tagRomanceClothes Make the Man

Clothes Make the Man

byBob Waters©

“You have to realize, women all have one basic Halloween costume; The Slut,” my friend Bill observed as we scoped out the party. “Everything else is just a variation on the theme. Look, you’ve got Slutty Nurse over there,” he nodded to a girl by the bar, “Slutty Maid, Slutty Punk Rocker, Slutty Devil, Slutty Pussycat and, of course, the ubiquitous Slutty Hooker.”

He was dead on as usual. All of the costumes had one thing in common, they were designed to make the wearer sexy.

“I mean come on, no woman is going to dress herself up ugly,” he continued, “so the fun is dressing up sluttier then usual. The good thing is they tend to get into the part.”

“I love Halloween,” I agreed with a smile. Bill was always guaranteed to throw a great party.

“Now men, on the other hand, tend to dress up differently. You can tell if a guy is single or attached based on his costume,” he continued.

“How so?” I asked.

“Guys costumes come in two forms; ‘Attached’ and ‘Looking’ whereas all woman, married or not, dress as some form of The Slut.”

I laughed at that one, “Clarify that, oh learned one.”

“Come my young pupil, and learn at the feet of the master. ‘Attached’ costumes are worn by married guys or guys with girlfriends. They’re either humorous or designed to complement the girls costume. In both cases, they have one thing in common; they’re either picked out by the chick or picked out with her consent. The costume is designed to not be attractive or if it is, it’s so obviously part of a ‘set’ as to make it clear to the other women in the room that the guy wearing it is with her and off limits.”

“Come on!” I scoffed.

“You scoff,” he replied, “but note yon pirate over there.” He nodded to a guy by the stereo. Nice looking guy, well built, shirt open down the front showing it off. Cool eye patch.

“Yeah,” I replied, “That’s Larry. He’s married and he’s wearing a ‘sexy’ costume.”

“Really, how long have you thought Larry was sexy?” Bill asked me.

“Fuck you, Bill” I replied.

“OK, OK,” he laughed, "but that proves my point. Check out his wife, Adrienne.” He gestured to a girl across the room. Slutty Pirate Wench complete with short shorts to show off long legs. “Obviously a ‘set’. Then there’s Paul over by the couch. Fred Flintstone.”

I checked out Paul’s costume. Pretty good, but far from attractive from a woman’s point of view. Paul LOOKED like Fred Flintstone, beer gut and all. His wife Tammy was Slutty Nurse.

“Now look at us,” Bill went on. “Both single, both in the ‘Looking’ category.”

Bill was Count Dracula. Not the Dracula of the new movies, all scary and freaky looking, Bill went for the old school look. White tie and tails. A REAL tail coat, not some cheesy costume. Hair slicked back. That’s it, no goofy makeup or anything like that. He looked good.

“You’re not going to tell me you wore that because you liked the movie,” he said sardonically looking at my costume.

I came as Zorro. Hey I DID like the movie. And, I got to wear a sword. And I was dark enough to pull it off. Well, I looked good in the black pants and shirt. And the hat was cool.

“OK, you made your point,” I said, blushing under my mask. “So now let me go and do something about it.”

“Go and pollinate my young pupil, spread your seed hither and yon,” he said, blessing me.

“You’re a fucking nut, you know that?” I laughed again. Grabbing a beer, I mingled.

The party was getting crowded. I couldn’t help but be mindful of Bill’s observations as I made the rounds. I spent some time talking to Mary, Slutty Bride of Frankenstein and her husband, Mark as, you guessed it, Frankie himself. A ‘set’. Met her sister, Paula the Slutty Pussycat, looking damn good in form-fitting black lycra (I’m still not sure if she had underwear on) and her boyfriend Tom (clown – un-sexy). Talked to Barry from work (Captain Kirk). I was stumped on that one, Barry’s single and I didn’t think the good Captain was likely to get Barry laid. Eventually I realized that Barry was such a Trekkie geek he probably thought going as Jim Kirk WAS a guarantee of Going Where No Geek Has Gone Before. I mentally wished him well and moved on.

Talked to Slutty Hooker (funny how I gravitated to that one, eh?). Terri, 25, paralegal. Wouldn’t shut up and about as interesting as dry toast. Nice boobs though. Listened to her for a little longer. The boobs weren’t that nice. Excused myself to go to the bathroom and pretended not to see her when I got out. It was crowded enough for me to get away with that kind of churlish behavior. I didn’t have to worry, Captain Kirk had moved right in as soon as I stepped away. Hey, maybe she’s a Trekkie too. Live Long and Prosper, Barry; and give me a rundown on all the salacious details Monday at work.

