* * *
With every passing day, I fell deeper under the spell of this place. Deeper under the spell of Milo, who I was practically living with. I had given up showering in the morning in favor of baths for two in that big old tub. After the day’s work the evenings belonged to Milo. On nights that his band had a gig, I’d sit in the back and listen. Other nights we’d explore the city together, its opulence and its quirks, so he could teach me about the history and the culture.
All the while, things left unsaid loomed large over us, like the levee over the Bywater. I wouldn’t allow myself to tell Milo that I had fallen in love with him, though I knew it to be true. That would be too cruel. Tensions grew with each passing day, each day bringing us closer to the day that I would leave and go back to my job and my apartment and my life in Manhattan. I know he felt it too. The music he wrote had grown more joyful with our budding romance and was turning morose as we neared its artificial end. It went on like that until it couldn’t anymore.
* * *
All the volunteers went out for dinner after our last day on the job. Ms. Anita and several of the other homeowners came out to thank us and say goodbye. Everyone cried. Me most of all.
My bags were already packed. I had to catch a redeye back to New York, so I wouldn’t even get to stay the night. I planned to spend my last few hours with Milo. We had managed to avoid saying all the things that we wanted, maybe needed to say. Now, I hoped that we could avoid saying all those things that people felt they had to say, those little lies they tell themselves about making it work or keeping in touch. My life was there. His life was here. There wasn’t going to be any meeting in the middle.
When I arrived at the house, candles lit a path up the walkway, up the stairs, and into the open door of the house. The record player crackled and popped as Billie Holiday’s heartbreaking version of “But Beautiful” beckoned me inside. The house was dark except for a glow emanating from the bedroom. Milo sat on the bed with his face buried in his hands. Beside him, laid out on the bed was a masquerade costume, my masquerade costume. Breathtaking and macabre. A black silk corset fitted atop a skirt made entirely of black ostrich feathers. The hand-painted Venetian mask matched Milo’s own, though he had chosen vibrant peacock feathers for its fringe. He must have been working on it all day, every day to finish.
“I don’t know why I did this. I knew you wouldn’t be here to wear it, I just…I’m in love with you, cher.”
Running my fingers over the embroidered silk, I felt a chill run down my spine. How could I break both our hearts?
“I’m here now.” I gently lifted the costume and walked to the bathroom. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell him that I loved him too, because I knew that if I did I could never bring myself to leave. “I’ll wear it now.”
When I returned with the corset carefully laced and the mask tied and pinned, Milo had dressed as well. The tuxedo was black on black, the perfect backdrop for the brilliantly colored mask. I clenched my fists to stop the trembling, but I know he could see the feathers quivering.
Without a word, Milo walked slowly around me, taking in his gift. With the nimble fingers of a musician, he began unlacing the corset. After releasing me from its bindings, he slid a hand around and held it against my bare chest. I willed my heart to stop pounding. I turned and began slowly undressing him, sliding my fingers over every inch of his body, wanting to permanently etch the memory of him into my brain. We stood before one another, naked except for Milo’s exquisitely detailed masks. He looked like a statue.
Lifting me up, Milo placed me in the center of the bed and then stood back, as if admiring the composition. I stretched out my arms, and he came to me. Wrapping my legs around him, I locked my ankles and dug my fingers into his back, wanting him inside me. His weight on me, his cock spreading me open, I felt surrounded and filled with Milo. Movements measured and slow, we stretched it out and held onto it as long as we could. Even the climax was lingering and sad, but I was grateful that the masks hid the tears slipping from our eyes.
Afterward, I squeezed him tight to calm the shuddering of his body and held him until he drifted off to sleep. Placing the mask on the pillow beside him, I took one last look before I quietly made my way out the door and out of his life.
