your best self. But, I think that you secretly want to wear something sexy. You just think that if you do, people will notice that you actually have a nice little body under all of your clothes and that they will judge you for it. Am I right?”
She was right. Emily shrugged noncommittally.
“So, I’m going to give you an out,” Tasha said and went back to sorting through the racks. “I’m going to pick out something for you, and anytime you are worried that people think you’re feeling yourself too much, you can just say that I dressed you. Everyone knows how pushy I am, they won’t even ask.”
Emily laughed. “Okay, sure. Nothing too on the nose though, okay? I don’t want to be a sexy police officer or anything like that.”
“Don’t worry,” Tasha replied. “I saw something in the racks a little ways past. I’m going to buy it and you’re going to wear it. Just trust me.”
Back at their apartment, Emily looked at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. The dress that Tasha picked out was long and black with dramatic bell sleeves and a few eye clasps spanning from her belly button to just under her crotch. The slit of the skirt went to the absolute top of her thigh and the top was almost completely open, exposing most of her bra and a long triangle of her stomach.
“What am I supposed to be, exactly?” Emily called to Tasha, skeptically.
“Morticia!” Tasha shouted from her closet. “I’ve got that black wig and when I do your makeup, it’ll all come together.”
Emily felt too embarrassed to look at her own reflection any longer, and so she sat on the toilet lid to wait.
Tasha burst in, wearing her undead sexy nurse costume from three years ago and carrying a pile of black hair and lace. She put her armload down on the floor and produced a joint from behind her ear. She lit it, took a puff, and passed it to Emily. “Here,” she said. “It’ll help lower your inhibitions.” Tasha said this every time, as if Emily had never gotten high before.
Emily took a hit while Tasha looked her over.
“Stand up,” Tasha ordered. At times like these, Tasha liked to channel Edith Head, barking clipped commands in an unidentifiable accent. “Bra off,” she said after a moment of consideration.
“What?” Emily asked, incredulously.
“It looks bad with a bra,” Tasha sighed. “Take it off. You’re perky enough and I’ve got double-sided tape.”
Emily slid out of her bra and pulled the shoulders of the dress back into place. The gauzy fabric felt strangely nice as it slid along her bare breasts.
Tasha was now kneeling on the floor. She tapped Emily’s shin; the implied direction was for Emily to offer up her leg. When Emily lifted her foot, Tasha slid a lacy stocking up to Emily’s mid-thigh. She shivered from the cold of Tasha’s fingers and from something else… Am I getting turned on by this? She tamped the feeling down by biting on her lower lip and taking in a breath. The feeling resurfaced as Tasha put on her other stocking.
Tasha sat Emily down again on the toilet seat and brought out her heavy makeup bag. She went to work, brushing pale foundation and powder all over Emily’s rosy freckled complexion. Dark eyeshadow and red lipstick were applied, and then the black wig was pulled low over Emily’s hairline.
Tasha looked at Emily for a moment- her evaluative stare was always so difficult to read. Then a smile spread across her face. “You look so fucking hot!” she squealed, suppressing a giggle.
Emily stood up and was manhandled to the mirror by Tasha’s imploring hands. When she faced her reflection, she could hardly recognize herself. She was no longer the sweet-faced red-headed hippie girl. She looked severe and dark, an appealing combination of intimidating and alluring. There was a confidence in her posture, and with her shoulders pushed back she could see the rounded fullness of her bare breasts casting shadows on her slim stomach. Her body was sensual in a way that it never had been before. Her curved form looked as if it were begging to be touched.
On any other night, Emily would have fought back against the sexiness of this. She would have insisted on putting on a slip underneath, on wiping the red from her mouth. She would have spent the whole night slouching, trying not to be noticed. But, tonight… she looked so unlike herself and the feeling of being someone else followed.
She felt her movements change as they made their way to the party. Her walk became a prowl, her face and chest tilted haughtily upwards. Tasha next to her seemed swayed by the change in Emily’s energy too. Tonight, she did not rush Emily along or make comments about what Emily should do when they got to there. Tonight, Tasha seemed in awe of this tall and dark creature beside her. They passed the rest of their joint back in near silence until they arrived.
“Holy shit, Emily?” Damon asked incredulously as he let them in. “Damn, I would never have recognized you!”
Damon was dressed as werewolf Michael Jackson from Thriller. It was the same costume he wore every year. He wore it so perfectly, down to the crisp curls and yellow eyes, that no one ever mentioned how poorly this costume had aged.
