Boolicious

Boolicious K. Z. Snow All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 K. Z. Snow

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ISBN: 978-1-60521-008-7

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

PO Box 1046

Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Vicki S. Burklund

Cover Artist: Karen Fox

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Boolicious K. Z. Snow Breaking up with a boyfriend can be a blessing in disguise -- so can crazy relatives, though Hannah Blue doesn’t think so after she makes an ill-advised bet with Aunt Kate, a bawdy old hippie and self-styled witch. A little too much wine made Hannah cocky enough to think she could get laid by November 1st. Problem. Hannah’s picky about men. So Kate decides to give her niece a little behind-the-scenes help! Horny and glum, Hannah decides to boost her spirits by enjoying Trick-or-Treat night. A pleasant, innocent diversion until a man wearing a vampire cape and tiny red briefs comes flying out the door… and proves the most delectable piece of candy -- and the best way to win a bet -- Hannah could ever have imagined.

Prologue “You get laid yet?” “No. Now leave me alone, you crazy old hag. Don’t I hear your coven calling?” “Hey, I got news for you, Sister Mary Drypuss. At least this crazy old hag has no problem getting her clam juiced.” A groan issued from the phone. “For crying out loud, Aunt Kate, can’t you dream up slightly less offensive metaphors?” “I’m in no mood to cater to your delicate sensibilities. Our bet’s going to be up soon. Does All Souls’ Day ring a bell?” “You’ve rung that bell so much it’s making me deaf.” Hannah muttered something under her breath. Then she added, “I swear I will never, ever drink with you again. And you don’t have to keep reminding me about that damned bet.” “Heh. Well, apparently I do because if you don’t spread those gams for a squirt pretty freaking soon, you’ll not only be a virgin again, you’ll be a virgin who’s a hundred bucks poorer.” “What do you mean, I’ll be a virgin again? Are you threatening to lob a curse at me or something?” “I mean that dick trampoline you were born with will grow back. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just about sealing its edges as we speak.” This time, Hannah’s groan rode a chuckle. “What’ve you been smoking today? Jesus, go light a votive for Jim Morrison or something.” “Are you telling me you want to stay at your pity party? Fine. But at least get some dollops of frosting to put on that cake.” “I’m not at a pity party. I just have no desire to walk into the nearest bar and pull some drunk off a stool and take him home with me.”

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“Why not? I remember at Woodstock --” “Oh, here we go. The rain, the mud-fucking with strangers, all the stoned, blissful abandon. Blah blah blah.” Hannah let loose a big sigh. “Get over it.” Kate made a face at the phone. Snot. “Okey dokey. But just keep in mind that when you hand over that hundred, you’re also gonna have a lot of ’splainin’ to do.” Exasperated, she pressed the end and tossed the cell aside. She remained ensconced in her overstuffed easy chair and gave this dilemma some thought. So even a hundred dollars wasn’t enough inducement to get her niece Hannah back on the man track. Or even on a woman track. Any joy in sex was preferable to no joy in sex. Damn. First the poor girl had to endure the deceitfulness of that shit-spitter Mark. Now she couldn’t seem to pull herself out of the cesspool he’d created. Kate had a sudden image of her niece standing at the bottom of an outhouse pit, staring helplessly at the light coming through the hole but unable to climb toward it. Pathetic. Just pathetic. Hannah hadn’t even hit thirty yet. She was smart and pretty and talented. And she had a perfectly healthy libido. Or at least she did have one, until Mr. Lie-His-AssOff started cheating on her at every turn. Kate glanced at her makeshift altar, then at the skewed piles of erotic romance novels teetering on her end table, then at the altar again. She’d steadfastly refused, up to now, to work any sympathetic magic on Hannah’s behalf. She wanted her niece to take off and soar under her own power. But maybe a little boost wouldn’t hurt… Getting up from the chair, her jewelry tinkling like wind chimes, Kate nudged her cat Blackthorn off the stacks of books. One volume tumbled to her feet. Hm. Maybe she wouldn’t have to rifle through the whole mess of them. Maybe this was the one she was meant to use. Kate bent down to lift it off the floor. A paranormal. She glimpsed a bat in the background of the cover art. Some other strange stuff, too.

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Uh-oh. This could be dicey. Sometimes her magic went slightly awry. Kate didn’t want her beloved niece to end up with some wacko. Or, worse yet, a genuine creature of the night. But holy hot damn, that cover model was one nice piece! Still weighing the risks, Kate carried the paperback to her altar. If she really concentrated, and she used the proper combination of candles and incense, words and mental energy, everything should be all right. Now, what music to put on? Dr. John? No, that might not be a good idea. Kate thought if she could extract the gris-gris from his music and leave all that other voodoo spook mojo behind, she wouldn’t have to worry about the song lyrics combining too powerfully with that paranormal romance. But she wasn’t adept enough at witchcraft to do such a thing. A lot could go wrong. Hannah didn’t need to get balled by a zombie. Shit, she wasn’t Anita Blake. Kate squinted at her cat. After she’d rousted Blackthorn from the books, he’d leapt to the back of the sofa and stretched out there. He met her stare with a lazy blink. Jefferson Airplane, the cat suggested. Grace Slick singing “Don’t You Want Somebody to Love?” and “White Rabbit.” “What does ‘White Rabbit’ have to do with Hannah’s situation?” Kate asked, confused. That one’s for you. The other song is for Hannah. He gave her another blink. Or maybe a wink. Feed your head. “Good idea.” Kate swished over to a group of hand-crafted Ojibwa baskets tucked beneath the bottom shelf of a bookcase. They held her stashes of candles, incense, oils, and potentially useful trinkets. Her record collection -- and oh, how she loved that vinyl -was on the shelf just above. Carrying what she needed back to the altar, she detoured to her turntable and carefully placed the correct album over the spindle. The tone arm and stylus seemed to find the LP’s first groove like… well, like magic. So far, so good. Gleefully rubbing her hands, Kate scurried back to the altar. She hastily recast the circle she’d laid down on the worn oriental carpet. Made up of various thrift-shop

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necklaces and bracelets, it frequently got jagged out of line. Sometimes Blackthorn took a fancy to one of the pieces. But what the hell. The original shape still lay visibly beneath the squiggly physical outline. One more thing. She needed a picture of Hannah. After a final trip to the bookcase, where her photo albums also lay, Kate was ready to begin some serious witchery. She lit the candles she’d chosen, one red and one white. She set three cones of incense -- jasmine, vanilla and cherry -- in a shallow brass dish engraved with a Greek key design, and lit the cones. On a piece of fine stationery, she scribbled down an appropriate summary of the spell’s most desirable outcome. She clipped this handwritten statement over Hannah’s photograph, then clipped those two pieces over the image of that drop-dead gorgeous model. On a whim, Kate dripped some melting wax from the red candle onto her altar top -- actually, an old library table she’d gotten at an auction. She rolled the soft wax into a cylinder about one inch long and an eighth of an inch thick. Grinning at her ingenuity, she stuck one end of the little tube on the book cover, right at the model’s crotch. Whoa. Dude was hung now. Some of the wax had smeared across his pelvis, but that shouldn’t make any difference. Kate carefully set the book with its clipped-on additions into a small, cast iron cauldron. She snuck a glance at her wall clock. Gotta pick up the pace. Riley was coming over in an hour, and she had to prepare for his arrival. The man was fourteen years her junior -- threw a mean fuck, too -- so she wanted to look her best. Feeling rushed, Kate murmured an improvised incantation and touched a match to the paperback. Grace Slick warbled in the background. Blackthorn dozed. “Shit!” Flames began to curl over the whole book just as Kate realized she should have removed its cover. God only knew what weird-ass characters and situations were contained in that novel… not to mention others by the same author. She focused with

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all her might on the model alone and tried to will away any unwanted influences. But, hey, Riley was coming over. Who could blame her for being a little distracted?

Chapter One If SpongeBob and Captain Nemo hadn’t been waiting to screw a mermaid, and each other, Hannah Blue would have lost her bet with crazy Aunt Kate. “You really should come to this party,” Hannah’s coworker, Andie, had told her a week earlier. “I’m allowed to bring one guest. And I guarantee it’ll pull you out of your funk. There’ll be plenty of good-looking men. Ready, willing and able goodlooking men. And the party’s starting early, too -- between six and seven -- so if you want to duck out and go on to other things, you’ll have enough evening left.” Considering the proposal, Hannah extricated a hanger from the sprawl on the cart and carefully draped one of her handmade vests over it. She now had her own section in the boutique where she worked, HannAH, and it was fast becoming quite the moneymaker for both her and her employer. With a sigh and a simple “Okay,” Hannah relented. She knew she needed to get out more. And she needed to get past Mark, once and for all. Maybe this Halloween party would be a good springboard. Her former boyfriend’s behavior and attitudes, not to mention his ultimate blow-off, had so undermined her self-esteem that she’d become uncharacteristically withdrawn. Hannah’s little “cottage industry” of quirky couture had benefited from her seclusion, but her social life certainly hadn’t. Besides, her bet with Aunt Kate would indeed be up on the first of November. If she didn’t get some action by then, she’d have to fork out a hundred bucks and a whole bunch of excuses. Neither would be fun. Lying wasn’t an option, either. Hannah would never lie to somebody she was close to, unless it meant sparing the person’s feelings. And her bet with Aunt Kate didn’t fall into that category. So, on the evening of Friday, October thirty-first, she pulled out of her parking lot with some trepidation and headed for an upscale suburb. Andie, in her own car, led

