The Witching Hour

Author's note:

This is an entry for the Halloween Story Contest 2023. Rate and comment if you enjoyed!

I was redlining the submission deadline after manually converting the master text to plain-format, and did not have time to review it in detail. Any formatting errors will be corrected after the contest ends.

Two hours later and Bailey was ready to acknowledge the unfortunate truth:

This party blows.

An enduring mythology surrounded a student's ascent of the educational ladder. During those formative years when faces morphed with every class photo, each step up seemed so distant as to be a voyage to an exotic new world full of alien customs. Kindergartners looked across the playground to the fourth-graders' monkey bars and basketball hoops with awe and wonder; the middle-school alpha pack secretly trembled at the prospect of being punted back down to prey for the high school seniors. It was all bullshit, of course—a new grade, even a new school didn't convey some sudden revelation of the secrets of the Universe, but for some wretched reason those that had ascended the peak continued to perpetuate the illusion to those without the wisdom of hindsight.

But like most bullshit theories, it was stubbornly persistent. Even after suffering the cycle twice already, Bailey had naïvely believed that university would be different, that postsecondary was the threshold through which children finally became adults. Instead, she'd spent most of the evening wading through a crowd of half-drunk strangers who no longer had to worry about cleaning up the house before their parents returned. A Halloween costume party suggested at least some decorum, and she was quite proud of her Red Riding Hood outfit, but a fair number of her peers had opted to half-ass it the same way they half-assed their trick-or-treat runs in the twilight years before—typically, it seemed, by raiding a lingerie shop.

Granted, it hadn't been a complete disaster: she'd got chatting with a few peripheral classmates that she made mental notes to follow up with back on campus. She also thought she'd hit it off well with a nerdy English boy named Neil, who'd crafted an impressive facsimile of samurai armour out of old cardboard boxes. Alas, just as she thought she might've kindled a flame, his friends swooped in and scooped him up, presumably to get hazed with more... compliant females.

That was half an hour ago. Since then, she'd spent most of the time dodging handsy freshmen and veteran frat boys that couldn't process the word 'no', keeping the warm plastic cup in her field of vision at all times, lest an unseen party slip something in. Most of the girls that remained were visibly tipsy, consciously fishing, or both—those with clearer heads and cleaner goals had already left. When she noticed groups of boys trying to break up the girlfriends huddling for safety, Bailey bailed too.

It was unusually warm that week, and even so late into the night she didn't need anything over her costume. Besides which, the outfit was built to purpose: Bailey's mother worked as a tailor and her daughter had picked up some sewing skills. A short-sleeved, floral-patterned forest-green blouse with white lace trim hid behind a sienna-stained leather corset that more resembled a working vest than the quasi-lingerie of commercial costumes. Black thigh-high lace-up hiking boots clamped past the loiterers outside the townhouse's entrance; the only article that didn't quite jive was the skirt, a red kilt with blue and green checkers (clan unclear; Fraser, she thought she'd heard?) inherited from a cousin that she simply wanted to use more often. The quintessential cape was a darker red, closer to burgundy, and a proper cloak—almost too hot to keep on indoors. The hood was thrown back, leaving her shoulder-length chestnut bob to bounce freely as she made for home.

Despite the lingering ring in her ears, she thought she'd heard a follower, and she hadn't even made it a block before the drunkard hailed her. "Hey there li'l red riderhood," he slurred, voice cracking in a terrible attempt at the song. Ignoring him, she picked up her pace. "Hey, wai'up!" he stumbled after her.

Bailey cursed under her breath as she reached the street corner just as the light changed to red, and she spun around as a hand grasped her shoulder. "Whassa hurry?" heaved a curly-haired student who would've been rather handsome if he wasn't red-nosed and swaying in place; she winced as the stench of alcohol splashed her face. "Party's thissay!"

"It's late and I'm going home," she replied stiffly, backing away when he started towards her.

"Aw dombe a bish!" he whined, struggling to smile; "Howbow a Halleen kisher luck?"

"Oi," barked a voice from behind, "She's not interested."

The boy turned around, and Bailey saw a female figure approaching. She looked young, probably another student, tanned skin and long black hair flowing freely down her back. She wore a maroon, long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and even in the low light her eyes glimmered with reflections from the streetlamps.

"Eyyy!" he exclaimed, an arm shooting skyward, "Th' mora merrier!"

