by Hunter, Kiran; Gregory, Elin; La Roche, Tristram; Hartsock, Dianne; George, Reneé
Josh opened his eyes and blinked. Above the church the sky trembled, slick with orange and black spangles from the bonfire. His jeans felt wet and cold, and his hands were full of sticky grass. He leaped up, took hold of the flashlight, and swept the beam across the grave. His shape stared back at him from where he’d flattened the grass, and the light picked out a trickle of pearly fluid as it ran slowly down the headstone and spread into the deeply carved letters that said SAM.
Josh touched his lips with the fingers of his right hand before tracing the S with his middle finger. “See you next year,” he said, savoring the lingering taste of Sam on his tongue. “See you next Halloween, my love.”
Idle Hands
Renee George
The Devil's Playground
Travis Boyd walked the block from his parked car on Cherry Street to Oak as if afraid the shadows would jump out of the darkness and swallow him whole in to the chilly night. It had taken a fair amount of convincing to make Travis travel into the heart of downtown Kansas City. He never went out on Halloween, and he'd certainly never been to a haunted house. But Matthew Rowland had been coming into Travis's coffee shop every year for the past three Halloweens, always with the same request: for Travis to meet him at The Devil's Playground, a haunted house attraction where Matthew worked.
Travis had always been nervous about Halloween, the price of growing up with an überreligious mother. She'd kept him at home with the understanding that “nothing good ever comes from going out on the Devil's night.” Even after he'd moved out on his own he’d stay home on this one night a year—a measure of respect for his mom, no matter what shade of crazy she wore. Being here was a testament to his attraction to the man who'd pursued him year after year.
He wondered where Matthew, who couldn't be more than twenty-five or twenty-six, lived when he wasn't in the city for this God-forsaken night each year. He'd been attracted to Matthew from the first time he'd lay eyes on him in Moo-La-Latte, the coffeehouse he owned. Matthew wasn't typically good-looking. His green eyes were a smidgen too close together, and his aquiline nose and narrow face were a bit too long. He had high angular cheekbones, but a sensitive mouth, lips soft and full, which seemed to draw his features into one sexy, blond package. A package Travis found incredibly hard to resist.
The Devil's Playground was just up ahead on the right side of the street. A line of customers dragged out, two to three people thick, all the way to the corner. From the evenly spaced windows, he could tell the building had once held offices or apartments, but it had long since been abandoned in the poor economy. The loss had created an opportunity for Pagan Productions, the company who, according to their website, owned the Devil's Playground and two other haunted houses in the Kansas City area. The website said the company had been established in 1988, the same year he was born. It was hard to believe it had been around that long.
Travis imagined there were squatters who were rendered homeless every year so the disembodied spirits and demons could move in. His gaze went to the left side of the street; a man stood under the lamppost. He wore layers of dirty, ragged clothing, with smudges of dirt like shadows on his hands and face. The man caught Travis staring and stared back. His eyes were sharp and bright, a contrast to his despondent appearance. Travis quickly looked away, a cold shiver running up his spine, and he couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that wound tightly in his chest.
A smart man would have turned and run. Of course, a smart man might never have come in the first place.
Thinking about Matthew's crooked grin and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, Travis shook his head. He was not a smart man, not on any level. He fidgeted with indecision for less than a heartbeat, jammed his hands into his coat pockets with a renewed determination, and got in line with the rest of the crowd.
The line was packed with men, women, and even some young teenagers. Who would let their teenager out on a night like this? And downtown? A small group of boys and girls, no older than sixteen or seventeen, straggled past the end of the line where Travis waited. They turned to the teenage couple in front of him and said, “Don't bother, man. They're carding up there. Nobody under twenty-one.”
Travis couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. At least this place had standards. He'd read that sexual and sexually violent scenes were depicted in this place, and he was glad they didn't allow the young to just wander in.
