The Skeleton Man

"Oh my god, Emily! What are you wearing?"

Emily stood in the open curtains of the changing room, wearing a vintage papier-mache mask and an Edwardian style tea-dress. Tasha stopped combing the racks to fix her with an exaggerated sneer.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" Emily asked, swishing the lace skirts of her dress.

"Where do I even start?" Tasha sighed, pretending to throw her hands up in exasperation.

Emily turned back to the mirror behind her and peered at her reflection through the eye slits in the grotesque scowl that hung over her face. "I like it! It's exactly the kind of thing people wore in the 1900s. And this dress is in such good shape for how old it is!"

Tasha rolled her eyes and leaned an elbow on the rack. "Okay, sure. I'll give you points for historical accuracy. But no one will be able to see your body in that!"

Emily lifted up her mask and glanced at her reflection again. The style of dress didn't suit her body exactly. She had a small enough frame for the 1930s style, but the stiffness of the fabric stuck out awkwardly around her curves. It didn't look bad, by any stretch, but her figure was definitely obscured. "I'm okay with that," she replied, but her voice wavered with uncertainty. "Halloween is supposed to be scary. I don't know why it has become all about sex."

Tasha shook her head. "Emily, how old are we now?"

Emily turned to her roommate and laughed nervously. "Twenty-nine?"

"Yeah, twenty-nine. And have you ever properly slutted out for Halloween?"

Emily paused, picking at her lower lip. "Well, there was two years ago at Damon's party..."

"Yeah..." Tasha said, crossing her arms, "when you dressed as a Victorian ghost."

"I wore a corset..." Emily protested.

"Underneath a high-collared velvet dress, so no one could see a damn thing. And that hair you were rocking..." Tasha pretended to shudder at the memory.

Emily took the mask off and looked down to hide the pink that was creeping across her face.

Tasha noticed. "Look," she said, her tone softening. "If you wanna wear that, more power to you. Rock the shit out of that horrible mask and grandma dress. Be your best self. But, I think that you secretly want to wear something sexy. You just think that if you do, people will notice that you actually have a nice little body under all of your clothes and that they will judge you for it. Am I right?"

She was right. Emily shrugged noncommittally.

"So, I'm going to give you an out," Tasha said and went back to sorting through the racks. "I'm going to pick out something for you, and anytime you are worried that people think you're feeling yourself too much, you can just say that I dressed you. Everyone knows how pushy I am, they won't even ask."

Emily laughed. "Okay, sure. Nothing too on the nose though, okay? I don't want to be a sexy police officer or anything like that."

"Don't worry," Tasha replied. "I saw something in the racks a little ways past. I'm going to buy it and you're going to wear it. Just trust me."

Back at their apartment, Emily looked at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. The dress that Tasha picked out was long and black with dramatic bell sleeves and a few eye clasps spanning from her belly button to just under her crotch. The slit of the skirt went to the absolute top of her thigh and the top was almost completely open, exposing most of her bra and a long triangle of her stomach.

"What am I supposed to be, exactly?" Emily called to Tasha, skeptically.

"Morticia!" Tasha shouted from her closet. "I've got that black wig and when I do your makeup, it'll all come together."

Emily felt too embarrassed to look at her own reflection any longer, and so she sat on the toilet lid to wait.

Tasha burst in, wearing her undead sexy nurse costume from three years ago and carrying a pile of black hair and lace. She put her armload down on the floor and produced a joint from behind her ear. She lit it, took a puff, and passed it to Emily. "Here," she said. "It'll help lower your inhibitions." Tasha said this every time, as if Emily had never gotten high before.

Emily took a hit while Tasha looked her over.

"Stand up," Tasha ordered. At times like these, Tasha liked to channel Edith Head, barking clipped commands in an unidentifiable accent. "Bra off," she said after a moment of consideration.

"What?" Emily asked, incredulously.

"It looks bad with a bra," Tasha sighed. "Take it off. You're perky enough and I've got double-sided tape."

Emily slid out of her bra and pulled the shoulders of the dress back into place. The gauzy fabric felt strangely nice as it slid along her bare breasts.

