Copyright © 2018 by Tracy Lorraine
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Pinpoint Editing
Cover design by Pop Kitty
Formatting by Tracy Lorraine
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
The Halloween Honeys
Book Hangover Lounge
About the Author
Also by Tracy Lorraine
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Frankie, I want to be you when I grow up!
Madison
“Professor Freeman, could you look at this for me?” I ask. In the few seconds I’ve been standing at his desk, he hasn’t even bothered to look up.
Letting out a breath like he’s already bored of me, he eventually drags his eyes up. “Give it to Henderson.” With that said, he gathers the papers he used during our lecture and marches towards the exit. Well, okay then.
It’s no secret that Professor Freeman is an epic douchebag who thinks actually talking to his students is beneath him.
Glancing over to where Mr. Henderson’s sitting, I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach. He’s a graduate teaching assistant who supports Professor Freeman. Who am I kidding? He basically does Freeman’s job for him. I’m no expert, but I’m sure TAs aren’t meant to give as many lectures as he does, or grade the epic pile of papers sitting on his desk. Mr. Henderson is also drop dead gorgeous, and gets the attention of every female—and a few males—in class every single time he teaches anything. He could be reading the dictionary and he’d have our full attention. He’s got floppy, dirty blonde hair that every girl in the room wants to run their fingers through, and piercing blue eyes you could get totally lost in.
I’m very rarely nervous, but as I walk towards his desk I can’t keep the slight tremor out of my hands.
“Madison, what can I do for you?” The sound of his deep, husky voice saying my name sends shivers down my spine.
“Um…I…” Shit. Blowing out a breath, I try to get ahold of myself. His eyes crinkle in amusement. There’s no way he’s oblivious to the fact that at least half the class has a crush on him. I like to think I’m quite composed compared to some of the other girls who flaunt what they’ve got in front of him daily. “Could you look over this for me, please?” I ask, handing over the beginning of the paper I started last night. “I’m not sure about it and I don’t want to continue if I’m going off in the wrong direction,” I ramble as he stands, staring at me.
“You’ll need to pass it over.” His smile distracts me from his words for a few seconds but I soon realize my mistake.
“Shit…um…fuck. Uh, sorry…Here.” My face flames bright red as he takes the paper from me.
The second he tells me it’s a good start, I’m out of there like someone set my ass on fire.
“What’s wrong?” Stacy asks as I catch up with her. She’s also a biology major and the president of Mi Alpha Alpha sorority.
“Nothing,” I mutter as I smooth my hair down, trying to forget about my pathetic performance in front of Mr. Henderson.
“Okay,” she says, clearly not believing me. “You still good for later?”
“Yes! I can’t wait.”
For the last two weeks, we’ve been turning Stacy’s parents’ old mansion into our very own haunted house. Each sister has a room, and we’re opening to the public for the first time tonight.
“I need to go to the store for a few last minute bits, but I’ll meet you there, yeah?”
“Yes.”
This is my favorite time of year, and as I walk out on to the campus grounds, I can’t help but take a deep breath of the fresh fall air. All the trees are a gorgeous burnt orange, and the leaves are just starting to fall to the ground. Moving somewhere where there are still four obvious seasons made leaving England that little bit easier to bear; it makes it feel like I haven’t really gone all that far. My parents had been talking about making America their home for as long as I can remember. Mom was born here in the North East, and she always longed to return, to be here for her parents as they got older. But as the years went on and nothing happened, I began to believe it was all talk. That was until I was thirteen. I remember coming home from school to find printouts of houses scattered all over the dining table. I’d convinced myself it was never going to happen and unlike my younger years, I’d allowed myself to make some real friends. To start thinking about what my future might be like.
Six months later, we were packing up our lives and I was saying goodbye to my friends. That was the end of my life as I knew it. Mom told me everything about this place, how good her childhood was, how much she enjoyed high school. All the things she thought I wanted to hear…but uprooting my life and starting not only a new school, but one in a whole new country with totally different rules and expectations, was the last thing I wanted. Thankfully, I’d inherited my parents’ brains so academia wasn’t an issue, but from my very first day, I was an outcast. I was the new freshman with a weird accent who had no clue which way was up in an American school.
Thoughts of home, as always, drag me down a little. I spent a year before I started college in London with my grandparents and I loved every minute of it. If it wasn’t for my mom’s desire for me to follow in her footsteps and attend Oak Ridge and become a member of Mi Alpha Alpha, I probably would have continued my education there. My parents have always given me everything I could possibly ask for; it means I have a very hard time saying no to them, which is why I’m here right now, doing what they expect of me.