"Haul your ass back to base and get someone to call you a cab, before you hurt yourself."

"Why don'..." he staggered up to her, "You make me, swee'tits?" From the heavy exhalation, Bailey could only imagine the fumes bombarding the woman, yet she didn't even flinch.

"Oh, I couldn't..." she smirked, "I don't bully babies."

"You fuckin'--!" She easily dodged his clumsy swipe, darting to her right before backing up. Crouching slightly, she clapped her upper legs in an obvious taunt. The drunk growled, making a fist, but she leaped out of the way at the last second and he tripped over his feet before slamming his face into the streetlight pole. "Mu'fucker!" he hollered, collapsing to the ground.

"Too late," she shrugged. Grinning to Bailey, who couldn't suppress her own cathartic smile, she walked over. "What say we ditch this joint?" she thumbed behind her shoulder.

"Brilliant idea," she sighed.

"Fuckimbishes!" cried the dude, both hands clutching his forehead as he writhed on the sidewalk, "FUCK!"

"Thanks for that," Bailey spoke up once the cries had faded to background noise.

"Hey, no problem," replied the woman, "Bitches gotta put the pups in their place." The brunette chuckled. "You going far?"

"Yeah, about twenty minutes, it's up on Kingfisher."

"You're walking the whole way?" she asked with audible doubt.

"I'll be fine," she grinned reassuringly, "The stragglers fall off after the first two blocks, and I know these streets. You probably have somewhere to be, don't let me keep you!"

"Nah, least I can do is make sure you reach Grandma's in one piece."

"Funny you should say that," Bailey smirked, "I actually live with my grandma."

"No way!"

"Yeah way!"

"Well then," she leaned in, lowering her voice, "Perhaps I should show you the shortcut..?" That got a laugh. "Maria, by the way," she darted out her left hand.

"Bailey," she replied, shaking. Walking side-by-side, she could study her escort in detail. Maria stood about a head taller, her face at once soft and refined, with piercing almond eyes and a rather long, but statuesque Greek nose. Rounded cheeks swept into a firm jaw and somewhat narrow lips above a gentle chin. Either she wore no makeup, or it was too faint to make out in the limited light. Shining black hair concealed her ears, forming parted bangs over her forehead. Eyes drifting lower, Bailey noted braless breasts bouncing beneath the maroon shirt, surprisingly firm for their large size; she felt a twinge of envy.

"So what's your costume?" she began, "I'm thinking a TV character but I don't know which one."

"Ah! The universal horror victim: a young adult trying to find her way in the world."

Bailey snorted. "Well you've got the frugality down pat!"

"Eh, probably for the best. Me and evening wear have a love-hate relationship."

The brunette eyed her quizzically, but when no elaboration followed, opted to change the subject. "So what drew you out tonight? Classmate leaned on me heavy but I think she was just chasing her crush. Almost didn't come, but I'm a sucker for costumes so I thought I'd see some good eyecandy."

"And? Was it good?"

"Well," she inhaled, "There's eyecandy, and then there's eyecandy. I gathered pretty quickly I was supposed to have brought the latter."

"Damn, ain't it always," sighed the raven. "I didn't get an invite per se, I just wander around and crash whatever's open. You could say I'm patrolling my patch."

"The guardian angel swooping in to save the fair maidens from the dastardly dragons?" Bailey smirked.

"Oh no," she grinned mischievously, "I'm the demoness that steals them away!"

"You're not!" she chortled.

"How can you tell?"

"Not blunt enough. Girls that hit on me always overplay their open. Then they get embarrassed and run away."

"Shoulda chased after them."

"Nah," Bailey grinned, melancholic, "I don't know anything about Sapphic love."

A silence passed between them. Maria slipped her hands into her pockets, eyeing her companion sidelong. "Your costume is like, really good, though," she appraised, "It actually looks like a period outfit."

"Well, maybe not the kilt," she demurred, grabbing a handful and swishing it back and forth.

"Och, aye!" Maria spoofed a heavy Scottish accent, "Wee Red Ridin' Lass woulda decked th' fecker square in 'is bloody snoot!"

Bailey shrieked so loud she clapped a hand to her mouth in startled embarrassment. It took her several moments to recover, during which time they crossed the street, angling north-east. "Can I ask you a question?" she began.

