Harry grunted as he got off the rear seat of the golf cart and began a slow hobble toward the front door of the Club. Harry was a big muscular, black haired guy, a tad over forty. He had broken his foot in a rugby scrum last week. Yeah, he knew he was getting too old for that silliness, but he did love the game. Now his foot was in a cast, and he needed crutches to get around for the next month.
He shook his head and said grumpily, "I can't believe you two roped me into this."
Harry's wife Joanie had driven them to the Club from their expansive McMansion in their private, gated Atlanta development. She hopped out of the golf cart's driver's seat and fussed over her husband making sure he was using the crutches correctly and was doing ok.
As she mothered her husband, Joanie laughed gayly and teased, "Don't be such an old fuddy duddy, Honey."
Joanie's twin sister, Karen, came from the passenger side and strolled along with the slow moving couple. She chirped happily, "Come on Harry, you look great. It will be a blast."
Harry stopped and looked at the two identical twin sisters. They were beautiful, vivacious women, both medium height, thirty-year old blondes with athletic, full-formed feminine figures. Also, smart as hell to boot. Joanie was an assistant math professor at a local university well on her way to tenure, and Karen was a financial advisor with an MBA from Wharton making a multi six-figure income. Karen lived about an hour away and traveled around the country for business quite a bit. Karen was spending the weekend with her sister and Harry. She divorced her husband of five years about six months ago, and, according to Joanie, Karen was enjoying the life of the "gay divorcee," in the old-fashioned sense of the term, to the hilt.
Harry mused thoughtfully, "You know, I don't think I have been to a Halloween costume party since I was ten. How did you all get me to do this?"
The women laughed easily in the close companionship of twins. Karen giggled as she patted her brother-in-law's shoulder affectionately, "You are an unfailingly good sport, Harry. We can always count on you to come through for us. Oh, we are going to knock 'em dead tonight!"
When the two twins got together they fed off of one another and were capable of coming up with pretty zany ideas - like this one. In their defense, the girls and their zany ideas were usually fun and certainly always made for interesting times.
Harry pursed his lips as he contemplated the twin sisters. He gave a bemused shake of his head and laughed too. "Yeah, I think you are certainly right about knocking 'em dead!"
The twins were dressed identically. Four inch heels showcased their shapely legs that cascaded from impossibly short leather skirts. A deeply scalloped, white, silky top left their taught midriffs bare and their generous breasts highlighted by the clingy fabric. The thin silk was almost diaphanous and teased the viewer about what was or what was not really revealed.
The women had spent the day at the salon. Their long blond hair was coiffured to perfection, and their extensive makeup highlighted the women's enticing full lips, satin smooth skin, and dancing blue eyes. The two sisters were lovely on an average day. Tonight they were absolutely stunning sirens who would beguile any male who saw them. They had certainly laid their feminine charms out boldly for public inspection.
Harry snorted, "And what did you enter us in the costume contest as again?"
The sisters laughed and replied in unison, "Harry the Pimp and His Two Whores."
Harry shook his head in mock dismay and added, "Well, you two certainly look the part. You can't even sit down or bend over in those skirts without flashing the world."
Joanie smirked at him and whispered conspiratorially, "Yes dear husband, and that's why we went to Victoria's Secret yesterday to buy fancy lace panties to show off when we do flash. We are masquerading as whores tonight, after all."
Karen added coyly, "And the panties are a lovely scarlet color that you can't miss. Oh, we will catch attention all right. We should win first place for sure."
Joanie teased her husband, "And honey, you make a great pimp for us."
The girls had dressed the muscular Harry in tight black trousers; one leg seam of which they had to slit to accommodate the cast. His vibrant purple shirt was unbuttoned halfway, and they had teased out an abundant display of his plush black chest hair. Around his neck was a massive fake gold chain. The pimp look was topped off with a pair of aviator shades.
The trio made their way to the Club front door and into the ballroom where they checked in for the costume contest. They then went to the bar next to the ballroom and got cocktails. After about a half hour, the costume contest began.
Of the hundred or so guests, most of whom were in costume of one sort or another, about two dozen had the nerve to actually enter the contest singly or as teams. Each entry paraded across the stage at the end of the ballroom before a panel of three judges, accompanied by cheers and applause from their supporters in the friendly and boisterous crowd.
When the announcer made the curtain call for "Harry the Pimp and His Two Whores" the place erupted in laughter, catcalls, wolf whistles, and cheers. They were the crowd favorite for sure. To show their appreciation, Joanie and Karen turned their back to the cheerful crowd and flipped up their skirts to flash their scarlet panty bottoms to more applause.