Talked to Adrienne, Larry’s wife, the Slutty Nurse. Met her friend Nancy, the Slutty Punk Rocker. SHE was NICE. Love that mini-skirt, torn fishnets look. Nice girl too, interesting, laughed at my jokes (always a good sign). Nothing happened, Adrienne kept C-blocking me. Can’t understand why she was doing it, we’ve always gotten along just fine. At that point I realized why: SHE was laughing at my jokes too and doing that little ‘touch on the arm’ thing when she was talking. She’s a babe, blond, long legs, nice ass but she’s married. I don’t do that. It was pretty obvious I wasn’t going to get anyplace with Nancy as long as Adrienne was there and I wasn’t about to do anything with Adrienne so I politely moved on. Anozer time, Cheri!

Talked about the Pats with the boys by the bar. Sure, Brady’s getting all the attention but the special teams gave them the Super Bowl. I like Tom, but Drew was a class act.

Around one, I noticed Slutty Maid alone in the middle of the room. Cute. Short, slim, smallish tits, nice legs. Dark brown hair and eyes. French Maid outfit, very short skirt, thigh high black stockings with a lot of leg showing above the top, low neck and a little white apron thingie.

I was drunk enough by then to do something goofy. I snagged a rose from a vase, tucked it alongside my arm and palmed the stem. I walked up to her and made it ‘appear’ in my hand like Bandaras did in the movie. I handed it to her and bowed.

Laughing, she said, “OK, that’s pretty sad.” She did, however, take the rose and smell it.

“It got your attention though,” I replied with a smile.

“So does a car wreck,” she retorted.

“Hey. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Starved for attention? I doubt it,” she giggled, holding the rose against her chin.

“I’m Jim,” I introduced myself.

“Janine,” she said, putting out her hand.

Of course I kissed it. I was in character after all. Just a dry kiss, nothing slurpy.

“Sad,” she laughed. She didn’t pull her hand back.

“So, how do you know Bill?” I asked.

“He’s my cousin,” She answered. “I just moved here from New York and I think he took pity on me and sent an invite.”

“Now THAT”S sad,” I teased. “So desperate for company you have to go to one of Bill’s parties.”

“You’re here, what does that make you?” she shot back with a twinkle.

“Another sad, lonely loser,” I sighed. “Us sad types will just have to stick together and keep each other company.”

“OK, I guess. Until something better comes along.”

“At one of Bill’s parties?” I replied. “I think I’m pretty safe.”

“Uh huh,” she retorted. “So, what’s under that mask, are you like, horribly disfigured?”

“Sadly, yes. I am so ugly women faint, dogs growl and birds fall from the sky.”

“Oh, interesting!” she stood a little closer. “If I took the mask off would I be horrified?”

“Truly,” I replied.

“Well, maybe if I took it off in the dark,” she played along.

“That, that might work,” I said. “We could try it.”

“Maybe later,” she smiled. “Right now, I need another drink.”

She was drinking Apple Martini’s. Bill had hired a bartender for this gig and I ordered her one along with another Bass for me. I told you, Bill does this thing up right. When I got back to her some guy in a football jersey was chatting her up. She blew him off as soon as she saw me, focusing all of her attention on me. Football boy tried to hang around but she froze him out. He left like a whipped dog, tail between his legs. It was awesome.

I’ve always said I could never love a woman that couldn’t tell me I was full of shit. Sure, I’ve gone out with the puppy-dog types, but it’s never lasted. Even my casual flirtations tend to be with the strong personality types. Janine had it in spades. We sat and chatted. She was dry, acerbic, intelligent and absolutely captivating. She was a graphic designer, opening up her own firm here in Boston. Artists were a dime a dozen in New York. Her plan was to do New York work at Boston prices and use the local sell on area clients. It sounded like a good idea, but I suspected there was more to it then that. I got hints of a guy involved in there someplace. A romance gone bad. Rebound guy. I could work with that.

She was so interesting, I lost track of time.

“Well, I guess I should be going,” she said.

I looked up. The party had really cleared out. 3:30, my watch said.

“Wow, where did everyone go?” I laughed. “Hey, I would really like to see you again,” I said.

“Come with me to get my coat and I’ll give you my number,” she replied.

I followed her into Bill’s bedroom, upstairs in the loft. I knew she must be someone special, only a few people got to leave their coats in Bill’s room. Mine was there too.

“It’s the black leather one,” she pointed.

