Watchers 3

A stream of dry brown leaves danced along the sidewalk with a fragile, crackling sound. Matt shivered and pulled up his collar to block the cold gust of wind. He hadn't wanted to go out, especially not on Halloween. He was in no mood for a party. But Jared had pestered him until he agreed to go.

"It will be great," Jared said, "Glenn always throws the best parties."

A gaggle of trick or treaters came around the corner. They stepped apart to let them pass. Matt turned and watched them as they dashed up the driveway of the nearest house.

"Every one of those kids is made up like the Walking Dead," he said.

"Or they really are the Walking Dead."

"At least they made an effort. We don't even have costumes."

Jared unzipped his hoodie and spread it open. "I'm wearing my Green Lantern t-shirt," he said.

"That's not really a costume. You don't look anything like Green Lantern."

"Ah, but see, here's where you're wrong. Anyone can be Green Lantern. They just have to be worthy."

"I think that's Captain America."

"No, that's...never mind. Look, dude, I get it, you're not excited about the party. But you have to get back on the horse sooner or later."

Matt knew what his friend was alluding to; his breakup with Allison. And he knew he was right. It had been almost two months since she had moved out. He'd been keeping to himself ever since.

They were still half a block away when they heard the music. Jared listened closely for a minute.

"That's Ministry," he said, grinning.

"Yeah, Every Day is Halloween."

"Good call."

The walkway up to Glenn's front door was lined with jack'o'lanterns along both sides.

"I smell something good," Jared muttered.

As they stepped under a canopy of store bought spider webs that hung over the porch, they were startled by a loud voice shouting "Boo!" from the darkness on their right.

A hooded figure in a white Scream mask stepped toward them.

"Hey, Keith," Jared said.

"Shit," Keith said, taking off his mask. "How did you know it was me."

"You've worn the same costume for about five years in a row," Matt said.

"It's a classic," Keith responded. From under the sleeve of his cape, he raised a joint, took a puff, and offered it to Matt and Jared. They each took a long hit, thanked him, and went into the house.

There were more jack'o'lanterns inside, providing the only illumination in the foyer.

"I could buy a car with what this dude spends on pumpkins," Jared said.

They went into the living room. It was festooned with black and orange crepe streamers and balloons. There were eight or ten people standing around, about half in costume. A few more sat on the couch. On the far end of the room, a low flame glowed in the fireplace, while above it, a big screen television silently showed the original Universal Pictures' Frankenstein.

"Jared! a voice called. A petite blonde girl dressed as Harley Quinn came toward them.

Jared smiled broadly. "Hey, Tracy," he said.

She wrapped her arms around Jared's waist and kissed his cheek. Looking at Matt, she said, "Well, look who crawled out of his hole."

Matt just shrugged, while Jared said, "Yeah, it took some work but I dragged him out."

"You guys got nothing to drink yet? Jesus Christ, come on," Tracy said.

They followed her to the kitchen. Bottles of Bud Light and Heineken were bobbing in the ice filled sink. Matt and Jared each took a Heinie and twisted off the caps.

"What do you want?" Jared asked Tracy.

"Oh, I'm good right here," she said, slipping a pint of Fireball from her purse and taking a swig.

A couple of women passed through the kitchen, heading toward the basement stairs. One was wearing a Hooters t-shirt and orange shorts. The other was dressed as a policewoman who seemed to have forgotten her uniform pants. Matt watched them as they went by, his eyes fixed on the policewoman's ass.

Tracy elbowed him in the ribs. "Looks like you're ready to get back in the game," she laughed.

"I thought there would be a lot more people here," Jared said.

"Most of the party is downstairs," Tracy told him.

"Well shit, what are we waiting for?"

The basement was a large open space, but it was still crowded. Glenn, their host, greeted them at the foot of the stairs. He was dressed as a pirate, with black vest and hat, and a large toy cutlass. He had a stuffed parrot on his left shoulder and an eyepatch over his left eye.

"Arr, mateys," he said to Matt and Jared, "Welcome aboard."

"Nice parrot," Matt said.

Glenn feigned surprise and turned his head to the left. "What parrot?" he asked, "I don't see no parrot."