I’m irritated when I get home because not only have my thoughts taken up my entire walk, but they’ve also stomped on my excitement for tonight.
A couple of the girls are laid out on the sofas watching some reality TV show as I walk in—they clearly decided against class today.
I perk up a little when I see my schoolgirl outfit hanging on the front of my wardrobe ready for tonight.
Trying to put thoughts of my past behind me, I set about getting ready. I shower and spend an obscenely long time perfecting my eyeliner and curling my thick hair. By the time I slide the tiny uniform on, I’m feeling much better and more like myself.
I can’t help but laugh as I stand and look at myself in the mirror. My hair and make up are on point and my outfit is…well…ridiculous. But sexy. If I were to bend over, even just a little, everyone would get a shot of my thong. The thought of god knows how many people seeing me like this has my stomach clenching as nerves race through me. I’m going to need a few drinks before the evening really kicks off.
I cover myself up in a knee-length coat as I hear my name called from downstairs.
The mansion is only a short walk from our sorority house, so it’s just minutes before we’re inside and getting our first look at each other. Seeing their equally slutty outfits makes me feel a little better about myself, and it’s only helped when Stacy walks around the corner with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses in hand. I breathe a sigh of relief and reach for the shot the second it comes
my way.
“We’ve got an hour until the doors open, ladies. Go and get those rooms perfect.”
I knock back another two shots before grabbing the bags I brought with me and heading towards my room—a haunted classroom.
Smiling as I push the door open, I walk into my work of art. The desks are lined up perfectly, some empty, some with deceased students waiting for their teacher to return. There are cobwebs covering the abandoned classroom along with a couple of little surprise moving elements I’m hoping will catch a few people out.
I’m just throwing an empty bag inside the closet when I hear Stacy call out that it’s time. Grabbing the shot she dropped off for me a few minutes ago when she came around to see if we were all ready, I neck it and feel the burn all the way down to my stomach.
Shaking my arms by my sides, I give myself a pep talk as I prepare to show off not only my work of art, but also a lot of myself to the public.
Josh
“Happy birthday,” is called from my front door only seconds after I buzz the guys into the building.
I walk out of the kitchen with a load of beers in hand and my mouth drops open at the sight of them. “What the fuck?” I try to figure out what they’ve got planned for tonight. Each of them is wearing a different Halloween costume. “You guys know Halloween isn’t for two weeks yet, right?”
“Just go with it,” Austin says. “We’ve got your whole night planned.”
I groan at his words. That was what I was concerned about. I’ve got a great group of friends here. Austin and I played ball together in college and just like me, he didn’t make it to the NFL; instead, he works in insurance. Wyatt and Ste both work at the bar I temp at when I need some extra cash.
“Come on, look a little excited,” Ste encourages. “Here, happy birthday.” He hands me the traditional case of beer and bottle of tequila everyone gets on their big day, but unlike usual, he also hands me a bag.
“What’s this?” Looking at the three of them, it wouldn’t take a genius to work it out.
“Just open it, shithead,” Wyatt encourages as he falls back onto my couch with a beer.
I hesitantly pull open the bag and glance inside.
“It won’t fucking bite.”
Reaching in, I pull out some black fabric and a white mask. What the fuck? Shaking it out allows me to see what the costume, or lack thereof, entails. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”
“Only the best costume for the birthday boy,” Austin says, a beer halfway towards his lips and his eyes alight with amusement.
“So this was your idea, then? Make me spend the night half naked so you get to ogle me,” I say with a laugh. I was the one and only member of our team to know Austin was secretly bi-sexual. While all the guys were lusting after the cheerleaders, he had a massive crush on Coach West.
“I can do a lot better than you, Professor Henderson,” he says with a wink.
Holding up the small pair of shorts they seem to be expecting me to wear tonight, I glare down at the three of them. “Not a chance in hell,” I mutter, throwing them on the coffee table.
“What? The cape is huge. I don’t know what your problem is.”
“My problem is you guys are all covered up. Why the fuck does this have to be my costume?”
“We thought you’d want your face covered, and that was the one we liked the best.”
Turning the mask over in my hands, my mind tries to come up with possibilities for where this night is going.
Walking into our local bar wasn’t what I was expecting, but that seems to be our first stop. Every single set of eyes in the place turns our way the second we enter. To be fair, if I were here on a night out, I’d be looking at the idiots who think Halloween is tonight as well.
The beer and tequila chasers go down a little too well as I feel eyes running over every inch of the skin I have on show. I’m not shy or body conscious but I can’t help feeling a little out of place when everyone else is fully dressed, even if it is as a fire fighter, policeman, and cowboy, like the douchebags I call my friends.
