This is episode number six in Pixie's story.
"Go Eagles!" Pixie said in the best cheerleader voice she could use in the house. She shook her pom-pom over her head and laughed as a flock of little elves and princesses copied her.
All her neighbor's kids and grand kids were invited to Pixie's Big Halloween Party. Outside, an early winter storm sent snowflakes swirling over the streets and sidewalks, but it was warm inside, and spiders and cobwebs decorated the dimly-lit house.
Pixie led the kids in another cheer before their parents reined them in. The littlest angels and spooks were already curling up on their mother's laps and falling asleep, but the older ones still needed to burn off their sugar highs.
"They're going to drive me crazy," Tamara said. A little girl tugged on her witch's cape, and Tamara lowered a plastic jack-o'-lantern so the girl could pick out candy.
"Be careful," Pixie said so the little girl couldn't hear. "They can smell fear, you know. At least I think you could at that age." Tamara grew up right across the street, and Pixie sometimes didn't believe that she could be in college now.
Tamara adjusted the wide brim of her pointed hat and said, "Maybe we'll get done a little early." She had a hopeful note in her voice.
They had a deal. If Tamara and her friends helped with Pixie's parties then Pixie would let them use her house for their own party. The party for the kids was to last until eight o'clock, and then Tamara's friends would start getting there at nine.
Pixie squeaked, and stepped over a little boy who tried to crawl between her legs. She turned around and asked, "That's Sam Lambert at the punch bowl, isn't it? What's he supposed to be?"
Tamara looked past Pixie and answered, "He's Archie. He makes a great Archie, doesn't he?"
Pixie approved. It wasn't so much the letter jacket she liked as it was the way the tee shirt under it stretched over his chest. "Are we going to have Betties and Veronicas here, too?" she asked.
Joan laughed. "There might be some girls here who wish they were Betty or Veronica, but none of them will be as good as you."
Pixie suddenly needed some punch. She stood in front of Sam, and he smiled when he handed her a cup. "Mrs. Tyler!" he said. "I love your cheerleader costume."
"Thank you," Pixie said, "but call me Pixie. This is my uniform from when I was in college, and I can still wear it without alterations—except the top.
"I thought a cheerleader would be non-threatening for the kids. I'll change into something a little more
interesting
after they're gone."
Pixie walked around the punch bowl and stepped close to Sam. She fingered his letter jacket then touched his chest. "What's your sport?" she asked.
Sam laughed and puffed his chest out a little to impress a hot-looking woman twice his age. "The jacket was my dad's," he said. "I think manual labor is my sport."
"It serves you well," Pixie said. A big-eyed little girl with an empty cup hopped up and down in front of the punch bowl, so Sam turned back to his work. Pixie watched his neatly combed hair and his big hands. She sipped her punch, and smiled behind her cup. Pixie had plans for Archie.
* * *
"Who's watching the door?" Pixie asked. She fluffed her black wig and checked her red lips in the mirror. Her eyes were outlined in dark eyeliner and eye shadow—a look that would have frightened the kids, but
that
party was over.
"I asked Sam to take the door," Tamara said. "Paul's got the music. Are we about ready?"
Pixie stood up, turned away from the mirror, and laughed at the girls. "You may be ready for them, but they
can't
be ready for you." Tamara and Joan were costumed as black cats. That wasn't very original, but they did their cats well.
"The last touch," Pixie said. She had to reach up to put their collars on, and a leash hooked to each girl's collar made their costumes complete.
Pixie stepped into the living room as The Mistress of the Night. Her body was wrapped in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline that barely contained her breasts. Her thigh-high nylons flashed through the skirt's long slit, and she glided across the room on red spike heels with her leashed familiars in tow.
Pirates, witches, zombies, and superheroes snacked in the dining room and loud music throbbed in the living room, where the furniture had been moved and the rug rolled up. They pointed and laughed, and heads turned. Paul looked up from his phone when Pixie stopped in front of him. She offered him Joan's leash and told him, "For you, Mr. Russo. Take care of my dear pet, please."
"Is she a good kitty?" Paul asked. He took Joan's leash and petted her butt. Joan pulled her tail to the side, arched her back, and gave Paul a come-hither meow.
Pixie slapped the handle of Tamara's leash against the palm of her hand. She looked around and wondered aloud, "Who deserves you?"
"Why don't you keep me for a while?" Tamara asked. "I'll introduce you to my friends." She looked at the growing crowd. "I guess we have some friends of friends here. I don't know everyone."
Tamara led her mistress around the living room and Pixie learned a lot of names she'd forget before she needed them. They worked through the dining room, talked with people in the kitchen, and then Pixie took Tamara back to where Sam still waited by the door.
Pixie unhooked her leash from Tamara's collar and said, "Don't forget that the music has to go way down at eleven. If it doesn't, then we may get a visit from the police." She sniffed the air. "I smell pot, so you may not want the police here."