Our Halloween Party with the Oracle of Delphi

This is my entry to the Halloween Story Contest 2022.

**

After graduation I floundered about but finally lucked out and got a good job in Manhattan, the primo borough of New York City. I thought the salary was good but I quickly received a reality check when I encountered apartment rental rates. Whoa. I'd have to find a roommate to even stand a chance of surviving. Besides paying rent, I also wanted to eat food.

I went on the Smith College Facebook Group site and found a recent graduate who "desperately" needed a roommate. I didn't know her from when she was at Smith but we had a few friends in common, her apartment was well located, and my share of the rent was affordable, if barely so.

We hit it off right away. She was thrilled to welcome me as her roommate, as was I with her. There was one warning sign but I ignored it.

"Do you have noise-cancelling headphones?" Monica asked me.

"Yes. They're Bose headphones. Why do you ask? You can borrow them from time to time if you want," I replied.

"Thanks, Joanie. I have my own headphones. It's just that when I entertain a man, well, I can be rather noisy, if you know what I mean."

"I see. No worries. It's important to enjoy the other sex from time to time. You got someone steady?"

"No, not yet. Right now I'm enjoying some variety."

"I can imagine." Monica has a hot body. She's around five feet nine inches tall, with curves to die for and long, shapely legs. Some girls are just lucky that way. Oh yes, her blemish-free face is also pretty. She's the type of girl men pursue.

Me? I'm not so lucky. I mean I'm attractive, even pretty. Being pretty can be rather far away from being a sex siren, however, and that's what Monica is. She's the sex siren of West 91st Street. I mean it: put her in a tight sweater and a mini-skirt and she can stop traffic. Of course, traffic is always stopped in NYC, it seems, but you get my point.

I had nobody. I just moved here from mid-north-central Indiana, via Smith College in Massachusetts, and I hadn't plugged into any networks to meet men. Monica was about the only person I knew well! No, that's not right: there were other recent Smith graduates in Manhattan. Not as many as you might think, since Smith students are more oriented towards Boston than New York.

This meant I kind of vicariously enjoyed Monica's well-established social life. I hoped it at times would include me, and occasionally Monica made a serious effort to include me. I worried she treated me as a charity case when it came to a social life. But, you know, I didn't need men to enjoy myself. There was so much to see and to do in New York that it seemed every weekend I was at a different museum, although the Metropolitan Museum of Art alone occupied four weekends, both days, and I still felt as if I had barely made a dent. I also enjoyed going to the movies alone. I mean, it might have been nice to have gone with a man, but I still enjoyed myself plenty while being solitary.

**

I had been an aspiring actress in high school and in college. In high school the drama teacher had said not to worry: I needed more "life experiences" to draw upon. I took him seriously and so I let Ronnie S. get what he had always wanted from me. It turned out to be one hell of a life experience. The romance lasted several weeks, in fact, and I learned more than I needed to know at that tender age. The affair stopped when Ronnie S. was arrested on drug charges.

Yes, my acting improved as I brought my little but emotionally turbulent affair to mind when I acted in theater class. My acting improved a lot!

In college I felt I needed even more "life experiences" to broaden my perspective on things, so I tried drugs, some exhibitionism, and of course a little sexual activity, often tied into the exhibitionism. I liked the idea of taking the risk of being caught or at least seen. I acquired a few "life experiences" that way. By the time graduation rolled around, I was ready to try my hand at professional acting in New York City, imagining tempting roles on Broadway, or on off-Broadway, or on off-off-Broadway.

The only real offers I got, however, were from the porn industry, across the river in Hoboken, NJ. They were lucrative offers and would doubtless increase my life experiences as well as my income, but they were not for me. I'm just not that kind of girl. I did, however, audition for a role as a naïve bimbo talked into sex while on a ride in an amusement park. The audition alone sobered me up (and yes, I did have sex on the ride during the audition. It was awesome getting naked and penetrated while everyone around me was screaming). I was offered the role, and while the money was tempting, I just couldn't do it.

**

I gave up on acting and found employment writing code for a contractor with Google, located on 8th Avenue in Chelsea. Boring, I know, but hey -- it paid the rent and then some. I am actually talented with computers and -- modesty aside -- a hacker par excellence.