"You just did, but I'll give you seconds."

"Ohmigod you're as bad as my dad!" she shook her head. "I know we just met and all, but... you're a real charmer, Maria, you know that?" The taller woman shrugged, grinning coyly. "I dunno what your schedule's like, but, if you have time this week, would you wanna, like, get together?"

"What, like a date?"

"No, not a date!" she said quickly; "I'm bunking with Gran but I'm not a city native, and most of the people I do know from high school I'd rather forget... I... don't have many friends."

"What?" she squawked, "A sharp tack like you?"

"I know," she chuckled, "Geeks should be fending 'em off, right?"

"Well I don't have my phone on me but I'll give you my number, sure..."

Bailey fished out her slab from the hide satchel substituting for her purse and Maria dictated the digits. She typed out a simple salutary text before stowing it back in the bag. "Thanks," she said softly.

"No problem," she smiled. They continued in silence for half a block; Maria kept glancing to the right, though all the houses looked shut for the night. As they approached another crosswalk, she stopped in place and Bailey turned around; the taller girl was staring off into the distance, a pensive expression on her face. "Bailey," she brought her gaze back, "When are you expected home?"

"One, two o'clock?" she replied, "Didn't know how long I'd stay so I left it open."

"D'you want to go to the park?"

Deviating a couple blocks east from the route to her grandmother's house was a large parkland surrounding a natural lake. She was well-familiar with it from childhood visits, and had visited several times since the summer move-in. The grounds were lovely, and Maria was proving such a fun companion that Bailey was happy to burn her spare hours getting to know the girl. This late in the night it was mostly deserted but for evening dog-walkers and smaller bands of youthful adventurers out on the town. Following the walkway to a scenic stretch by the water, they took a seat on a lookout bench, Maria on the left, Bailey on the right.

A faint breeze rustled what remaining leaves still clung to the spidery branches of the deciduous plants, clusters of their fallen comrades illuminated by the waxing half-moon as wispy clouds drifted through the sky. "It's such a lovely night," the shorter woman sighed, stretching out in her seat. "I don't know if it's ever been this warm."

"Better watch out," murred Maria, "Hot-blooded youths running around in Spooky Season is bound to attract the vampires!"

Bailey trilled through her lips. "No way, werewolves for life!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Some cold stiff that spends all day in a flowerbed and can't get it up without BDSM? No, thank you!" she snickered. "'Sides, dogs are my animal."

"Young lady," Maria stiffened, adopting a posh English accent, "Am I to understand your present attire was assembled with the intent of attracting the forest beastes?"

"Perish the thought!" she managed before breaking down into breathless giggles, and her companion soon joined in. "Ohmigod," she panted, "This completely makes up for the party!"

"Glad to be of service." Crossing her leg, the darker woman pivoted towards her partner, slipping her elbow over the backrest. "So what are you studying? I never actually asked."

Bailey tipped her head back with a heavy sigh. "I'm not really sure what I want to do yet, honestly," she confessed. "Officially my major is literature but I might change it later—Arts is a grab-bag so there's plenty of options. What about you? You a student too?"

She grimaced, head bouncing side to side. "Of a sort. Technical college, not your hallowed halls," she grinned somewhat shyly.

"Hey, whatever sparks your passion," she smiled reassuringly. "What field?"

"Forestry. Boots-on-the-ground stuff. Dad works for Parks and I snuck into his steel-toes in the summers." Pulling her other arm forward she rolled back the sleeve and flexed. It wasn't showy, but her bicep visibly bulged and Bailey could see the sinew in her forearm. The brunette whistled appreciatively. "Figured I could get paid for it," she smirked.

"My woodsman," she beamed.

She found herself staring at Maria, and Maria her; the moon reflected in her eyes such that her irises were almost as bright as amber. Her smile was smug, but tinged with something else, something hesitant in her expression. "You know..." Bailey began, bowing her head to break the spell, "Well, no, you wouldn't," she chuckled ruefully. "I told you I don't have many friends..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I... didn't have many friends before, either." She looked back up with a melancholic grin. "My best friend Janet moved away two years before graduation and I'd never really found an understudy. But—no, I'm rambling," she turned away, "Forget it."

"What, Bailey?" Maria gently grasped her shoulder.

Returning to face the taller girl, she took a breath to steady herself. "Forgive me if it's too forward, but... I like you, Maria," she grinned shyly, "A lot. And I want to get to know you."

