He's The Goal

by Faith M Troyer

  My jaw damn near hits the floor as I pull the scanty pieces from the bag and stare at her in disbelief.

  “What the hell is this? Where’s the damn costume? There’s nothing in here.”

  She giggles and holds up the red ruffled panties and garter belt. I wish I could disappear as a group of guys walk by, and Monica is just going on and on about how ‘crazy sexy’ I would look in these and would for sure be ‘getting laid.’

  The group stops walking, and the dark-haired guy smiles in our direction, whispering ‘hot.’

  Monica gives him a coy smile as I try to wrap my head around how I will wear this shit in public.

  “Is there even a top to it?”

  “Of course there is,” Monica says as she returns her attention to me; all business now.

  She reaches into the bag and pulls out a flimsy-looking corset with red ruffles on the bodice. I can’t help it and start to laugh, but my best friend isn’t having any of my shenanigans. She knows damn well I’m a-jeans, leggings, and t-shirt kind of girl. I don’t go out in public half-naked.

  Monica looks around, knowing she’s still on a mission to make this costume idea work. The woman is like a jungle cat, stalking her prey amongst the tall grass of the Serengeti. Remember when I said she was like a lion with a gazelle? I wasn’t lying.

  “Stay there and don’t even think about moving.”

  I stand there and cross my arms and watch Monica stand on her tiptoes and grab a cute fluffy white tutu from the wall, a stethoscope, and a little white hat with a white cross on the front. I can see her idea unfolding before me, and it’s pretty cute. I’ll go for the tutu idea, but I like giving her a hard time because it’s just too much fun not to. We walk around the store for a few more minutes and gather up a few more accessories, such as fake syringes to make jello shots.

  Monica decided to go with her sexy kitty costume after all and bought a silver cat collar with a tiny bell to go with it.

  “Do not tell Jack I bought all of this shit, Monica. He will kill me. I have his credit card for essentials and emergencies only. He told me he’d help me out financially if I stayed in school, but I’m sure if Jack knew how much I spent in the mall today on Halloween stuff alone, he would kill me. Jack told me that fifty was my limit, and this costume is eighty-dollars!”

  It’s beyond me how something so cheap looking could cost so much money. Mon waves her hand dismissively in my direction and puts her credit card down on the counter at the checkout.

  “I’m getting your costume, so don’t worry about it, which reminds me, go pick out a pair of heels to match. I saw a white pair of white thigh-high boots that lace up in the back. Those would be perfect.”

  I make an honest attempt to argue, but Monica takes me by the shoulders and gently pushes me in the back wall direction. When we leave the store, I have a guilty conscience and two huge bags overflowing with super cute stuff that I certainly didn’t pay for myself. I’m most excited about the boots, though, and can’t wait to try them on. Monica loops her arm through mine and kisses my cheek as we reach her car.

  “I swear I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Vada. I did this because you need to get out of your shy little box more. You’re so gorgeous, smart, and sweet. But—?” She trails off, not sure of what to say next that won’t offend me.

  I sigh and run a hand through my thick dark hair, knowing what she might say next. It’s no secret that I’m a ‘prude’ and ‘buttoned up.’ I don’t know how to own my sexuality as Monica does, and she does it with such ease and confidence. It’s rare to see a woman who’s a size sixteen parade around in a pair of lace ruffled panties and a corset.

  “I’m not confident like you are, Mon. I wish I were. I don’t hate my body or the way I look. I just don’t know how to feel comfortable with my curves and—” I pause, thinking of the right words. “Sexy and or sleazy display.”

  We both laugh, and Monica grabs my hand.

  “The way Max looks at you is adorable and yet, almost pornographic, Vada. I told you that he wants to fuck you, and that’s because you got all that ass. Not to mention juicy thighs and a small waist to top it off. If I were a man or a lesbian, I would be all over that ass.”

  My eyes pop open at her choice of words, my cheeks heating, but a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Monica laughs and puts the car in park.