Jared snorted. "How many times have you pulled that one already tonight?"

"I'm wishin' I had a doubloon for every lubber who walked into it," he said, "I'd be the richest buccaneer on the seven seas."

More guests were coming down the stairs and he turned to greet them.

Matt looked around the basement. At the far end, the area near the stereo system was lit with flashing colored lights. A few people were dancing there, but most of the room was filled with clusters of guests, chatting and laughing.

"Oh, there's Julie and her friends," Tracy said, tugging Jared into the crowd.

Matt hung back. Julie was good friends with Allison. He didn't want to get into any awkward conversations. There were chairs and couches lining the walls. Most were empty. He found an easy chair in a dark corner and sat down.

He was introverted; he'd never been very sociable. That had been one of the problems in his relationship with Allison. She liked to go out, party with her friends, have people over to visit. He would end up doing what he was doing now; sitting in a corner and watching others have a good time.

To make matters worse, on several occasions, Allison had noticed the attention he was giving to other women, and chastised him for it. He wished that he could have made her understand that it was a harmless quirk. When he saw an attractive woman, his mind automatically turned to sex. But he never cheated on her, he merely indulged in fantasies. In fact, most of his fantasies were about her. Frequently, while the two of them made love, he would imagine watching her with someone else; a muscular athlete, a domineering Black man, another girl.

He never dared tell her of his fantasies, and now, those fantasies were all he had.

The crowd in Glenn's basement supplied his imagination with plenty of fuel. There were a lot of fine looking women in some very sexy costumes. He saw the policewoman and the Hooters girl again. They were chatting, but he pictured them kissing each other. He got another good look at the lady cop's ass and imagined it high in the air, getting railed by some big stud while she ate her friend's pussy.

Looking around the room, he saw a buxom girl in a cheerleader outfit skimpier than would be allowed on any playing field. In his mind, she was across the principal's knees, getting her bare bottom spanked for the audacity of her display.

His eyes followed one woman, then another. There was a sexy devil with a long pointed tail and Little Red Riding Hood, wearing next to nothing beneath her crimson cloak. There were at least two more Harley Quinns. Each one starred in a wild scenario in his head.

He would be thrilled to hook up with one of them for real. He had been celibate since Allison left. For weeks, he told himself that he didn't need another girl friend, at least not for now.

But he still craved sex. He woke up every morning with an erection. It had become routine to set his alarm clock for an hour earlier than he needed to get up, so he could browse Pornhub and masturbate before getting ready for work. Some nights, he logged in again before he went to bed. Now and then, he'd feel disgusted with himself, but most of the time, he told himself that watching was enough. It was certainly better than risking having his heart broken again.

A space cleared in the crowd. The cheerleader and the devil girl were dancing, bumping and grinding, rubbing their breasts together. The onlookers clapped and cheered them on.

Matt watched as well. It seemed like one of his fantasies might come true and his body responded. His cock began to stiffen and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The dancing girls faced each other, embraced and kissed.

Without conscious intent, Matt rubbed the front of his jeans. When he realized what he was doing, he looked around quickly, assuring himself that no one had seen him.

The girls separated, faced their audience and waved. Roars of approval filled the room as they scampered out of Matt's view.

He felt a brief flash of disappointment, but when the girls vanished, he had a clear view all the way across the long room. Framed through the opening in the crowd, he saw a woman against the far wall.

She was illuminated by the flashing colored lights that lit the dance floor. Her long hair may have been jet black, but it kept changing with the lights, purple, green, pink. It framed a face of delicate features and flowed over her shoulders to brush the top of her breasts.

Her dress was cut low down the center, but was modest by the party's standards. The hem was at her knees. It had a glossy sheen; at first, Matt thought it was leather or vinyl, but as he looked more closely, he saw that it was segmented, like it was made of scales. His father had once owned a pair of alligator shoes, and that came to his mind.

She wore boots to match, and over her shoulders, some sort of a cloak. It was as black as the darkest night, as if it swallowed any light that dared touch it.

Matt stared at her. No other girl in the room had so captured his gaze. And unlike with the other girls, he did not find any fantasy forming in his mind. She seemed somehow beyond anything his imagination could conjure.