As Emily strode through the party, she was vaguely aware of how many sets of eyes were on her. In times past, she would have withdrawn from this collective gaze, preferring the comfort of near-invisibility. Now, it gave her life. It gave her power. She hungered for more.
In the kitchen, she poured a glass of wine while Tasha took some shots with the blonde witch from Hocus Pocus.
“I love your dress,” a guy dressed as Beetlejuice said in her peripheral vision.
Emily turned to look at him. It was one of Damon’s friends- Mick or Michael, she couldn’t remember. He was cute and always at these parties, but they had never talked before.
Emily took a sip of her wine and smiled. “I love your coat,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied and laughed. “It was my grandfather’s, I figured it would work for this.”
Is he nervous? Emily wondered. No one had ever been nervous to talk with her before.
He took a drink from his bottle of beer. “So, have you ever come to one of these things?” he asked.
“No,” Emily said almost automatically. It didn’t feel like a lie.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “I would have… remembered you…” He swallowed the last bit of the line, painfully aware of the cheesiness of what he was saying.
“I’m Emily,” she said, extending her hand.
“Hey. I’m Michael.” He took her hand in his, and felt the clamminess in his palms.
She could feel something else too- eyes on the back of her neck. She turned around and her eyes went immediately to the source. Standing in the corner alone was a tall man dressed in the most elaborate skeleton costume that she had ever seen. From behind his mask, he met her gaze and held it without pretense. She smiled wryly and tilted her wine glass towards the stranger.
“Someone you know?” Michael asked.
Was that jealousy in his voice? “I have no idea,” Emily replied.
Michael laughed. “Yeah, it would be pretty hard to tell in that getup.” He paused, as if debating whether he should say the next few words. “I’m guessing you get a lot of looks,” he said, and then cringed. “God, I’m not usually this corny! I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “And no, I don’t.”
Michael squinted like he didn’t believe her.
Tasha appeared at Emily’s side and tapped her on the forearm. “Hey Em, can you come outside with me?” She gestured secretively to the second joint she had rolled.
“Sure,” Emily replied. She turned to Michael and brushed his forearm. Who am I? she thought. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I hope so,” Michael replied.
Outside in the little fenced in backyard, Emily and Tasha smoked half of their joint. Emily felt the weed thrumming in her veins. The few people standing who had come out to smoke stole furtive glances. The feeling of being desired by so many people was intoxicating.
“There’s a skeleton over there that’s been looking at us,” Tasha said, gesturing towards the fence.
Emily didn’t need to turn around to know that it was him. She smiled and nodded slowly.
“Do you know who that is?”
“I have no idea,” Emily replied.
Tasha looked his way. “He looks like he’s got a nice body under that costume,” she mused. “Do you want to invite him for a smoke?”
Emily turned and saw the skeleton man standing there. Again, he did not look down when their gaze met. She gestured towards him with the joint and smiled. He shook his head slowly and then put one finger in the air.
“Weird,” Tasha muttered. “I thought for sure he would want to join us. Oh well…”
They put the joint out and hid it under a brick for later. Tasha was swept inside with a group dressed as the crew from Life Aquatic.
Emily lingered in the garden and tossed another glance at the man in the skeleton costume. As if in a trance, they walked towards one another, meeting in the middle by a bush that still held its vibrant fall colors.
“Hi,” Emily spoke first.
“Hi,” he replied. His voice was throaty and deep.
“Have we met?”
He shook his head slowly. She could see his eyes under his mask, a shocking green rimmed in black paint. “We have not. But I’ve been watching you all night.”
“I noticed,” Emily said.
He moved closer. His body emanated so much heat that Emily shifted automatically until they were almost touching. She could hear her own heart pounding and was all but certain he could hear it too.
“I have a proposition,” the skeleton man deliberated. “A game.”
Emily swallowed some wine to steady her nerves. We are at a party. There are people all around. “What kind of game?” she asked.
“It’s called, Yes Master.” The skeleton man moved even closer as his voice drop to a whisper.
“How do you play?” Emily whispered back.
“Well,” the skeleton man said, moving a gloved hand to the exposed skin of her upper thigh, “I would say something, anything, and you would only be able to reply with ‘Yes, Master’.”
“What kind of things would you ask me to do?” Emily’s voice was spinning in her throat. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.
The skeleton laughed raspily. The knobs on his gloves moved further up her thigh. “I think you can imagine the kind of things I would ask.”