The raven beamed, giving Bailey's shoulder a confident squeeze. "I like you too," she leaned forward, "A lot."

The next thing Bailey knew, Maria's warm lips were pressing against hers. Her chest swelled with nervous breath, body going rigid. The three seconds felt like minutes until the darker woman pulled away, smiling warmly... only for her face to fall as she took in the girl's expression.

"Oh shit," she whispered. Maria practically leaped back like a startled cat. "Shit, Bailey, I'm sorry! I thought—"

"N-No, no," she stammered, raising her hand, "It's—" What was it? Maria had just kissed her! Dazed, she felt her mouth with her fingertips, eyes wide and unseeing in what she was dimly aware must be a dumbfounded look.

"Oh, you stupid bitch!" she hissed, fist knocking her forehead as she turned away.

The sudden self-admonishment snapped Bailey out of her trance. "Maria, it's not your fault! HEY!" She grasped the girl's forearm, feeling the tensed muscles; Maria peered at her through strained eyes, the once-dauntless visage twisted into a grimace. "It's not your fault," she repeated softly, "You didn't know." She smiled weakly. "Up to now I'd only dealt with amateurs. I'd never contended with a real succubus."

That got a grin, and a faint snort. "Sorry," she sniffled, "I totally misread you—or I read you right but didn't want to—"

"Maria," she said, hand drifting down to rub the crease of her elbow, "If anything it's my fault. I was excited, I was too forward—"

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head sharply, "I started this night by saving you from a lone wolf, you're not taking the blame for another."

Seeing the suave woman crumple in so hard, so fast, was shocking. She felt Maria was taking the faux pas way too seriously, but it didn't look like she'd be argued down. Bailey withdrew her hand, giving her space—and time to process her own aftershock. She'd kissed before, but only guys, and always under a nervous preoccupation with the performance. Maria had been so smooth, so unpretentious, so gentle, and it had completely blindsided her expectations. After a moment, she asked: "So you... like me, like me?"

The raven forced a lopsided grin. "You're sharp, you're funny..." she blushed faintly; "You're cute..."

Bailey felt a flutter in her chest. All the girls—the girls who ran—she'd never really known, and after they'd flubbed it they seemed too mortified to let themselves be known. Maria was the first to have built up a rapport, and brief as it was—she didn't know what to feel! Tall, curvy, sexy: she was the one meant to be courted, not Bailey! And yet, that hesitancy hiding just behind the carefree projection, the terror in her eyes when she realized her mistake—once again a longstanding mythology was exposed as a sham: there was no 'silver bullet' to romance, but a parade of blunders one endures until at last stumbling into something that works.

Her hand fidgeted nervously, half-way to her mouth that still tingled from the touch. "Girls crushed on me, but I never really stopped to ask if I would've crushed them back."

The raven eyed her anxiously, voice tepid. "And now?"

"I don't know," she confessed, "But..." she pivoted to face her, heartbeat picking up as she smiled shyly, "...how 'bout a Halloween kiss for luck?"

Maria giggled breathlessly. Slowly she unwound, shuffling back over, right arm sliding across the top of the bench behind Bailey's shoulders as she leaned in again. There was a sparkle in her eyes, a nervous pant as she scanned the brunette's face. Wordlessly she sought confirmation—damn it all, Bailey didn't know how to answer! The tip of her tongue traced the inside of her lips as her pulse began to race. Screwing up her courage, she gently pursed and leaned in.

As their mouths met again, an electric jolt shot through the shorter woman from head to foot. Maria's breath out caressed her cheeks as her chest swelled with a sharp intake. She was used to pecks, clumsy smooching, but they only sat still, and Bailey let herself simply be in the moment, closing her eyes, her somewhat stiff muscles relaxing into a tender meld with her new friend's. There was no noise but their rapid breathing, the gentle whisper of the wind, and the pulse of her heart echoing faint in her ears as the excited tingle in her mouth crept down into her bosom... and between her legs.

She didn't know how long it lasted—maybe minutes, maybe hours—before at last they parted with the tell-tale wet-pop of a broken vacuum seal. Maria's eyes fluttered open as if she'd woken from a pleasant dream; they both breathed heavily, Bailey a little more so, feeling a hot blush in her cheeks as she leaned back.