Devil. Angel. Switch!

"Oh yeah, right. Righteousness." I stood up. "Go get dressed, then pray for the next twelve hours." I headed for the door.

"Wait! I haven't danced on it yet!"

I looked back. "What will you do to earn that?"

She sat up. "I'll...umm...taste its purity and goodness?" She winced.

"If you insist." I returned to the bed.

The wings hinged enough to go flat as I lay on my back. I would have rather stripped, and stripped her, because I always prefer full skin contact. But she was grooving so much on us being in costume that I let this play out. She hiked up my tunic. As usual, she handled my shlong like it might electrocute her, and tentatively took it into her mouth.

She wasn't much of a fellatrix, and never wanted to finish me orally, but now she was enjoying her devil role. Her licking and sucking weren't enthusiastic, but soon she had me close to pinning the meter. I warned her by gasping, "Purity is on the way."

Quickened by fear of a mouthful, she rose and straddled. I guided the prick as she lowered onto it. Her fishnets rubbed against my hips as she rode, and the odd surprise of that sensation launched me. I spazzed and flexed at least as much as she had earlier. I hadn't been able to hold back and try to get her a second cum, but she now looked as exhausted as I suddenly was. We settled for a costume-careful kiss, then laughed through a brief duel between the halo and the horns.

We undressed carefully. She prefers baths to showers, and this one was without the jets. "That was fun," she said drowsily, giving me full skin contact. "Let's keep the costumes. There's still time before Halloween."

"Sure," I yawned.

As we dried, she said, "I think I was more devil than you were angel."

"I told you to pray."

"You'll have to do better than that next time."

As noted, for me sex gets body contact, and sleep doesn't. We were both zonked before she could ask for cuddling.

***

Myra was already embracing me.

"I always wanted you," she said, and kissed my neck. "You pleased me more than you ever knew. So many women fake orgasms. I tried to hide mine." She slid a leg around my hip, raised my prick, and pushed it against her vulva. "Our souls sang together through our bodies. That's how I knew it had to be."

Our skins were warm and firm, the air enriched our lungs. My heart pounded, as it always had done when I held her nude flesh. If she were a succubus, I had no defense against her.

This seemed so real. I felt weight, moisture, sleek skin. In terror I thought, will I die in the real world the moment I enter Myra in this one?

"Yes, I wanted your sperm, more and more of it, and if you kept going, thinking I wasn't satisfied, I'd get it." Then she gave a high gasp as she enveloped my prick. Wet heat found all of its surfaces, below the glans, along the duct. I clenched. It's not like I allowed it to happen. Refusal wasn't an option.

"I could never let you love anyone else," she went on hoarsely. "While I was pregnant, I had to keep you from straying. I had to have all of your life-giving power!"

I squeezed her left buttock as I drove deep in her tunnel. Rings of muscle flexed around my shaft, as I withdrew and advanced, over and over. "This can be our eternity!" she wailed. "I want you, need you with me! This is the love we'll have forever. It's our reward!"

"No!" I groaned. But I clutched her to me. I spewed into her, again and again, glorying in the release, feeling everything, her spasms, her heel pushing against the crook of my knee, her hair between my fingers, my other fingers splayed on her back ribs.

In the next moment, alive and awake, I whimpered, "Do I want to believe this?"

LuAnn slept on.

That dream didn't fade as the day advanced.

***

Even with the stores open, I still had work to do. This was a nationwide operation, barely hanging together. I had insisted on safety within the workforce, but that meant I had to find replacements for opt-outs by truck drivers, warehouse workers, janitors, etc. I brought in temp agencies with people desperate for work, and maybe not worried enough about their own health and safety. I started disliking myself, and what I was doing.

A few times a day I had almost-serious thoughts about joining Myra in this great beyond of hers, where the fucking sure seemed real. I had to remind myself that my brain had been thrown into a sick fantasy by some home movies. LuAnn and I had each other, and it was wonderful, despite all our bickering.

I spent my days badgering people in video conferences and trying to shake off Myra dreams, some of which were vague and didn't seem all that sexy. Four times, Myra didn't make a coherent pitch for the eternal love she had waiting for me. One dream, though, had an overwhelming sensation. With both legs wrapped around me, Myra rode my swollen pole, and held her breasts to my face. I didn't just smell milk, I tasted it. When I woke up, there was no more milk in my mouth than there was jizz in my lap. But I yearned for her.

