"I'm not sure about this," Ella called to me above the noise of her hairdryer.
"You're the one who agreed to go. If you'd asked me I'd have told you to say we're busy." I shifted on the sofa and flicked aimlessly through the channels full of celebrities I've never heard of.
The hairdryer noise ceased and a few seconds later Ella appeared at the doorway of the living room.
"Going like that are you?" I joked as she pulled her bath robe tighter. She's always been conscious of her body and even though we're married it's still a task to get her naked.
"At least I'd know what I was wearing. I hate fancy dress."
"So you should have said no! Plus it's not fancy dress, it's a costumed masquerade party," I said, reading from the invitation on the coffee table.
"Same thing," she said as she perched on the arm of a chair. "You know I couldn't say no. She's my boss."
"She's not really your boss, is she? She works with your boss."
"Yeah."
"At head office."
"Yeah."
"Where you don't have to see her," I said with a stare that let her know I blamed her for dragging me along.
"I'm going to finish getting ready," Ella sighed and left the room.
I took another glance at the invitation. It didn't give much information other than the theme of Heaven and Hell and an address. Obviously I'd looked on Google maps but all I could see was that it was a big house in a street of big houses. All of which had high hedges and large gates that prevented nosy people like me from seeing much online.
I watched TV for a bit, almost dying of boredom, before the doorbell startled me. I waited for Ella to answer it but soon realised she must have been upstairs.
"I'll get it then," I muttered to myself as I rose from the sofa and went into the hallway.
I opened the door with a smile and an enthusiastic "Hello" and hoped our guests would believe the fake sincerity.
"Hi, you must be Ella's husband. We've heard so much about you," said the woman already pushing past me.
"Nice to meet you," said her companion as he nearly crushed my hand.
"Where is she then?" she asked as she peered in every door she could find.
"Upstairs I think..."
Before I could say Ella would be right down, she had rushed up the stairs.
"You'll have to excuse Collette; she gets very excitable about parties like this. Well, I'm sure we all do." He smiled as though I was part of an in-joke.
"Oh, absolutely." I shut the door and showed him into the living room.
From what I had glimpsed of Collette, she was a reasonable looking woman in her early forties, although she dressed in a way to make her appear more youthful. Her short blonde hair framed her glasses nicely and she seemed to be in decent shape. Not that it had been easy to see under her long coat and the bag she clutched.
"So you've been married for less than a year then?"
"What? Oh, yes. Only a few months," I replied.
He had already sat down in my place on the sofa and was glancing at the TV.
"Married life is great," he said. I still didn't know who he was.
"So you're married to Collette then?"
He looked at me as though I were stupid. "For nearly twenty years now. Can't believe you watch this shit," he said as he pointed to the screen.
"I don't really. It's just there's nothing on."
He picked up the remote and typed in a number. "You don't even have the footy channels? Jesus. I wouldn't let Collette control me like that. Tell you what, you get us a drink and I'll get our costumes ready."
"Yeah, sure." Nobhead.
I went and took as long as I could to get us a beer from the fridge. This was going to be a long night. Still, if it was a big party then we could always sneak away from them. Or maybe just kill him and bury him in the huge garden. I eventually carried the cans through to the living room.
"Jesus," I said as I saw what he was wearing.
"Not quite," he grinned and took a can. He was dressed in a monk's habit. It looked like an oversized brown bath robe tied with rope. "There's yours," he pointed to the other habit on the table.
I put my beer down and picked up the costume. I got my arm halfway into the sleeve before he commented.
"You don't wanna do that. You'll be roasting."
"So you aren't wearing a shirt underneath?"
He scoffed. "Wear as little as possible." He opened his habit to show me what he had on, or rather didn't have on, underneath. All he wore was a pair of white underpants that left little to the imagination. Coupled with a physique that said he regularly frequented the gym it meant I was more than reluctant to strip off.
I removed my shirt and slipped the habit on. Only then did I take off my jeans and socks. Letting him see my slim upper body was one thing but I wasn't going to let him see my boxers or chicken legs too.
With the habit on, I then had to put the sandals on. I hate sandals and they only added to my discomfort.
"Perfect," he said.