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the way. The sugary light of the moon would soon spill over the landscape. Will things go bump in this night? Hannah wondered. Easing to a stop behind a line of cars at the third intersection, she gazed idly around the neighborhood. In one driveway, a man in a long cape got out of a pick-up truck and stood there for a moment, adjusting his garment. Although Hannah smiled at the incongruity of a vampire driving a truck, she found something arresting about the sight… or rather, about the man. From her vantage point, he seemed hellishly handsome. The black cape accentuated his dark good looks and lent him an undeniably sensual mystique. Guy has one lucky girlfriend, Hannah thought with a prickle of envy. Wonder what he’s wearing beneath that cape. The enticing image dogged her all the way to the party, where she arrived twenty minutes later. She couldn’t stop fantasizing about being enfolded in that cape, feeling the press of what she imagined was a hard, warm body beneath it, dropping her head to the shallow gully between the man’s neck and shoulder… Damn, I’m hornier than I thought. Maybe this party would bring her some respite. Maybe there’d be a tall, lean, gorgeous man dripping with allure who would satisfy her cravings, banish Mark from her memory, and make her a hundred dollars richer all at once. Not to mention get Kate off her back. But as soon as Hannah entered the party house, she suspected that wouldn’t happen. Because, as she stood in the foyer removing her shawl, she found herself gawking at a living room full of scantily costumed men and women, all of whom were in rut. Andie had neglected to tell her this was a swingers’ party. Andie had also neglected to tell her she would be abandoned shortly after they walked through the door. Because Andie, bless her restless little pussy, clearly wanted some action and wanted it pronto. Hannah tried to overcome her shock and consider if she could use this party to her advantage. Grabbing a goblet and a nearly full bottle of wine, she retreated into a

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shadowy alcove containing a small desk and watched the mating dances of a variety of strange creatures. Nothing in Hannah’s experience compared with this. Transfixed, she mechanically sipped her wine and let her stunned gaze roam from one couple or ménage to another. In a way, she was dressed quite appropriately for an orgy -- in a mock Greco-Roman gown -- but the costume obviously had too much fabric to suit these revelers. On one part of the sofa, a pair of large-breasted women dressed like Playboy bunnies knelt facing each other. As they stared into each other’s eyes, each undid her costume’s bustier. They leaned closer and began rubbing their breasts together -- lightly at first, nipples sliding back and forth across nipples -- and then more aggressively, as if they were having some fleshly duel. One woman opened her costume’s crotch and, head rolled back in the throes of arousal, began pleasuring her own pussy. The other woman followed suit. Their interplay caught the attention of a temporarily idle man dressed like a nineteenth-century schoolboy. He strolled up to them, pulled out his already hard cock, and thrust it between the crush of their breasts. Within seconds, his whole body wracked by spasms, he came. Hannah’s assumption that he’d climaxed was verified as soon as he walked away. The bunnies’ breasts were splattered with white cream. In another part of the room, before a full-length mirror affixed to a closet door, a guy in a superhero outfit masturbated with obvious relish. He had an almost terrifyingly large cock, a superdick, so the costume made perfect sense. Coddling it at first, he slowly drew his hand down the length of the shaft, pulling the skin over the head. He caressed the head for a moment, then drew his hand back to the base. His pumping gradually increased in both speed and force. A passing ballerina paused and slipped a hand between his legs. She, too, watched the reflection in the mirror as she massaged the hero’s balls and ass through the fabric of his costume. Without breaking stroke, he glanced down and said something to her. The ballerina knelt in front of him and opened her mouth in a wide O. But the man didn’t shove his superdick, now a

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javelin, into the welcoming space. He merely rested its plump head on the woman’s lower lip. He pumped more vigorously, stared more intently, until semen spewed in thin, milky ropes onto the ballerina’s tongue. Well, Hannah thought, if you’re into auto-eroticism, might as well do it up right. Despite distancing herself from all this sexual indulgence, she realized she wasn’t immune to it. Her cunt felt slippery. Her nipples felt taut. Lust had begun to claim her, from the inside out. Surprised and a little ashamed, Hannah squirmed uncomfortably and took a hefty swallow of wine. Her body begged for attention. She hadn’t had sex since Mark’s departure. But as much as this free-for-all ignited her, Hannah realized she wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t ready to leap into raw sex-play with multiple anonymous partners. She wasn’t even sure she was ready for sex with one male partner. Unless it was that man in the cape. But he was far away and likely on the verge of pleasuring someone else. The thought of him only made matters worse. Hannah needed relief. Not far from her dim corner, a man wearing a horse head and tail, but nothing else, had a woman dressed like a butterfly pressed against the wall. Her legs were curled around his midsection. He supported her hips with strong arms and large hands, his muscles bunching alluringly while he fucked her. Hard. She whimpered breathlessly and gripped his shoulders. Beneath her fingers, his skin flared red. Hannah sought temporary refuge in another sip or three of wine. Then the gladiator approached her. “Why are you hiding?” He finished his drink, something with ice cubes in it, and set the glass on the alcove’s desk. Hannah couldn’t help studying his body. At this point, she just couldn’t help it. He was short but buff. “Taking a breather,” she said, and took a deep breath to prove it.

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A passing woman detoured over to the gladiator. “Hey, Fletch, you haven’t sampled me yet.” Grasping the back of his head, she gave him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. “At least have an appetizer.” Her torso, from neck to pelvis, was cylindrically swaddled in something that looked like body armor… except it was yellow and had “Honeypot” printed in red toward the bottom. The implication was clear. From pelvis to feet, the woman was naked. Fletch, the gladiator, bent over and worked his fingers between the woman’s parted legs. “Oh, that’s heavenly,” she said on a sigh, closing her eyes. She quaked slightly as Fletch continued to dip into her honeypot. He withdrew his hand, put it to his mouth, and sucked on his glistening fingers. “I’ll get the full meal later.” The woman looked mildly frustrated. “Damn, somebody better finish me off soon.” After glancing at Hannah and saying, “Sorry for the interruption,” she minced away. Fletch’s eyes immediately turned to Hannah’s chest. “Looks like somebody needs to finish you off, too.” Heat flashed through her face. “I beg your pardon?” Without warning -- something that clearly wasn’t considered de rigueur at this party -- Fletch brazenly brushed his thumbs across her noticeably erect nipples. Hannah inhaled sharply as her back reflexively arched to his touch. “Pencil erasers,” he murmured with a lascivious look. “They are so poking out. I love it. Maybe you need to lose that dress.” Hannah struggled to regain some self-control. Come on. You know this isn’t for you. Then she remembered where the gladiator’s right hand had been before alighting on her breast. The thought, pretty much a buzz-kill, instantly filled her with cool composure. Fletch’s gaze slid to her stomach. “There’s a rip in it anyway.”

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“I know,” Hannah said. “That’s where the sword went in.”

She’d already lost him. He gave her a puzzled look. “What sword?”

“The one Orestes used to murder me. The red beads around the tear are

supposed to simulate blood.” “But… why did the dude murder you? Was it a dude?” “Yes, Orestes was a dude. And he murdered me because I made his father a cuckold and then killed him.” “You made his father a what?” “I cheated on him. Cuckolded him. Then I stabbed him at the dinner table.” Fletch grimaced. “Yech. Rude.” “He was a Trojan War hero, too.” That really grabbed the gladiator. He looked appalled. “Man, you’re one cold bitch. You asked for it, sister.” “Maybe. But I thought it was pretty damned cold to be slain by my son.” “It was your own kid that offed you?” Gravely, Hannah nodded. “He killed my lover, too. Damned shame. Aegisthus was a great lay.” Fletch shook his head. “I don’t know what fairy tale that is, but it’s some sick, twisted shit.” “Of course it is.” Hannah sipped her wine. “It’s Greek tragedy.” She’d inadvertently hit on something the young man could relate to. “Greek? Well, hell, that explains it. I know a dude named Al Katsakis who’s boinking his sisterin-law.” Hannah wanted to laugh. Instead, she remained in character and gave a dismissive wave. “Small potatoes. But centuries have gone by since the good old days. The gene pool has probably been diluted.” Although Fletcher the Brave, slayer of men and taster of women, certainly had no idea what the crazy hell she’d been talking about, he remained undaunted. “So… do you have a name?”

