Night of the Living Dead

I smiled. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at me like Heather was, with actual interest and attention. I was momentarily lost in her gaze.

"Thank you," I managed to stammer. "I like to think I'm decent."

Not wanting to seem like I was as awkward as I felt at this beautiful woman's advances, I attempted to keep the conversation light and moving. I joked, "Though if you want, I can let you talk to my ex-wife and she can dispel that notion."

Heather chuckled. "I think I can make up my own mind," and then continued, "And I can do the same. My ex will gladly tell you I'm a garbage person. For many years, I wondered if I was treated like a trash bag because I acted like trash. It took years of therapy for me to realize that allowing someone to treat me like garbage didn't mean that I actually was."

"I felt the same after I found out about my ex-wife's affair," I said. "I think I eventually worked through feeling terrible about myself, and though I was always faithful, I accept my part leading to the divorce. Few relationships break totally due to one person."

"It's really stranger how our marriages fell apart in a similar manner and we have so much in common, but Anthony never mentioned you to me before recently in regards to this party. Riley and I have been friends since college, so I've known Anthony as long as they've been married."

"It is kind of strange," I said. "I met Anthony when the company was looking for a tech writer, so that was about 8 years ago. We worked together pretty closely on my first project, so he knows I've been divorced for the past two years and that I haven't dated at all."

"Really? No dating? I don't know how you've gone this long without fucking someone," Heather said. "While I haven't had a long term relationship since my divorce, I was out at bars and clubs within six months. A lot of what I did then certainly wasn't mentally healthy, but I needed to fuck."

"I definitely haven't been opposed to sex," I said. "But truth be told, there are plenty of men out there that will fuck any woman if she's interested. And you're tremendously attractive. I can't imagine it was hard to find someone if you just wanted sex."

"Well, it's not like you're terrible looking," Heather said.

I laughed, "Yeah, well, not terrible looking doesn't instill a ton of confidence in a forty-something year old who hasn't dated someone new in over twenty years. The world of dating has changed a lot in that time. The idea of "swiping right" or sliding into a stranger's DMs or sexting with someone online just seems weird and something for people much younger. I distinctly remember getting my first e-mail account in college, whereas my daughter had Instagram in middle school. My first memories of the internet were of black screens with green text, and pictures were something you waited 10+ minutes to download in order to see. Kids the same age now as I was then have never known a world where they couldn't be instantly chatting with a stranger via video anywhere in the world."

"I admit it is a strange dating world out here," Heather said. "And everything changes so quickly. Ten years ago, MySpace was the most popular social networking site and now it doesn't even exist. Maybe it's just because I've been out in it longer than you that it's easier for me to navigate."

"Or maybe it's because you're ridiculously hot," I said.

Heather smiled. "I've got to admit I do enjoy hearing you say that."

"Do you want to get a drink?" Heather asked.

"Definitely," I replied, shaking the remnants of the melting ice in my empty cup.

Anthony and Riley were off to our side talking with another couple, and I walked towards Anthony.

"We're going to go get a drink," I told him.

"You two go on," Anthony said. "Riley wants to dance anyway." Gerard McMahon's "Cry Little Sister" was now playing over the room's speakers.

Heather took my hand and led me towards the bar. I turned back to look at Anthony, and he smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I flipped him off, and we both laughed.

As Heather and I made our way through the crowd, she asked, "So where did you find that cool mask so quickly? I didn't see it at any of the Spirits or local stores I've been to this season."

"Actually, I have a mask collection, mainly horror and monster type stuff," I replied. "I realize that's kind of weird."

"Is anything weird these days?" Heather said. "I think that's cool, though. I love Halloween and horror movies. Do you have a lot of masks?"

"20 or so, give or take. I used to have more, but sold some of them around the time I got divorced. I got rid of all of the really expensive ones as the cash was more desirable at the time."

Heather said, "Well, maybe I'll get to see them sometime."

We had made our way to the bar. "Vodka cranberry," Heather ordered from the bartender. "Vodka ginger ale," I added.

"Is that your usual?" Heather asked me.

