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Those of you who've been reading me for a while will have figured out that I enjoy Halloween, and I've posted a short story for the season each year for the past few.
Dream Come True (2004)
Thirteen Kisses (2005)
All Souls (2006)
Favour (2007)
(plus, there are the two zombie stories. They are seasonally appropriate, but they do come with a 'you click on the link, you take responsibility for your own sanity' warning - the titles are terrifyingly accurate on these two - Zombie Incest Wrongness and the infamous necrophiliac plushy gangbang story)
This year, the main story is Favour, but I do have a couple of extra sketchbook ficlets for you.
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Soar
Jackson spread his wings and arms wide, and laughed up at the spinning lights on the ceiling. Lord and Lady, he loved this holiday, with its sickly sweet drinks and its willing suspension of disbelief. The one time of year he could go out without disguise, and everyone would assume he was in costume, when he'd be greeted with compliments instead of panic. One night a year when he could rely on curiosity bringing him a crowd of curious men, no dissimulation, no effort required, just hot and cold running admiration, and all the lust you can eat.
A shiver ran up his spine a split second before someone's fingers dragged over the bare skin of his lower back. The waves of lust radiating from the touch were rich, spiced with the man's curiosity, and Jackson turned, smile wide on his lips. No hiding his fangs tonight, either.
The man gasped, but his hand didn't move away, and when Jackson let his own arm come up around the man's waist, the guy only moved slightly closer.
"Well, hello," Jackson purred into the man's ear, under cover of the throbbing bass line.
"Awesome costume, man," the man shouted back, tipping his head to speak, so Jackson could easily take in a lungful of the man's scent, drawing in the sweat and sex and candy-coated heat. "I'm Brad."
"Thanks, Brad. You look pretty fine, yourself."
A bandanna held curling hair back from Brad's face, and smudged eyeliner made his blue eyes sparkle.
"You wanna dance?" Brad asked. His hips were moving almost imperceptibly to the rhythm, the long muscles of his back flexing under Jackson's hand, the flimsy synthetic satin of a billowing pirate's shirt no barrier.
Jackson smiled, and leaned in to sneak a quick lick of the sweaty skin beneath Brad's ear before replying. "I'd rather fuck."
That spike, the way Brad's heart rate skipped, the flood of adrenaline; Jackson felt like he'd just downed a strong drink or three. Happy Halloween to him.
Brad never did reply, but when Jackson turned, the young man turned with him, and followed easily enough as Jackson pushed a path through the crowd towards the door marked 'Fire Exit'.
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and Raining Cats
****************************************
She hunched her shoulders against the wind, the roof tiles cold and slick under her numb finger tips as she steadied himself. The wind was bitter, drowning the sounds of the city under its howl and the unending racket of raindrops thudding onto roofs and gutters and Kitty's own leather-covered back. Her eyes were half-closed, squinting against the water that ran down her face. She had to concentrate to make out the doorway she was watching, although it was suspended in the glowing yellow cone of a street-light's range. She'd told Mack that she'd watch this house, and she would. The guy was superstitious enough that he'd offered a bonus to entice someone to work Halloween, when they'd have to risk ghosts on top of the usual gunshots and loose tiles. Fortunately for her, she didn't believe in ghosts and Mack's ex was a well known lousy shot, so it was just the loose tiles she had to worry about. That and drowning to death, twenty feet above sea level.
***
The room was warm, brilliantly lit, and full of music and chatter and Rick and his buddies got ready for a night out. Sitting on the windowsill, watching raindrops race down the glass and feeling cold air creeping in around the edges of the panes, Sam could have been on a whole different planet. She was dressed - costume provided by an agency, bill paid by Rick - and ready to go, but one of the reasons she was so good at her job was that she never once thought that she was really part of the party. Professional arm candy, and excellent personal defence, all wrapped up on one pretty package, that's what Sam offered, and she was good at her job, even when her clients made her skin crawl. Rick - he gave her the shivers. He wasn't bad looking, didn't paw at her too much. He was as queer as a three dollar bill, so there were no invitations to his bed that she'd have decline without causing offence. He was even polite to her when there was no one watching. But he still gave her the creeps. People don't make the kind of money Rick had at his disposal by being nice guys, and they don't hire people like Sam unless they had enemies who were even more unpleasant. Rick's genial everyman charade set Sam's teeth on edge. Every instinct told her that Rick was bad news, but the magic word was money. He had it, she needed it, so she'd strap on her cat woman outfit and play nice with the pretty boys Rick surrounded himself with. Hell, if Rick did get attacked, she'd even do her best to save his life, but she didn't have to like him.
***
A stretch limo pulled up outside the target house at about ten to eleven, and minutes later the illuminated stretch of sidewalk was filled by a flurry of umbrellas. From her rooftop angle it was hard for Kitty to be sure who got into which car, but she did get a glimpse of a distinctive mane of blond hair, Mack's ex sliding into the lead car.
The cars pulled away, and Kitty whispered their description and direction into the disposable cell Mack had given her along with the address. An anonymous male voice repeated the information back without inflection, and cut the call with a 'thank you'.