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“Clit M. Nestra.” “I don’t think that’s Greek,” Fletch slid his hand into the carefully placed slit and caressed her skin, “but I like it.” His voice became suggestive, and his pale blue eyes focused on her breasts. “Want me to put my sword in you?” Hannah considered this for a brief moment. He was young -- twenty-two to twenty-four, she guessed -- and built like a gymnast. But his touch hadn’t moved her. In fact this whole party, she suddenly realized, had given her a craving for passion, not just pawing. And especially not pawing by tainted hands. “Sorry, no.” Only a bit regretfully, Hannah grabbed the gladiator’s wrist and banished his roving fingers from her body. “I haven’t healed yet.” After Fletch ambled off, perhaps to secure his full meal of honey with honey on the side and honey for dessert, Hannah went in search of a bathroom. She didn’t see either a potential partner or a situation that appealed to her. What she did see was a woman clad in nothing but spider webs who lay stretched out on the dining room table, plates of food arrayed on and around her body. A man delicately pulled the fine threads away from one nipple, smeared it with some kind of dip, and began sucking. The woman moaned and writhed, almost throwing a plate of canapés off her belly. Another party man caught it just in time, set it on the table, and began working on her other nipple. Hannah felt a fresh flow of lubricant slick her pussy. The fabric of her costume tormented her unfettered breasts. Where’s the bathroom? She walked through the kitchen where three naked women and two naked men alternately bobbed for apples and groped each other. Where’s the damned bathroom? The house, Hannah noticed, was littered with sex toys. Colorful dildos in a variety of shapes and sizes stood among groups of candles. Halloween figures, some mechanical and some still, held whips and flails. Bowls containing candy corn or saltwater taffy or breath mints were adorned with condoms and nipple clamps. Hannah

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was tempted to grab a pair of the latter but felt too self-conscious to do so. As she again traversed the dining room, she saw that a third man had joined the table orgy. He slid a blaze-orange vibrator in and out of the centerpiece’s centerpiece. It was too much. Sensory overload. Despite all the burning incense, the whole house had begun to reek of sex. When Hannah finally took refuge in an unoccupied bathroom, all she wanted to do was pee and swab away the sticky moisture between her legs. But she was undeniably, maddeningly aroused. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples aching to be sucked. Desire stabbed at her core. Sitting spread-legged on the toilet with her dress hiked up to her lap, she fingered her swollen clit. Then a numbing thought struck her. What if there’s a camera in here? Hannah had no way of judging if she was being paranoid or justifiably cautious. She didn’t know the house’s owners. She’d only met the couple briefly, soon after she’d arrived, when Andie had introduced them. The camera possibility quashed her need for release. Feeling irked, although she wasn’t quite sure why, Hannah bolted from the john, pulled up her thong and let the loose folds of her white gown fall to the floor. Her options had dwindled to two. She must either adopt a what-the-hell attitude and let herself get down and dirty, or beat a hasty retreat. SpongeBob, Captain Nemo and the mermaid decided the issue for her. As Hannah resumed her place in the living room’s dark alcove, she saw three people taking advantage of the daybed. The good captain lay on his back, his head propped up on a stack of pillows. What the hell is protruding from his zipper? Hannah wondered. It looked like a clump of julienne fries. Unless he was an alien, it obviously wasn’t his penis. Any man whose cock looked like that would surely be dead, for he’d have caught it in one wicked food processor. Her gaze followed the line of his right arm. It was concealed beneath the glimmering scales of the mermaid’s lower body, thanks to an accommodating slit in her slinky costume. She seemed to like whatever he was doing to her. The guy in the SpongeBob costume rested on his haunches just below Nemo’s face, his thighs

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bracketing the captain’s head. Nemo contentedly sucked his dangling semi-erection. Obviously trying to overcome, Hannah thought, its natural… well… sponginess. She started giggling and fisted a hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. Captain Nemo’s left hand moved to his crotch. He pulled out whatever was protruding from it. Hannah squinted at the thing. Oh, no, it can’t be… But apparently it could. Transferring the thing to his right hand, he slid it into the mermaid’s convenient opening. His arm disappeared farther into the costume. The mermaid began to arch her neck and squirm. And then Hannah recognized the mermaid. It was Andie. She hadn’t had a chance to see her coworker’s costume until now. Andie had worn a long leather coat. Wisely, as it turned out, they’d driven over here in separate vehicles, Hannah following. Now this bizarre image was fixed in her mind. Before she witnessed so much she wouldn’t be able to look at Andie again, much less work with her, Hannah slunk toward one of the two closets in the foyer. At her back, the song “Monster Mash” played while people laughed and moaned, candlelight flickered, incense unfurled. She didn’t bother looking for the party hosts, whose names she’d already forgotten. They probably wouldn’t remember her anyway, and she had no intention of returning here. She doubted Andie would miss her. Quickly donning her shawl and grabbing her handbag, Hannah fled outside and hurried to her car. Might as well kiss satisfaction and that C-note goodbye.

It was trick-or-treat night in Hannah’s part of the metro area, a far more modest suburb than the one she’d just left. Since it was just past eight o’clock, groups of kids in homemade or store bought costumes still shuffled or walked, skipped or ran along the tree-lined streets. Most had adult escorts. Hannah stood indecisively in the parking lot. She loved Halloween. She’d loved it since she was a child. The evening always seemed to hold so much magic. If only she had kids of her own, she could take them trick-or-treating. She could kick through the

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crisp fallen leaves, smell the blooming chrysanthemums and the spicy smoke from woodstoves, delight in each house’s window and yard decorations and all the eerily glowing jack-o’-lanterns. She could wheedle candy from the children’s laden sacks. What the hell, she could at least stroll through the neighborhood. The night had a tang of autumn chill, but it was still awash in fragrance and moonlight and innocent excitement. It seemed like the perfect antidote to everything that had recently ailed her… that party included. Remnants of physical stimulation still plagued her. Restlessness shimmied through her nerves. She needed to work all the carnal yearning out of her system. Wrapping the shawl more snugly around her, Hannah dropped her car keys into a little pouch hanging from the braided gold cord around her waist. She locked her purse in the car and struck out for the neighborhood’s sidewalks. An occasional breeze buffeted her flowing dress and hair and sent leaves cartwheeling around her feet. Smiling, she turned her face to the moon.

Chapter Two A small, cool hand grasped Hannah’s fingers. “Hey, are you alone?” She stopped and looked down. A young girl, no more than seven, gazed up at her. Hannah regarded her costume. “Are you a fairy?” “No. I’m scrap art.” Hannah laughed heartily as two boys, maybe eight to ten years old, walked up to the girl. She had no clue what they were supposed to be. Both had two large squares of paper secured around the upper parts of their bodies -- papers covered with precisely placed dots and squiggles. “That’s my brother Jeremy and that’s my cousin Grif,” the girl said, pointing at them. “I’m Emily.” Hannah smiled at all three. “Hi. I’m Hannah. I’m just taking a walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the decorations.” “That’s about all you can do,” Jeremy said, “‘cause you’re too old to get candy.” “Yup.” Hannah turned her attention to the boys. “So what are you guys supposed to be?” “Computer chips,” Grif told her. “Very clever.” Hannah bent over to study the papers. The designs were quite meticulous. Man, she thought, times have changed. She straightened. “Aren’t you with an adult?” “No,” Jeremy said. “They’re all working. Me and Grif are watching Emily.” “Can we ’dopt her?” Emily asked the boys.

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They looked wary. They’d certainly been warned about getting too close to strange adults. Hannah didn’t want to increase their unease. “Honest, I’m okay by myself,” she assured Emily. “I s’pose we don’t care if you tag along,” Jeremy said. He seemed to be the authority figure in the group. He also seemed, grudgingly, to be intrigued by Hannah. She supposed it was because she was a woman, and one who was dressed like a Greek goddess. Emily did a little leap. “Cool!” She looked up. “I like your dress.” “Thank you,” Hannah said. “I made it myself.” Emily held out the skirt of her own costume. “My mom made mine.” “It’s very pretty.” “Jeremy and Grif made their own.” Emily didn’t seem entirely to approve of this. She yanked on Hannah’s hand. “C’mon. We gotta get to the next house.” Feeling proud and delighted, Hannah gladly accompanied them on their rounds. The boys gallantly offered her some of their candy. Emily seemed too excited to think about it. At every house where their coffers were increased, the kids never forgot to say thank you. They’d covered maybe three blocks, zigzagging from one side of the street to another, when they approached a small, red-brick bungalow. Emily charged up the porch steps with her usual enthusiasm, crying “Trick or treat!” all the way. Hannah and the boys joined her. Just as Hannah began to wonder why this place looked familiar, the door abruptly opened. But no smiling matron holding a candy basket appeared there. Instead, a large, dark mass flew out of the house like an attacking phantom. A clumsy attacking phantom. Emily squealed. Startled, they all scrambled backward down the steps and withdrew to the railings. The dark form was a man. A man in an opera cape -- black on the outside, red on the inside -- with a deeply scalloped, upturned collar and a bat attached by a spring to one shoulder. The cape was skewed off to one side, the bat bobbing and weaving like Muhammad Ali.

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Hannah’s breath seemed to snag on her ribcage. That was why the house looked familiar! Teetering before her was the man she’d seen earlier, the one getting out of the truck. As she’d tagged along with the kids, she’d unwittingly come down the same street. But what was going on? When the man regained his footing, he straightened his garment, swiped both palms over his hair, and faced the four people on the porch steps. “Uh… boo.” Dumbfounded, the four trick-or-treaters gaped at him. Emily looked up at her brother. “Can I keep ’im?” “He’s too big for your bag, dork.” Jeremy pointed at Hannah, who stood at the opposite railing. “Better let her keep him.” What the hell? Mouth open, she continued to stare. Beneath his cape the man wore only the skimpiest red briefs. A green glow came from his mouth. What the hell? “Were you s’posed to scare us?” Emily asked. “Do you live here?” The man looked embarrassed. “No.” “What’d ya do?” Emily asked him. “Are you a robber? Did ya get caught? ’S that why they threw you out?” The man cleared his throat. “That’s one way of putting it.” “So what are you hiding in your mouth? You better give it back.” “I’m not hiding anything. Those are my teeth.” He bared his glow-in-the-dark, fanged plastic uppers. “I’m a vampire.” Jeremy chuffed. “Dracula didn’t walk around in his shorts.” “Yeah, well, I’m his poor brother, Zacula. Can’t afford formal wear, just underwear.” Hannah snorted a poorly suppressed laugh. She curled a hand over her mouth and looked down. “Hey,” Grif said, pointing at him, “your bat’s starting to droop.” “That’s not all.” The man slid a glance at Hannah, who just at that moment happened to be sliding a glance at his -- droop or no droop -- well filled-out scarlet briefs. Self-consciously, he pulled the cape closed around his midsection.