Another twenty minutes and the line had only moved twenty feet. A foot a minute. What the hell was taking so long? Travis massaged his face. What was it about cheap theatrics and sideshow attractions that drew a crowd? He fished his smart phone out of his pocket. No messages. He checked Facebook and Twitter. Nothing from Matthew. He’d said he was working the Devil's Playground, and while the invitation could have been purely promotional, Travis knew there'd been genuine interest.
Or maybe Matthew just liked the coffee.
Shuffling nervously, Travis contemplated going home. Before he could decide one way or the other, a black-sleeved arm snaked around his shoulder from behind. He tried to step away, only to be dragged back. The arm slid up and tightened around his neck, drawing him close. His pulse pounded like a jackhammer in his ears, silencing the noise of the crowd. His muscles drew taut, straining until he thought his veins would tear from his skin. The first beads of perspiration formed on his brow.
“I'm so glad you made it,” a deep voice whispered into his ear.
Travis craned his neck to catch a glimpse of his captor. Matthew. He wore all black. Even his eyes were lined in black. The effect made his green eyes glow in contrast. Matthew leaned forward and laid his cheek against Travis's, his breath warm with the scent of cardamom. Travis's adrenaline spiked even more as his cock bulged his tight jeans.
“Asshole,” he murmured.
Matthew smiled. “Our first date and already you know me so well.”
The smile was infectious, but Travis bit his lower lip to prevent Matthew's satisfaction at winning the moment. “You're not getting off the hook that easy. You scared the crap out of me.”
Matthew stepped sideways, his arm sliding to Travis's shoulders as he moved beside him. “It wouldn't be Halloween if you were all safe and cozy, love.” He reached his free hand inside Travis's jacket and pinched his left nipple, tweaking it hard.
Travis jerked his gaze to Matthew. It was sixty-degrees out, but a riot of heat sped from his nipple to his cock, a blaze of desire not even the cool night could douse. Matthew's scent was intoxicating. An exotic cologne: earthy, musky, with a hint of bright citrus for balance. A wave of confusion and disorientation went through Travis. He sought out Matthew's arm to steady himself, then felt his back against the rough hard brick of the building with Matthew pressed against his front, almost as hard and unforgiving. Travis hadn't even felt his feet move.
The people around them melted away, along with sight and sound. Looking around, Travis's lungs tightened with rigid surprise. They were alone in an alley. The street and the crowd were gone. Matthew's soft lips crushed Travis’s, his hand sliding down the front of his jeans. The breath Travis had held escaped into Matthew, and he swallowed it down. He shoved his tongue into Travis's mouth, parting lips and teeth, and rubbed his hand against Travis's erection. With his other, he pinched Travis’s nipple again through his shirt, hard enough to make him gasp. Matthew tasted like he smelled, exotic and intoxicating.
The pain and pleasure confused him. He felt drugged…no, not drugged, but high, yet unlike any high he'd ever experienced. There was something about Matthew that drew him, but in the same instant frightened the shit out of him.
He threw his head back and moaned when Matthew broke the probing kiss and trailed teeth and tongue and lips down his neck. The hand on his cock let go to tug at his waistband. The button on his jeans opened, the zipper came down, pants slid over his hips, and then his shaft was in Matthew's hand. The stroking of those long delicate fingers nearly buckled Travis's knees, but the press of Matthew'
s body against his held him upright. Matthew's other hand fisted in Travis's thick brown hair, tugging with firm command.
“I want to suck you, Travis. I want to feel you in my mouth.”
Travis moaned again, unable to form words for a moment. He nodded his consent. He'd never been asked if he wanted a blow job. Most guys just assumed. Somehow, the asking and the giving of permission made it all the more intimate. He braced his hands against the rough brick as Matthew tugged his shirt up and kissed down his stomach until his lips touched Travis's shaft. He took the length in both hands and licked the tip, and then allowed it to slide in past his tongue to the back of his throat.
“Oh, shit,” Travis said. He stared down at Matthew, whose green eyes stared back.