  “You think I’m kidding, but seriously. Max, like a lot of straight men, loves a thick woman. They like curves, something to hold to when they’re giving her the business.”

  I snort a laugh and hide my face with my hands. When Max and I have foreplay, we haven’t done so with the lights on and by my request. However, he wants to see me in the light and watch all of my curves in action.

  I shift a little in the soft leather seat, holding on to the door, and turn to look at Monica with a look of concern. She’s flooring it down the highway now and pushing almost 80 MPH. She’s always been a bit of a lead foot, but this is ridiculous. She looks lost and deep in thought as she finally eases off the gas peddle a little, which brings my heart rate back down a touch.

  “I’m so sorry, Vada. My comment in the dressing room back there wasn’t nice. I know weight can be a touchy subject for you.”

  I hate that she knows me so well. The two boyfriends that I had in the past liked to pick on me about my weight and being a ‘goody-two-shoes,’ virgin. They made it seem harmless, but Ryan, my last relationship from my freshman year of college, was an asshole. He was always trying to calorie count for me or signed me up for new workout classes with him. He even went as far as saying sex would be a good ‘cardio workout’ and I’d lose weight faster that way. It’s no wonder I am the way I am. I see my cheating asshole-father break my mother’s heart and date two back-to-back superficial douchebags, including Ryan, who only wanted to take me to pound town as a vehicle for weight loss.

  “Too bad you can’t teach me how to be sexy,” I say to Monica as we slowly pull up to a stoplight.

  If I’m going to take a lesson on how to be ‘sexy,’ then I want to take a page from her book. She raises a brow in question and turns to look at me, her expression reading, ‘Are you kidding me?’

  “Vada, you have no idea the power that you hold and the immense ability you possess just by the fierceness in your attitude and the switch in your walk. You have the capability to be extraordinarily sexy; you just have to stop faking the confidence.”

  I look at Monica, confused for a moment, then it all makes sense. The saying ‘fake it until you make it’ has been my mantra for years, and the sad part is that I’ve never gotten to the confidence part yet. I’m feisty, yes, but that’s mostly to keep men away from me. Most of the guys that I’ve met don’t like a girl with a smart mouth and attitude for days. Except for Maxwell. It seems from the day we met, he couldn’t get enough of my sarcasm, even though most of the time, I was super bitchy in my intent.

  “And you can begin by wearing that costume to the party tomorrow night. You own your sexuality by showing some skin and putting those gorgeous curves on display. I’m sure you’ll be giving every guy in the place some major wood. We can make use of their erections and hang our coats from them. No need to pay a fee for a coat check when you have a sexy friend in the room.”

  We both lose it and belly laugh for minutes on end and wipe a few tears away with the pad of my thumb.

  “You’re so stupid,” I say, feeling another burst of laughter threatening to erupt from my lips. Monica is like a rock to me; I’d be at a loss without her. She’s truly the most generous friend I’ve ever had.

  Max

  October 31

  I’ve been at the beach, the same one where Vada and I spread my mom’s ashes. I came here after practice today and have been here for a little over an hour now, trying to make sense of my new reality. It’s been a week since my mom has passed away, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. I’d thought I’d come here to spend some alone time before the
party and collect my thoughts.

  Someone might think because my mom was a stranger, it would be easier to process her death. However, that’s not the case. She was my mother, and I threw her away just like she did to me, or so I thought. I never knew my mother had intentions of coming back and rescuing me from Charlie’s abusive ass.

  I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and stand up, dusting the white sand from my jeans. The sound of seagulls cries overhead as the sun beats down on my bareback. I slip my t-shirt back on and smile at the memory of last night. I stood there in Vada’s open doorway, leaning up against the wall with my arms crossed, and admired just how beautiful she was. Over the past week, I’ve had a hard time sleeping since finding out the news of my mother’s passing, and every time I try, I just wake up in a cold sweat; nightmares have overtaken my rest.

  Still, when I watch Vada sleep, it gives me solace and a sense of peace. She must have sensed my presence because she woke up from a sound sleep. She smiled sleepily at me and patted the mattress next to her.

