by Selena Kitt
“Well she can’t do it by herself,” his mother replied.
“She’s not going to eat any candy.” Janie, whose ingenious pink and blue dress idea had come straight from the Disney movie, was brushing her long, blond hair, which we thankfully didn’t have to cut after our summer gum wad incident. “Why do we have to get any for her?”
“Because I said so,” Mrs. B said, removing one of her blond ringlets from the baby’s chubby fist.
“You guys are just going to eat it later,” Henry grumbled, picking up his white glow-in-the-dark ghost bucket from the table.
“Well, it’s either that or we raid your candy,” I called over my shoulder, still chewing my Kit Kat.
“Good point.” He held out his hand to his mother. “Give me her bucket.”
His mother smirked, handing over the glow-in-the-dark Frankenstein bucket. Janie’s was a pumpkin.
Of course, we weren’t ready to go out trick or treating quite yet. First Doc had to take pictures of everyone in front of the fireplace, all of us smiling and saying, “Cheese!” or, if Henry and Janie were complaining about how long it was taking and refusing to smile, maybe “Smelly socks!” or “Cheesy underpants!”
“So you’re the family photographer?” I asked Doc as Mrs. B strapped the baby into her stroller once again while Janie and Henry fought over who got to carry Holly’s bucket. The once reviled task was now being coveted. “That’s a nice camera.”
I had to admit, I was jealous. My own was ten years old and I still used film. Actual film.
“Thanks.” His camera was digital and he was flipping through the pictures he’d taken, leaning in to show me. “I’ve always been an amateur photographer. Used to take pictures at weddings when I was in college for extra spending money.”
“I sell mine on stock photo sites.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “What do you photograph?”
“Whatever sells.” I shrugged. “Nature photos, stills of objects. You’d be surprised what people want to blog about.”
“Is there any money in it?”
“Not much. A little. Extra spending money, like you said.”
“I like photographing people.” He cocked his head at me. “You would make a beautiful subject.”
“Thanks.” Damn, I was blushing again. That made a slow, sexy smile spread across his face.
“Want to pose for me some time?”
“Sure,” I agreed, feeling my blush deepen. He’d never said a word about naked photography, yet both of us seemed to know exactly what he meant.
“You ready, Gretchen?” Mrs. B called, pushing Holly in her stroller toward the front door.
“Duty calls.” I turned and walked away, feeling his gaze follow me. I made sure I added a little swing to my hips.
Mrs. B pushed the baby’s stroller through the neighborhood while Henry and Janie ran from house to house, gathering candy, taking turns at every stop to fill Holly’s bucket too. There were a great many spoils to be had in their subdivision—some of the houses even gave out full sized Snickers bars! When I was a kid, we were grateful to get Dum-Dum suckers and Smarties.
By the time we’d circled back around to our block, the buckets were overflowing and Holly was slumped over in her stroller, fast asleep. The porch light was out as we approached the house.
“We ran out of candy, can you believe it?” Doc called as we pushed through the front door, Henry and Janie in the lead, wanting to tell their father all about the scarecrow who came to life and scared the pants off them. It was just a guy in a costume sitting in a lawn chair, waiting to scare passersby, but it was all Henry and Janie could talk about.
“There were so many kids,” Mrs. B exclaimed. “I swear their parents drive them into our sub because they know we give out such good candy.”
“I’m going to go put these on my laptop.” Doc got up from the sofa where he’d been watching Law and Order and picked up his camera from the coffee table.
“Remember, you can’t post any pictures of Holly on Facebook anything!” Mrs. B called as he headed through the kitchen.
“I won’t,” he assured her. “I took some non-identifying ones. I can share those, can’t I?”
“Just not her face,” Mrs. B insisted. It wasn’t just her being paranoid. The foster care system made that a requirement. No identifying pictures were allowed to be shared of foster kids by their foster families. Not that I blamed them. Holly had been rather infamous in our little community, after what she’d been through. It was better that no one knew we had her.