Emily cast a glance around the yard. The smokers were still there, but no one was looking at them. Or if they were, they were doing their best to feign indifference. She looked back at the man in the skeleton costume and pressed her thigh closer towards his roaming fingers. “Okay,” she replied.
“Try again,” the skeleton man said, his tone mocking.
“Yes, Master,” Emily exhaled. The words felt foreign on her tongue.
“Good girl,” the skeleton purred. “The first thing I am going to ask is this,” the fingers of his other hand traced the line of fabric that ran along her breasts. “Show me what this dress has been doing such a poor job of concealing.”
Emily looked again over her shoulder then back at the skeleton. She met his eyes and pulled the double-sided tape from her skin, slipping the top of the dress aside until her breasts were completely exposed. She gasped and her nipples shriveled in the cold air.
“Good girl,” the skeleton man said. He ran his gloved hand over her right breast, then gave her nipple a sharp and sudden twist. Emily gasped again and pushed herself fully onto the hand that was still on her lower thigh. She could feel the knobbed plastic joints of his gloves brush against her underwear. He withdrew and laughed again. “Not yet, my sweet,” he said. With both of his hands, he cupped her breasts, gave her nipples one more twist, and then pulled the fabric of her dress back over her nipples, pressing the double-stick tape back into place. “That’s all for now.”
“What?” Emily asked incredulously. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire. She had never wanted someone to touch her so badly, to probe into her and take her. She wouldn’t have cared if it were right there with the smokers watching.
“That’s all for now,” he repeated. “And when I tell you something, you say…”
“Yes, Master,” she sighed. But her body moved of its own volition, and she pressed herself against him. She could feel that he was hard, and she pushed herself against his erection, gasping once again.
The skeleton man laughed and put his hands on her waist. His fingers moved to her plump butt cheeks and squeezed down, holding her and moving her so that she was grinding against him. And then, just as suddenly, he put his hands back on her hips and moved her away. “That’s all for now, my pet,” he said, this time with sternness in his voice.
“Yes, Master,” Emily replied, resignedly.
“I will find you later,” he whispered, then walked on past her into the house.
When he left, she felt the cold anew on her skin. She stood alone, suddenly aware of where she was and what she had done. “What the fuck?” she whispered. She turned around and saw the smokers still sitting by the sliding door. They were looking at her and saying something to one another. They saw us. Her face felt hot and she turned away to adjust her dress again.
“Hey Em!” Tasha had appeared at her back, and Emily sighed with relief. “Someone brought Damon some Absinthe and he wanted to share.”
Emily walked in past the smokers, saved from a potential walk-of-shame if they had, in fact, just seen her flashing the skeleton man outside. They said nothing as she passed.
In the kitchen, Damon poured three glasses of Absinthe on the counter. He set fire to a sugar cube on top of a slotted spoon and poured ice water over it to put it out, and continued to pour until the clear green underneath turned a milky jade. He handed a glass to Tasha, and then one to Emily. He shook his head as he took Emily in with his eyes again. “I still can’t believe that’s you,” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, me neither,” Emily muttered. She scanned the party for the skeleton man, but he was nowhere in sight. She couldn’t tell if she felt disappointed or relieved by his absence.
Michael appeared again and Damon poured him a glass of Absinthe. “Emily, have you met Michael?” Damon asked innocently.
Emily nodded and smiled.
“Full disclosure,” Damon slurred, “I already know you two met. He asked about you. So, just make sure that you give him your number before you leave, okay?”
Michael clearly blushed under his Beetlejuice makeup. “Damon, you’re so awkward,” he laughed, trying to cut the tension.
“I would love to,” Emily said, looking pointedly at Michael.
Over his shoulder, the skeleton man appeared in the living room. He locked eyes with Emily and motioned to her with one of his fingers.
“Excuse me,” Emily said. “I’ll be right back.”
She took her glass with her into the other room. Over her shoulder, she heard Tasha say, “I think she’s really high right now.”
The skeleton man led her just out of the light of the living room and into the vague darkness of the hallway. He stood close so she could feel his warmth again. She pressed closer, the intoxication of being near taking over.
“Are you ready for the next thing?” he asked.
Emily nodded like a puppet.
“Is that how you respond?” he prodded.
“Yes, Master,” she replied, her voice catching in her throat.
“Good girl,” the skeleton said. Once again, his gloved fingers traced discrete lines along her thighs. “First, I would like your panties.”
“What?”
“That’s right.”
Emily looked down at the slit in her skirt and the eyelet hooks. “This dress isn’t exactly made for going bare,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said. His fingers crept up her thigh to the hem of her underwear.