Tasha was now kneeling on the floor. She tapped Emily's shin; the implied direction was for Emily to offer up her leg. When Emily lifted her foot, Tasha slid a lacy stocking up to Emily's mid-thigh. She shivered from the cold of Tasha's fingers and from something else... Am I getting turned on by this? She tamped the feeling down by biting on her lower lip and taking in a breath. The feeling resurfaced as Tasha put on her other stocking.

Tasha sat Emily down again on the toilet seat and brought out her heavy makeup bag. She went to work, brushing pale foundation and powder all over Emily's rosy freckled complexion. Dark eyeshadow and red lipstick were applied, and then the black wig was pulled low over Emily's hairline.

Tasha looked at Emily for a moment- her evaluative stare was always so difficult to read. Then a smile spread across her face. "You look so fucking hot!" she squealed, suppressing a giggle.

Emily stood up and was manhandled to the mirror by Tasha's imploring hands. When she faced her reflection, she could hardly recognize herself. She was no longer the sweet-faced red-headed hippie girl. She looked severe and dark, an appealing combination of intimidating and alluring. There was a confidence in her posture, and with her shoulders pushed back she could see the rounded fullness of her bare breasts casting shadows on her slim stomach. Her body was sensual in a way that it never had been before. Her curved form looked as if it were begging to be touched.

On any other night, Emily would have fought back against the sexiness of this. She would have insisted on putting on a slip underneath, on wiping the red from her mouth. She would have spent the whole night slouching, trying not to be noticed. But, tonight... she looked so unlike herself and the feeling of being someone else followed.

She felt her movements change as they made their way to the party. Her walk became a prowl, her face and chest tilted haughtily upwards. Tasha next to her seemed swayed by the change in Emily's energy too. Tonight, she did not rush Emily along or make comments about what Emily should do when they got to there. Tonight, Tasha seemed in awe of this tall and dark creature beside her. They passed the rest of their joint back in near silence until they arrived.

"Holy shit, Emily?" Damon asked incredulously as he let them in. "Damn, I would never have recognized you!"

Damon was dressed as werewolf Michael Jackson from Thriller. It was the same costume he wore every year. He wore it so perfectly, down to the crisp curls and yellow eyes, that no one ever mentioned how poorly this costume had aged.

As Emily strode through the party, she was vaguely aware of how many sets of eyes were on her. In times past, she would have withdrawn from this collective gaze, preferring the comfort of near-invisibility. Now, it gave her life. It gave her power. She hungered for more.

In the kitchen, she poured a glass of wine while Tasha took some shots with the blonde witch from Hocus Pocus.

"I love your dress," a guy dressed as Beetlejuice said in her peripheral vision.

Emily turned to look at him. It was one of Damon's friends- Mick or Michael, she couldn't remember. He was cute and always at these parties, but they had never talked before.

Emily took a sip of her wine and smiled. "I love your coat," she said.

"Thank you," he replied and laughed. "It was my grandfather's, I figured it would work for this."

Is he nervous? Emily wondered. No one had ever been nervous to talk with her before.

He took a drink from his bottle of beer. "So, have you ever come to one of these things?" he asked.

"No," Emily said almost automatically. It didn't feel like a lie.

"I didn't think so," he said. "I would have... remembered you..." He swallowed the last bit of the line, painfully aware of the cheesiness of what he was saying.

"I'm Emily," she said, extending her hand.

"Hey. I'm Michael." He took her hand in his, and felt the clamminess in his palms.

She could feel something else too- eyes on the back of her neck. She turned around and her eyes went immediately to the source. Standing in the corner alone was a tall man dressed in the most elaborate skeleton costume that she had ever seen. From behind his mask, he met her gaze and held it without pretense. She smiled wryly and tilted her wine glass towards the stranger.

"Someone you know?" Michael asked.

Was that jealousy in his voice? "I have no idea," Emily replied.

Michael laughed. "Yeah, it would be pretty hard to tell in that getup." He paused, as if debating whether he should say the next few words. "I'm guessing you get a lot of looks," he said, and then cringed. "God, I'm not usually this corny! I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," Emily shrugged. "And no, I don't."

Michael squinted like he didn't believe her.

Tasha appeared at Emily's side and tapped her on the forearm. "Hey Em, can you come outside with me?" She gestured secretively to the second joint she had rolled.

"Sure," Emily replied. She turned to Michael and brushed his forearm. Who am I? she thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

"I hope so," Michael replied.