Matthew Rowland couldn’t believe his incredible luck. Luck might not have been the right word, though, considering his three-year campaign to seduce Travis Boyd. And finally, here he was with the object of his desire at his fingertips, touching him, tasting him, and it was better than he had ever imagined. Every caress of his tongue over the smooth shaft brought a new sound from Travis's throat—some whimpering, some primal, but each one charged his desire. He felt Travis's hands twine in his hair, urging his mouth faster over the rigid length as he sucked and stroked. It was a moment of abandon for Travis, and Matthew couldn't help but rejoice. He'd waited so long to have this boy. Longer than Travis could ever imagine. He slid his mouth forcefully to the bottom of Travis's cock, the head pressing past his tonsils to the back of his throat.
“Yes,” Travis mumbled, his back sliding down against the wall as his hips bucked forward.
Matthew reacted physically to the voice, forcing Travis's cock even farther back into his throat until he could stick his tongue down and lick the line between his balls. He’d waited too long not to savor every moment. He’d bring Travis to the Devil’s Playground, but not until he’d taken his reward.
Travis couldn't think, didn't want to think, only feel. Right or wrong, he'd never had anything feel this good or this exciting. He grabbed another handful of hair, holding Matthew down hard for a second, then pulling his head up and back down again on his shaft. Impulsively, he yanked Matthew's mouth off him and pulled him up. He reached down with a groping hand, frantically pushing and pulling until Matthew's slacks were undone at the waist and he could reach a hand down to his cock. His body hummed as he stroked the length, his eyes never leaving Matthew's as he wondered how good Matthew would feel inside him, filling his body and making him whole. An odd sense of euphoria washed over him as Matthew tucked a strand of Travis’s hair behind his ear, then tilted his head forward and kissed Travis’s neck and pressed against him with the full length of his body.
“I feel like I could crawl right into your skin,” Matthew said as his lips found Travis's. “And while I love you touching me…” He placed his palm over the hand that held his length and gave it a squeeze. “…I'm not done with you yet.”
Nips and bites flitted along Travis’s throat, chest, abdomen, as Matthew worked his way back down to Travis's erection. Travis let out a harsh breath when his cock entered that warm, wet mouth. Strong fingers curled around his sac, tugging as Matthew's lips slid down as far as his throat would allow.
Travis moaned with delight, which seemed to spur Matthew to suck and lick with more ferocity. Warmth built in his core, and his arms and legs tingled as the blood rushed to his groin. His cock filled, stretching the skin tight, and his balls pulled against his body. The pressure in his pelvis mounted until the moment of release. “Ah…” he grunted as his hips thrust forward, jerking, bottoming his cock against the back of Matthew's throat. He came as Matthew swallowed him, every last bit, not letting up until the spasms of orgasm subsided.
Matthew lifted his mouth from Travis's softening cock, his green eyes dancing bright with humor and joy. “Just like your coffee, Travis Boyd. Good to the last drop.” He wiped the corner of his mouth and stood up.
Travis felt weak and elated. Satisfied. He gazed at Matthew, trying to convey his feelings in a look since he couldn't find the words to explain. The haze in his mind reminded him of a waking dream. He rubbed his hands down Matthew's chest, the muscles hard and unforgiving. His hands once again caressed the smooth, satiny skin drawn tight over Matthew's hard shaft. He could feel the stirring of passion as his own cock grew hard again, nearly ready. He wanted the man, this blond, unique man, to possess him, all of him, to take his body and make it his own. He opened his mouth to form the words, then he saw those eyes again.
Before he could speak, Matthew leaned forward, silencing him with a deep sensuous kiss, his tongue darting forward, his saliva tinged with cardamom and cinnamon. Travis slid his arm around Matthew, completing the embrace, but a sense of being watched drew his attention for a glancing moment. It was the piercing gaze of the homeless man who had been rooted across the street from the haunted house. Not menacing, but terribly disturbing. He pulled back from Matthew, the lusty haze ebbing, and forced himself to look up at his date and away from what could only be an indigent apparition. In a blink, Travis was fully dressed, pants up and back in line with Matthew.
