The super rich residents of an enclave out of Chicago gathered in fantastic-looking custom-made costumes for one of their occasional mixed social events of the year. The occasion was Halloween and most arrived poolside already boisterous, a polite way of saying drunk.
The perimeter electrified fences enclosing the enclave were 8-feet high and the fast-shutting entry-exit gate was triple-skinned titanium. Residents were not afraid of the world – they were simply afraid of people living within a couple of miles of their fence plus the occasional vagrant bent on shooting them with addictive drugs or the bird flu virus or drive-by thugs wanting to fill them with lead.
Residents were also afraid of three other things: Recession, the clap and children.
Children were forbidden to entry the compound, not even grandchildren wanting to visit their filthy-rich grandma. It was up to grandma to leave the security of Hammerhead Heights and to meet daughter and the kids at the mall.
The party that evening was just warming up – the women choosing the man they wished to have fuck them that night. Suddenly an astonishing arrival caused an uproar: A boy of about eight appeared in their midst shouting, "Trick-or-Treat."
Three of the most athletic male residents seized the boy and stripped him, finding no electrical burns to his body. Well, if he hadn't scaled the wall how did he achieve access?
The kid was tough; he buttoned his lips. Clara Wright called, "Let me handle this." The three captors stood aside and Clara, a female weightlifter of 40, lifted the kid up with ease and held him over the biggest Jack-o-lantern to initiate her interrogation while he was hung out to fry. Suddenly she shouted, "Oh God, I'm covered in crap, real crap. The kid's arrived here via the sewer."
The kid was bundled into a towel, given one sweet as his treat and taken to a sewer access hole where Clara found his gas mask and Jack-o-lantern.
"Know which way to go to return home?" she barked.
The kid nodded so she sent him on his way and placed ten bags of sand over the lid to eliminate that weakness in security until a lock was fitted.
By the time Clara returned poolside some of the couples were already entertaining themselves and others nearby with their copulating behavior. They looked set for a great night, with the cook-out underway under the watchful eye of Ivan Perkins, a professional chef. The copulating was being supervised by the community's only known prostitute, Felicity Hoare which she claimed was her real name, not her professional name.
Todd Trubuhovich worked on a radio station so was in charge of the music, including dance music and was considered an authority in that role despite being the broadcaster's company accountant. It was accepted that scarcely anyone liked any of the music he played but because the community worked in a very democratic way he had the voluntary job for life unless he and his wife's wealth as audited by the community's board of trustees fell below the minimum level for residency of $10,000,000.
Clara's role was internal security, lifter of heavy furniture and as she was celibate being in charge of pairing the women who fail to dock with a male partner at these special occasions. The women residents including Clara outnumber the men 55% to 45%. Whenever there was an odd woman out Clara would agree to administer the toys on her providing the recipient agreed it was hands off Clara and no insertion of toys into any of Clara's orifices, ear holes, nostrils or between toes or breasts.
To an outsider, it might seem very strange these adults should be expecting to have a great Halloween without children. The sight of their little darlings dressed up in scary-looking costumes, torches under their chins makes most parents glow with pride and they react ever so proudly when other parents compliment them for 'great get-ups your kids have." So how could these millionaires entertain themselves adequately, apart from the boring old routines of fucking someone's wife or being fucked by someone's husband?
Clara was pondering this poser when a handsome stranger in a tuxedo stood in front of her and said, "Hi."
Her knees almost gave way; he was speaking to her. Clara's mouth opened to squeak a reply when his face cracked into a thousand pieces and she realized she was staring down the throat of a Vampire. But instead of just biting into her neck the creature bit her entire head off.
Her severed head screamed, "Please help me!"
Clara burst awake in a sweat, eyes opened wide in fear. She became aware she was in the safety of her own bed where she'd been taking a nap before this evening's festivities.
* * *
Action replay.
* * *
Clara Wright checked the perimeter fencing of the enclave on Brown's Hill and sighed. So much of the four-foot high boarding was rotting from the bottom – the constructors had used cheap and inferior timber. She sighed again at the entrance eyeing the gate that had fallen after its rusting hinges had given way; it had been dragged and thrown into the overgrown garden behind the fencing.
Although Clara was in charge of internal security she was powerless to have the gate repaired and re-erected. The governing board had no spare funds because the forty residents were tight-fisted. She went to the pool where a cook-out was underway for anyone who bothered to turn up to celebrate Halloween. A resident, Ivan Perkins who owned the nearby take-out bar, was in charge of cooking; Clara hoped he wouldn't burn the steaks into almost inedible crap this time.
She smiled, greeting arrivals as they straggled in, most of whom were drunk, few wearing appropriate fancy dress and most looking ill at ease as if they'd just been fighting with their partners. Clara now felt ill at ease: that meant those upset women would turn to another women who was similarly tearful; they would wander off to a dark corner to commence a sexual affair – not a lesbian affair because she was sure none of them were lesbians. The men, of course, would simply become even more aggressive and pick a fight with another male, also stressed, all of them acting like bad-tempered lions.
Still, all this was amusing to watch.
Clara was dressed as a witch and felt horny because she's not had loving sex for three weeks when Kevin walked out on her, ending their quite long relationship of almost a month. The beautiful Mrs Hoare floated up and kissed her. "Hi darling, found a replacement for Kevin yet? Clara shook her head sadly and kissed Felicity, a fellow prostitute. Both worked quite a lot from home as most of the men in their small community were clients.
The party was beginning to rev up, people responding to the throbbing music provided and played by local music store proprietor Todd Trubuhovich – God what a name thought Clara who had no problem remembering it because his wife Trudy was such a bitch - she put Trudy-Bitch together as a prompt for her memory. Todd fancied himself as a disk jock or whatever they were called and she assumed the throbbing beat would be appreciated by those naughty women in the shadows seeking release from their tension.
Felicity Hoare was being berated by another woman resident who was shouting, "Leave my husband alone, you whore!" when Clara arrived to break it up. Clara admonished the other woman" "Gwen, if you opened your legs more for Gareth he wouldn't find it necessary to poke his thing elsewhere."
Gwen burst into tears so the two women hugged her. "Please, one of you come with me into the shadows," Gwen pleaded but they both declined, believing it to be unprofessional, demeaning their profession. Felicity had a quite word with graphic artist Sylvia Copeland who excitedly led Gwen away whispering she happened to have her favorite 'rabbit' toy in her handbag.
Felicity's husband Arnold, who already had been in one fight, arrived to claim Felicity for a dance. He kissed Clara in sympathy.
"Felix has told me you haven't managed to replace Kevin yet?"
"Alas no."
"I had a chat with Felix last night. She won't allow me to visit you, saying that would be adultery, but she's comfortable about you coming over for dinner occasionally and we finishing off in bed as a threesome."
"Yes, dear," Felicity added. :I'm comfortable about it, especially with Arnie's suggestion that we climax with you sitting on my face and holding my legs up while he stands and butt fucks me; I go all wet just thinking about it."
"Oh God, you two, stop it," Clara grinned. "I'm beginning to drip already."
After two dances Felicity returned to Clara's side and offered to go into the shadows with her.
"I'd like to but as convener of this event I must supervise and circulate. Where's Arnold?"
"Over there, beating the crap out of Henry Baldwin," Felicity said, pointing.
"But Henry's much bigger."