* * *
New York waits for no one. Life in the City had gone on without me, and when I returned it pulled me in just like a street sweeper sucks up garbage. Twelve-hour days in an office with a view of a brick wall followed by dinners and drinks with my similarly exhausted co-workers could not keep my mind from wandering South. Milo, New Orleans, had awakened something in me that would not go back to sleep. The countless hours I spent researching the best way to structure a corporate merger might not have been making the world any worse, but they certainly weren’t making it any better. Not like working on Ms. Anita’s house.
I finally agreed to meet up with James, but when I tried to tell him about Milo he brushed it aside as some harmless summer tryst.
“I just hope you’ve got all that do-gooder nonsense out of your system now, so that you can focus on real life. With me.”
I walked out.
September turned to October, and instead of getting easier, things were only getting worse. I woke up in the night and reached across the empty bed for Milo. When a Halloween shop put a tacky plastic Venetian mask in the window, I nearly had a panic attack right in the street. Milo hadn’t made any effort to contact me, but he was there in my periphery all the time.
The final blow came on October 30th. As I mounted the stairs leading to my apartment, I noticed a large box propped on the door. There was no return address, but the postmark said Metarie, LA. I ripped into the box right there on the landing. Inside was my masquerade costume, cleaned and loosely wrapped in purple tissue paper. The mask lay in the center. There was no card, no note. Just Milo’s final goodbye. Sliding down the wall, I curled into the fetal position in the middle of the hallway and cried.
* * *
In New Orleans, the night air was comfortably cool, perfect for the long walk Milo had planned to take before the All Hallow’s Eve Ball. Dressed in his tux and mask, Milo would lay a single peacock feather on his mother’s doorstep. An invitation. Making his way down to the Quarter, he’d smile at the throngs of people passing in costumes ranging from elaborately homemade to cheap store bought. For some the night had meaning, for others it was just a reason to party, but all were celebrating. The connection to those who came before would be strong that night.
Walking into the courtyard full of extravagantly costumed men and women in masks, Milo could not help but smile. Everything was gilded and beautiful. He looked up to the balcony and froze. There, leaned against the iron railing stood a woman in a costume just like the one he had chosen, a mask just like the one he had so meticulously crafted. It couldn’t be…
“Cher?” he called as he made his way up the stairs and through the crowd. “How can you be here?”
“Louie told me where you find you,” I said as he slipped his arms around my waist. “Besides, I decided I couldn’t live anywhere that I wasn’t going to get pralines in my trick-or-treat bag.”
He carefully lifted up my mask, not allowing himself to believe it was me until he saw my face, looked into my eyes. I did the same.
“You’re staying?”
“I’m staying.”
“What about your job?”
“Quit.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll find something. Civil rights work, maybe.”
With that, Milo swept me up into a swirling kiss, quite literally ruffling the feathers of my dress.
“You’ll have to help me find a place to live,” I said.
“I know just the place, cher. Fully restored and some great jazz real close.”
I don’t know if the spirits joined us that night or not, but as we danced in the moonlight I knew I was ready to lay down some roots of my own.
Punished by the Cow
boy
Sue Lyndon
Excitement and dread curled in Liz’s stomach as she hurried through the hotel parking lot. She felt awkward in her cowgirl outfit, especially the uncomfortable boots and short denim skirt, but she was on her way to a Halloween party. As she glanced at the stunning full moon, a cold breeze whipped her neatly braided pigtails around. She clutched the string dangling from her pink hat to prevent it from blowing away. It was bad enough that she was fifteen minutes late. Losing a crucial piece of her costume would only aggravate her nerves further.
She passed two women dressed as gypsies smoking outside the entrance and held her breath as she rushed through their cloud of smoke. A short man in a tuxedo opened the door, and a wave of warmth hit her body as she stepped into the ballroom. Ah, much better. She handed her ticket to a bouncer and made her way into the crowd. She exhaled and surveyed the party in progress. Was Jacob here yet? Would she be able to recognize him in this packed ballroom? Worse yet—did he think she’d gotten cold feet? Being fifteen minutes late sure didn’t help her make a good first impression.