The judges unanimously concurred with the audience. Harry the Pimp and his Two Whores easily won first place. This win came with a fifty dollar coupon redeemable in the Club restaurant. That wasn't much profit as this was a charity fund-raising event with tickets costing a hundred bucks a head.
After the contest, Joanie and Karen settled Harry comfortably at a table in the bar with his leg that was in the cast propped in a chair. There he could comfortably watch the Saturday college football games on the large screen tv. A band began playing next door in the ballroom as the women got Harry all set with a cocktail and hors d'oeuvres from the party serving line.
With Harry happily watching the game and gossiping with other men who stopped by to catch up on the game and chat, the two (barely dressed) women returned to the ballroom to hobnob with friends. The band was good, the music lively, flirting was rampant, and the two sexy, twin sisters were in steady demand as dance partners.
The first set ended as the band took a well-earned break. Joanie and Karen rejoined Harry at his table with a round of fresh drinks for everyone.
Joanie nudged Karen and whispered, "I think an admirer is getting up his nerve to talk to you."
Karen arched her eyebrows and whispered back questioningly, "Admirer? Who?"
Joanie smirked and winked, "One of those army lieutenants that are home on leave. Those two couldn't keep their eyes off of you. I was afraid they would devour you right there on the dance floor. Grace said she told them I was married, but you were available. Hmm, they are both mighty cute. Good luck!"
Karen giggled and said "Yeah, cute like puppy dogs. Those boys are barely old enough to drink."
A deep male voice rumbled behind the women, "Good evening, may I join you ladies and your husband?"
Karen gave the lieutenant a cool appraising stare. He and the other lieutenant had worn their Class A uniforms as their last-minute make-do party costumes. She read the lieutenant's uniform: infantry branch rifle insignia, airborne wings, ranger tab, combat infantry badge, three overseas service bars on the sleeve, and a small collection of various ribbons over the left pocket. Well, this boy was a real soldier and not a paper pusher.
He was a tall man, broad shouldered and narrow waisted. Obviously fit as a fiddle. His dark tan said he had been out under a hot sun for an extended period. A nervous smile displayed gleaming white teeth that contrasted with his deep tan. His brown hair was close cropped, military-style, and he had lovely, dreamy brown eyes. And those delightful long eye lashes. God, a woman would kill for those!
Karen mentally agreed with her twin sister's appraisal, "Oh yes, this guy is a cutey indeed."
The lieutenant stood there, erect but obviously ill at ease under Karen's bold inspection. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, and they were clasped lightly in front of him. His hands displayed surprisingly long, delicate fingers with short, clean nails. A whitish, slightly raised scar snaked across the back of his tanned right hand and disappeared under the uniform cuff. There must be a story there, Karen thought.
Karen surmised from his nervous ill-at-ease manner that he was naturally shy, which she found quite endearing. Here was a fierce young man who could lead soldiers into combat, close with and destroy an enemy, with bare hands if needed, and yet the poor boy was nervous as a cat when trying to talk to a pretty girl. What a strange world we live in, Karen thought with amusement.
After a few tense seconds, Karen gave the lieutenant a dazzling smile and replied cheerfully, "Certainly, soldier. Sit down here next to me," as she patted the seat beside her.
Awkward chit chat and banter flitted around the table, as the lieutenant tried to court the dazzling and cosmopolitan Karen to the amusement of Joanie and Harry. The poor country boy was in over his head with the worldly Karen, but he gamely kept swinging at her zinging fast balls.
Outmaneuvered in the verbal jousting with the scintillating Karen and at a loss, the lieutenant finally turned to the obvious topic of the scandalous outfits the sisters wore.
He flushed as he remarked, "I must say those whore costumes... woops, I didn't mean to say that. Those outfits are really something else."
Karen was enjoying the young lieutenant's discomfort. She teased, "Well sir, that is exactly what we are for the costume party tonight. My sister and I are whores working for her husband the pimp so it is perfectly correct to call this," she waved her hand indicating her partially clad body, "a whore costume."
A red-faced lieutenant stuttered, "Ah yes, you are right, of course."
Karen was not one to let a victim off lightly, and she prolonged the silence painfully before dropping her bombshell. Looking him directly in the eye, she asked in a clear, innocent voice, "Well soldier, aren't you going to ask this whore the obvious next question? How much does she charge for her services? After all, you soldiers don't have time to beat around the bush when you are home on a short leave."
The lieutenant was tongue tied now, and Joanie and Harry were snickering. The lieutenant finally gasped out, "Uh, okay. How much do you charge for... uhm, your, you know?"