She could feel her insides twist at his touch. And so, she hooked her fingers into the waist band and pulled her panties down.
He opened his palm, and she set them into his hand. His fingers curled around them and he put them into the pocket of his black jacket. “Good girl,” he said.
Emily’s hands went to the eyelet hooks of her dress. “Do you want to see?” she asked, pushing her pelvis forward invitingly.
The skeleton chuckled. “Oh, very badly, my pet,” he said. His fingers crept to where her thigh met her pelvic bone. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. “Very badly. But it’s not time for that yet.” He withdrew his hand and stepped back.
“What is it time for?” Emily asked. The push and pull of it all made her head spin.
The skeleton beckoned her into one of the closed doors in the hallway. She followed him into Damon’s room.
He took her by the hips and pushed her onto the perfectly made bed. “Here’s what’s next,” he whispered. His fingers went back to trailing along her thighs. “You will sit on the bed and open your legs. Wide. You will bring yourself to orgasm, but just to the edge. Do you understand, my pet?”
Emily looked around the room. This is weird, she thought. “You want me to masturbate in Damon’s bed?” she asked.
The skeleton man nodded his head.
“Damon’s gay, you know,” she said. “I don’t think he will like the idea of a woman almost cumming in his bed.”
“You won’t be cumming,” the skeleton man said. “And you won’t stop until I tell you to stop.”
“What if someone comes in?” Emily protested. “I mean, I think if we were having sex, I could just claim I’m drunk or something. But full-on masturbating… it’s kind of a weird party move.”
“You won’t stop,” the skeleton man repeated, slowly, emphasizing each word, “until I tell you to stop.”
Emily looked at the door. Of course it had no lock on it. She sighed and moved back on the bed. “Okay…” she said.
“Okay?” the skeleton man said with emphasis.
“I mean, yes, Master,” Emily replied, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“Good girl,” the skeleton man said. “I’ll wait in the closet. Once I am in, you can get started.”
Emily sat and waited until the skeleton man disappeared behind the sliding mirrors of Damon’s closet. He kept the door cracked an inch or so, and she could feel his eyes on her. She had never done this sort of thing before- not in front of anyone anyway.
From inside the closet, she heard his voice. “Come closer so that you can see yourself in the mirror.”
She slid down the bed until she could see herself framed in the immaculate mirrors. Then, she leaned back, pushed one of her legs up onto the bed, and moved her skirt aside, exposing herself fully.
“You’re a redhead,” the voice from the closet said with a low throaty laugh.
Emily looked down at the coppery red hairs framing the pink lips of her pussy. She laughed. “Yeah… I didn’t think anyone would be seeing me tonight.”
“You’re perfect,” the voice said in the closet. “Touch yourself for me.”
Emily ran her fingers along her labia. She could feel her clit swelling, the wetness emanating from inside. She watched herself as she caressed and pressed. A flush spread across her face, visible even under her almost white makeup. She spread her legs wider and swirled her fingers along the outside of her pussy. Her breath came out ragged and slow.
“Perfect, my pet…” the voice from the closet said. “Now, go inside.”
As Emily slipped her fingers inside, she realized that this was the first time she had ever felt herself. At home, she had always used a vibrator. Now, she could feel the spongy recesses of her own vagina. She slid her fingers in deeper, hooking them upwards until she felt the spring of her G-spot. She pressed against it, reveling in the delicious pangs that spilled from her insides and swept across her body. She started to moan.
“Someone might hear you…” the skeleton man teased.
“Oh, fuck,” Emily said breathlessly. With her other hand, she held her mouth tight so that the sound couldn’t escape.
“That’s it, keep going…”
Emily moved her pelvis around her fingers, grinding into her own hand. Her other hand muffled her every whimper. She could feel an orgasmic inevitability approaching. “I’m close,” she whispered.
“You can’t come yet.”
“Oh god,” Emily cried quietly. She pushed her hand back onto her mouth, her breath hot against her own palm.
Suddenly, she heard voices in the hall. Damon and Tasha were coming. She turned towards the door.
“Don’t stop,” the voice from the closet implored.
Damon and Tasha were right outside. She could hear the floorboards creaking.
“Don’t stop!” the voice repeated, this time sharper.
The handle of the door turned. Emily’s hand shot from between her thighs. She moved her skirt back into place and crossed her legs.
“I told you not to stop…” the skeleton man whispered.