To his surprise, she looked across the room and into his eyes. His natural inclination was to turn away, but he could not.

He had a vague feeling that they knew each other, not because he thought he recognized her, but that there was something in the way she looked at him that made him sure that she recognized him.

The corners of her mouth raised in what might have been the beginnings of a smile or a sneer. But at that moment a line of partygoers crossed the room and Matt lost sight of her.

He stood up, abruptly, and felt a stab of pain as his erection pressed against the resistance of his jeans. He caught a clear glimpse across the room, but did not see her. His cock sagged, either from pain or despair or a combination of both.

He had to find her. He did not know if he would speak to her if he did, but he had to at least see her again. He snaked his way across the room, looking this way and that, straining for a sight of her.

He stood in the spot where she had been and looked about the room from that vantage point. Having no luck, he assumed she had gone upstairs. He made his way toward the staircase, bumping into a few people and eliciting some complaints along the way. He paid them no mind. His only thought was that he needed to look again into those eyes.

He had to wait at the bottom of the stairs as a line of costumed revelers came down. When he had a clear path he bounded up them two steps at a time.

The kitchen was more crowded than it had been earlier. A few of his friends were socializing by the beer filled sink. As he brushed by them, someone held out an open bottle of Bud to him. He took it without acknowledging the offer and continued through the living room, constantly glancing from side to side. Still, he did not see her.

He checked the bathroom and the front porch. She's gone, he thought. Dejected, he returned to the living room. There were more women in skimpy costumes than before, but as he looked at them, he did not think any of them were sexy. He noticed every thick thigh, every roll of flesh around the midriff. The smallest blemish seemed like a disfiguring scar.

If he could not find the girl in black, all he wanted to do was return home. He wondered if he had really seen her or if she had been a product of his erotic imagination.

He needed to tell Jared that he was leaving, but he realized that in his search he had seen neither his friend nor Tracy.

He remembered his friends by the sink. They knew Jared. Maybe they had seen him.

They were still in the kitchen when he went back. As he approached the group, one of them, Jim, turned to look at him.

"What the fuck, Matt?" he called. "I give you a beer and you walk by me like I fuckin' smell bad?"

Matt blushed. "Yeah man, I'm sorry about that," he said, "I was kind of distracted."

He realized he hadn't even sipped the beer Jim had given him. He took a drink and said, "I'm trying to find Jared. Have you seen him lately?"

Jim shrugged and turned to the others. "Hey, have you guys seen Jared?"

"He was with Tracy," one girl said.

"Yeah. Do you know where they went?" Matt asked.

"They went out the back door about fifteen minutes ago."

"Thanks."

"No problem," Jim said, clinking his beer bottle against Matt's. "But don't be a dick next time."

"I won't," Matt mumbled as he headed towards the door.

The backyard was surrounded by a high wooden fence that sheltered it from the biting wind that rustled the trees.

A small group was standing in the shadows to the left of the back steps. Matt saw an orange glow, and smelled marijuana.

A voice call out, "Hey Matt, you want to hit this?"

Matt recognized that it was Keith. "No, not right now, but thanks," he said, "Have you seen Jared?"

"Yeah," someone said, "He went towards the back of the yard a little while ago with Harley Quinn."

"Which one?" Keith asked.

"Does it matter?" Someone replied. The group burst into giggles.

The back lawn was a shifting lattice of moonlight and the shadows of tree branches. The yard was deep, the back half mostly taken up by a dormant vegetable garden. Here and there, a few dead vines still clung to tilted stakes.

There was a shed to the right of the garden. It occurred to Matt that if Jared and Tracy had come back here, it was for privacy, and that perhaps he should just return to the party and wait for them there. But he wanted to leave and he needed to let Jared know. At the same time, some part of him enjoyed the thought that he might spy on them in the act.

When he got close to the shed, he heard sounds coming from behind it. Walking slowly, trying to avoid crunching any leaves with his footsteps, he went to the back corner of the shed and cautiously peered around it.

In the wash of moonlight, Matt could clearly see a stack of firewood, an overturned wheelbarrow, and Jared, leaning back against the edge of a rough work bench. His head was thrown back, his hands gripped the table's edge, and his pants were bunched around his ankles.