The rain kept falling.
****************************************
Dream Come True (2004)
Thirteen Kisses (2005)
All Souls (2006)
Favour (2007)
(plus, there are the two zombie stories. They are seasonally appropriate, but they do come with a 'you click on the link, you take responsibility for your own sanity' warning - the titles are terrifyingly accurate on these two - Zombie Incest Wrongness and the infamous necrophiliac plushy gangbang story)
This year, the main story is Favour, but I do have a couple of extra sketchbook ficlets for you.
****************************************
Soar
Jackson spread his wings and arms wide, and laughed up at the spinning lights on the ceiling. Lord and Lady, he loved this holiday, with its sickly sweet drinks and its willing suspension of disbelief. The one time of year he could go out without disguise, and everyone would assume he was in costume, when he'd be greeted with compliments instead of panic. One night a year when he could rely on curiosity bringing him a crowd of curious men, no dissimulation, no effort required, just hot and cold running admiration, and all the lust you can eat.
A shiver ran up his spine a split second before someone's fingers dragged over the bare skin of his lower back. The waves of lust radiating from the touch were rich, spiced with the man's curiosity, and Jackson turned, smile wide on his lips. No hiding his fangs tonight, either.
The man gasped, but his hand didn't move away, and when Jackson let his own arm come up around the man's waist, the guy only moved slightly closer.
"Well, hello," Jackson purred into the man's ear, under cover of the throbbing bass line.
"Awesome costume, man," the man shouted back, tipping his head to speak, so Jackson could easily take in a lungful of the man's scent, drawing in the sweat and sex and candy-coated heat. "I'm Brad."
"Thanks, Brad. You look pretty fine, yourself."
A bandanna held curling hair back from Brad's face, and smudged eyeliner made his blue eyes sparkle.
"You wanna dance?" Brad asked. His hips were moving almost imperceptibly to the rhythm, the long muscles of his back flexing under Jackson's hand, the flimsy synthetic satin of a billowing pirate's shirt no barrier.
Jackson smiled, and leaned in to sneak a quick lick of the sweaty skin beneath Brad's ear before replying. "I'd rather fuck."
That spike, the way Brad's heart rate skipped, the flood of adrenaline; Jackson felt like he'd just downed a strong drink or three. Happy Halloween to him.
Brad never did reply, but when Jackson turned, the young man turned with him, and followed easily enough as Jackson pushed a path through the crowd towards the door marked 'Fire Exit'.
****************************************
and Raining Cats
****************************************
She hunched her shoulders against the wind, the roof tiles cold and slick under her numb finger tips as she steadied himself. The wind was bitter, drowning the sounds of the city under its howl and the unending racket of raindrops thudding onto roofs and gutters and Kitty's own leather-covered back. Her eyes were half-closed, squinting against the water that ran down her face. She had to concentrate to make out the doorway she was watching, although it was suspended in the glowing yellow cone of a street-light's range. She'd told Mack that she'd watch this house, and she would. The guy was superstitious enough that he'd offered a bonus to entice someone to work Halloween, when they'd have to risk ghosts on top of the usual gunshots and loose tiles. Fortunately for her, she didn't believe in ghosts and Mack's ex was a well known lousy shot, so it was just the loose tiles she had to worry about. That and drowning to death, twenty feet above sea level.
***
The room was warm, brilliantly lit, and full of music and chatter and Rick and his buddies got ready for a night out. Sitting on the windowsill, watching raindrops race down the glass and feeling cold air creeping in around the edges of the panes, Sam could have been on a whole different planet. She was dressed - costume provided by an agency, bill paid by Rick - and ready to go, but one of the reasons she was so good at her job was that she never once thought that she was really part of the party. Professional arm candy, and excellent personal defence, all wrapped up on one pretty package, that's what Sam offered, and she was good at her job, even when her clients made her skin crawl. Rick - he gave her the shivers. He wasn't bad looking, didn't paw at her too much. He was as queer as a three dollar bill, so there were no invitations to his bed that she'd have decline without causing offence. He was even polite to her when there was no one watching. But he still gave her the creeps. People don't make the kind of money Rick had at his disposal by being nice guys, and they don't hire people like Sam unless they had enemies who were even more unpleasant. Rick's genial everyman charade set Sam's teeth on edge. Every instinct told her that Rick was bad news, but the magic word was money. He had it, she needed it, so she'd strap on her cat woman outfit and play nice with the pretty boys Rick surrounded himself with. Hell, if Rick did get attacked, she'd even do her best to save his life, but she didn't have to like him.
***
A stretch limo pulled up outside the target house at about ten to eleven, and minutes later the illuminated stretch of sidewalk was filled by a flurry of umbrellas. From her rooftop angle it was hard for Kitty to be sure who got into which car, but she did get a glimpse of a distinctive mane of blond hair, Mack's ex sliding into the lead car.
The cars pulled away, and Kitty whispered their description and direction into the disposable cell Mack had given her along with the address. An anonymous male voice repeated the information back without inflection, and cut the call with a 'thank you'.
The rain kept falling.
****************************************