Matthew stared at him and licked his lips. “You are delicious.”
Travis wanted to respond, but “ditto,” seemed too casual for what had happened between them.
Even in the half dark, Travis could make out Matthew's perfect teeth behind those perfect lips. He wondered if he'd dreamed the alley, but he found it hard to believe it was a hallucination. The residual twinges in his groin seemed to agree that the moment had been very real. He leaned into Matthew, his chin canted upward.
Matthew lifted a hand to Travis's face, his fingertips stroking the line of his jaw. “This was an exquisite moment, but I have to get back to work. As my guest though. I’m moving you to the head of the line.”
He let go of Travis and the absence of his touch ached. His smile had turned more serious. He reached out his hand and took Travis's, their long fingers intertwining in a warm weave.
With a slight squeeze, he gave one short nod to Travis. The crowded line parted like a splitting wound. Something, a glint of light on metal, or maybe just a feeling, made Travis look across the street again. The man, filthy and despondent, stared at him. His tangled hair framed his eyes, which were still bright and filled with life. Travis looked away.
The unsettling moment forced his knees to go weak and wobbly. A sudden nervousness and fear punched at his gut. He tried to dismiss his anxiety. The taste of Matthew's kiss on his tongue reminded Travis why he was there, and he grasped Matthew's hand tighter as they moved toward the front of the line.
Feast of Fools
A sign by the cashier read:
You must be 21 years of age to enter.
You must walk through alone.
Never stray from the path.
You will be touched by the actors, but you must not touch back unless invited.
You will be given instructions. Please do what you are told.
It is for your own safety.
No talking allowed once you have entered the Devil's Playground,
but screaming is encouraged.
If you are too frightened to continue,
call “Chicken” and you will be escorted from the premises.
In the Devil's Playground, you will encounter strobe lights, fog,
total darkness, intense smells and sounds, torture, violence, and
sexual situations. If you have a heart condition or are prone to
seizures, do not enter. If you are narrow-minded, bigoted, prudish,
and are prone to preachy rants, do not enter.
Waivers must be signed at the door.
Travis looked up. The cashier tapped his pen against the cash-box, waiting for Travis to decide how or if he wanted to proceed. His straight black hair was cut in an asymmetrical A-line that complimented his angular face. A half smile formed on his lips and his dark eyes glittered with laughter. Helplessness filled him.
Matthew smiled. He grabbed the waiver from the entry table, passed it to Travis, and the cashier handed him a pen.
When Travis hesitated, Matthew leaned down to his ear, his soft lips brushing against the sensitive lobe as he whispered, “I promise you will be frightened, you will be tortured, you will touched and prodded, you will experience situations you have never dreamed of, and you will come out on the other end exhausted, exhilarated, and begging for more.”
Travis shook his head, unable to verbalize the fear writhing in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to trust Matthew, to believe that this was all fantasy, one that he would enjoy, or at the very least, survive. Matthew took his hand and brought it to his lips.
“You will come out on the other side, Travis. I promise.” Matthew let go of his hand. “I have to get to my position inside.” He waved off the cashier. “This one's on me, Johnny.”
Johnny grinned, his dark eyes generous with lust as he sized up Travis. “Don't blame you, man. I'd like him to be 'on me' as well.”
Travis blushed.
Matthew laughed. “Don't mind Johnny. He's harmless. As a matter of fact, he never bites. Unless you ask him politely.”
Travis winced at the bad joke and tried to laugh it off. Johnny's open desire both disturbed him and turned him on. The air was charged with a sexual energy that made his body tingle with anticipation.
Johnny air kissed at him, then made a little gesture with his index finger. “Maybe I'll see you on the inside.”
Matthew's face darkened. “Maybe you won't.” He took Travis’s hand again and led him to one of four doors leading into the haunted house. Before opening the door, he slid his arms around Travis's shoulders and drew him close. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Travis's in a soft yielding kiss that grew more intense and passionate. Their mouths pressed with a dance of tongue and teeth and lips. It felt…final.