Tracy was on her knees in front of him, her face pressed to his loins.

Matt watched her draw her head back, her lips wrapped around Jared's cock, until only the very end was still in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head, then moved forward and took it all in again.

Matt felt his own penis swell. He slipped his hand under his waistband and wrapped his fingers around it.

Tracy continued to suck Jared's cock, her head moving quickly, her twin ponytails swinging with the motion. Jared was moaning with pleasure.

In a flash of fantasy, Matt imagined taking his cock out and having her suck him off as well.

After a few more minutes, Tracy made a gagging sound and Jared's moans increased in volume and intensity.

"Oh fuck yeah," he said, as Tracy lifted her head. She panted a few times, and then her heavy breathing turned to laughter.

Matt stepped away from the shed as quickly as he could without making any noise, heading back to the kitchen door.

But halfway across the yard, he was startled by a flicker of motion in his peripheral vision. He peered into the darkness on his left. There was a white glow in the darkness. It startled him and he dropped his beer.

"You have been looking for me," a low voice said. The girl in black stepped closer, her clothing merged into shadow, her face glowing in the moonlight.

The best reply he could manage was a fumbling mumbled, "Yeah, hi."

She stood, still half in darkness and said, "Well, here I am."

He understood that she expected him to come to her. He walked over and stood in front of her. From behind him, he heard voices and knew it was Jared and Tracy, coming back from the shed. He did not turn his head; he no longer had any desire to find them. The girl in black watched them pass. When they had gone into the house, she turned her attention back to Matt.

"What is your name?" she asked him. Her tone was stern, but somehow alluring.

"Matt. Well, Matthew," he replied, "What's yours?"

"Nyx."

"Like Stevie Nicks?"

"No."

"Oh, I was just thinking, you know...Halloween and all. Some people say she is a witch."

"She is not."

He felt awkward and foolish. Talking to girls had never been easy for him, and Nyx was no ordinary girl. In addition to her beauty, there was an ethereal quality about her that he could not define. That she was even speaking to him seemed so far beyond his expectations that he thought he might be dreaming.

"Why did you seek me?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, then blurted, "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

The merest trace of a smile passed across her face. "And you have looked over many women, in order to make such a judgment?"

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I have."

She dropped her eyes, clearly looking him over. He shifted from foot to foot, feeling self conscious.

"There are many men here," she said, "Why do you think you alone had the right to pursue me?"

"Because, well, when we looked at each other across the room, it seemed like there was a connection between us."

"There was." She held out her hand toward him. As he took it, he noticed that her nails were unusually long and filed to sharp points.

"Will you walk me home?" she asked.

Matt gulped and nodded his assent. Hand in hand, they walked out of the yard and through the shadow of the house to the street.

"Is it very far?" he asked.

"No, it is close."

The streets were empty. The last trick or treater had finished their rounds. The porch lamps had gone out. Here and there, a jack'o'lantern still dimly grinned.

They walked in silence for several blocks, then turned a corner. Matt felt a moment of disorientation. He had lived in this neighborhood for years, but he could not recall ever being on this street. Nothing looked familiar; the trees seemed taller, the houses older and bigger.

They passed alongside a tall, untrimmed hedge. When they came to an opening, Nyx turned into it, beckoning Matt to follow her. There may have been a walkway across the lawn, but Matt could not tell, as the carpet of dead leaves was deep enough to cover the tops of his shoes.

They walked towards a looming Victorian house. Above them, the branches of a huge oak tree creaked in the wind.

They climbed the steps to the broad front porch. There was just enough moonlight to see the door. Nyx pushed it open, though Matt did not see her turn the knob.

They entered a log dark hallway. High sconces gave off enough light to see the way before them. Oddly, they seemed to flicker, as if they held candles rather than electric bulbs.

"Come along," Nyx said.

An inner voice told Matt that he should not go further, that he should turn, flee, forget he ever saw this woman.

But when she smiled seductively and held out her hand, he took it. She squeezed it gently, but pulled him forward with surprising strength. They turned into a large parlor, where embers glowed in a huge stone fireplace. As they passed in front of it, the brief warmth made Matt realize how cold he had been since entering the house.