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Now that Hannah was gathering her wits, she couldn’t help but notice other things, as well. The man was extremely attractive, even more so than her first glimpse of him had suggested. She couldn’t see his face very clearly, but his tall frame sported a trim, hard-muscled physique. Although his thick, dark hair was trained to sweep neatly away from his face at the front and sides, the back was a riot of rebellious, clipped curls, some of which disappeared within his collar. “Shoes or no shoes, I better get out of here,” he murmured and began descending the steps. When he was alongside Hannah, he paused. “I’m really sorry.” He wasn’t just attractive, he was breathtaking. “No harm done.” The sight of him, and the fragrant nearness of him, rekindled the arousal that had tormented her at the party. She could feel the heat wavering from his body like a sexual lure. The man suddenly broke their eye contact -- a minor blessing, since it was making Hannah’s knees weak. Frowning, he looked down and patted his cape. He pulled it to one side and groped at the lining. “My keys,” he whispered. Turning abruptly, Zacula charged back toward the front door. Before he reached it, two shoes somersaulted through the air, nearly bonking him in the head. He managed to duck just in time. The shoes clattered against the porch railing and landed with twin thuds on the wood floor. Glaring at the house, Zacula muttered, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” as he retrieved his shoes and hopped around to get them on. He stomped down the steps to the sidewalk, where the four trick-or-treaters now stood because they didn’t know what would next fly out of the house. Hand to forehead, Zacula looked indecisively at nothing. Without thinking, Hannah walked up to him and touched his arm. Electricity seemed to shiver through her stomach. “Are you all right?” Distractedly, the man nodded. “I don’t think anyone ever died of a bruised ego. So, yeah, I’m all right.” “What’s your name?”

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It was a few seconds before he looked at her. He was obviously preoccupied. “Zack.” He gave her a wan smile. “Yes, that really is my name.” He extended his hand. “Zachary Evan Whitmore.” Once Hannah grasped it she was loath to let go. “I’m Hannah Blue. Can I help you in any way?” It was obvious he had some kind of mess on his hands. “I don’t want to get anybody else involved in this.” “I don’t mind. Really.” He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. The more she studied his face, the more captivated she became. And his mouth… damn, it looked so inviting. Not a vampire’s mouth at all. At least, not based on the movies she’d seen. She still, however, couldn’t discern the color of his bright eyes. Zack rubbed the back of his neck. “My biggest problem at the moment is that my truck keys are in there.” He nodded toward the house. “And I’m out here.” “I assume it wouldn’t be wise for you to go to the door and ask for them.” Lifting his eyebrows, Zack gave her a look that said, What do you think? Nevertheless, he risked mounting three of the porch steps and shouting, “Give me my God -- Give me my goldang keys!” The door swung open, a bulky form appeared, and a set of keys went sailing into a dense tangle of surrounding shrubbery. “Fuck!” Zack charged up the porch once more. He strode to the railing and peered over it. Groaning, he despondently came back down to the sidewalk. Casting Hannah a glance, he mumbled, “Your wig’s slipping.” He idly lifted a few fallen strands of hair, letting them drape over his fingers. “It isn’t a wig.” Hannah poked at her tumbling coiffure, dimly wondering how a touch to her hair could send frissons slithering through her limbs. “Your teeth are slipping, too.” Zack pulled them out and chucked them aside. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had to help him. She wanted to help him. He didn’t seem like a creep, and it wasn’t often she had the opportunity to rescue an enticing man in distress. In fact, she’d never had the opportunity.

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“Listen,” she said, “let me try something. You stay here.” Before Zack could object, Hannah remounted the steps and rang the doorbell. It opened with such ferocity she took a couple of startled steps back. A very large, very pumped-up man with a pale flat-top glowered down at her. “Sir,” Hannah began, trying to be both polite and firm, “I need to borrow a flashlight. You threw the truck keys into the --” He snarled out an answer and slammed the door. Sighing, Hannah rejoined Zack on the sidewalk. She lowered her voice when she conveyed the message. “He isn’t being very cooperative. He said, ‘Let the prick bounce home on his pogo stick’.” Zack’s handsome face twisted in anger. “Son of a bitch.” Emily piped up, “You really need to clean up your language.” The kids, still clustered together a short distance away, had been observing these goings-on with interest. Zack glanced at them. “I’ll work on that when I get home. After I drive there in my truck. Which I must start with my frickin’ key!” “Uh, Emily, you and Jeremy and Grif should head home now, too,” Hannah said. “It’s getting late and you have plenty of candy. Thanks so much for inviting me along.” She waved to underscore the send-off. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Taking his sister’s hand, Jeremy told her, “Come on. Grownup stuff is goin’ on. You know what that means.” “Either cussing or kissing,” Emily said in resignation. She turned and waved. “Bye, Hannah!” “Good night, kids.” Hannah spun toward Zack, who was still simmering. “You need to calm down.” “I’ll calm down after I get my God damned keys.” He pivoted toward the porch, the bat on his shoulder diving toward the side of his head. Zack slapped it away. It bounced back with renewed fury.

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Trying not to laugh, Hannah caught his wrist. “Don’t go back there. That man must outweigh you by fifty pounds.” Defiantly, Zack pulled away from her. “Then I have the edge. I outweigh him by fifty IQ points and a couple of big balls.” Although Hannah realized that last phrase was not to be taken literally, she nevertheless used it as an excuse to look at his crotch again. Impressive. Maybe his balls didn’t rival the moons of Jupiter, but his cock, judging by the dense roll his briefs were hugging, could’ve bested a Titan rocket. She closed her eyes, shook her head in disbelief, and uttered a silent groan. Oh Hannah, that’s sick. “Now think this through,” she said, directing her attention to the problem at hand. “Whoever that guy is, he’s not feeling very kindly disposed toward you right now. If he doesn’t pulverize you, he could still get you tossed in jail.” “For what?” Zack demanded to know. “For just about anything he chooses. Trespassing. Breaking and entering. Assault. It’s his property, or at least it seems to be, and he clearly doesn’t want you on it. And even if you leave right now, your truck is going to end up sitting here being vulnerable. He could disable it. He could call the cops and say it’s parked illegally and have it towed away.” Her words seemed to have sunk in. Zack tossed up his arms, again exposing his tantalizing torso. “What do you suggest I do, then?” “Just stay put and be quiet while I try another tack.” Without waiting for a response, Hannah went back up the steps and again rang the doorbell. She knew she had to talk fast, sound miffed, and make her spiel believable. As soon as the burly man opened the door, she flattened her hand against it and started working on him. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but you really need to listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on between you and that… that sonofabitch on the sidewalk.” Hannah shot a finger toward the driveway. “But that’s my truck. Good ol’ Dracula down there said he wanted to borrow it for a couple of days to help a buddy move. Now unless

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you’re that buddy, he lied to me. And I’ll be damned if I know why he’s dressed the way he is.” She’d managed to catch and hold the man’s interest. “That guy is your husband?” “Boyfriend. Which is bad enough.” He crossed his massive arms over his massive chest. “Well I’ll tell you what’s going on, miss. I caught your boyfriend with my wife.” Hannah didn’t have to feign shock. She genuinely was shocked. “Oh my God,” she whispered. The big man was still half-glowering at her. “How did you find him if he’s driving your truck? How did you get here?” “I live only four or five blocks away. I offered to take a neighbor’s kids trick-ortreating. Then I saw my vehicle sitting in your driveway. I was just about to knock on the door and ask what the hell was going on when that worthless sack of shit in a cape tumbled onto the porch.” Her eyelids fluttered down, up. “Thank you for throwing him out, by the way.” “My pleasure. Too bad you’re not bigger or I’d let you do the same to my wife.” The man hung his head. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry I pitched your keys.” “Can’t say that I blame you.” “I’d help you find them, but I don’t like Mr. Numb-nuts standing in front of my house while my old lady is in the house. Know what I mean?” Hannah nodded. “I don’t like it, either. But if you’ll be kind enough to let my truck sit here ‘til tomorrow, I’ll walk over in the morning and find the keys myself. I don’t know where my spare set is. And believe you me, Mr. Numb-nuts won’t be coming along.” The man softened further. He seemed a decent sort. “Okay, sure. That’s the least I can do. Justine has to work tomorrow. She’ll be leaving at about seven. You might be more comfortable if she isn’t around.” Hannah nodded in morose agreement.

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“Excuse me, but I don’t know why that idiot would want to cheat on a pretty lady like you. You don’t seem like a bitch.” That struck precisely the wrong chord. “I’m not. Well, not without good reason anyway.” A briar patch of memories sprouted up. Real tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. “I’ve given that man everything I can. I’ve put up with his selfishness and his lies and his secrecy. But nothing I am and nothing I do seem good enough for him. I’m sure he’s been cheating on me for months. Or longer.” Before Hannah knew it, bulging muscles enveloped her. Justine’s cuckolded husband was giving her a hug! “Been there,” he murmured, then released her as quickly as he’d enfolded her. “Thank you,” Hannah said quietly, touched by the gesture. “You’re welcome. My name is Carl, by the way.” “Sorry we had to meet like this.” Hannah meant it. She’d quickly gotten over feeling sorry for herself and now felt bad for the wronged husband. He might not have been a Trojan War hero, but he still seemed to have gotten the shaft. Smiling, he made a suggestion before Hannah turned and left. It was probably predictable, under the circumstances. She stopped beside Zack and spoke quietly. “Okay, it’s resolved. Now don’t say anything. You’re my wayward boyfriend. Just start following me. Stay a step behind and look humble.” “Wait a minute --” Hannah looked over her shoulder at him. “Just do as I say until we’re away from here.” She kept her voice low but firm. “Why are you scowling at me?” “Because I have to.” She started marching down the street with straight-backed ire, still thinking of old indignities. Those memories certainly beefed up her acting ability. Once they’d turned the first corner, Hannah let her footsteps slow.