  I padded over quietly and noticed Chester laying on the pillow near her head and softly chuckled. I crawled into bed, slipping under the covers next to her, and Vada laid her head on my chest.

  “Couldn’t sleep again?”

  My body stiffened at her question but relaxed when she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. I shook my head and ran my fingers through her dark silky hair. Vada rested her chin on my peck and looked up at me through her thick lashes.

  “You’ve suffered a considerable loss, Maxwell. Rochelle was your mom, and Charlie did a cruel thing by keeping you away from her. I’m so sorry that you ever had to go through such things. Still, you’re stronger for it, and I know she would be so proud of you for being a phenomenal man.”

  I sighed deeply and pulled her closer into my arms. I drew lazy circles on her back with my index finger until her breaths evened out and she was asleep again. With Vada there in my arms, I managed to get some sleep too. I need these memories of Vada, the woman that I love. She makes life just that much easier to live.

  Vada

  “You can’t come in here, Max. I’m helping Vada get ready for the party tonight, and she wants her costume to be a surprise, so you better get your tight butt into the living room.”

  I hear Monica yelling at Max, and I can’t help but laugh. What sounds like a few sound effects of an imaginary whip sounds from the hallway and burst of laughter. Shaking my head with a smile, I dig through the large cosmetics bag of makeup that Monica has brought over. Tapping my forefinger against my cheek in thought and pondering over what color eyeshadow I want. The sound of footsteps come closer to the door, and a gasp escapes my lips, thinking it might be Max trying to slip a peek.

  I feel ridiculous.

  I’m acting as though I’m getting ready for my wedding and not a Halloween party.

  I blush at the thought of seeing Max all dressed up in a tux, and my mouth goes dry.

  “Max just said that I would make a good dominatrix because of the way I give orders and began making whipping sounds. What a weirdo,” Monica said as she quickly made her way through the bathroom door and closed it behind her.

  Seeing as it’s my best friend and not my sexy roommate sets a feeling of both disappointment and relief coursing through my veins. I bite back a laugh as I jab Monica on her side, referring to her ‘sexy kitty’ costume. I take in her tiny booty shorts, a black tank that exposes her flat stomach, and smooth tan skin. She even painted on a black nose, whiskers and made her dark eyes a lovely shade of smokey grey.

  “And would you be wearing this costume while you spanked and tortured your sub?” My tone is all business, but I can’t help but release a gale of laughter as I speak.

  “Only if they tip me extra,” she says and sticks her tongue out but questionably raises her brow.

  Monica looks at me through the mirror as I try not to meet her eyes because I know she will be peppering me with questions in about five seconds.

  “How do you know about doms and subs? Are we coming out of our safe little box and discovering a kinky world?” Monica playfully teases me, leaning closer into her reflection, applying a red matte lipstick. “Have you told Max about your latest discovery?”

  My cheeks burn hot with embarrassment as I think about Max securing my wrists in a pair of leather handcuffs or fitting me with a diamond-studded collar as he takes a flogger to my backside. I never tried BDSM, but who hasn't seen Fifty Shades of Grey? Or thought about the affections of some gorgeous man with a playroom? I swallow hard and rub the back of my neck.

  “I love to read novels that are a little naughty; there’s nothing wrong with having a fantasy,” I say shyly, but can already tell Monica’s mind is working on something new.

  “You should tell Max that this sort of thing turns you on.”

  “No. I don’t want Max to think I’m a freak.”

  “That’s the point, though, Vada. You want Max to know you’re willing to try new things and be freaky. What man doesn't love their woman bent over the bed, screaming his name while he’s spanking her with a leather whip?”

  Flashes of Max’s robust and muscular body burn through my mind’s eye, fisting my hair as he runs his tongue down the curve of my spine. I shudder and welcome the sensation of racy thoughts as they course through my veins like fire. My hand flies to my throat, and looking up through my fake lashes that were just applied; I can see Monica is smiling devilishly.