A rock band with a female vocalist was performing on a small stage to her left. The music was loud but not deafening. Dozens of people moved about on the dance floor, and multicolored spotlights fell over their bodies like swirling paint on a black canvas. Guests were mostly congregated in small groups or hovering around the bar. Where was the cowboy to her cowgirl? Liz squinted and tried to find her date. She’d exchanged photos with Jacob on the Internet, but locating anyone at a party this large would prove a challenge.
Liz recalled with anticipation their intimate conversations on the computer. She’d met Jacob in an online dating forum that catered to people with a spanking fetish. After corresponding via email and instant messages for six weeks, they had decided to meet. Jacob insisted they do so at a public place for her peace of mind and safety. To her surprise, he’d suggested the annual Halloween party at the swankiest hotel in town and emailed her a ticket.
“You’re late.” A deep voice rumbled in her ear, drowning out the music. Liz froze in place and felt hot breath against her neck.
“I know,” she said, summoning up the courage to turn around. A pair of dark brown eyes held her captive. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her heart flickered in her chest, and her mouth dried up. Jacob was taller and broader in the chest than she’d expected. The pictures hadn’t shown how attractive he was. From beneath a brown Stetson that matched his trousers and leather vest, blond hair peeked out. He had a strong, square jaw and a commanding presence that caused the shy, submissive girl inside her to rejoice.
“Why are you late, young lady?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.
Liz swallowed hard. “I forgot I’d have to drive so slow through town because of all the kids running around trick-or-treating. I’m sorry.”
His expression remained impassive for a long moment, and Liz wished she could read his thoughts. He smiled and caught her off-guard. He tugged playfully at the hat string hanging from her chin. “You didn’t drive over any witches or ghosts, did you?”
“There were no casualties.” Liz laughed at his jibe.
The tension in her body lessened, and she relaxed under his gaze. She’d gone on plenty of first dates, but this was her first date with a fellow spanko, and she had high hopes for a second, third, and fourth date with Jacob. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She hoped they locked together like two puzzle pieces. She hoped for love and marriage, and everything else the average single thirty-something woman wanted in life, except for lots of spankings.
His smile vanished and his jaw tightened. “If you’re late for our next date, young lady, there will be consequences.”
Young lady? Consequences? Liz’s pussy clenched at his choice of words. Young lady, consequences, along with punishment, discipline, and spanking were but a few of her trigger words. She lifted her chin and met his eyes boldly, reveling in the direction this conversation was headed. “What kinds of consequences?”
Jacob grabbed her arm and guided her against a secluded wall for more privacy. His warm touch sent a thrill through her body, and he didn’t release his hold on her arm. He had large hands. She licked her lips. Those hands could do serious damage to her backside.
“If you’re late for our next date, I’ll turn you over my knee, bare your bottom, and give you the sound thrashing you deserve.”
A sharp tremor of heat coursed between Liz’s thighs, and she pressed her legs closer together to relieve the building ache. It didn’t help. Her desire grew as she gaped up at Jacob, trying to think of something witty to say. She hadn’t expected to be threatened with a spanking not five minutes after their first face-to-face encounter, but she wasn’t about to complain.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” He leaned closer until she could smell his cologne.
“No, not really.” It was past eight at night, but she’d been too nervous to eat anything since lunch.
Without a word, he directed her toward a doorway and out into an empty corridor lined with smaller doors. They were private banquet rooms. The sound of the party faded as the door slammed shut behind them. She welcomed the quiet, but she became acutely aware of Jacob’s strong presence.
Her stomach flip-flopped. Where was he taking her?
“Are we allowed back here?” Worry crept into the corners of her mind. If Jacob thought he could drag her off somewhere and fuck her minutes after meeting, he’d better think twice. Spanko or not, she’d kick his balls to a pulp with her cowgirl boots.
“I’ve booked us a private room for dinner.”