How could she be lactating in that realm of death?

I did nearly all my work through my laptop, but LuAnn wanted to go a little further with the angel-devil thing, so on our next date we went back to Turazian's store, in costume. I was still worried about the 18-and-up, and I used checking on the pumpkin delivery as an excuse.

It was a chilly night, deep in October. I wore jeans under the angel tunic, and warm socks with thick-soled shoes. LuAnn added nothing, saying it'd be warm enough in the store. I thought my achievement would be her comeuppance, because the repeat business was kicking in, and we were eighth in line to get into the store. But Lu was fine through the whole wait, winking at men without kids, flirting if she got a reaction.

At first, I thought this was just more or her devil fun.

Then I remembered who LuAnn Murchison had been.

Even when we got inside, in the store's 'spooky' lighting, she looked great. I think she knew it.

This might have been a chance for us to do the role play in real life, and get a clear idea of the other person's baseline thinking, but Turazian hauled me aside to plead for a higher limit on people in the store. As he was moaning about rain and snow and losing the people in line outside, I lost track of Lu. By the time I got through to him that he'd have to make a case to the health department on his own, I found myself alone, except for a gaggle of kinda-distanced six-year-olds laughing at a grown man in a dorky angel costume.

I made a cursory inspection of the all-ages. As I moved to the 13-and-up, I already knew where I'd find LuAnn.

It was worse than I thought. She was not only in the 18-and-up, flirting with the Ghost, but she had an armload of naughty nighties, sheer body stockings, and neon-color thongs. She cooed, "Will you get a commission for these?"

"Uh, no," said Diego, who was on minimum wage with no benefits. His outfit didn't have a codpiece, and now didn't need one.

"Well, I'll tell them at checkout what a great salesman you are."

"Checkout," he yelped. "Yeah, uh, before you go there, all that stuff has to go in a bag. Um, M'lady." He scrambled to a counter and snatched open a box of the traditional plain brown paper variety.

"Good job," I said, calling attention to myself for the first time, enunciating hard to be clear through the mask. "Nothing from in here should be visible in the other rooms."

"Yeah yeah," he said, nodding jerkily to me, holding out the huge open bag to LuAnn. "Uh, forsooth."

"Oh don't worry about that angel," said LuAnn, dumping in all of her sleazy swag. Her chuckle was ever so devilish. "He's no fun."

Werewolf and Vampire laughed at that, at least as much as they laughed at Diego's discomfort. LuAnn turned to them as she rolled the bag closed and said, "And by the way, if you must be nasty, you should call me a DILF. D for divorceé." Then she strode towards the exit, turning there to wave to Diego.

At checkout, the cashier gawked at the bag. Turazian was next to her. She said, "How do I, uh—"

Turazian murmured, "Put the bag on the floor behind the counter, kneel down, use the handheld scanner."

I couldn't resist. I said to him, "You think the third room is really worth it?"

Looking haggard, he glowered, and said nothing. But I knew he'd keep it open.

***

In the car I said, "Enjoying yourself?"

She winked. "You wanted me more naughty. Now I can dress the part."

"After giving a kid blue balls." My grumpiness surprised me.

"He's a good boy," she said tenderly. "And see what it's got him? He needs a bad girl."

"Right now he needs a cold shower."

"Worry about yourself, Mr. Righteousness." She waited for the car to stop at a red light, then leaned over, pulled down her mask, and blew in my ear.

I'm not religious. Neither is she. We were going through a duel of Good and Evil without any biblical loading. I didn't need holy writ, I had memories of Langdon State.

I went along with the fun as she tried on all the cheap crap that could give depravity a bad name. The ensuing sex was okay, although she could probably tell I wasn't at my randiest. I gave her about a three-minute cuddle before separating for sleep.

The dream was mostly vague, but I remember desiring Myra more than before. And that Myra had said two words she had used in college to describe LuAnn. 'Rich bitch.'

***

As October wore on, I was no happier with this gig than Turazian was. Eleven stores closed for various lockdown reasons, ranging from people refusing to wear masks in stores, to kids quitting their jobs in areas that were becoming hot zones. Business was strong elsewhere, and once the workers were accustomed to the party hosting, things went pretty well. I spent two grueling days, though, juggling the supply chain for the swag bags, when a big confectioner stopped production because of positive tests in its workforce.