  “I wouldn’t mind Maxwell taking control and giving me the best orgasm of my life. However, we haven’t had sex yet. We do other things, well, he does those things to me. I’m too nervous about giving him a blow job right now, and he doesn't complain because he wants me to be comfortable and do it when I’m ready. Do I just hand him a whip and ask him to spank me?”

  Monica can’t help but laugh as she adjusts her collar.

  “Well, I’m not an expert on that subject. Nevertheless, that’s probably too rough for a beginner. Maybe you could begin with a wooden spoon? And wear that nurse’s costume while you’re at it. You won’t be able to keep him off you.”

  My heart begins another quick gallop in my chest, just when I thought I was starting to relax. As Monica puts the finishing touches on my makeup, she stands back to admire her work, smiling and gives me a thumbs up. I blink a few times, attempting to get used to my new false eyelashes, which are utterly foreign to me.

  On the night that Monica and I went out to Night Beats, I wore a pair of lashes but thought they would look fake. I’m still a little apprehensive, though, but she swears up and down that they’ll look amazing.

  “Here, take a look, sexy mama.” Monica hands me the small hand mirror, and my heart gallops in my chest, and a little smile tugs at my lips.

  I don’t like dressing up and dressing ‘sexy.’ Max thinks it's funny that I don’t want to be sexy or believe that I positively lack confidence.

  ‘You rock the hell out of a t-shirt and panties like no one’s fucking business, girl. If every straight man in America could see what I do every morning, they would all be sporting some major wood for sure.’

  I softly laugh as I remember Max’s words from the other day, but I can’t help but think that he might be right. I can be confident, truly confident around him because he makes me comfortable. I know he won’t point or stare at me because of what I’m wearing. I sigh and tuck a stray curl behind my ear. I look up and meet Monica’s eyes as she meets mine with a broad, hopeful grin.

  “I’ll go check on your patient, nurse Finley. I’m sure he’s ready.”

  Max

  I could never take vampires seriously. They aren’t supposed to sparkle or eat animals for survival. They’re savage, sex-starved creatures who feed on gorgeous women, and in turn, give them the best orgasm they’ve ever had. At least that’s what I’ve come to learn from all of those smut novels that Vada reads.

  Though one afternoon a few weeks ago, I was inspired by one of the male vamps in her current novel
that she just finished and thought I’d bring him to life this Halloween. Vada adores this character and thinks he’s the sexiest thing ever to walk the earth.

  I took that as a personal challenge. Vada isn’t going to know what hit her when she sees me tonight, and I can’t wait. Monica had to help me find the individual pieces for this costume, and it took shopping in consignment stores and second-hand shops all over Miami, but it was worth it.

  I dress quickly in front of the large full-length mirror in Jack’s room, but I love the way the worn leather jacket, weathered and torn, makes me look. My muscular shoulders fill it out entirely. I’m shirtless under this thing and get a kick out of how badass it all looks. Callum, the character I’m attempting to portray, is a 200-year-old vampire from Ireland but lives a double life; a detective by day and a rock star by night.

  According to what I read, he can blend into regular society just fine but needs blood to survive. This man is always getting laid and feeding off his female groupies, and in turn, the bite gives them extraordinary pleasure. Vada is head over heels in love with the fucker, and I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous. It’s ridiculous. Callum is fake, but I am not. If Vada wants a ‘Callum Dempsey,’ then I will deliver the best performance ever.

  “Max, can I come in?” Monica says through the door, knocking softly.

  I take the emerald green contacts, Callum’s signature eye color, balance one tiny lens on my index finger’s pad, and gently place one in each eye. I’m still blinking them in place as Monica peeks her head in, a hand placed over her eyes just in case I might be naked. I chuckle aloud and fix the jacket’s sleeves so the cuffs fit around my thick wrists. She does a little side shuffle, entering the room and smiling ear to ear, still averting her eyes.

  “You can open your eyes, Mon. I’m not naked.” She pops one open, and a huge, ear-to-ear grin crosses her face as she takes in my new look.