"Pretty much. I drink to get drunk, or at least buzzed, and vodka does the job with the most palatable taste." I said. "Even though I went to college, I never developed a taste for beer. Seems like a waste of time to drink something that tastes terrible with such a low proof. I could have a couple of shots and a Coke and be much happier."

Heather laughed, and we made our way back into the crowd, drinks in hand while Siouxsie Sioux sang about "trick or treat, the bitter and the sweet".

"Let's sit over there," Heather said, pointing at a vacant couch in an area near the back of the room.

I sat first, and Heather joined me, sitting close enough that our legs were almost touching and much closer than I anticipated for someone I had just met. This part of the room was much darker than the area we came from, and as I took a drink, Heather pointed to the corner of the hallway leading to the restrooms. "Look," she said.

Down the dark hallway, the Bride of Frankenstein (a sexy version, of course) was sucking the Monster's cock. The couple were either exhibitionists or quite drunk as they weren't trying to hide their actions at all, and while the hallway was the darkest part of the room, they were very visible from where Heather and I sat. Plus, the restrooms were only feet away. The Bride was wearing a short skirt and was squatting in front of the Monster. From the way she was crouching, her skirt was open directly towards us, as if the Bride was showing off her lack of panties in such a short skirt by presenting her smoothly shaven twat to us. The Monster wore a traditional Karloff-style costume, and his pants were pulled down to mid-thigh.

The Bride's left hand caressed the right thigh of the monster, while her right hand was wrapped around the base of a large, thick cock, her mouth engulfing the end. She bobbed down and up, down and up, until letting the cock slip from her mouth so she could lick the tip of the Monster's circumcised head. The Bride slid her right hand up between his legs and under his balls, appearing to rub either his ass or taint. The Monster put his hand on the back of the Bride's head and pulled her back down his prick, and he thrust his hips forward, burying it about three-fourths of the way in her throat. The Bride held her head in place, before returning to bobbing up and down. Her left hand strayed from between the Monster's legs down between her own spread legs and traced along her vulva. Stroking herself, she began to bob faster on the prick, and when she moved her fingers up to rub her clit, I sensed this blowjob might be coming to an end.

"He's got quite the impressive cock," Heather said.

"He definitely does," I agreed.

"I bet it feels good in that slut's throat," Heather added.

I didn't have a reply to that. Noticing my silence, Heather turned her head away from the cocksucking towards me.

"Was I too crass?" she asked. "We do barely know each other. I tend to talk pretty freely."

"No, not at all," I said. "I just didn't know how to respond to that." I paused before continuing, "This is a bit hard to say, but I want to be perfectly honest with you before anything happens further...not that I'm expecting anything, but you know."

I continued, "I'm by no means endowed like that. At best, I'm average. Growing up, I had a bit of a complex that I was smaller than the guys I'd see in porn, but once I became sexually active, I never had any complaints and was always able to make my partner cum. So I got over it. But I know the guy my wife had an affair with was well endowed, and with us never getting back on track sexually, I guess my complex came back and I have been wary of being involved with anyone again. Maybe that's one of the reasons I haven't looked to date since my divorce. Without getting back out there, I don't have to worry about disappointing someone new and being rejected again."

Heather put her hand on my leg. "That's incredibly honest," she said. "I wouldn't expect someone I've known such a short time to say that."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to say too much or make you uncomfortable. I just didn't want..."

Heather cut me off. "No, you didn't say too much, and I really appreciate you sharing something so vulnerable with me," she said. "Most guys don't bother with honesty from the get go."

"I'm not looking for that," she said, pointing at the couple. "I'm more interested in finding a nice guy over what you're packing in your pants. The first thing I asked Anthony when he told me about you was 'How thirsty is he?' There are a lot of fuckboys out there," Heather explained.

"Don't get me wrong...I enjoy a good fuck as much as anyone as I've told you, but at my age, I'd rather meet someone that I can actually have a conversation with over dinner. My idea of a good evening is to Netflix and chill literally, not spend it playing a game fighting off some thirsty motherfucker's advances to get in my panties."

Heather poked her finger into my chest and traced it downwards.