I bought some non-prescription sleep aids. They got me down from the caffeine at night, and made the Myra dreams vague.

I read the sleep aid label carefully, and in doing so recalled the tiny fragments of kinesiology and body chemistry that I'd learned while trying to be a competitive athlete. I did a little searching, and found out how much had become commonplace in forty years.

The pills, among other things, got me past buildups of the stress chemical cortisol, which my brain brewed because of work. This search led to me some details about endorphins, associated with the 'runner's high' which had kept me going, back in the day. My dirty mind then directed me to the connection of sex with dopamine and, more recently understood, oxytocin. The mere awareness of the existence of sex improved my attitude as I went back to work.

One day, with work stalled because people weren't returning my messages, LuAnn texted me that she was going to meet Diego Robles for coffee, assuring me that they'd mask and distance and all that.

That didn't stop me in my tracks, because I'd been sitting down for hours. It started tracks. I got up and paced, staring at the phone. Unable to decide what to say, or think.

I texted back: Why?

Her reply: Just to talk. Is that okay?

It took me several deep breaths to remember that LuAnn and I weren't married, or bonded, or committed to each other beyond the effort to overcome our geriatric loneliness (with sex).

My next text: Talk is okay.

Which declared the non-okayness of everything other than talk.

Around dinnertime, LuAnn called. "Ronnie, could you please come over?"

"Sure" came out of my mouth before I could form the thought: Am I being dumped?

"Have you eaten? My dinner has already been delivered."

"I'll drive through somewhere," I said. Harshly. What was wrong with me?

She looked distraught when she opened the door. She held my arm as she escorted me to the living room.

I wondered how many of the sleep aids I'd need to join Myra.

She sat us side by side on a loveseat, holding both my hands.

"Ronnie," she said, locking on her baby blues, "I want us to be together. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't ever want to hurt you. Have I hurt you already?"

The knot in my chest loosened. I smiled for her. "I didn't know what to think, that's all. And work, and everything—"

"But this could hurt you, I know it," she pressed on. "Today was just talk. And that helped Diego and me both, I think. And I think I could help him more, if it won't hurt you."

The knot started reforming. I tried to sound calm. "What do you have in mind?"

She raised our joined hands and kissed mine. "I think our angel and devil game has been really important. For me, anyway. More than just fun. I see some things differently. And how maybe doing something I used to think was bad, might turn out to be good."

The knot was gone, and I thought it wouldn't return. This wasn't the selfish LuAnn of forty years ago. I already knew what she wanted to do, but I didn't think it would hurt me. Still, I was uneasy.

She looked at me. "Has being an angel changed you?"

I hadn't tried to behave differently, but there were plenty of times when I hadn't been my old self. "I've been...more timid. Thinking about consequences." I didn't say that this was usually a direct response to her devilry.

LuAnn nodded. "At the coffee house, Diego was very nervous with me. I said that I just wanted to be his friend. As we got acquainted, he said that he has a girlfriend, and they'd like to, you know, be together. But she's even more shy than he is. He also admitted that he's never, um, done it, and doesn't want to disappoint her." She swallowed, and edged closer to me. "Ronnie, for eight months you've been the devil I needed. Now I can be the devil someone else needs, but only if you're the angel who says that it's all right."

I sifted what little data I had on this kid, wondering if he could invent this girlfriend story just to get LuAnn in the sack. Could Vampire and Werewolf have put him up to it? "You didn't meet his girlfriend," I stated flatly.

She picked up her phone. "He gave me a picture." She showed me a selfie of Diego and a probably-pretty young woman, maybe smiling under their masks, on what looked like any campus quad.

That cinched it. I smiled at her. "To prove that you're enough of a devil for this," I said, "You have to say, yourself, what you want to do."

"And take responsibility," she said, parroting what I'd told her many times. She sat up straight and said, "Ronnie, I want to have sex with Diego, and show him what you've shown me about sex."

I then had to bring up what the world was living with. "Has he been corona tested?"

"His college tests all students once a week. He's negative."

"There's a lot you won't be able to do with him. You can't kiss. You'll need condoms and surgical gloves, as well as masks. You can't get mouths involved, only talk about what mouths can do."

