(Please take the time to comment even if you don't vote; I'm trying to improve. Thank you!)
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She loved Halloween and always had. Many people said inordinately so, and perhaps that was true. Picking a costume, doing extreme make-up, flirting, teasing, all the things that constituted Halloween fun to so many were more than that. For her it was as though once a year she could be herself, the person she actually was hidden deep inside. For a little while, the beast could slip its leash. It was like an awakening. There was a magic to it. It was the only day of the year she seemed able to meet people she wanted to talk to, or even had anything in common with. Even when she was a child, she would stay out until midnight playing with other hobgoblins, pixies, fairies, vampires, and lycan until finally her mother would call her inside. Candy had always been secondary; the friendships, though only for the night, had always been the draw for her. It bothered her somewhat she could never find her playmates after Halloween. Even as an adult, no matter how good a time anyone seemed to have had, she was left without a single email, IM, or phone number.
Sighing to herself, she wiped off the eyeliner and lipstick that were her only makeup this year. The heat of the washcloth felt good against her cold nose and cheeks which she was quite sure were an unbecoming pink. Perhaps that was why he had walked off without taking the card she had offered with her contact information. The last two years he'd refused to share any of his contact information with her. She should have been able to let it slide; it was clear he wasn't interested.
But something about him drew her. Probably the fact he was her ideal of male perfection. Two metres tall, he towered over her. Long, straight black hair fell to his waist, pale skin gleamed like marble in the shadows of the night, green eyes glowed eerily like a cats, and muscle clearly rippled with his every move. He was ropey and slightly lanky rather than wide, but he moved with clear elegance of the sort she envied in anyone. And she would swear by the look in his eyes tonight he'd been interested, if only for a moment.
So she had slid the card from the small concealed pocket in the gown she wore, offering it to him wordlessly. She really wasn't sure which was worse; the cursory glance he'd given it, his refusal to even touch it, or his haste in leaving after she'd proffered the pathetic offering. She couldn't help it. She wasn't bold, not when she was attracted to men. As a matter of course, she was usually aloof with most people, earning her a reputation as an ice queen. Her friends knew the truth, but nothing they did broke through her carefully masked shyness when meeting strangers. Only time and familiarity did that, and the fact she could count all her friends on one hand with fingers left proved just how many people had the patience to deal with that.
After his admittedly polite rejection, the sheen had worn off the evening somewhat. She had pleaded tiredness to her friends, sighting the busy day at work as her cause. On the way home she met a male pixie out travelling to another party. It was near her apartment, so they walked and talked together for a few blocks before their ways parted. Somewhat cheered she had entered the apartment, and ten minutes later she was standing here, face buried in a washcloth, wishing she wasn't such an anti-social loser. Pulling the washcloth off her face, she glanced at her watch lying on the sink. Just past eleven o'clock. This was the earliest she had been home on Halloween since she was old enough to walk.
Sighing, she hung the washcloth on the rack, turned off the light, and crossed threshold into her room. Without bothering to turn on a light, she stripped out of her costume, laying the crushed velvet gown over the back of her desk chair and letting her garter, hose, and bra fall to the carpet next to her discarded shoes. Walking to her bed, she slipped into the tank and pyjama bottoms she'd folded and laid on her pillow in the morning, then slid under the covers to sleep.
He was waiting as soon as she closed her eyes. No preliminaries, no foreplay, not even a greeting. The tank top and pyjama bottoms she slept in were gone, though where she didn't know. That was all she had time to think before his teeth sank into the vein atop her left breast and three of his fingers sank into her barely moistening pussy. She gasped, hips shooting up, back arched, heels and hands digging into the mattress, head pressing into the pillows, neck exposed. He pistoned his hand without waiting for her to catch up, uncaring she was dry when he started.
Her body slammed back down onto the bed. The pain from his fingers sent sparks dancing before her eyes, stole her breath, and awakened the something deep inside her she'd only just put back on its leash. As she fought whatever it was rising inside her, he ripped his teeth from her, snarling. One word from him was her only warning: "Surrender."
That snarled mandate made her determined to fight, though it wasn't him she fought. Her hips still rose to the pounding beat of his hand, small gasps escaping her throat, milking his fingers for all she was worth. No, the one she fought was herself. She fought the monster waking, uncoiling inside her. If she surrendered to it, allowed it to merge with her as it wanted to do, she knew she would become a creature of chaos, wrecking havoc wherever she went.
She was wet now; she felt the moisture trickle down her crack to soak the sheet beneath her when he withdrew his hand. She whimpered and struggled to crack her eyelids. As they cracked open, she had the momentary impression of bared teeth and angry green eyes, then she was in her bed, in the dark, alone.