"When I wear them that is," she added, giving me a wink.

Heather continued, "If things go there, all I expect is for you to be a generous lover. I've got vibrators that can get me off whenever I want. In a lover, I'm looking for human interaction. With communication, a couple can be what the other needs."

"So the three GGG's?" I said.

"Yes!" Heather exclaimed. "You listen to Dan Savage, too?"

"Not religiously, but sometimes when I'm feeling down or alone, it's nice to hear about other people's problems and listen to some sage advice. Dan's a smart guy."

"So true," Heather said. "So are you good, giving, and game for anything?"

"I definitely am," I said, and I took Heather's hand that had been resting on my leg.

At this moment, Frankenstein's Monster and his Bride walked past us hand-in-hand, having finished their corner rendezvous while Heather and I talked.

"I'm pretty sure she missed a drop on her dress," Heather said, and I laughed.

Heather leaned up to whisper in my ear, "Do you want to get out of here? My place isn't far."

"I would love to."

Heather pulled out her phone. Moments later, she said, "The Uber's on its way. Let's go."

The Blue Oyster Cult blaring, I took Heather's hand and led her to the door. "Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper."

Part 3: It Was Dead, but It Opened Its Eyes

A few minutes later, the Uber pulled up at a three story apartment complex.

"I live on the bottom floor," Heather said, pointing to a door near the car. The bottom floor was actually down a staircase, the middle of the door even with the parking lot so the apartment was both above and below ground.

"It's kind of a weird apartment," she said as we walked to it. "I don't know why they built the bottom floor halfway below ground. Maybe because the power lines are too low to get three floors in if it was level with the ground or something."

Heather slipped her key into the lock. "It's dark most of the time and kind of has a dungeon feel. I like it, but I could see how some people would consider that a negative," she said, laughing. "It also has heating and cooling issues, which definitely are a negative."

Heather opened the door and we entered. "Truthfully, it's kind of a shithole, but it's in a good location and with Lily at college, it's fine for me. I've thought about moving but just haven't put forth the effort."

The apartment opened into a large den area which was decorated with black curtains, a couch and chair, a large tv, and bookshelves stacked with movies, books, and knickknacks. At the back of her den was a kitchen area on the left side and on the right side, a wall with two closed doors.

"The bathroom is the door back there on the far right if you need it," Heather said. "Do you want another drink? I have some vodka."

"Sure," I said. "Plain on the rocks is fine."

Heather went into the kitchen to make the drinks. "Why don't you find a horror movie on the shelf for us to watch?"

I went over to her bookshelf, looked for a few moments, and then took Trick 'r Treat over to the Blu-ray player. I put it in the player and turned on the tv, and the movie started as Heather came back with our glasses.

"Good choice," she said. "Probably the best Halloween-themed movie ever."

"The only one close would be the original Halloween," I said.

Sitting down next to me on the couch, Heather asked, "What's your favorite movie?"

"It's kind of obscure, but I love Waiting for Guffman," I said. "It's a hilarious mockumentary by Christopher Guest."

"I fucking love that movie!" Heather exclaimed. "The Guest movies are all great, though I think Best in Show might be my favorite."

"Another great one" I said. "It's a hard choice, but Guffman reminds me a lot of the town I grew up in and it was the first of his movies, so that's why I usually go with it."

Heather leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. "You're definitely different than the last few guys I've dated," she said.

Heather moved close to me and rested her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and she nestled into my side. For the next few minutes, we watched the movie in silence.

As Dylan Baker lectured a vandal on the rules and traditions of Halloween, Heather asked, "Do you miss your ex-wife?"

She kept her head on my shoulder, so I kept looking ahead at the tv and responded, "Not really. We stayed together too long after it had gone bad. But I do miss having somebody."

"That's exactly how I felt after my divorce," Heather said.

After another couple of minutes of watching the movie, she asked, "When was the last time you were truly happy?"

I thought hard. "I don't know," I replied. "There have certainly been moments when I've been happy. I guess they mostly revolved around my daughter, like watching her graduate high school. The day I dropped her off at college was bittersweet, but I was very happy to know that I managed to raise her to where she could get into college and begin to make her own life. I just hope she learned enough from her parents' mistakes to not make the same ones."