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Striding up behind her, Zack caught her by the arm. “In case you haven’t noticed, I still don’t have my truck.” “You will in the morning.” “In the morning?” He looked at his bare wrist, checking a watch that wasn’t there. “What am I supposed to do until then?” Hannah strove for a matter-of-fact tone, a steady gaze. “Stay at my place. It isn’t far from here.” Beneath her façade of composure, Hannah quivered at her own brashness and the thought of where it could lead. Zack’s nearness had totally shattered her better judgment. He pulled up short. “What?” “I can put you up for the night. I have a sleeper sofa. Unless, of course, you have a significant other, in which case you can use my phone to call her.” “I don’t have one. I wouldn’t be here if I had one.” “What about a friend?” Scoffing at the notion, Zack blew air through his lips. “Right. And set myself up for an eternity of ridicule. Besides, I think they’re all out partying tonight.” Hannah’s pussy throbbed as she envisioned the marvelous body beneath that cape, thought of how primed it must be. “Okay, then tomorrow morning I’ll go back to Carl’s and troll around for your keys. If I find them, I’ll drive your truck to my condo. If I don’t, I’ll have to haul your ass home. I’m not hauling your ass home tonight because I’m wrung out.” And because I want to be close to you, want you to delight all my senses all night long… “Carl,” Zack repeated, interrupting her reverie. “That’s his name. He’s actually a very sweet man.” Hannah gave Zack an arch look. “And her husband, by the way.” Zack wilted a bit. “He told you.” “Enough.” “I didn’t even know he existed,” Zack muttered, although he didn’t expand upon this revelation. “I saw him hugging you. Did he suggest a revenge fuck?”

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So Zacula is insightful, too. Hannah couldn’t help but chuckle. “As a matter of fact, he did.” “Now there’s the perfect solution to infidelity. You gonna take him up on it?” “He does have a nice physique.” “Yeah… and a dick that’s been shriveled by steroids.” “You don’t know that.” Hannah felt obligated to defend the poor man. “But he’s married, and he doesn’t interest me in the least.” She resumed walking, occasionally stirring leaves with her feet, as Zack walked beside her. That he hadn’t flatly refused her offer and turned away was an encouraging sign. As scenes from the party mingled with images of Zack’s body, Hannah became so acutely aware of his presence that every one of her nerves seemed to be straining toward him, twitching with entreaty. He suddenly lifted a fold of her gown, startling her. “Who are you dressed as, anyway?” Hannah glanced at him. The sight of his strong profile and comma-shaped curls, limned by the moonlight, further tugged at her. “Clytemnestra, a tragic heroine. I was at a party earlier.” She stopped and opened her shawl. Zack lifted his eyebrows as he examined the dress. His gaze fixed on the precisely placed slit outlined in drippy red bugle beads that simulated where Orestes had thrust his sword when he’d murdered Clytemnestra. He lifted his hand and lightly trailed one finger inside the artful tear, which reached from the bottom of Hannah’s sternum to her navel. She stiffened and shivered, as if a delicate spear of lightning had just sizzled across her bare skin. Although there was nothing beneath the dress except her saturated thong, the gladiator’s probing hadn’t provoked anything near this feeling. Hannah’s companion seemed to notice her reaction. His eyelids lowered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Halloween costume from Aeschylus,” he said in a chocolate voice. “Was it a literary theme party?” “Hardly.” Hannah could barely get the word out. Feeling deprived of air, she took a couple of fortifying breaths. “Unless you count Captain Nemo with a squid­

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shaped dildo coming out of his zipper.” She wrapped the shawl around her body and began walking far less steadily. When it finally dawned on her that Zack had mentioned Aeschylus, she was surprised and impressed. “Are you serious?” he asked on a laugh. “A squid?” Finally, Hannah was able to smile at the party’s absurdities. “Couldn’t make it up if I tried.” They strolled in silence for half a block or so. The night no longer seemed quite so placid; the moonlight no longer an inert glaze. For Hannah, the air crackled with dangerous currents -- at least the air between her and the man at her side -- and the glow of the moon held the promise of transformation. She felt dazed. “Why are you letting me stay at your place?” Zack asked. He tilted his head to regard her. “I realize I’m in a jam, but you don’t know me from Oedipus. And what little you do know isn’t very flattering.” He adjusted his slipping cape, pulling it farther up on his shoulders. The question was nearly impossible to answer. Hannah realized she’d been rash in issuing the invitation. However, she didn’t care. Her family and friends would want to slap her from here to Sunday if they knew about it… except, that is, raunchy, risktaking Aunt Kate. But Hannah didn’t care about any of it. She grew pensive. Because somewhere, she wanted to say, thinking of a line from the poetry of Robert Lowell, this moonlight is sponsoring a werewolf’s painful change. And I want it to sponsor my change, too. She opted, instead, to sound somewhat sane. “Because you intrigue me. Because you amuse me. Because I despise my exboyfriend. Because you seem roguish yet guileless, and look really hot in that outfit.” She glanced at Zack to gauge his reaction. He’d ducked his chin into his collar. There seemed to be a trace of a smile on his lips. “You know, that’s the best answer I’ve gotten to a question in a long time. Certainly the most honest one.”

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As cryptic as the statement was, Hannah for some reason felt flattered. And emboldened. “Did you have sex with Carl’s wife tonight?” Zack’s reply was immediate. “No. I’d intended to, obviously, but…” He slid her a shadowed glance. “You know the ‘but’ part.” “Carl showed up unexpectedly.” “It wasn’t just Carl’s arrival that was unexpected,” Zack said. “It was Carl himself.” “Are you in love with her?” Zack uttered a single, dour laugh. “I hardly know her. We had a short, obviously ill-fated fling. That’s all.” “Here,” Hannah said, turning left onto a walkway that led to the parking lot behind her building. She got the distinct impression Zack wanted to exonerate himself. Right now, though, she just wanted to get inside and… Be alone with him. She was so hungry for Zacula she was about to jump out of her dress. And her skin. Hannah retrieved her purse from her car and approached the back door of her unit. Curling a hand over her shoulder, Zack stood behind her as she opened the door. “Hey, thanks for putting me up. And for putting up with me. I’d like to repay you somehow.” Hannah spoke before she could censor herself. “Well, I do have this bet going…”

Chapter Three “Make yourself at home.” Hannah could barely look at Zack now. Why did I bring up that dumbass bet? Nothing would add to the evening’s awkwardness like dragging her aunt into the picture -- Planet Kate, cloaked in paisley clouds, forever orbiting around the year 1969. Redirecting her attention and, hopefully, Zack’s, Hannah said, “If you’d like to get out of your cape, I have some large men’s shirts I got at a resale shop. I wear them when I’m lounging around the house.” “That’ll work.” After indecisively looking around, Zack took a seat on the couch. “I don’t suppose you have any pants to go with them.” “No, sorry.” Modestly, he draped the cape over his legs and hips. The bat on his shoulder lolled over the back of the couch. Apparently sick of being burdened by it, he unhooked the prop and dropped it to the floor. “Now tell me about this bet.” “I’m sorry I mentioned it. Honestly, it’s not even worth getting into.” Hannah tried to be breezy and dismissive. When would she learn to think before she spoke? Telling him she’d be right back, Hannah hurried to her second-level bedroom, changed into one of the large shirts, and undid her coiled hair. After grabbing another shirt, she dashed into the bathroom to freshen up and gargle. Her makeup was holding up quite well -- very little touch-up needed -- but a few dabs of perfume seemed in order. Don’t expect anything and you won’t be disappointed, Hannah kept reminding herself. But it was hard not to hope. She nearly tripped on her way back downstairs, she felt so giddy.

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“It might be a little big on you,” she said, holding out the shirt. “I always get the oversized ones. They’re the most comfortable. You can change in the guest bath right around that corner.” Although Zack took the shirt from her hand, he wasn’t looking at it. His steamy indigo gaze tripped down the length of Hannah’s body. She still wore no bra, had taken off her thong, and left her legs bare. The shirt was the only thing she had on. Zack’s keen awareness of that fact immediately made her legs feel rubbery and coaxed a drizzle of moisture from her pussy. “Hannah, are you trying to seduce me?” he asked softly. She took a step back, her face flaming. “No!” “Just thought I’d ask.” With a hint of a smile, Zack rose from the couch, turned, and pulled off his cape with a casual flourish. Uncontrollably, Hannah gaped at the rolling contours of his sleek back, the tight curvature of his ass hugged by those miniscule briefs, the long sweep of his legs with their embellishment of dark hair. Zachary Whitmore was masculine perfection. “Yes,” she whispered, a belatedly honest answer to his question. Zack glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did you just say something?” “Nothing important,” Hannah murmured, acutely aware of the slurry of moisture that slicked her inner thighs. Zack slipped into the shirt. Feeling lightheaded, Hannah lifted the cape and carried it to the closet in the front hall. Her guest ambled toward the bathroom. Trying to divert her attention from him, she examined the costume once she’d hung it up. Done entirely in thick satin and fine silk, it was very well made. The even seams were double-stitched, the collar nicely reinforced. As Hannah smoothed the cape, she felt a small bump maybe a third of the way down its length. Simultaneously running her hands along the inside and outside of the garment, she realized the bump was in an interior pocket. Without thinking, she reached into it. After her fingers scrabbled around for a few seconds, they were able to grab two small things.

