The end of October 2008 is looming, and that reminded me of the 
successful Halloweenfests of past years.  So I thought I ought 
to do a new story to honor Joe Doe's favorite holiday.  Bear with 
me; this is a very short, last-minute production (written in one 
day) and has not had the repeated scrutiny to which my other 
stories have been subjected.




                     A MEMORABLE HALLOWEEN 

                              by

                         C. Lakewood



    "Dannit, Heela!  High dah AH hatta gah?"  His voice was garbled 
by the elaborate werewolf mask.  He pulled it off his head.  "This 
goddamn thing," he sputtered.  "Can't see out of it hardly...and 
can't talk so's anybody can understand....   

    "It does sound like you're only half-human, George."  Sheila 
Adler sat up in bed as she answered her husband.  "Which is good, 
considering -- but I can understand you.  (I ALWAYS understand 
you.)  And you know you have to go to the Benbows' big Halloween 
party because Larry is your boss."  She grimaced.  "I'm sorry I 
can't go with you, but these cramps are going to get worse before 
they get better.  Besides, I can feel a sick headache coming on."

    "I'm sorry you're under the weather -- 'specially since you 
would've looked so hot in that Morticia Addams get-up.  But I 
just can't stand that fat fuck, Benbow the Bimbo.  Bad enough 
I have to put up with him at work, and THEN he horns in on the 
poker game...."

    "Well, I don't like him, either; he IS pretty loathsome.  But 
be fair about the 'fat' -- you two ARE about the same size...and 
both of you could could stand to lose a few pounds."  She held up 
her hand as he opened his mouth.  "I know you like to claim that 
you're 'just big-boned,' George, but trust me...."  She ran her 
eye over his costume: dark sweatshirt; ragged pants; paw-gloves, 
hairy and clawed; scuffed black boots; one-of-a kind mask....  
"Though I must admit that outfit has sort of a slimming effect 
on you...."

    "Think so?"  He struck a pose.  "Okay, maybe it's just his 
swelled head that makes him seem bigger.  And I think he plans 
to wear that stupid Superman costume again this year.  Makes 
him look like 10 pounds of shit in a 5-pound bag."

    "Whatever.  Now scat!  You've got time before the party for a 
few hands of poker, and I want to try to get some sleep."  She 
lay down again and rolled over.  "I'm sure you'll have a memorable 
Halloween, George, if you just try.  'Night."

    George sighed, put on his "long-suffering-husband" face, and 
left.

		******************************

    As soon as she heard George drive off, Sheila jumped out of 
bed and dashed to the bathroom, dropping her nightgown in her wake. 
While she pinned up her tawny hair, she briefly admired herself 
in the mirror -- newly-shaved crotch and temporarily trimmer 
silhouette (due to a loss of water weight).  Then she began putting 
bronzer all over her body.  "I'll get the goods on that two-timing 
rat bastard this time," she muttered, as she finished darkening 
her normally pink skin and went on to apply exotic makeup -- 
particularly around her eyes.  A long black wig and green contact 
lenses completed the preliminaries.  Back in the bedroom, she 
scowled as she dug out her secret costume.  "If that casanova 
thought I was 'hot' as Morticia, wait'll he sees 'the Harem Girl.'  
It'll be a 'memorable Halloween,' all right...for both of us."

		******************************

    Later that evening, the Benbow party was in full swing, and no 
one took particular notice of the diaphanously clad harem girl who 
arrived unescorted.  She was seductively dressed, certainly, but 
no more so than the score of other hot-to-trot females for which 
Larry's parties were famous (or infamous, depending on whether 
you were a horny husband or a jealous wife).  Not wanting to be 
outdone, she slipped into a bathroom and ditched her panties.  The 
move was productive, since she was more concerned with concealing 
her face than her cunt, and her harem pants were considerably more 
sheer than her veil (which effectively concealed her face, except 
for her eyes).

    Sheila spotted the werewolf right away, but didn't see Superman 
(just as well, since Larry WAS a pig), and she knew none of the 
other people there at all well, so she figured the chance she'd be 
recognized was minimal.

    She sidled up to the wolfman (who, because of his mask, was 
sipping his drink through a straw) and rubbed herself against him.  
Having thus attracted his attention, it didn't take long before 
the two of them were hurrying off to an unoccupied bedroom.