Outside in the little fenced in backyard, Emily and Tasha smoked half of their joint. Emily felt the weed thrumming in her veins. The few people standing who had come out to smoke stole furtive glances. The feeling of being desired by so many people was intoxicating.

"There's a skeleton over there that's been looking at us," Tasha said, gesturing towards the fence.

Emily didn't need to turn around to know that it was him. She smiled and nodded slowly.

"Do you know who that is?"

"I have no idea," Emily replied.

Tasha looked his way. "He looks like he's got a nice body under that costume," she mused. "Do you want to invite him for a smoke?"

Emily turned and saw the skeleton man standing there. Again, he did not look down when their gaze met. She gestured towards him with the joint and smiled. He shook his head slowly and then put one finger in the air.

"Weird," Tasha muttered. "I thought for sure he would want to join us. Oh well..."

They put the joint out and hid it under a brick for later. Tasha was swept inside with a group dressed as the crew from Life Aquatic.

Emily lingered in the garden and tossed another glance at the man in the skeleton costume. As if in a trance, they walked towards one another, meeting in the middle by a bush that still held its vibrant fall colors.

"Hi," Emily spoke first.

"Hi," he replied. His voice was throaty and deep.

"Have we met?"

He shook his head slowly. She could see his eyes under his mask, a shocking green rimmed in black paint. "We have not. But I've been watching you all night."

"I noticed," Emily said.

He moved closer. His body emanated so much heat that Emily shifted automatically until they were almost touching. She could hear her own heart pounding and was all but certain he could hear it too.

"I have a proposition," the skeleton man deliberated. "A game."

Emily swallowed some wine to steady her nerves. We are at a party. There are people all around. "What kind of game?" she asked.

"It's called, Yes Master." The skeleton man moved even closer as his voice drop to a whisper.

"How do you play?" Emily whispered back.

"Well," the skeleton man said, moving a gloved hand to the exposed skin of her upper thigh, "I would say something, anything, and you would only be able to reply with 'Yes, Master'."

"What kind of things would you ask me to do?" Emily's voice was spinning in her throat. She couldn't believe what she was doing.

The skeleton laughed raspily. The knobs on his gloves moved further up her thigh. "I think you can imagine the kind of things I would ask."

Emily cast a glance around the yard. The smokers were still there, but no one was looking at them. Or if they were, they were doing their best to feign indifference. She looked back at the man in the skeleton costume and pressed her thigh closer towards his roaming fingers. "Okay," she replied.

"Try again," the skeleton man said, his tone mocking.

"Yes, Master," Emily exhaled. The words felt foreign on her tongue.

"Good girl," the skeleton purred. "The first thing I am going to ask is this," the fingers of his other hand traced the line of fabric that ran along her breasts. "Show me what this dress has been doing such a poor job of concealing."

Emily looked again over her shoulder then back at the skeleton. She met his eyes and pulled the double-sided tape from her skin, slipping the top of the dress aside until her breasts were completely exposed. She gasped and her nipples shriveled in the cold air.

"Good girl," the skeleton man said. He ran his gloved hand over her right breast, then gave her nipple a sharp and sudden twist. Emily gasped again and pushed herself fully onto the hand that was still on her lower thigh. She could feel the knobbed plastic joints of his gloves brush against her underwear. He withdrew and laughed again. "Not yet, my sweet," he said. With both of his hands, he cupped her breasts, gave her nipples one more twist, and then pulled the fabric of her dress back over her nipples, pressing the double-stick tape back into place. "That's all for now."

"What?" Emily asked incredulously. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire. She had never wanted someone to touch her so badly, to probe into her and take her. She wouldn't have cared if it were right there with the smokers watching.

"That's all for now," he repeated. "And when I tell you something, you say..."

"Yes, Master," she sighed. But her body moved of its own volition, and she pressed herself against him. She could feel that he was hard, and she pushed herself against his erection, gasping once again.

The skeleton man laughed and put his hands on her waist. His fingers moved to her plump butt cheeks and squeezed down, holding her and moving her so that she was grinding against him. And then, just as suddenly, he put his hands back on her hips and moved her away. "That's all for now, my pet," he said, this time with sternness in his voice.

"Yes, Master," Emily replied, resignedly.

"I will find you later," he whispered, then walked on past her into the house.