A long black leather trench coat lay on top of mine. I picked it up and held it open for her. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and then stepped back into me. I bent over her shoulder and kissed her, softly on the lips. She turned and put her arms around my neck, kissing me back. Soft, gentle, mouth moving slowly against mine.

She pulled back. “It’s dark enough in here, take that silly mask off,” she smiled, reaching up and gently pulling it off my face with the hat.

“Oh, you’re not ugly at all,” she murmured, caressing my face.

“You sound disappointed,” I smiled.

“Well, maybe a little,” she grinned. "But then again, maybe not.”

She pulled my face in again and our lips met. I felt her tongue and opened my mouth, my own coming out to meet her. She tasted like apples. I pulled her to me, she crushed herself against me, burying her fingers into my short hair. My hand dropped to her ass and she groaned into my mouth. I slid my hand lower to the bare flesh at the top of her thigh, smooth, well muscled. I caressed the cleft of where her leg met her bottom, feeling the silky smoothness of her satin panties.

The door burst open and Larry and Adrienne stumbled into the room laughing.

“Woa! Sorry Jimmy-boy!” Larry whooped. “We’ll just grab our coats and get out of your way!”

Adrienne stayed mute, but looked daggers at Janine. Poor Larry.

They left quickly, but the mood was kind of broken.

“I should go,” Janine said sheepishly.

“Let me at least get you a cab,” I said.


I called one. I got her number, her cell phone and her address.

The cab came. I walked her out.

“Why don’t we share?” she asked me. She lives in Cambridge, across the river. I live in the Back Bay, about a mile and a half from Bill’s Beacon Hill condo.

“Sure!” I enthused, “that way I can make sure you get home OK. Let me go get my coat.”

I ran up the stairs, grabbed my jacket and was on the way out the door when I heard Bill call after me, “She’s a nice girl, you fuck with her head and I’ll have to kill you!” I waived as I ran down the stairs.

She was still there, sitting in the cab, smiling at me. I could see her panties under her short skirt, her legs primly together but still not enough to hide that flash of black satin. I grinned and climbed in the cab, giving the hack her address.

“Do you want to get dropped off first?” she asked.

“No, you’re on my way,” I lied.

We held hands as the cabby drove through the empty streets, over the Mass. Ave. bridge, into Cambridge. I smiled as we actually passed my place on the way over. Her thumb caressed the back of my hand as we sat.

The cab pulled up in front of a trim brownstone near The University.

“Well, this is it,” she said inanely.

We kissed goodbye. Nothing hardcore, just a kiss. No tongues, but it ached. She caressed my face and admonished, “Call me!” before quickly opening the cab door and scampering up the front steps.

“Hold on a minute,” I said to the cabby. I wanted to watch, make sure she got in. I’d leave when the lights came on.

She opened her door, turned and gave me a little wave and went inside. I waited; no lights. Suddenly her front door opened and she appeared on the stoop. Seeing the cab, she grinned and ran over. I rolled down the window.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Leaning down to the window, she whispered, “Um, do you want to come up?”

I over tipped the cabby and was out of the cab like a shot. I followed her through the door and up the stairs to her flat. At the door, she paused and looked at me, laughing.

“Look, I don’t usually do stuff like this.”

I smiled, “Personally, I don’t care if you do it every other Friday.”

“What about alternate Tuesdays?” she grinned, pushing open the door.

I followed her in and pushed it closed behind me. “As long as it’s me, hell, let’s go for every Tuesday – oomph!” I grunted as she threw herself against me. My back slammed into the door with a bang that must have woken the neighbors. Our teeth cracked together as her mouth slammed into mine. I actually tasted the slight saltiness of blood as our tongues met but I couldn’t tell if it was hers or mine. It didn’t matter, I pulled her tight.

“Ouch, Zorro, your sword’s digging into me,” She murmured into my face.

I quickly unbuckled the belt of my costume and the sword fell to the ground with a clatter. I pulled her close, my hands sliding down her back to clutch her ass. I grabbed her cheeks and pulled her hips into me as we kissed.

“Oh Zorro, your sword’s still digging into me,” she giggled.

“Si Senorita,” I laughed, picking her up into my arms. She was a bitty thing, weighing next to nothing. Looking around the apartment, I asked a little sheepishly. “Where’s your bedroom?”

She laughed. “In there,” she pointed.

I carried her into the bedroom. Enough light filtered in from the street to allow me to see where I was going. I still banged my shin on her bedframe as I lowered her onto her mattress. I manfully kept silent.