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A package of “Saber Tooth” condoms in “panther black” and -- Is it really? -- a cock ring with a small bat attached to it. Longingly, she smiled. “You’re going through my pockets? Already?” Startled, Hannah jumped and turned to face Zack. He seemed to loom over her like a police officer. Was he being facetious? She was too rattled at the moment to tell. “I wasn’t actually going through your pockets.” Zack scratched at his jaw. “Then what a bizarre coincidence,” he murmured. “We have the same taste in toys.” Lamely, Hannah stared at the packet and the ring. “I was checking out your cape as I hung it up. I’m a seamstress. Garment construction interests me. I felt a nub inside the lining, so I dug around until I found it.” She held up the two treasures. “I had no way of knowing I’d find… something personal.” A rose flush tinctured Zack’s cheeks. “Okay, I have to say something. I don’t know why, but I do. Regardless of all evidence to the contrary, I’m not some schmuck of a ho-dog with no scruples. I’m packed with scruples.” Hannah was tempted to ask if that’s what was in his briefs. She thought better of it and kept her mouth shut. For a change. Hands on hips, Zack ranted on. He obviously needed to vent. “I’m a healthy, thirty-one year old man who enjoys sex and got superficially involved with a woman who clearly isn’t honest about her marital status. I feel like shit about tonight. Not because I lost Justine -- hell, there wasn’t anything to lose -- but because someone got hurt, and I’m partially responsible.” His gaze wavered and lowered. “So you can just put those things back where you found them. I don’t need to be reminded how badly Beefcake and I got chumped.” “His name is Carl. And no, I won’t.” Zack’s eyelids snapped up. Her answer obviously confused him. “I beg your pardon?” Hannah forged ahead, her heart hammering. “I don’t intend to put these back. I intend to put them to good use.”

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After a moment’s hesitation, Zack asked, “When?” “A week from Monday.” Hannah rolled her eyes and sighed. “Tonight, Zack! You want to pay me back? This is how you can pay me back.” Feeling utterly reckless and driven, she held the accoutrements in front of his face. “That party I went to wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill Halloween gala. It was a freakin’ orgy. I was drowning in pheromones and naked bodies. But I didn’t participate. I couldn’t. Public sex with strangers isn’t my style.” He met this torrential confession with a strange calm. “It left you itchy, though, didn’t it?” “Yes! It left me itchy. You’re making me itchy. I’m not a robot, Zack.” Unable to believe her own gall, Hannah clapped a hand to her forehead and let out a long breath. She realized she couldn’t back down now; she was too far into it. “So just give me one good orgasm and consider your debt paid.” He was watching her quite curiously. “I’m not going to fuck you to repay you, Hannah. I don’t perform on command.” Oh, God, what had possessed her? She wanted to drop through the floor. “I’m really sorry. Just forget it.” She waved a hand as if erasing her words from the air between them. “This whole evening has made me a little crazy.” “That’s apt, since you were Clytemnestra,” Zack said dryly. He stepped up to Hannah and grasped her wrist. “FYI, I only fuck someone because I want to.” He lifted the condoms and cock ring from her fingers and let them fall to the floor. His chocolate voice was back. Melting into it, and into his darkly glimmering eyes, Hannah held her breath. His face drifted toward her as his eyelids lowered. “And before we were halfway here,” Zack went on, his voice even more hypnotic, “I realized I really… really… wanted to fuck you.” He punctuated his assertion with soft, humid, open-mouthed kisses to Hannah’s earlobe, the underside of her jaw, her throat. “I always was a sucker for brown-eyed blondes.” His lips and tongue skimmed along her skin, never breaking contact with it.

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Whimpering, Hannah thought she would collapse. Even if the goings-on at the party hadn’t already fueled her desire, Zack’s first touch would’ve been an overpowering aphrodisiac. Her nipples instantly tightened and tingled. The rest of her body went molten. Her cunt was awash in fluid. Feverish to feel the press of his lips, Hannah shoved her hands into the feathery extravagance of Zack’s hair and urged his sumptuous mouth down to hers. He teased her with it as he unbuttoned her shirt, the backs of his fingers intentionally sliding over the inner swell of her breasts. Hannah arched to his deft touch. Excitement trilled through her every fiber. Zack’s mouth was perfectly made for the sweet, hot torment it delivered. Like the most exquisite handmade silk, his lips whispered across hers. They flexed occasionally, gently, while his hands continued slowly to bare her body. As he eased the shirt off her shoulders, his large hands glided over her upper back and arms and came back to her naked breasts. Cradling them, he groaned with barely restrained passion, his thumbs circling and pressing into her swollen areoles, the nails flicking against and digging into the stiff peaks of her nipples. Hannah couldn’t suppress the cries his touches pulled from her, cries springing from an almost unbearable ecstasy. More aggressively, Zack’s lips alternately plucked at and pressed against hers, as if he were spurred by her excitement. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth, swept along the inner tissue of her lips, finally met her tongue. Their kiss soon became crushing, almost frantic, as Hannah eagerly surrendered her breasts to his hands. Zack’s harsh breathing fused with her own. She ripped his shirt open, the buttons clattering to the floor, and heatedly fondled the hard mounds of his chest, the rippled plane of his abdomen. Desperate to feel him, as much of him as she could, Hannah slipped a finger over his mouth as he kissed her. She reveled in the smooth surface of his lower lip and the slight, plush spring of it. She let her finger become part of the slick, feverish interplay of their tongues. Her other hand scrabbled at Zack’s chest. But the mounds of his pectoral muscles were too unyielding to mine, too misted with sweat to grasp.

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“I so want to fuck you,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth, his breath like sauna steam. “Now. And all night.” Hannah was tempted to have him then and there. To wrap her legs around his narrow hips, press her calves against his sweet, tight ass, and bury his turgid cock in her deep, moist heat. But this was too exquisite to bring to an end. She felt a kind of bliss she’d never felt before, the kind that comes from finally getting something you’ve desperately craved for a long time, and she wanted to make it last. “Maybe I shouldn’t give myself to you,” Hannah gasped. She drew back, challenging him. A little reluctance might conspire with the full moon to bring out the werewolf in him. And it did. Zack studied her face with narrowed eyes. He looked like a different man -- cruel, uncompromising. And then, almost imperceptibly, a wicked smile touched his lips. “Then I’ll have to take you,” he said quietly. He shoved Hannah against the wall, grabbing her wrists and pinning her arms out from her sides. His savage strength startled her, making her arousal spike. As he lowered his head to her breasts, she struggled against him, squirming, trying to keep her soft flesh away from his mouth. She wanted to goad him. She wanted to feel the sharp edge his dominance, and her resistance, would put on their need. Zack seemed to understand what she was doing, and the game clearly excited him, too. He became more forceful. Lifting one knee between Hannah’s thighs, he adroitly massaged her pussy lips. The pressure against her clit nearly made her come. “You’re so wet,” Zack breathed against her cheek, then bit it. “So wet. Because of me. Can you deny it?” “No,” Hannah breathed. She could struggle no longer. Her cunt burned with need. Her muscles felt liquefied. Lowering his head to her breasts, Zack closed his lips around one areole. He drew deeply, sucking firmly and rhythmically, his tongue laving and darting at the nipple. When Hannah tried to pull away, he caught the nipple between his teeth. A

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sharp arrow of pleasure-pain shot from her breast to her cunt. The first hint of orgasm slithered through her body like an elusive tempter. “Don’t defy me,” Zack said in a low voice, at once menacing and provocative. He trapped her other nipple with his mouth and sucked even harder. Mewling, her eyes hazed with passion, Hannah watched him suckle. The sight and the feel of it prompted another orgasmic shiver. She couldn’t hold out much longer. Zack aroused her beyond any pretense of control. When he finally lifted his head, her nipples were two distended, rosy towers, standing higher and stiffer than Hannah had ever seen them. More fluid gushed from her pussy. Even the insides of her thighs felt wet. “Do you still not want me to fuck you?” Zack asked. As soon as he released her arms, Hannah ducked past him, grabbed the condoms and cock ring, and made a dash for the dining room, pausing only long enough to grab a throw pillow from the couch. She cleared her autumn centerpiece off the large pine table and put the pillow at one end. The overhead light fixture was bright, exactly what she wanted. Zack came up behind her and caught her around the waist. “I need a release,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “And I’m going to get it.” He’d obviously shed the buttonless shirt. His bare skin slid across hers. Hannah felt his beaded nipples nudge her back. She felt his engorged cock, still restrained by his briefs, rub against the top of her butt. “Then lie down on the table.” She needed to have Zack inside her as much as he needed to be there. He chuckled far down in his throat. “Seems you’ve had yet another change of heart.” His hands crept down to Hannah’s lower belly, holding her in place while he did a sensual bump-and-grind against her back. He lowered his face, nestling it against her neck. “Fickle wench.” Hannah tilted her head back and rubbed it against Zack’s hair. “I want you, Zachary Whitmore. No use pretending otherwise.” “And I want you, Hannah Blue.”