Let's get back to my living arrangements. One thing about Monica and my need for headphones: When it came to sex with a guy she was astonishingly noisy. God, could that girl moan! Holy shit. Yes, my headphones came to the rescue. Credence Clearwater Revival played loud right into my ears could drown Monica out. Sometimes, though, I stripped off and pretended I was the one being fucked stupid. I began to feel pathetic.

I was not, however, made of the same cloth as Monica. She would hook up with almost anyone, or so it seemed, steady stream of men visited our apartment, with most of them ending up in Monica's bedroom. I had to keep buying new AA batteries for my headphones. I was more of a one man only, please, kind of girl. Of course, it was possible I too would have to run through a few men before I found a keeper. You never know, do you?

For the first few months, however, apart from the porno audition I had run through no men. That's right: zero men. I was not about to date the men I met at work, nor did anyone try to pick me up in any of the museums I visited on the weekends, nor at the movies. I was afraid of Internet dating apps and never tried them. At the same time, Monica was moaning to the high heavens at least twice a week. I was gradually, little by little, losing my sweet little mind!

I was talking to my sister, well, complaining really, when I had the epiphany. Why not get myself off to Monica's moans? I dug out my old dildo from my college years, spruced it up to be as good as new (old dildos can get a little cruddy in time), and decided to fantasize that I too was getting fucked.

I had watched Serena Williams at the 2022 US Open and she has truly fetching grunts when she hits the ball across the court. Serena's grunts sounded freakishly similar to Monica's grunts when she was getting fucked. When the guy would sink his cock into her, she'd let out a guttural grunt, every single time. I suspect the men loved that, and so too did I: Her grunts were a guide to exactly how she was getting fucked: fast, slow, with brutal force, or smooth and loving. Through the thin wall, over in the next bedroom I was getting fucked in parallel, with big thrusts of my dildo matching the rhythm of Monica's visceral grunts.

My dildo happenings were a game changer for me. I was once again a happy camper and cheerful to the world, as a good sex life often begets. My sex life just did not involve other people. Never-you-mind, I might have got carried away: I bought a hyper sexy nightgown which barely covered my bush, in order to inspire my phantom lovers. Sometimes I'd be topless and just wear panties if I used my black dildo, since BD (my name for my black dildo), I decided was a boobs aficionado.

BD wasn't dumb: I consider my boobs to be one of my better features. They're a B cup, and sometimes a C cup. I'm not sure why they vary, and maybe they don't: I decided it just depends on the brand of bra. My body's sexy highpoints, according to Ronnie S. and some of my other "life experiences" are my nipples and areolas. They're special, or at least both Ronnie S. and I think they are. BD agrees, and he would certainly know, if he weren't made of plastic. Maybe I should visit Pennsylvania, the land of Dr. Oz -- or is it New Jersey? -- and like the Scarecrow before him, BD could acquire a brain? Something to think about.

Monica and I had just been royally fucked. Monica got her jollies thanks to a guy named Leo Grayson, whereas BD gave me mine. Leo turned out to be the first guy Monica had found whom she considered to be a keeper. He got invited back the very next time Monica went out on a date. I heard Leo leave after a noisy session with Monica, and I jumped up, pulled on my panties and an old T shirt, and I scurried to the kitchen. The shirt was thin, basically transparent, and far too tight, but nobody would see me except possibly Monica, and it would take a lot more than that to embarrass her.

I was pouring myself a glass of orange juice when Leo made a surprise return to the apartment. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me.

"No, don't cover up, please! Let me enjoy the view of your gorgeous body, if only for a minute," Leo called out, as I moved to cover my boobs. I froze, and just stood there. Leo was a good-looking guy and his lust-filled gaze for my body, after just having enjoyed some intimate times with Monica, made me feel funny. It was a nice funny, though.

"You have gorgeous, sexy feet, Joanie," Leo said, to my surprise. Most men liked my boobs, and they always wanted to get their cocks inside me, and now Leo was complimenting my feet?

"I came back for my iPhone," Leo said, and Monica, wearing her robe, appeared from her bedroom with Leo's phone in hand. Leo seemed not to know where to look, since Monica stood with her robe open before him, and I was the next best thing to being naked.