		******************************

    Immediately, they sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily, and 
he reached for both his mask and her veil.  But she slapped his 
hands away.  "Unmask at midnight, not before...okay?" she murmured 
in what she imagined was a Middle Eastern accent.  He nodded and 
turned his attention to her harem pants.

    Sheila was somewhat surprised by his intensity.  George had 
seemed to be less and less interested lately -- more evidence 
that he was getting something on the side.  But the feral nature 
of his costume, the provocative nature of hers, and the ineffable 
delight of anonymous sex with an unknown slut combined to produce 
the vigor and stamina he'd not showed since ...well...their 
honeymoon.

    He went in bareback, as he always had, and would likely make 
a mess, as he always did, but at least she wasn't worried about 
getting pregnant; George also always "fired blanks."

    They began with her on top, and, as she rode him remoselessly, 
she gloated about what a hell she would make his life...right up 
to the divorce that would leave him nearly penniless.  (Maybe the 
miserable pig would lose weight THEN!)  But, when he flipped them 
over, she decided to lie back, relax, and enjoy it; it was, after 
all, the last piece of ass the sonofabitch was ever going to get 
from HER.

    It took him seemingly forever to cum.  Meanwhile, she'd lost 
count of her own orgasms.  "A hell of a lot of 'em, anyway," she 
thought, blissfully.  Lying there, weak and gasping, she glanced 
at the bedside clock.  It was still fairly early, and she knew 
she was going to want more.  If only he could get it up again....  

    And he did! 

    "Costume sex," she mused.  "I should have gotten into this 
years ago." 

		******************************

    In the encore, he fucked her from behind, wolf-style.  She 
grunted her appreciation as he pounded her relentlessly.  After 
a while, though, he pulled all the way out, and then surprised 
her by suddenly grasping her buttocks, pulling them farther apart, 
and slithering his prick right up her asshole.  

    "Bastard!"  Sheila hissed and bit her veil savagely to stifle 
her outrage.  "He's been wanting to bugger me for years, that 
pervert, and now he's finally done it," she fumed silently.  
"Thank god he doesn't know it's me." 
 
    At length, they both managed to cum again and then collapsed 
in a barely-conscious heap.  

    It was 11:41, and she dragged herself from the bed, pulled her 
harem pants up (despite drooling both front and rear), and slipped 
from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.  Her car 
was parked only half a block away, and she was soon headed home.  
The whole distance, she recounted out loud, "all the ways that 
rotten prick will pay...and pay...and pay...." 

		******************************

    She hung the wig and harem costume in the closet, removed her 
makeup, and slid into bed, wondering idly how long George would 
search the party for her.  She was still snickering when her 
evening's exertions caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

		******************************

    George's elaborate attempts to be quiet woke her up.  It was 
2:27.  She called out to him, and he appeared in the bedroom 
doorway, looking apologetic and slightly drunk.

    "Didn' wanna wake you up," he began.

    As her bleary eyes adjusted, she also realized that he was 
wearing only a tee-shirt and boxer shorts.  "Wh-what happened 
to you?" she blurted.

    "Oh, this?"  He plucked at his tee-shirt.  "Hee, hee!"  He 
pulled a huge wad of bills from his waistband.  "Fortune really 
smiled t'night, honey.  Benbow was at the game, obnoxious as 
usual, but got so excited on the second hand that he split 
his damn Superman suit.  'Course he had to have a costume for 
his fucking party, so he bought the wolfman outfit...paid a 
lot more'n it was worth...but he was happy with it...an' I 
couldn't go to the party in my skivvies, so I just stayed 
there an' played poker...wound up the big winner...cleaned 
ever'body else out...an' the other guys were okay with that 
'cause at least Benbow left early...."

    Sheila blinked.  "So HE wore the werewolf costume to the 
party?"

    George nodded happily.  "Yeah, an' deserved it, too.  Crappy 
costume.  But I guess you were right -- 'bout us bein' the same 
size -- it fit him perfeck...-ect...-ly.  Well, you go on back to 
sleep, an' I'll sack out in the spare room.  Sorry 'bout wakin' 
you up...."  And he tottered back down the hall, whistling a merry 
tune (softly but off-key).

		******************************

    Sheila lay stunned for a long time, re-living the night's 
events over and over.  Then, suddenly, she sat up.  "Oh, shit!" 
she gasped, flung herself out of bed, and lurched to the bathroom.  
After throwing up, she douched repeatedly, desperately, and then 
crept back to bed, where she cried herself to sleep.  

    "A memorable Halloween," indeed.