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Smiling seductively, he stepped away from her, slid onto the table, and stretched out. His lean, cabled body was dazzlingly arrayed beneath the spill of light and Hannah’s appreciative gaze. She slowly peeled off his tight briefs, first exposing the ripe plum of his cock head, then pulling the red fabric over his long, dense shaft. Like an animal freed from restraints, it sprang into the light. Hannah climbed onto the table and straddled Zack’s thighs. She boiled with hunger for him -- especially for that steely, demanding cock, poised so proudly above his perfect body. Panting in anticipation, he parted his lips as he watched her. Hannah found even this simple movement enticing. For a brief moment she wrapped her fingers around his straining shaft and squeezed, stirred by its toughness within her grasp. Zack uttered a deep groan. She reached to one side, picked up a condom packet and tore it open. With great care, she rolled a black sheath down over the strong column of his erection, feeling the tight, low ridges that disrupted its surface. Zack hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “Mount me,” he said gruffly, then added, “if you’d be so kind.” Hannah rose up, sank down. Inch by stimulating inch she let the black-clad rod sink into her. Its size made her whole body quiver. She rotated her hips and clenched her cunt muscles, hugging Zack’s beautiful, big hard-on, stroking it. His hips rose and fell beneath her, locking into her pace. His cock stroked her in return, pushing along the walls of her vagina, nudging against her swollen clit. As Hannah trembled toward climax, Zack reached for her. She eagerly folded over him. He held her tightly, crushing her breasts against his sweat-streaked chest, as his hands caressed her back from neck to hips. They held each other’s face and kissed with passionate ferocity. “I want this night to last forever,” Hannah whispered into his damp hair. “It will.” Zack’s lips flexed against her face. “If we let it, it will.” Their mutual thrusts became stronger. Hannah lost herself to the irresistible, maddening friction of her clit rubbing against the base of his erection. Suddenly, Zack stiffened and let out a prolonged, guttural moan. As soon as Hannah felt the repeated

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pulsing of his cock, as soon as she thought about his forceful ejaculation filling the reservoir of that black condom with white cream, her own excitement crested. She seemed to tumble into orgasm, her body rolling helplessly through the most intense vortex of pleasure she’d ever felt. Wilting against Zack’s chest, she had a pang of regret as his proud cock went slack. Palpitations still teased her pussy. But Hannah was confident Zacula’s organ would rise again, turgid with fresh blood. She caressed the side of his face, already coarsening from a new growth of whiskers. “Would you like something?” “Yeah. A bionic penis.” Hannah broke into titters. “Sorry I didn’t bring any cigars,” Zack added. Her laughter revived. Lifting her head, Hannah smiled into Zack’s beguiling eyes and gave him a tender kiss. She realized how much she liked this man who’d literally stumbled into her life. She truly enjoyed his company. Simply looking at him filled her with joy. Wiggling backward, she let his cock slide out of her body. She sat up on her haunches and removed the condom, now glistening like varnished ebony, and set it aside. Zack too sat up. He kissed Hannah as tenderly as she’d kissed him. “I hope you’re not entirely satisfied,” he said, petting her long hair away from her face. “I’m not finished making love to you.” That’s when Hannah knew they’d turned a corner. When they sat there on her dining room table, content to plumb each other’s eyes. When they started thinking and talking in terms of “making love” instead of fucking. “I could use a drink,” Zack said. Arms twined around each other’s waist, they walked to the kitchen and shared a glass of ice water. Hannah had never known such a simple, everyday act could be so

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suffused with intimacy… and romance. She worried she might be slipping again, falling for a man who could be very, very wrong for her. Damn it, I should have either taken advantage of that party or never left the house tonight. But the thought flew out of her mind as quickly as it had perched there. Zack leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re very lovely,” he murmured. “In all kinds of ways.” Smiling pensively, he looked at the floor. “Maybe I’m finally developing some standards and good judgment.” Hannah watched him, her pulse hitching at the base of her throat. Maybe I am, too. Zack turned to her. “I want more of you.” It sounded like a confession. Before she could take any action, he lifted her onto the sink. Moonlight sluiced through the window, silvering his features, his gentle storm of hair. He eased Hannah’s legs apart. Breathless, her body tense with anticipation, Hannah gazed at his stunning face. Zack paused. “There’s so much passion in your eyes,” he whispered. “Because I’m looking at you,” she said. It was the most appropriate thing to say, a stark truth that welled up from the core of her fantasies, her need. It suddenly occurred to Hannah that she’d held the full force of her passion in reserve just for Zachary Whitmore. He was the only man who could unleash it. Giving her another expressive, lingering kiss, Zack slipped his fingers between her pussy lips and began dexterously fondling her clit, gently stroking her opening. Hannah immediately felt a sharp, responsive throb. Followed by another. And another. Her body was totally at his mercy. Zack reached around her and turned on the tap. He seemed to check the water’s temperature. Pulling out the sprayer, he directed the warm stream against Hannah’s cunt as he continued to tweak and stroke and probe her. Gasping, she leaned back, her arms bracing her jerking body. The electricity of sudden arousal branched through her hips, her legs, her belly.

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Zack pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat facing her parted legs. As his hands glided over Hannah’s thighs, he leaned forward closing his mouth over her sensitized folds. High, thin sounds crept from her throat. The sounds became more urgent as Zack slid the tip of his tongue along either side of her clit, inscribed delicate circles around it, drew it between his deft lips. Through soft pressure, he again sent waves of orgasm rippling through Hannah’s muscles and nerves. Her head lolled back as her toes curled. Zack stood and nudged the chair aside. She swayed toward him, and he caged her with his sinewy arms. The more he touched her, the more Hannah craved his touch. And the more she thought it was possible to die of pleasure. “I think there is something supernatural about you, Zacula,” she said with a small, disbelieving laugh. “No, I’m afraid I’m all too human.” He smiled. “Which is why I’m hoping you have some toys.” “You don’t need toys. Take my word for it.” Hannah’s gaze wandered down his trim, lithe body. God, what wonders he could work with it! Zack made other men she’d known seem nearly dead below the neck. Above it too, for that matter. She slid off the sink and cupped his luscious cock. It was thickening again, its heft obvious and tantalizing. “But I can sure have fun with them,” Zack said. His cock twitched restlessly in Hannah’s palm. “Well, I do have a rather nice dildo.” She wondered what he had in mind. Whatever it was, she didn’t doubt he would wield the toy quite adroitly. “It vibrates, twists…” Zack’s cock grew. “Would you like to see it?” “Yes, please. Introduce us.”

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Hannah nipped his earlobe then lanced her tongue into his ear. He smelled deliciously of maleness and lust. She wanted to drink the inebriating scent. “Follow me.” She led Zack out of the kitchen to the carpeted stairway between living and dining rooms. His hand rested lightly on the swell of her hip. After they’d mounted several steps, Hannah paused and turned to him. “Do you like anal sex?” Looking a bit stunned, Zack blinked at her. “Uh… is a bear Catholic?” Hannah corrected him. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” “If that’s where he is when he has to go.” Zack’s brow furrowed. “What were we talking about again?” “Butt fucking.” “You mean --” Zack pointed at himself then at Hannah. She nodded. “Wow. You’re full of surprises.” Hannah had to agree. She was even surprising herself tonight. But Zack was just so… Hard. She couldn’t ignore his jutting cock, which rose higher by the minute. She ran a finger along its underside, following the thick, tense length. His shaft bobbed in response. Temptingly. Oh, so temptingly… Hannah put her hands on Zack’s wide shoulders and pushed down. “Sit here.” She couldn’t seem to check her appetite. She felt ravenous again. Silently, he sank onto the stair. “It’s only fair that I get to taste you now,” Hannah said. Her long-suppressed need seemed to be funneling toward Zack in a concentrated outpouring of desire. She wanted all of him, all at once. Yet she wanted to spend hours savoring every delectable square inch of his body. No man had ever before given her such fierce, contradictory urges. She would explode if she couldn’t consume Zack,

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immediately and entirely. But she would die of disappointment if she didn’t take the time to relish each silky hair and sleek expanse of skin. Kneeling before him, Hannah didn’t put her hands on his erection, not at first. She leaned forward and slowly drew her tongue along its considerable length in a series of languorous licks. But the thick ridge on its underside deserved firmer pressure, so she applied just the tip of her tongue to it, tracing its sides, tripping back and forth over its middle. Afterward, she painted a moist circle around the ridge of his cock head, a dainty line along its cleft. “Are you trying to be sadistic,” Zack said in a strangled voice, “or does it just come naturally to you?” Coyly, Hannah smiled up at him. She kissed the tiny dimple at the top of his dick. “If you’re in pain, I’ll stop.” “I’d rather you just eased the pain.” “Like this?” Rising up and leaning forward, Hannah swayed her heavy breasts over his cock. The feeling was acutely exciting. Her nipples tightened and rose further every time they connected with that fierce hard-on. Sinking down again, she closed her mouth over the fleshy cap, curled and slid her tongue over its crown, flexed her lips against its brim. She still hadn’t gripped his rod, hadn’t sucked it. But her fingertips gently massaged his balls. “Oh, Mary,” Zack breathed. “No. Clytemnestra.” He tried to laugh. “That’s right. Vicious harridan.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Hannah did grasp his cock, tightly, and slid her mouth down to meet her hand. She began sucking deeply, her hand and mouth working in harmony, her lips pulling at the silky skin that swaddled this pillar and seemed so tough and yet so fragile. His cock was as much as she could ever hope to take in. The soft head slid past her palate. Again and again.