Monica naked is a gorgeous sight to behold. She could have modeled for a sculptor with her body. In contrast I had only novelty to offer: a new female body that Leo had not seen before. But if you're a kid, the new toy at Christmas is more exciting -- for a while -- than even your favorite old toy. There were ways Leo resembled a kid. He resembled a horny, lust filled kid.

I looked at Monica's feet, and then back again at my own. Suddenly, I saw Leo's point. Well, maybe he has a foot fetish. It's harmless enough, I suppose. I wonder if Monica gets him off just using her feet? I began to giggle at the thought.

Monica and I had discussed Leo. Monica seemed to like Leo. She had let Leo get close to her emotionally, and not just physically. Things were getting serious and Monica and I had long chats some evenings about Leo.

It was the first time I had seen Monica smitten. She had taken a few men to her bed, I had heard the results, but Leo was different. I played a role: I helped Monica realize just how special her feelings were towards Leo. I was happy for Monica. I had come to love her like a sister.

**

At 3 AM on September 24, I was fast asleep. Nevertheless I heard someone sneaking into my bedroom. It was two people whispering to each other.

"What do you want to show me? Should we be doing this?" I could tell that was Leo speaking.

"Shhh! Watch." I felt the covers being lifted off my body. Due to the excessive steam heat in the apartment, I usually slept in the nude, with only a thin sheet covering me. Leo was being treated to my naked backside. "Look at that perfect ass."

Leo's breathing seemed to be getting heavier. Curious to see where this was going I continued to pretend to be sleeping as Monica's soft, manicured hand gently rolled me over. I took a peek: Her new nail polish was a dark purple. Now Leo was getting to see all my goodies: My face, my boobs, my flat tummy, the encircled Star of David hanging from my belly button, and of course my carefully and artistically trimmed bush. I pretended to stay asleep.

I suspect Leo was thinking of climbing into my bed and having his way with me, but Monica dragged him out of my room. Well, that was weird, I thought to myself. I perked up my ears to hear what would come of it.

When I peeked at Monica's manicure, just by accident I caught a glimpse of Leo's endowment. Wow; the man is big. I knew that wasn't the main attraction for Monica, who wants the complete man and not just a man who is large in the right places, but I'm sure it did not hurt!

"Wow, that really did the trick! Who needs Viagra when you can lust over my naked roommate?" I heard Monica say.

"She's not just any roommate. Joanie is a sex goddess." Well thank you, Leo. You do wonders for a girl's ego, even if any woman lying supine and naked would seem the same for a horndog such as you.

"You see, you just needed a little psychological stimulation. Come to Mama," I heard Monica say. Soon I heard Monica's loud grunts as Leo went to town on her more than willing body. I hid my head under my pillow, trying to muffle the sound and regain the bliss of sleep.

I must have managed to fall back asleep because it was 7 AM when next I awoke. I grabbed my robe and went to the bathroom. I left the bathroom to find Leo patiently waiting his turn.

The world had changed. I saw it in his eyes. He looked at me with some kind of feverish desire and, moreover, I didn't look away. I returned his gaze of lust, shamelessly and silently flaunting my own lust as I stared unblinking into his big root-beer colored eyes.

I knew at that moment I could have Leo whenever I wanted him. Too bad I didn't want him. I was furious at Monica for what she had done last night but not so furious that I would seduce her first real boyfriend since I had become her roommate. I just couldn't do that to her.

**

Leo worked with a guy named Ken, and Leo had the hots for Ken's wife Mary. I knew that thanks to my bionic hearing and my well-developed eavesdropping skills. Monica kind of liked Ken, too, but she was too conventional to stomach a partner swap. When Ken and Mary came to dinner with us you'd need a ginsu knife to cut the sexual tension.

It seemed as if every glance was full of lust. I was the fifth wheel on the wagon, although at times Leo glanced at me with lust-filled eyes. Ken? Not so much. I desperately needed a date. Six for dinner is so much better than five.

As for Ken, well, I could have fallen head over heels for him in a heartbeat if Mary had not already snagged him. He was everything I wanted in a man: kind, generous, soft and romantic eyes, polite, and even-tempered. His broad shoulders, perfect chest hair (visible due to his habit of keeping his shirts slightly unbuttoned), sandy-colored and healthy hair, and his aw-shucks demeanor, all didn't hurt!