My commonplace tone of voice, as I spoke about her having sex with another man, was what she needed to hear. She threw her arms around me. "Oh Ronnie thank you!" She pulled her head back with a smile. "But I can kiss you, my lockdown partner." And she did, tongue getting devilish.

On her next breath she asked. "Is it weird if we, you and me, do it? Now?"

"No weirder than before," I said, with a boob squeeze that wasn't angelic.

***

This time Myra and I were lying on our sides, on something that yielded beneath us but didn't actually feel, or look, like anything.

We were in light contact from the waist up. I think we had already fucked.

She stroked my cheek. "How much longer must I wait?" she asked.

Somehow it was different this time. I could think clearly. "I don't care, Myra."

Her placid smile vanished. With a confused frown she said, "But you love me!"

I did. Still. Stupidly, ridiculously. The self I had in this place was flooded with heartache. Yet I said, "My love belongs with the living. You never gave me your living love. If I need to die to have your love, it isn't worth it."

She looked stunned, mouth open. I stroked her cheek, mocking her. "I'll die eventually. If you can bring me here then and fuck my brains out, go for it. Maybe not my first choice of afterlife, but I sure could do worse."

I then saw on her face an expression I'd never seen before. I think it was helplessness. After that, I saw the kitschy flocked wallpaper in Luann's bedroom.

***

In the next few days I had more dreams of Myra, all vague, and without her acknowledging that I'd talked back to her. These dreams were like the early ones. I shrugged them off by mid-morning.

All of the stores shut down for good on October 30. Turazian used Halloween itself to hold a party for the employees. I used my company involvement this time, to get LuAnn and me in. We went in our costumes, which were still intact, although I had to straighten my halo support.

The unsold merch had been boxed up and moved to the loading dock. The partitions had come down. Lu and I agreed that we'd stay no longer than when the canned music loop got to the third playing of Classics IV's "Spooky."

The employees stayed masked, but were clearly relieved and relaxed. Many of them had brought dates. Diego and his girlfriend were in high (non-alcoholic) spirits, despite having to limit their pandemic displays of affection. I think Lu and Diego exchanged glances only once. I'd never asked for details, and she'd never offered. I told myself that it was all good.

Our masks hid our enjoyment of the plight of Vampire and Werewolf. They didn't have dates, seemed to get nowhere with the female employees, and hugely resented Diego's situation.

Before long, LuAnn and I found ourselves getting more interested in each other. "Spooky" had played only twice when we ducked out.

In her bedroom, LuAnn looked me in the eyes. "Halloween is over," she said. "I'm ready for us to be ourselves again."

"Good," I said.

She felt that she had to say more. "I liked flirting with Diego. And doing the rest of it. But you're the one I want to be with. The one who makes me feel safe as I fall asleep."

"Thanks," I said, voice cracking. Yes, part of me had felt threatened. But now, most of me liked her openness about this.

To my surprise, she laughed. "You look so ridiculous in that getup!"

"And you look way too sexy in that one," I said. "I should get it off of you."

She gasped, I think affronted and aroused equally. "You're no longer entitled to wear this!" she said, jabbing the pitchfork above my head and crumpling the halo.

Quickly I grabbed her tail and pulled. The sweatshop-made shorts showed their workmanship by ripping to shreds. Pink panties seemed to clash with the dark fishnets.

"That tears it, Mister!" she yelped, maybe meaning it both ways. She snatched my gown and hauled it up, pinning my arms and blocking my view. I stepped back, she pulled and tore, and I was down to mangled wings, boxer briefs, and walking shoes. I ducked in to get my hands around her and work the corset hooks. Her bubbly laughter infected me, exactly the way coronavirus hadn't.

The main thing I was aware of in the next few seconds was the firmness of her grip, first on my underwear and then on my prick. Then I found myself banging deep in her hot, slick, no-oral-first pussy. We were side-by-side on the bed. One broken wing dug into my armpit. She wore one mostly-intact stocking. The clip holding her horns had rotated ninety degrees, making her look like a demonic unicorn.

"You've got to fuhh, umm," she began. I was laughing harder when she said, "You've got to love, the devil out of me!"

Corrupting her speech pattern remained one of my projects for our golden years. "The love will be there," I said, as her jouncing breasts lured my hands. "And the fuhh really likes the devil it's found." She'd never been this wet with me. I had a steel girder of an erection. Role-playing might be worth continued exploration. As for LuAnn banging young men...we'd discuss that some other time.