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A kind of wailing sound seemed tangled in Zack’s throat. His body began to tense. Letting out an almost triumphant cry, he repeatedly thrust his slender hips toward Hannah’s mouth. Tangy, thick cum spurted across her tongue and down her throat. Gulping it down, she could feel the contractions of his release through her lips. That sensation, combined with the jetting cream, made her pussy ooze even more moisture. She was consuming him… and it was indescribably gratifying. Spent, Zack flopped against the stairs, his arms and legs out-flung. “I’ll get my companion,” Hannah said, kissing his lush spring of pubic hair, “while you recuperate.” Amazing, she kept thinking as she continued upstairs to her bedroom. It seemed she’d been in the grip of a white heat since she first got near Zack. What’s more, she found the nonphysical parts of him just as enticing as his face and body. Hoping to rekindle his appetite, she donned a short, fawn-colored, semitransparent nightie, grabbed the box containing her dildo, and went back downstairs. Zack, who’d obviously mustered enough impetus to move, was stretched out on the couch. Hannah set the box on the coffee table. “You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Zack’s eyes opened. His dreamy gaze washed over her. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m with Clytemnestra. She knows how to wield a knife.” He held out his hand. Hannah took it. As his fingers curled over hers, her whole being seemed to puddle into his palm. She sat on the edge of the couch and gazed at him for a moment, then trailed her fingernails through the narrow line of fine, dark hair that ran from his chest to his hips. “I hope you realize you don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight,” she said, letting the feel of him seep into her. With Zack, even quick looks and fleeting contact struck sparks. “I want you in bed with me.”

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That bet with Aunt Kate seemed so silly now; the party, even sillier. Hannah realized this was what she wanted -- this wild, strange magic -- even if it only lasted for one night. “Can we cuddle?” Zack asked with startling innocence. Hannah stroked his hair. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I insist on it.” “Should we share how and why we got here?” “If we think it’s important, yes.” She knew exactly what he meant. How and why she ended up celibate and sad and self-doubting after her last relationship. How and why she went to that party and left that party. How and why he ended up being deceived and used and then thrown out of another man’s house. “I think it could be important,” Zack said. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “What are you going to do about Carl’s wife?” Hannah could barely breathe as she waited for his answer. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. Zack seemed to know exactly how he wanted to proceed. “Forget about her,” he said. “I’ll rely on you to retrieve my truck tomorrow morning. Then I’ll put the whole fiasco behind me and keep my distance. I don’t need that kind of bullshit dirtying my life. Or my conscience.” Hannah dipped forward and kissed his cheek. “Nobody does, Zack.” She began gently fondling his cock, his balls. She leaned over him and gently licked and sucked his nipples. Not surprisingly, his skin had a light salty-musky taste and smell, each enhancing the other, both acting on Hannah like a rare drug. Her senses didn’t just delight in him. Through her senses, she was transported by him. A lazy smile blossomed on Zack’s face as he growled with contentment. “I think you like me.” “I think you’re right.” His cock began to rise. “So… do you like me enough to make me your boy-toy?” “No. I don’t want a boy and I don’t need a toy. But I’d like you to be my lover.”

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“I think that can be arranged.” Zack’s hand crept up the inside of her thigh. “But a lover has to be trustworthy.” He looked into her eyes, his expression sobering. “Do you believe you can trust me, Hannah? I’d like you to.” She turned to the coffee table and lifted her dildo, a small tube of lubricant and a condom packet from the box. “Come with me,” she said, rising from the couch. “Better grab your cape first, though.” Zack got up. “I guess you know how irresistible you look in that lingerie… especially while you’re holding the things you’re holding. Which is why I’m acting like a lemming.” Hannah smiled as she watched him detour to the closet and throw the heavy vampire cape over his tall form. So sexy, she thought. Sexy and adorable and utterly… Trustworthy. Hannah didn’t doubt it. Now she had to start making Zack realize that she trusted him. She led him to a pair of sliding glass doors and onto her balcony. Her nipples contracted as the night air seized them. Turning to Zack, she handed him the vibrator and its accessories. “I’m an innocent maiden,” she said, “standing on a balcony of my parents’ mansion, gazing out over the moors. You’re a ruthless creature of the night, determined to claim me and corrupt me.” Hannah leaned on the railing, aware of the soft breeze that played with her nightie, making it flutter and lifting it to expose her ass. She glanced over her shoulder at Zack, who looked transfixed. “I trust you to write the rest of the story.” Hannah heard him sit on one of the patio chairs. She heard the small, provocative sounds of his preparation. Anticipation made moisture drizzle from her pussy. Dreamily, she inhaled autumn chill and moonlight. And suddenly his arm came around her, forcefully, crushing against one breast as his hand clutched the other. The front of his naked body pressed against her back.

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She felt sealed to him, to his heat. She felt his cape partially enfold them both, as if hiding them from the world. “Don’t scream,” he whispered against her ear, his fingers twisting her nipple. Hannah whimpered. His warm lips pressed against her neck. His teeth delivered a quick bite. Swept away by the role-playing, she breathed more heavily, her breasts pushing against the taut muscles of his arm. He forced her to bend farther over the railing. Hannah felt two oiled fingers glide around the rim of her anus, then carefully probe farther inside. The two fingers became three. His other hand found her cunt. Pleasure seemed to bombard her from inside her body, from outside her body. Hannah shuddered at the intensity of it. Still, she wanted more stimulation. Everywhere. She wanted this sensual man to fill her. He lifted her off the railing and, still clutching her from behind, dragged her over to the table. He bent her over it. Hannah felt a ribbed, humming invader being worked into her cunt. Almost simultaneously, a real cock -- hot and hard, slick and sheathed -slipped between her cheeks and began probing her ass. He double-fucked her with exquisite finesse, this dark stalker, synchronizing the movements of both his instruments, gradually burying them deeper in Hannah’s yielding body. Her whole abdomen felt thick and quivery with arousal. Weak moans mingled with harsh, excited breathing. Hannah couldn’t tell what sounds came from whose throat. She felt drugged with lust. The vampire suddenly tightened his hold on her. His hand stilled as his cock made several restrained, shuddering thrusts. He wailed into the sky as his cock began its strong pulsations -- stronger than Hannah had ever felt. Or maybe she was feeling them in a new way… She couldn’t hold out. Her whole body seemed to explode into orgasm, the shockwaves rolling all the way to her fingertips and toes, even to her scalp. Dimly, she heard Zack gasping for air. He very slowly withdrew from her and fell into a nearby chair.

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“That was incredible,” he murmured, still catching his breath. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” Hannah lifted herself from the table. Smiling, she knelt in front of her lover. “It was perfect. You’re perfect. For me, anyway.” He reached out and touched her hair. “You mean it?” “I don’t lie to people I care about.” Hannah rose and took his hand. “Come on. Let’s do some snuggling. In bed. Maybe tomorrow we can make love in the bathtub. I think that’s the only room we haven’t hit.” Zack responded with a weary chuckle. “Hey, you never did tell me about that bet.” Hannah smiled to herself. Guess I won. Yup, I won big. But… “It’s irrelevant,” she said. “It became irrelevant as soon as you flapped into my life.” Once they were tucked beneath the covers, entwined in each other’s arms, Hannah felt a little nip of regret over the neglected cock ring. It was still sitting on the dining room table. Well, can’t have it all, she thought, immensely grateful for what she did have -- one glorious night of pure enchantment. It was by far her best Halloween ever.

One Year Later Hannah’s jaw dropped as she stepped out of the shower. “You didn’t.” She stared in amused disbelief. The corners of Zack’s grin nearly touched his earlobes. He put his hands on his hips, drawing her attention there. “It might not be sharp, but it’s lethal. In a nontoxic way, of course.” “I wouldn’t brag about it if I were you. That particular ‘weapon’ is supposed to deliver pleasure, not death.” His expression didn’t change. “You know it does deliver pleasure. And will tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Want to be impaled, baby?” Hannah’s face nearly ached from holding back a smile. “But you look like some obscene Tin Man!” Haughtily, Zack lifted his chin. “Man of Steel, you mean. Now come on, wear the Clytemnestra outfit. I’ll be Orestes.” “I’ll think about it.” Hannah barely got the words out. This was too much. She dissolved into giggles. There stood the man she loved, his erect cock painted silver. “How… how are you keeping it hard?” Zack pointed at the base of his “sword”. Hannah leaned forward and squinted. Sure enough, there was the ring sporting its miniature bat. “What does that have to do with Orestes?” she spluttered, nevertheless thrilled he still had it. Zack frowned as he looked down at himself. “Nothing, I guess.” He lapsed into thought. “So… should I wear the cape instead? It’s our own private party. We can do what we want.”

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Hannah stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was still naked. “Don’t bother with the cape,” she purred. “We’ve already gone that route.” She lifted her thigh and brushed it against her lover’s gorgeous, gleaming erection. “But no matter what we wear or don’t wear, you can leave your bat on…”

K. Z. Snow K. Z. Snow, a multipublished author, is an old hippie who writes all kinds of stuff. She has 2-1/2 degrees in English and has worked as a teacher, sales promotion specialist, and editor. Although currently concentrating on erotic romance (paranormal, fantasy, and contemporary), K.Z. has also published more traditional romances, an urban fantasy, and a topical dystopian thriller. Other works are always in progress or waiting to be submitted. Her paranormal Cemetery Dancer was a 2008 EPPIE finalist. She lives in the oft-frozen tundra with three significant others: two dogs and, alas, a man. For regularly updated news and views, and to sample excerpts and book covers, visit K.Z. at http://www.myspace.com/kzsnow or http://kzsnow.blogspot.com.