Monica and I decided to host a Halloween party. In addition to Ken and Mary we invited a few other couples and some single men and women Monica knew from her work. I was hoping to hook up with one of those men, if not on Halloween itself, then soon after. I really didn't know if I could, or not. No matter, though: I could date a guy a bit without having to go to bed with him right away, right?

Monica thought we'd need some entertainment at the party. She knew about my acting background, and she also knew I hailed from Delphi, Indiana. We decided I'd provide the entertainment: I'd be the new incarnation of the Oracle of Delphi.

You can find almost anything in New York City and two days later, down in Greenwich Village, I bought a well-used crystal ball. I used my sewing skills to fabricate a sexy outfit as befits an oracle: my outfit had a low-cut blouse that was open down to my belly button jewelry and a crotch-length mini skirt that, if viewed from behind, hugged and showcased my bubble butt.

My theory is that you attract a guy via lust, and then he falls for you for the sex, which rapidly or slowly, depending on the guy, turns into love. Having fun in my delusions, I looked into my crystal ball and I asked it who the lucky guy would be who got to take my horny body to bed. I was just fooling around before the party, but I was shocked when I saw the image of our friend Ken! I wondered what he looked like naked, and next an image of him naked appeared. It was of his backside, but quite frankly, Ken had a nice ass.

What about Leo and Mary? I quietly asked the crystal ball. I saw an image of Leo and one of Mary side by side. How about them both naked? I asked. I saw them both naked; Leo turned to Mary. Mary turned to him. The look in Leo's eyes was fantastic. I had never before seen such raw lust in a man's expression. I watched the two of them get it on. They got it on right in front of me, if my crystal ball were to be believed.

What about Ken and me? I asked. The crystal ball did something, which can best be described as giggling. It showed both Ken and myself naked (hey, I looked good naked -- I always worried I'd look fat) and then Ken turned me around and he had me doggy style! If the crystal ball was to be believed, I was going to get it on with Ken in the near future! I got -- just a little bit -- aroused.

How often are you right in your predictions? I asked the ball.

"So far, always, especially with an oracle of your talents," it replied. How it spoke I have no idea. Nor did I have any clue what the ball meant by "my talents." As far as I knew, I had no talents. No talents at all except maybe coding.

I'm not really an oracle. I just grew up in Delphi, and my name is Pythia Joan Bernstein. The Pythia is key. That's the name all of the oracles of Delphi took. My friends however called me Joanie.

The crystal ball gave what I can only describe as a snigger.

**

Now you can ask and it would even be reasonable to do so: Why wasn't I freaked out that a ball of glass was showing me these images and speaking to me? The answer is that ever since puberty I have suffered from delusions. I hear voices and I see shadowy people, sometimes in obscene situations. I called the images my ghosts, and the voices I called my own personal radio.

Doctors found my symptoms unacceptable, all the more so when I described what the ghosts were getting up to! My pediatrician sent me to a neurologist, and she sent me to a psychiatrist, and then I was sent to the Children's National Rare Disease Institute, down in Washington, DC.

My brain scans revealed I was normal (I had an MRI, a C-T Scan, a spinal tap and lots more tests). My blood work also was normal, and finally after countless thousands of dollars and a plethora of testing, the doctors -- basically -- gave up.

Six years later I was 18 and going nuts from the voices and images constantly surrounding me. By that time my parents learned that there was an experimental medicine developed in the UK that was not yet on the market due to its strange side effects -- let alone approved by the FDA -- but because by now I had such fancy doctors it was not a problem to get me into a phase three clinical trial of the drug.

The drug worked! Issues with the drug were the side effects, and in particular one of them was my compulsion to have sexual orgasms. Everyone enjoys orgasms of course, but few people feel a near-constant need to have them! I did, however, while I was on the meds. I was masturbating basically all the time. My Mom, bless her soul, bought me dildos and vibrators. I watched pornography practically nonstop. The only thing I didn't try was the opposite sex.

Then I went to college. I credit the meds with my loss of weight, my improved complexion, and my new hourglass figure, with its near-perfect collection of feminine curves.

I didn't have to be crude in my dress, or anything. Somehow men could tell -- either from the look in my eyes or perhaps some sort of pheromones my body was giving off -- that I was up for sexual activity. What they didn't seem to know was my need for climaxing. Luckily for them, I was always on a hair trigger, and the slightest fingering would get me off.