Heather lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me. "I think all parents wish that," Heather said.

I turned my head towards her and continued, "But it's been so long since I was truly happy that I don't remember what it actually feels like. I just have memories of the time when I knew that I was. I dull my evenings with weed or liquor, so at least I feel content." I added, "Though I've very much enjoyed this night with you."

"I have too," Heather said. "But I understand how you feel. I was stuck for a long time after my marriage fell apart, and I lost a lot of myself at the end. I had planned to be with my ex forever, and I didn't know what to do when that turned out not to be the plan. For years, I felt like I was only pretending to live. After a couple of years of fuck therapy to feel something, I finally got professional help. And it's actually worked. It's taken a couple of years with my therapist, but I no longer feel like the walking dead. I feel alive again.

"You're a good man, Tad," Heather said. "I want to help you feel alive."

She put her hand on the back of my head and pulled my mouth into hers. We kissed hard. Heather slid her tongue into my mouth, and I met her invasion with my own. Our kiss was wet and hungry, and when Heather pulled back, saliva stretched from my mouth to hers. The string broke and dripped down her chin.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Heather said, "I want to show you something. I'll be right back."

Heather entered what I assumed was her bedroom and shut the door behind her. I sat back down on the couch to wait.

About five minute later, Heather called for me to come into the room. When I walked through the door, Heather was standing in front of the foot of the queen bed facing me in a new costume. Instead of the Harley Quinn bodysuit, Heather was dressed in a white Power Girl leotard with a chunky yellow belt and the same tall black vinyl boots she wore earlier at the party. Heather's substantial breasts strained against the circular cutout in the center of the costume. The suit was so tight that her cleavage actually jutted out of the opening, as if straining to escape.

"I thought Power Girl would be a great costume since I love the old Justice League comic and she's thick and blonde like I am," Heather said. "Plus, I know my tits are one of my best features and I do enjoy showing them off." Heather looked down sheepishly at her bulging bust. "Usually I'm my own seamstress, but I've been so busy that I made the mistake of ordering the costume online. As I'm sure you can see, the fabric is too thin and leaves nothing to the imagination."

Heather was correct. Next to the large circular cutout were two smaller dark circles...the fabric so thin that her areolas were clearly visible, and I could even tell that her nipples were pink as opposed to brown. The large belt to the costume dipped down in front, covering her groin, but above the belt I could make what I thought was a tattoo around her navel. If not for the belt, I'm sure I would have been able to tell if her bush was full, trimmed, or nonexistent.

"And the back isn't exactly comic accurate." Heather turned around, facing the bed. The chunky belt that dipped down in the front rested upon her ample ass, which should have been fully covered by the white suit. Instead, a thin strap ran up the center, barely covering her crack. "I guess they were going more for stripper than superhero. Even with the cape, this isn't con wearable."

Her ass still towards me, Heather bent forward at the waist. The thin strap immediately slipped into her asscrack and the edges of her vulva appeared between her legs. My cock, already perky just from being in Heather's apartment, came to full attention.

"Unless I don't move, nothing is left to the imagination," she said, looking back over her shoulder at me.

"I'm sure it would be a big hit at the con," I said. I had stood motionless in the doorway of her bedroom upon entering, mesmerized by a fantasy in the flesh, but now, I walked towards her

I ran the tips of my fingers over the exposed skin of her ass and up the slick material of the costume covering her lower back. Heather stood upright and leaned into me. My hands moved around her and grazed over her stomach. I unclasped her belt and let it fall to the floor. Heather slid her hands on top of mine and moved them up to her breasts. I squeezed her tits, enjoying the fullness and the squish under my fingers, the points of her nipples poking into my palms. Heather slid her hands off mine and to the edge of the costume's center hole and pulled. The thin fabric gave, tearing the hole wider and spilling her breasts. Heather turned around and pushed me away from her.

"Look at me," she said. "Power Girl is all disheveled, my tits finally free of this tight costume, my cunt practically on display to the world."