Liz shot him a questioning look as he ushered her into one of the private rooms. “Why did you want to meet at a Halloween party? We could’ve met for dinner instead. You know, at a restaurant—where people wear normal clothes.” She’d spent hours agonizing over the perfect cowgirl costume to complement his cowboy costume. Now that they weren’t at the party anymore, her faux attire seemed ridiculous. Jacob’s outfit was more authentic though. He looked like a real cowboy.
“I had to make an appearance at the party,” he said, stopping to face her halfway into the room. “Remember I said I was in the hotel business?”
Liz crinkled her forehead as she recalled their brief discussions about jobs. They’d spent a great deal of time talking about their kinky interests, but not much beyond that. “Do you manage this hotel?”
“No, my brother does.”
“Do you own this hotel?” Power radiated from his body like an aura of steel, and she doubted he was below management.
“Bingo,” he said, reaching for her hat. He slipped it off and fingered one of her braids. “These are nice.”
Face burning, Liz peered at Jacob in wonderment. Her endorphins raced throughout her body when he touched her other braid. He stroked her hair while holding her gaze, no longer touching her skin. Her will was becoming pliable. This would surely be her last first date. They would move fast, and she welcomed that. OK, so maybe she wouldn’t kick his balls to a pulp if he tried to fuck her tonight. Her mind turned to mush as goose bumps rushed down her neck and arms.
She sighed.
“Dinner first,” Jacob said. “Desert later.”
He tossed both their hats on a chair, and she was grateful for the opportunity to get a better look at him. She wasn’t disappointed, and averted her eyes to avoid being caught gawking at his stunning profile.
A tall, slim candle burned in the center of the eloquently set table. Red rose petals were scattered over the tablecloth. It reminded Liz of Valentine’s Day. One glance at the gaudy fringe on her western shirt, though, and she remembered the correct holiday. Jacob released her and pulled out her chair. Overcome by a swift wave of shyness, she forced a smile and took her seat. He sank down in the chair across from her and folded his hands at his chin, as if he were about to pray, but his eyes remained locked with hers, unblinking and full of unrestrained excitement. Liz felt relief. She had no
illusions that she was a great beauty, and sensing his approval of her was the reinforcement she desperately needed to quell her uncertainty.
“I hope you like eggplant parmesan. I remember you said you don’t eat much meat.”
“I love eggplant parmesan.” She resisted the urge to suggest skipping straight to dessert.
Her heart warmed—he’d remembered a detail like her virtual vegetarianism. Most men liked their meat with an extra serving of meat, and his sacrifice spoke for his character.
A young waiter appeared through a back door carrying two steaming plates of food. He placed them down on the table with a flourish. He uncorked a bottle of wine and filled two glasses. Jacob nodded, and the waiter disappeared through the door. Liz was impressed by the tiptop service, although she couldn’t have expected less when Jacob was involved. He had told her he required near perfection from those who served him. During their online conversations, he had mentioned he had rules he expected a woman who belonged to him to follow. The nerve endings in her pussy seized with delight.
The eggplant parmesan was exquisite, and the dry red wine complemented it perfectly. Jacob asked about Liz’s week, so she told him about her predictable but satisfying week spent working at the college library. She loved her job, but would Jacob find her boring? She was an introverted bookworm with a degree in English and no aspirations beyond working at the local college library. But Jacob seemed to listen to her every word.
“How did you get into the hotel business?” Liz asked, nervous over the growing list of things they didn’t know about one another.
He shrugged. “I used to make chainsaw carvings for a living. I still do, but now it’s more of a hobby. My uncle left me the hotel in his will five years ago.”
Weeks of intimate correspondence and Liz had had no idea Jacob made chainsaw carvings. No wonder his muscles seemed to bulge out from underneath his shirt. Wielding a chainsaw against a big chunk of wood probably gave him a better workout than lifting weights at a gym. She knew he desired a woman willing to submit to his authority, a woman who craved spankings and other punishments as much as she dreaded them, but she didn’t know much more about Jacob. Hell, she didn’t even know his last name.
Halloween Heat VI: Contemporary Erotic Romance Page 4