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“C’mon, B. Why not?” She batted her thick black lashes and wrapped her fingers around his to stroke him.
“Did I give you permission to touch my dick?” He pushed her hand away. “Because I have a girl and your kink ain’t mine, sweetheart. That’s why not.”
Angelica threw her head back. Her chin bobbed. When she came back up she was laughing. “You…wait a minute.” She laughed some more. “I can’t breathe. You have a girl? Since when?”
“Since now.”
While that wasn’t exactly true today, it would be tomorrow, and tomorrow was less than an hour away. So close enough.
“You’re so full of shit.” A wicked giggle erupted from her mouth. “Please, Bren? It’s not like we use real blood—not in public anyway. It’s a performance you’ve seen us do a million times. So I know you can do it.”
He shook his head.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me or anything.” Then she winked. “Unless, of course, you want to.”
“I do not.” Her face fell and he felt bad that he might have hurt her feelings. “And don’t take it personal. I told you I have a girl.”
“So you said.” She snorted. “Fine, no fucking. Will you do it then?”
He should say no.
But it was Halloween and everyone out there was expecting to see the vamps get freaky—even if it was just for show. Angelica was right. He could do it. He knew how to make it seem real.
Still, it just didn’t feel right.
He should tell her no.
But he didn’t.
Trick or treat, baby?
She looked at the text for probably the hundredth time today as she waited for her eyeliner to dry and giggled. Katie had already spent almost two hours making sure everything was flawless, from her costume to her makeup. It was almost eleven. She didn’t have much time left before Kelly came home.
Her lashes popped on and stuck like magic, exactly as the ad on Instagram promised they would. Katie blinked a few times in the mirror, so amazed at the transformation that she almost didn’t recognize herself. Then she breathed in a deep cleansing breath and got up from her vanity to dress.
The lace overskirt of her costume, called a polonaise in the days of Marie Antoinette, was hung up on the back of her door. It had a daringly low-cut tightly fitted bodice with a lace choker collar. The sleeves flared out at the elbows. The intricate floral lace pattern was sweet and delicate with a matching flounce trim and embroidered butterflies on the bodice—she took that as an omen. Designed to be worn over a petticoat and bustled, the garment was cut away in an inverted V shape in the front and draped to the floor in the back.
Katie had no intention of wearing the petticoat at all. She slid the snow-white lace over a white satin balconette bra and matching panty. The bra pushed up her breasts so high they threatened to spill out of the cups, crescents of pink areolae visible. She skimmed her fingertips slowly across her décolletage, gazing upon her reflection, seeing herself as Brendan would see her. A confident, sensual woman looked back at her. And she smiled.
She was ready.
Except she hadn’t planned for a coat. She’d only have to walk a block, but it was cold, and she had a lot of skin exposed. She grabbed an old leather bomber jacket out of the hallway closet—and now she looked like a young Madonna. Giggling, with her aunt’s ID (just in case), some cash, lip gloss, her phone, and the black vellum invite in a mini crossbody bag, Katie slipped out the door clutching her mask in her hand.
Katie didn’t feel quite so confident walking down First Avenue as she had in her bedroom. Outside she became very much aware of her nakedness. At least there weren’t that many cars passing by this time of night. Cold wind blew up her lace skirt, straight through the white satin. Her nipples pebbled into hard points. She prayed they let her right in or her pussy lips might freeze together if she had to stand outside too long. Not really, it wasn’t that cold, but it felt like it.
With each tap of her spike-heeled booties on the concrete sidewalk her pulse quickened and she found it more difficult to breathe. Katie stopped when she reached Charley’s. A cozy fire burned in the bar’s brick hearth. Only a few patrons remained inside. The Red Door was on the other side of the restaurant, just around the corner.
She had to be out of her fucking mind. Why was she doing this again? She glanced over her breasts to her bodice.
Oh, yeah.
Butterflies.
With one last deep breath, she collected herself, put her mask on, and walked up to the red double doors.
A man dressed in solid black, a bouncer or security maybe, opened the door as soon as he saw her approach. With a brief nod he invited her past the portal and she exhaled. This was going to be easier than she thought.
Katie pretended to be nonchalant, feigning a lack of interest in the foreign surroundings she found herself in. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to drop her jaw and survey the sumptuous two-story lobby. A club mix of “E-Girls Are Ruining My Life!” by Corpse played on a loop, the bass vibrating through her body.