Henry and Janie sat in the middle of the family room, costumes askew, Janie sorting her candy into types in her usual OCD fashion. Henry entered serious negotiations with her to trade all his licorice for chocolate, a feat I figured nearly impossible.
“She’s going to be hungry when she wakes up.” Mrs. B took the baby, putting her on the sofa and getting her out of her costume while I went to make up her bottle.
“I’ll do it.” Mrs. B smiled when I brought the bottle out. She took it from me and put it to the baby’s lips. Holly sucked greedily.
“I’ll go clean up dinner.” We hadn’t had much time after eating the Sloppy Joe’s Mrs. B had made before we all had to change into our costumes.
I was loading dishes in the dishwasher when Doc came in. He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. He popped the top off, tossing it onto the counter. I gave him a look, sweeping the top into my hand and putting it in the garbage under the sink. He came closer, watching as I bent over to put the last plate in the dishwasher.
“Damn, little Red Riding Hood, you make me feel like a wolf.”
I turned, finding him dangerously close. I could smell the alcohol on his breath and wondered just how many of those he’d had. Of course, he’d been here, all alone, with nothing to do but watch TV, drink beer and hand out candy.
“You’re looking rather wolfish,” I replied, glancing at the stubble on his cheeks. He’d clearly forgotten to shave that morning.
“All the better to tickle you with.” He grinned, grabbing my hips and rubbing his cheek against mine, making me squirm and laugh. I wondered if they could hear us in the family room. One of the kids could walk in at any minute—although I doubted it. They were likely too engrossed in candy negotiations.
I tried to push him away, my hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. Doc was a big man and could take what he wanted, if he wanted to. The thought was blackly exciting. His hands remained on my hips, moving over the short skirt I was wearing.
“You’re so sexy in this damned costume,” he murmured, his denim clad thigh sliding between mine.
“I didn’t meant to tempt you, Mr. Wolf.” I cocked my head, giving him a smirk that told him that the opposite was true.
“Oh, I think you did.”
“Your wife picked it,” I reminded him.
“I know.” His hands moved down to my ass, squeezing. There was no pretense anymore about this being an accidental meeting. “Think she meant to tempt the wolf?”
“Do you?” I raised my eyebrows.
“You know I was watching, don’t you?” He leaned in to whisper this into my ear, his big hands gripping my ass, holding me to him.
“Yes,” I whispered back, my nipples hardening instantly at his words.
“Did you come hard?” He pulled my skirt up in back, hands roaming over my tights, making me gasp.
“I… I needed it so bad that night.” I whimpered. I needed to right now. Between his teasing grind against the counter before we left, and now this, I was ready to explode.
“I know.” The knowing in his voice undid me. My hands, which I’d previously kept at my side, went to his waist, feeling the solid heat of his muscles underneath that button-down dress shirt. “What were you thinking about when you came?”
“I… don’t remember,” I stammered when his hand reached around the front of my tights, cupping my mound through them, under my skirt.
“Liar.” H
e pulled back to look at me. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. Dark with lust. “Don’t lie to me or Mr. Wolf will eat you all up.”
Was that supposed to be a threat? It just made me wetter.
“You.” I whispered. I was the desperately hungry one. “Both of you.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.” His fingers massaged me through my tights. My pussy lips were so swollen and fat. Everything down there was squishy. “I wish I could have seen you with the light on. Is your pussy shaved?”
I nodded. “But Mrs. B said I should let a little grow back. At the top.”
“Blonde?” His eyes brightened.
“Yes.” I bit my lip. “Like my hair.”
He groaned, palm grinding my pussy, his cock like a foot-long pipe against my thigh.
“And these gorgeous tits.” His other hand had found something to do, cupping my breast through my blouse. My hard nipple grew even harder, as if it could pop right out for his waiting fingers. “My God, Gretchen, do you know what you do to me? You turn me into a fucking animal.”
“I was just carrying my basket through the woods on the way to Grandma’s house, Mr. Wolf,” I teased, rocking my hips. He could get me off like this. Just like this. A fire burned through me at the thought. He could make me come in his arms while his wife and kids were just a room away and no one would ever know.
