Gene Schoff headed up the front steps of his boss Betty’s annual Halloween costume party. It was the usual eclectic collection of staff, spouses and significant boyfriends, girlfriends and a few strange ‘others’. He usually hated these after-hours work parties, but Gene’s life had changed recently. He was naked under the leather braes, that pleated leather kilt that was the standard, authentic Roman legion uniform that Gene wore as a costume; and Gene knew he was going to get laid real good tonight.
Gene moved through a foyer decorated with hay bales and bound corn stalks, and strewn with orange and black balloons and Betty’s real live black cat Pywacket. He walked through the entry arch of hanging plastic bones into Betty’s massive living room, which was decorated with jack o’ lanterns and a moody atmosphere provided by three different fog machines. It was as if Gene had walked into a freaky dream.
In a corner of the living room Dave and Jeanette were slow dancing, in matching Greek togas. Gene knew they would have their hands inside each other’s starched sheets before very long. Gene shook his head mentally, after fourteen years of marriage they still had eyes (and roaming hands) exclusively for each other. Gene was mystified by their commitment; it was so untypical of any long married couple he knew of. There they were, dancing cheek to cheek, while Dave fondled his wife’s titties through the material.
Gene floated through the crowds, looking for the ‘TeaserGirl’ he arranged to meet at the costume party. He did not know what character she was costumed as, but he waited for her to ‘tease’ him. Girls flirted with him, but the RIGHT girl did not grab his attention. He looked for HER, searched the pulsating mass of fantasy or horror characters.
Dawn Marie embraced him from behind, running her hands over his chest, tweaking his nipples through the thin shirt he wore. Gene’s passive side emerged. He stood there and allowed her caresses; she slowly massaged his pectorals through the light cotton material. Gene felt his nipples pebble as she squeezed and pinched them. His erection pressed against the leather braes wrapped around his hips. Pleasure and arousal washed over Gene in soft, sensual waves. A soft sigh escaped his lips.
Within a few moments though, Dawn Marie’s giant-sized husband Craig came along, dressed like a huge, hairy Goliath in the skimpiest loin cloth Gene ever remembered seeing, bearing a platter of food from the buffet table (no four inch paper plate for Craig) and a cold Foster’s. No time to play with the delicate Dawn Marie. She had the body of a ten-year-old girl: no breasts, no ass, no belly and virtually no waist, either. And the biggest deep-ocean blue eyes Gene had seen in his entire life. Dawn Marie was Gene’s image of the perfect, sexy woman, but Craig Butler had scooped her up first, lucky devil.
Soon. Gene knew his TeaserGirl would be finding him. Soon he would have her, his way. Damned fucking straight, he would do it his way.
His best friend KaCee and her boyfriend Kenny were standing by a large, black caldron of bubbling brew. Gene knew it was probably ‘hard’ apple cider (as in previous years), but it was a nice effect. Gene did briefly wonder about KaCee’s husband Bubba. She had come with him because Gene had seen their matching Civil War costumes as they parked their car, Bubba as the Confederate soldier and KaCee as his pampered plantation southern-belle wife.
This was sooooooooooo Nashville, Gene chuckled to himself, remembering the “It’s Soooooo Nashville” contest run by a local entertainment paper. But seeing her boyfriend Kenny here, as well; and Kenny dressed like a Confederate general, caused a shiver of apprehension to pass through Gene. If KaCee was not worried and her “husbands” were not worried, then Gene had no worries, either. Gene moved on without distracting them from their friendly conversation with each other.
Where was his little witch? Who was she? How did she plan to foil him tonight?
Bernadette, from payroll, and her husband Greg were lounging near the formal stairs. As mismatched at a Halloween costume party as they were in real life. Greg, a computer tech by trade, was dressed as a Wild West cowboy, complete with black Stetson and long leather duster and a fancy two-rigged setup slung low on each hip. Bernie, plain of face but an intellectual superstar, came as a colorful gypsy fortuneteller. Scary, that was, as she did dabble in “The Arts” and was a self-proclaimed witch; black witch or white witch, Gene was not quite sure which.
Bernadette did have all the props though; full, bright skirts and a peasant blouse hanging low on her ample bosom, huge gold bangles on each wrist tinkled with every movement of her body and tinkling gold bells hung from her ears. In Bernadette’s right hand rested a large multi-faceted glass sphere, the preverbal crystal ball. A little more oval shaped rather than round, Gene thought (but also thought he wasn’t supposed to notice, so he made no comment about it). She approached Gene and asked him if he wanted a ‘reading’. He already knew his destiny this evening. So Gene dismissed her. “Nah, I don’t need that,” he told Bernie.
But Bernadette being Bernadette, she persisted. I know your destiny, she insisted, on this All Hollow’s Eve my ‘gift’ is infallible. Gene glanced at her, his eyes skewed, his lips quirked to the side of his face. Considering. Mentally shrugged.
“Tell me,” he asked, suddenly serious. No one knew of his recently kinky past, so who could know of his hopes for this Halloween night. “Tell me, please”?
Bernadette looked him right in the eye, stared a moment, assessing his open-mindedness to accept her psychic revelations.
She stared into his soul a moment more then shifted her eyes and glanced down at her crystal. Bernadette’s eyes gazed over and in her mind images began to coalesce. Bernadette frowned. In her hazy vision a man who was spread eagle on a large, unkempt bed in a dark room, he wrists evidentially restrained. The woman wearing a dark sweater and pants was crouched over the man’s waist holding a big serrated knife to the man’s throat. Neither person in her vision is clear enough for Bernadette identify.
Another image floats through Bernadette’s consciousness. It is Gene; she clearly recognizes his office and his long black leather biker jacket hanging behind his chair. Gene is sitting in his desk chair; his big, rangy body relaxed, his legs spread wide. His face is tense with emotion as he frowns intently at his computer monitor.
Bernadette relaxes deeper into the meta-physical image the crystal conjures for her in her mind. Deeper, deeper she stares at the image of her boss Gene. She studies his face and realizes his face is not tense. He is seriously aroused. Though he is clearly at work, at his desk, Bernie can see his pants unzipped and his erect penis rises straight through his pants opening. The shaft is thick and the head is a marvelous dark pink color (that is, what she can see of it around his left hand, which is stroking and massaging that fine looking penis).
In her vision, Bernadette can see that her boss, Gene is reading some e-mail on his computer monitor; the e-mail is too unfocused for her to make out the actual words. The words apparently arouse Gene further because he begins to pump himself more vigorously. His mouth gaps open and he exhales in panting breaths. He is obviously approaching his orgasm.