When the first group of students arrives, I realize why they probably got me a costume with a mask.
“I don’t get it,” I shout over to the others. “Why are we dressed like this just to come here?” I watch them look at each other and apprehension starts to seep in. “What?”
“We have more plans for the night.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Are you planning on filling me in?”
“We’re going to that charity haunted house that’s opening tonight.”
The second the words fall from Ste’s lips, the panic sets in and thoughts of one person fill my mind.
“No, no, no, I can’t go there and you guys know it.”
“Oh, grow a pair, Henderson. It’s going to be full of sorority girls. I can’t imagine a better way to spend a Friday night. Plus, you know the rules about birthdays. You. Get. No. Say!”
The image of one particular student fills my mind, followed by the shame I always feel when I think about her.
I can still remember the way her body moved as she walked between the desks to the front of the room at the beginning of the semester with her bag hanging from her shoulder and her textbook under her arm. I knew in that moment I was fucked. I was going to have to spend all year as a TA for her class. I was going to see her every fucking day. I was going to work one-on-one with her regularly, and every time I looked at her, my imagination conjured up all the things I could do to that curvy little body.
I can still feel the effect she had on my body earlier as she looked down at me with her big brown eyes. She’s pure innocence, and I have no right even thinking the kinds of things I have that involve her. She’s just as untouchable now as she’s always been, maybe more so. I haven’t worked this hard to achieve my dream just to put it all in jeopardy by going after the schoolgirl I can’t get out of my head.
I should have known my arguments would fall on deaf ears because after another two rounds of drinks, I’m physically pulled from my seat at the bar and dragged out to the street—much to the delight of the women we passed on the way out, who made no attempt to hide their interest in my body.
As I stand and look up at the old abandoned mansion, apprehension gnaws at my insides. Mask or not, I shouldn’t be going in there. I should be walking in the opposite direction as fast as I can.
But something—I’m putting it down to the tequila—allows me to forget all rational thought, and as the guys walk up to the entrance, I follow silently with images of Madison at the front of my mind.
Austin hands over some money to the two girls at the entrance while Wyatt and Ste mentally strip their outfits from them.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I mutter.
“Quit being a pussy. No one knows who you are; just enjoy yourself.”
Raising my eyes to the cobwebs covering the ceiling, I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart.
She’s a student. She’s a student, I chant to myself as I continue down the hallway and into the first room.
Madison
I guess it should come as no surprise that the majority of our first visitors are male and that their interest in this whole charity project has little to do with raising money for the children’s hospital and everything to do with us scantily clad sorority girls.
Breathing a sigh of relief when I see a couple of friends, albeit male friends, walk through the door, I excuse myself from the two guys trying to chat me up.
I smile as I approach King and Zayn, who are thankfully checking out my room instead of me.
“So…what do you think?”
“I think it’s incredible.” Zayn sweeps me up into his arms and spins me around while I desperately try to cling onto the bottom of my skirt. The other guys in this room don’t need any more encouragement. I’m all for flaunting a bit of skin in order to raise money, but there’s a line.
“And you are looking fine, Miss Warren, if I
do say so myself.”
King and Zayn are also biology majors, and pretty talented members of the football team. We ended up seated together in the first week of college, and we’ve been tight ever since. King spent the first few months trying to make a move, but he soon realized I wasn’t interested in anything but friendship.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a blush color my cheeks. “Your handiwork paid off, don’t you think?” It’s not the first time these two have seen this room as they were the ones to help me with everything out of my reach, but it’s the first time they’ve seen it finished.
“It’s sweet. Better then the others we’ve seen,” Zayn whispers with a wink.
We continue chatting as others come in and out of the room, but it’s not until two guys walk in that I really pay much attention to my visitors. The most obvious thing about them is that, unlike most people here, they’re in fancy dress. The first guy, dressed as a police officer, walks farther into the room and it allows me a proper look at the man standing slightly behind him.
My breath catches in my throat as my eyes take him in. His dirty blonde hair is a shaggy mess and falling over the white Phantom of the Opera mask he has on his face. Thankfully it doesn’t cover his sharp jawline. Biting down on my bottom lip, I allow my eyes to drop to his cape covered shoulders and bare torso. Holy shit, that six-pack! My temperature soars and I start feeling my pulse in places I shouldn’t when in a room with this many people. Taking in his skinny black jeans, I slowly make my way back up. Half his face might be covered but that doesn’t stop me recognizing him the second his piercing blue eyes meet mine. If he thinks he’s fooling anyone with this costume, he’s a freaking idiot.
His Naughty Schoolgirl Page 1