“You’re so damned tempting.” He smiled, watching my face as I looked at him through half-closed eyes while he rocked my pussy toward orgasm.
“Gretchen?” Mrs. B called from the family room. “Can you bring me Holly’s diaper bag?”
The sound of her voice made him take a step back. I straightened my skirt, my blouse, still trying to catch my breath. The diaper bag was on the kitchen table and I headed for it on shaky legs.
“Wait.” Doc caught my arm, whispering. “Gretchen, I’m sorry. I’m… drunk. Forgive me?”
“I… um…” He had to know there was nothing to forgive. He wasn’t taking advantage of me. My God, I wanted it as much as he did.
“Don’t tell Carrie.” He left, disappearing back up the stairs.
I made it through the rest of the night on autopilot, cleaning up after dinner, tucking two sugar-hyped now-crashing kids into bed, rocking the baby to sleep, saying goodnight to the Baumgartners as they sat on the sofa watching The Office, laughing together.
But that night, I heard them having sex. I listened to the animal growl and thrust of him, the headboard banging against the wall over and over, and I wondered if he was thinking about me when he came.
Because I was. I came three times, panting and tangled in my covers, thinking about him.
* * * *
The Baumgartners went to New England to visit Doc’s parents for Thanksgiving and took Janie, Henry, and Holly with them. They asked me to come along, but I told them I’d been invited to my aunt’s for the holiday. It wasn’t true, of course. My aunt had denounced me as a slut and had kicked me out the summer after my senior year when she found me giving Jake Harris a blowjob on the couch in the basement. The truth was, I hated Thanksgiving. It was a non-holiday to me that served no purpose except to eat and bicker with family members you hardly ever saw. And that just reminded me I didn’t have any family to bicker with, and that made me sad.
Last year, Ronnie had invited me to her parents’ and we had dinner with them and her sister, Amy, which had been okay, but still painful. For me, it was like being pricked with needles all night long—not anything that was going to kill me, but still damned painful and annoying. So this year, I spent Thanksgiving at the Baumgartners, in their empty house. I ordered Chinese food and ate it in front of the 80-inch television while binge-watching Friends on DVD all weekend. On Friday, I had the worst MSG hangover and stayed in bed until three.
Then I managed to clean up the house and decided, after a liquid dinner of organic whole milk mixed with Carnation Instant Breakfast, that I wanted to go clubbing. Christian had called me after that one night, but I’d never called him back. Rude, I knew, but I didn’t want a regular fuck buddy, and he wasn’t really boyfriend material—not still living at home, going to the community college, and playing Halo and Call of Duty until all hours of the night. Of course, who was I to talk, after spending eighteen hours in front of the TV?
So I thought maybe I’d call him and we could meet up at the club. Since I had the Baumgartners’ place all to myself. Including their giant king sized bed. The truth was, I wanted to fuck on it. I wanted to be fucked on it, to imagine myself in between the two of them. I borrowed Mrs. B’s dress, the one she’d worn that night. It had been skin tight on her, but it was a little loose on me. Still, I looked damned good. Maybe, I thought, I could pick up two tonight for the price of one. I was sure Christian wouldn’t mind bringing another girl home.
I called him, but when he finally answered, I was already at the club, and apparently he was out of town—Texas—with his folks. He sounded real disappointed and said he’d make it up to me when he got back. I said, sure, we’d get together. Of course, I lied. I knew what I was doing as I ponied up to the bar and let some guy buy me a drink. I was alone, I was missing the Baumgartners, and I was looking for any way I could to remedy that. If it meant getting drunk and bringing another strange guy home, then that was what I was going to do.
I sat at the bar, sipping my mojito, and hunted the place with my gaze. I skipped over the couples. They were easy to spot. Not because they were kissing or dancing close, but because they stood near each other, almost touching, familiar, but didn’t talk. Their eyes were mostly on other people. I ignored the dancers too. Most had already found a willing victim for the night’s main event. Instead, I scanned the periphery. I was looking for a wallflower, a shy one, someone who would jump at the chance to go home in my Saturn and do just what I told him to.