Her room was neat, but slightly disarrayed. She had obviously not been expecting company. She quickly whipped a bra off the bed as I climbed onto it beside her. I lay next to her, she put her arms around me, laying back and pulling me half on top of her. We kissed, gently, without the frantic ardor of earlier. We exchanged slow, sensuous, long wet kisses that lasted a lifetime. Her hand unbuttoned my shirt, slipped inside, caressed ,my chest. I found the zipper on the back of her costume and lowered it. She rolled onto her side so I could do it easier. I traced her spine with my fingertips as I lowered it as far as it would go. I felt the waistband of her panties. I ran my fingers up again, unhooking her bra as I went past. I just lay there, kissing her, caressing the smooth skin of her back, not rushing things.

She sat up and pulled her dress up and over her head. I caught a flash of her breasts as her loosened bra swung out, nipples dark against pale skin, then a better look as she shrugged out of the bra altogether. Small, firm, capped with dark puffy nipples. Smooth white belly, ridged with muscle, barely a dimple of a belly button. She reached over and unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, pushing it off of my shoulders. I sat up and shucked it off, gathering her in my arms again as I lay back down. He skin was hot against mine, her breasts two small mounds pressing against my chest.

I bent, kissing her neck, sliding a hand across her chest to capture a nipple, small and hard. She moaned as I gently squeezed. I bent lower and captured the other in my mouth, sucking softly and flicking with my tongue. Her fingers played with my hair and she kissed the top of my head. I kissed her lips as my hand scooted down over her taught, smooth belly, burrowing under the waistband of her panties, over the wiry stiffness of her pubic hair, down to her slit.

She opened her legs for me and I delved lower, finding wetness, softness, her lips parting for my finger. I stroked her and she sighed, kissing me deeply and pressing her pelvis against my hand. I fingered her clit with my thumb, sliding my middle finger into her opening, wet and inviting. I fingered her like that until her moaning became more urgent. I peeled her panties off her hips, she pushed them down her legs as I fumbled with my own pants, pushing them to my knees, when she pulled me onto her in her need.

I rolled onto her, my cock banging against her hip. I found her entrance and pushed in. Dear God she was tight! I had to force my cock in inch by tortured inch. She groaned and pushed against me until I was in all the way. I began to pump into her and then felt her squeeze me. I couldn’t help it, I blew it right then and there.

I tried to stay hard, I really did, but way too soon I felt myself going soft. She was so tight that as soon as I did it popped out.

“God, I’m really sorry,” I said sheepishly.

She laughed, but in a warm-hearted way. “Don’t worry about it, it’s early.”

She pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my pants the rest of the way off. “We’ll just have to get Zorro his sword back,” she said huskily.

Bending over me, she took me into her mouth and began sucking gently, caressing my balls while she teased my cock with her tongue. In a surprisingly short time, I grew hard and she began bobbing up and down on my stiffening rod, swirling her tongue around the head on the upstroke. When I was good and hard, she let me slip out of her mouth and straddled me, guiding me into her with her hand. Lowering herself onto my cock, she slowly engulfed me in her almost painfully tight tunnel.

She began to rock back and forth, my cock buried deep inside her, grinding her pelvis against mine. She looked magnificent, a pale marble statue in the dimness of the room, nipples startlingly dark against her alabaster skin. Her dark triangle of wiry curls merged with my own pubis. I reached up and captured her breasts, playing with the nipples as she rocked on me. It was subtle, mind blowing sex. Teasing, tormenting with her in control. That’s not normally my thing, but this was just too good. She watched me through half closed eyes veiled with lust, a slight smile on her full lips. She glowed in the moonlight.

Her eyes closed, her head fell forward and she ground into me urgently.

“Unnnnn,” she moaned, “Oh, yes. Oh! Mmmmmmmm OH!”

Her head snapped back and she groaned. I felt her cunt squeeze me painfully tight and then throb around my member as she came. She fell forward on top of me and I held her tight, thrusting into her.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she groaned, cumming again as I thrust hard into her. She gripped me tight as I slammed burying myself deep inside her.

“Ungh!” I grunted as I spilled myself in her yet again, panting against her shoulder.

We kissed, caressed and babbled inanities through the night. We made love again, and then again with the morning.

Bill still throws his world famous Halloween party. Over the years, I’ve had opportunity to reflect on his thesis regarding men’s Halloween costumes. I still go to his party every year. This year I’m going as Julius Cesar. It’s a pretty cool costume with armor and, of course, a sword. I have to say, I look pretty good in it. Janine picked it out. She’s going as Cleopatra.

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