When he left, she felt the cold anew on her skin. She stood alone, suddenly aware of where she was and what she had done. "What the fuck?" she whispered. She turned around and saw the smokers still sitting by the sliding door. They were looking at her and saying something to one another. They saw us. Her face felt hot and she turned away to adjust her dress again.

"Hey Em!" Tasha had appeared at her back, and Emily sighed with relief. "Someone brought Damon some Absinthe and he wanted to share."

Emily walked in past the smokers, saved from a potential walk-of-shame if they had, in fact, just seen her flashing the skeleton man outside. They said nothing as she passed.

In the kitchen, Damon poured three glasses of Absinthe on the counter. He set fire to a sugar cube on top of a slotted spoon and poured ice water over it to put it out, and continued to pour until the clear green underneath turned a milky jade. He handed a glass to Tasha, and then one to Emily. He shook his head as he took Emily in with his eyes again. "I still can't believe that's you," he exclaimed.

"Yeah, me neither," Emily muttered. She scanned the party for the skeleton man, but he was nowhere in sight. She couldn't tell if she felt disappointed or relieved by his absence.

Michael appeared again and Damon poured him a glass of Absinthe. "Emily, have you met Michael?" Damon asked innocently.

Emily nodded and smiled.

"Full disclosure," Damon slurred, "I already know you two met. He asked about you. So, just make sure that you give him your number before you leave, okay?"

Michael clearly blushed under his Beetlejuice makeup. "Damon, you're so awkward," he laughed, trying to cut the tension.

"I would love to," Emily said, looking pointedly at Michael.

Over his shoulder, the skeleton man appeared in the living room. He locked eyes with Emily and motioned to her with one of his fingers.

"Excuse me," Emily said. "I'll be right back."

She took her glass with her into the other room. Over her shoulder, she heard Tasha say, "I think she's really high right now."

The skeleton man led her just out of the light of the living room and into the vague darkness of the hallway. He stood close so she could feel his warmth again. She pressed closer, the intoxication of being near taking over.

"Are you ready for the next thing?" he asked.

Emily nodded like a puppet.

"Is that how you respond?" he prodded.

"Yes, Master," she replied, her voice catching in her throat.

"Good girl," the skeleton said. Once again, his gloved fingers traced discrete lines along her thighs. "First, I would like your panties."

"What?"

"That's right."

Emily looked down at the slit in her skirt and the eyelet hooks. "This dress isn't exactly made for going bare," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said. His fingers crept up her thigh to the hem of her underwear.

She could feel her insides twist at his touch. And so, she hooked her fingers into the waist band and pulled her panties down.

He opened his palm, and she set them into his hand. His fingers curled around them and he put them into the pocket of his black jacket. "Good girl," he said.

Emily's hands went to the eyelet hooks of her dress. "Do you want to see?" she asked, pushing her pelvis forward invitingly.

The skeleton chuckled. "Oh, very badly, my pet," he said. His fingers crept to where her thigh met her pelvic bone. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. "Very badly. But it's not time for that yet." He withdrew his hand and stepped back.

"What is it time for?" Emily asked. The push and pull of it all made her head spin.

The skeleton beckoned her into one of the closed doors in the hallway. She followed him into Damon's room.

He took her by the hips and pushed her onto the perfectly made bed. "Here's what's next," he whispered. His fingers went back to trailing along her thighs. "You will sit on the bed and open your legs. Wide. You will bring yourself to orgasm, but just to the edge. Do you understand, my pet?"

Emily looked around the room. This is weird, she thought. "You want me to masturbate in Damon's bed?" she asked.

The skeleton man nodded his head.

"Damon's gay, you know," she said. "I don't think he will like the idea of a woman almost cumming in his bed."

"You won't be cumming," the skeleton man said. "And you won't stop until I tell you to stop."

"What if someone comes in?" Emily protested. "I mean, I think if we were having sex, I could just claim I'm drunk or something. But full-on masturbating... it's kind of a weird party move."

"You won't stop," the skeleton man repeated, slowly, emphasizing each word, "until I tell you to stop."

Emily looked at the door. Of course it had no lock on it. She sighed and moved back on the bed. "Okay..." she said.

"Okay?" the skeleton man said with emphasis.

"I mean, yes, Master," Emily replied, her words dripping with sarcasm.