Several guys approached while I sat there, but I rebuffed them. If they were confident enough to come up to me, they weren’t what I was looking for. I went through two more drinks—paid for by two other guys—and finally decided to take a break and headed to the restroom. I smiled, remembering standing in line with Mrs. B. The line wasn’t as long tonight.
When I came out of the stall to wash my hands, there was only one sink empty. I squeezed in, pumping pink suds into my palms, completely oblivious to my surroundings until she spoke.
“Hi, Gretchen.”
I looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. She was putting on mascara and looked incredible.
“Hi, Ronnie.”
I thought that would be it. My heart was in my throat. I grabbed some paper towel, expecting her to be gone when I turned around. But she was there. Right behind me. Close enough to touch. And I wanted to touch her. God help me, I did.
“Can we talk?”
“Here?” I looked around the bathroom, dubious.
“Out there?” she suggested, wrinkling her nose. Of course, that was out. Too much noise and confusion. Then she looked at me again and grabbed my hand. It was soft and warm and familiar and instantly broke my heart. “Got your car?”
I nodded. “Won’t Vince miss you?”
“I’m here with friends. Let me tell them. I’ll meet you right outside.”
Of course I thought she was going to ditch me. I shivered outside—still sweaty from all the body heat and I hadn’t brought a coat—and figured I’d wait for fifteen minutes and then go home and lick my wounds. But that isn’t what happened at all. Ronnie showed up, just like she said she would, shivering herself, although she’d been smart enough to bring a jacket. Her skirt was almost as short as mine.
“Let’s go, I’m freezing.” Ronnie’s teeth chattered all the way to the parking lot. I unlocked the Saturn’s doors and we got in. I started the car to turn on the heat. Late November in Michigan was cold—cold enough to snow, although it wasn’t.
“Better?” I asked, directing the vents in her direction as the air turned from cool to lukewarm. It wouldn’t be long and it would heat up.
/> “Thanks.” She gave me a shy, heartbreaking smile. “So… how are you?”
How was I?
“Good.” Lying seemed to be the best course of action until I knew what she wanted. Because I was sure she wanted something. “So what’s up?”
“Oh… nothing.” Seems we were both into the lying thing.
“How’s Vince?”
“Um… good.” She shrugged, tucking her dark hair behind her ear, gaze scanning the parking lot.
“Still seeing him?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, looking down at her hands in her lap. “Listen. Gretchen, I just wanted to tell you… I’m sorry.”
“Right. You said that before.” I leaned back in the driver’s seat, remembering how it had all ended. She’d tearfully confessed and apologized profusely when I told her I’d seen her and Vince together. Then, in a stunning turn of events, at least on my end, she had been both shocked and horrified by my idea of sharing him. In the end, she’d been the one angry at me, instead of the other way around.
“I know, but…” She picked at one of her cuticles. Her nails were painted a pretty shade of turquoise. “Well, I told you something that wasn’t exactly true.”
“You lied?” Why wasn’t I surprised?
“I just… I wanted you to know that I thought about it.” She looked over at me in the light of a street lamp, half her face in shadow. “What you wanted.”
“You, me and him?” The unholy trinity.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “The thing is... I didn’t say no.”
“I’m pretty sure screaming ‘are you out of your fucking mind’ and slapping me across the face is a pretty standard, universal sign for ‘no.’”
“I didn’t,” Ronnie pleaded. “I mean, I know… I know I said that. I did a horrible thing. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”
“You did,” I agreed.
“But after… I thought about it.” She lifted her face to mine and I saw the tears she was trying to hold back. That melted me a little. “I missed you so much. And… so I asked him.”
This I hadn’t known. Ronnie, as far as I knew, had made the choice herself. She didn’t want me, she wanted Vince. She’d made that absolutely, stingingly clear.