Damon and Tasha came in the room, giggling and hanging drunkenly on one another. They stopped when they saw Emily, sitting as nonchalantly as she could muster. “Oh, hey Em!” Tasha said. “We were looking for you!”
“Oh yeah,” Emily replied, “I just needed a breather.”
“Cool,” Damon shrugged. “James gave us some ex. You want one?”
“Yeah, okay!” Emily said.
Tasha cocked an eyebrow at her. “I wasn’t expecting that!”
Damon pushed her lightly. He reached into one of the pockets of his red pleather jacket and pulled out a small button bag. Inside, there were three grey pills, each stamped with a tiny skull. He handed one to each of them before taking the third himself. “You gotta chew them up first so they activate,” he said.
Emily placed the pill on her tongue and swished it to her molars. She chewed, and the bitterness of the drug filled her mouth. She swallowed and stuck her tongue out. “Ugh, that tastes so strong,” she groaned.
“Yeah,” Tasha agreed, smacking her mouth together and frowning.
“It’s fine,” Damon said, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “We’ll just go have some beer to wash it down.” He stumbled towards the door and Tasha followed.
“You coming, Emily?”
“Yeah,” Emily said, then glanced at the crack in the closet door. “One sec, I’ll be right there.”
They went out into the hall, leaving the door open behind them. The cacophony of music and light from the party poured into the dark room. Emily stood up and smoothed her dress down along her body. She checked the mirror to make sure that nothing was showing.
“You didn’t do what you were told,” the skeleton man sang from the closet.
“Yeah?” Emily taunted. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll think of something…” he said ominously.
Emily stuck her tongue out at her own reflection, then flashed the crack in the closet before walking out into the party.
Emily leaned against the counter, drinking her beer to quench the cotton that seemed to fill her mouth endlessly. The colors of the room sprang brightly against her eyes, and she felt a giddiness fill her. The extasy had definitely taken its effect, but it was more than that.
She couldn’t believe the night she was having.
“You know, this is the best holiday, hands down,” Damon said. “I’ve never been disappointed.”
“I’m thrilled for you,” Tasha said distractedly. She was pulling at a tight curl on her forehead and watching lazily as it sprung back into place.
“It really is, isn’t it?” Emily said dreamily.
“Hey there,” a man’s voice said from her side.
Emily turned to see that Michael had appeared next to her. She smiled in a drugged haze, her eyes rolling over the stripes on his coat.
“Hey Michael, we are really high,” Damon said in a vaguely dismissive voice.
“Right on!” Michael laughed. He drank from his cup and smiled at Emily.
“Oh my god, Emily!” Tasha said suddenly, her eyes rolling over Emily’s legs. “Are you going commando right now?”
Emily looked down to where the hem of her skirt had lifted slightly, exposing the shadows of where her pelvis and thigh met. She giggled and pulled it down. “Yeah,” she said.
“Atta girl!” Tasha cried. She gave Emily’s ass a playful slap.
Michael laughed nervously. He looked down at Emily’s legs, then quickly pretended to be interested in his drink.
“Awww, guys…” Damon said. “Michael’s not as fucked up as we are!”
“There’s that joint outside still,” Emily mused.
“That’d be great,” Michael said, gratefully.
Tasha looped her arm through Emily’s, dragging her outside while Damon and Michael followed. She whispered into Emily’s ear, “He’s so into you!”
Emily laughed and shot a glance at Michael over her shoulder. He smiled back sweetly.
Outside, they finished their joint. Emily took off her shoes and stockings and ran her feet along the coolness of the late October grass. The cold tickled her and she became aware anew of the orgasm that had not yet been released from her insides.
“It’s such a nice night,” Michael said. He was obviously and awkwardly high already, sitting in the grass and running his fingers through the blades. He seemed unable to pry his eyes from Emily’s legs.
“Hey,” Tasha whispered, nudging Emily and pointing over to the fence. “It’s that skeleton guy again.”
Emily looked up. The skeleton man was standing a few yards away. When he saw her, he wagged his finger in a tsking motion. She stuck her tongue out again.
“What is up with you and him?” Tasha asked.
“I don’t know,” Emily replied.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need some water,” Michael mumbled feebly from the ground.
“I got you,” Damon responded, hoisting him up and leading him into the house. Tasha started to follow, then looked back at Emily.
“I’m going to stay a minute,” Emily said, waving her in.
And then they were alone on the lawn with only the light from the windows cutting through the darkness. The skeleton man seemed to leap towards her. He pushed her into the leafy bushes until they were fully enveloped in the dark. His breath, even through his mask, was hot in her ear. “You broke one of the rules,” he said as his fingers dug greedily into her upper thighs. “In fact, you broke the only rule.”
“Yeah?” Emily whispered. “So?”
“So, my pet,” his fingers inched closer and closer to the space between her legs, “rules only matter if there are consequences for breaking them.” His breath bloomed on her neck as the knobs of his gloved fingers worked their way between her legs. She wrapped her calves around his, spreading herself open to him. And then, just as quickly, he turned her around, moved her dress aside so that her ass was completely exposed, and whacked her roughly on the cheek.
The sting of it spread through her body and she gasped.
“Do you need another?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Emily teased, “do I?”
The response came swiftly against her other cheek. She gasped again. And then, all at once, his gloved fingers were inside of her. She could feel the plastic knobs on his gloves, the softness of the fabric on his thumb moving deftly across her clit.
“Oh my god,” she moaned.
His hand clamped down around her mouth. She whined against his palm as the orgasm that had been left incomplete rose in her again. As he pushed roughly against her insides, she felt it build and build until it ran over, spilling throughout her body. She came in a screaming fit against the palm on her mouth and the palm between her legs. It continued to roll over her whole body as he worked her, again and again, until she felt like she would explode or go limp from the pleasure of it all.
She could feel something warm and wet sliding down her legs. Oh my god, did he just make me squirt? She thought in one moment of lucidity. She was quickly pulled back into unreality as he forced her to come again.
Then, his fingers were gone and something else was stuffed inside of her. With a shaky gasp, she realized that it was his cock. It pulsated as it slid in and out of her. With his hand now free, he pulled her dress aside and pinched and pulled at her nipples. The pain sent shocks throughout her body. He thrashed against her, bucking in and out of her like something wild and untamed. Something inhuman. She looked into his eyes under his mask. Were they glowing red, or was it a trick of the light? He continued to pump and pump inside of her, and she rode wave after wave of orgasm.
After half of an eternity, he pulled out. She felt his cum spurt onto her inner thighs. It mixed with her own and slid down her legs onto the ground below.
Suddenly, everything was silent. Her body felt still and peaceful and she sat on the grass next to the skeleton man. “Holy shit,” she murmured. “No one has ever made me come like that before.”
The skeleton man chuckled dryly.
“Oh my god,” she cried, laughing out of nerves and excitement as the evening came back to her in surreal bursts. She fell to the ground and spread out in the coolness of the grass. “Oh my god! I don’t even know your name, or what you look like…”
He laughed again, and ran his fingers along her legs, along her breasts, brushing against her spent cunt.
“That was crazy,” she murmured again.
In the silence that filled the air, she could hear the sounds from the party inside. It was getting quieter, and the sky was staining with the first signs of dawn.
Finally, the skeleton man spoke. “Take me home with you.” It came out as a command, but Emily knew the game was over.
She turned over and looked at him, his face still concealed behind his mask, his gloved hands drenched in her. She shook her head and looked back at the sky. “No. I don’t think so.”
The skeleton man nodded. He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to stand. He adjusted her dress, moving the hems and collars back into place, making sure all of the eyelet clasps were secured. He then pulled her underwear from his pocket and slid it back up her legs, gently tucking it into place. The move was surprisingly tender after the night they had just had.
Emily left the skeleton man there in the space behind the bush and started to walk back into the warmth of the house. The cold air wicked the cum on her leg until it dried.
Inside, Damon and Michael slept on the couch amidst the other fallen stragglers of the party. Michael had washed all of the Beetlejuice makeup off of his face. His face was pale and tired, his lips rosy. Emily found him beautiful. On a notepad from Damon’s almost-empty junk drawer, she scrawled her name and number. She put it in the pocket of Michael’s coat from his grandfather and kissed his forehead.
Tasha was in Damon’s room, rifling through his chest of drawers for some clothes. She pulled on one of Damon’s many sweaters and tossed Emily a sweater as well.
It felt strange to be covered up again, but the warmth from the sweater settled over her like an embrace. She pulled the wig off of her head and looked into the mirror where only hours earlier she had sat, splayed out for the stranger in the closet. She half expected to hear him whisper to her, but she knew he was long gone. She looked decidedly more herself again, the white makeup smeared from her freckles, her lipstick all but faded.
“Back to reality,” Tasha sighed, taking one last look at her reflection to wipe stray eyeliner from her lids. She turned to look at Emily and offered the hook of her elbow. Emily took it. Together they walked arm in arm into the cold morning.