Myra sat alone in her hauntingly quiet room, saddened by the cruelty of life and fate. She was victim, you see; a victim of a terrible lust. The kitchen knife she held whispered seductively to her, promising to end her misery and quash her unacceptable passions. She sobbed at the hopelessness of her situation, and wondered for the umpteenth time what crime she had committed to earn her vile destiny.
Again, Myra placed the knife's edge to her wrist. She could hear the knife telling her to lacerate herself. The blood would flow without effort from the wound and she could just drift away into a sleep from which she would never wake. That sounded nice, but in the back of her mind a little voice was screaming.
A force within her made her toss the knife away and Myra broke down with fresh tears. She felt only grief at knowing she was too afraid to cut herself. The knife made many promises, but she was forced to admit they were empty. She just sat on the floor of her room, her dark hair shielding her face, crying until nightfall. By then, she could cry no more.
But her desires, unlike her tears, refused to run out. As time passed, they only grew stronger, trying to claw their way out of her. Images of her love interest came to the fore of her mind as easily as the fondest of memories. He was such a sensual man, loving and friendly. He was everything she wanted, no matter how hard she tried to ignore the truth. In fact, she couldn't ignore her yearning any longer. Her heart was corrupted, leaving only her soul and her mind to try and contain her desires. But as the saying goes: Love conquers all...
***
Myra was alone in her room again, astonished that only two weeks had passed since her miserable excuse at attempted suicide. So much more time seemed to have gone by and now she felt different. She couldn't quiet explain how she felt, but she supposed it was something akin to being wiser.
Looking back, she remembered how after lifting her lithe form up off the floor, she had walked over to her bed as though in a trance. And instead of going to sleep, she had reached underneath the bed to retrieve a long white box. In it lay a black blazer, a white blouse, a gray and black pleated skirt, black knee high socks and a little red bow. It was a schoolgirl uniform which she had ordered from Japan some time ago with the intent of wearing it on Halloween.
Now, that intention had evolved. Her 'costume' was no longer meant to be worn in good clean old-fashioned fun. It was now a device that would hide who she really was, giving her a new temporary identity which would allow her to have the man she dreamed of. Even the dilemma of hiding her face was solved with the small addition of a Kabuki face mask.
In her mind's eye, she looked perfectly tempting. She often daydreamed about how her petite body would look dressed in the innocent shell. Her 36B breasts would be somewhat hidden by the blazer. The skirt would conceal her creamy white thighs while everything below her knee would be covered by her socks. Only a tiny bit of leg would show, making her look all the more innocent, as though she wasn't trying to be sexy at all. And in not trying to be sexy, she would be sexy. Add to that the mystery of who looked out from behind the mask, and Myra knew she would be a desirable sight to any man.
That was the moment she had made her decision. It was like she had stepped through a door and locked it behind her. The rules of society would no longer hold her back. She had no say in their creation, so why should she follow them? With a smile, Myra promised that she would have her way.
***
The big night was here at last. October 31st. Halloween. Along the streets, children traveled in groups with parents to charm candy-bearing adults with their cuteness. Myra couldn't help but smile behind her own mask at happy memories. Reaching out, she pressed her finger to the doorbell and waited. It seemed to take forever for someone to answer the door, and for an instant, she was tempted to abandon her plan. But she couldn't do it. Not after coming this far.
The door opened, and all the evidence of a party assaulted Myra's senses. The sight of the party's host, Ron Avery, caused lust to flush through her blood like adrenaline, even though he was dressed as Neo from the Matrix trilogy.
"Hey, Mr. A. Your daughter around?" Myra hoped that Ron would not see through her ruse.
"No," he nodded. "She ran out on a last minute errand. Are you one of her friends?"
Myra nodded and sauntered inside after Ron invited her in. She wondered if he was checking her out, and if she was too obvious or not. She thought she heard an appreciative grunt, but wasn't sure. Part of her hoped so. She wanted him to check out her body, to lust for it as she lusted for his. Myra thanked goodness she was in familiar surroundings now, as she was able to relax and gather her wits. But it wasn't easy, seeing as how several guys were blatantly staring at her. Honestly, Myra didn't like how they were looking at her. Tonight, only Ron could have that right.
But unfortunately, as the host, Ron was hardly ever left alone. His friends were always gathered around him, laughing and talking, and drinking. She often walked past him, feeling so wicked to be trying to seduce the forty-one year old divorcee. As she sashayed past him again, she overhead him saying how proud he was of his daughter. This made Myra blush behind her mask. Ron was sweet, but she also knew he was a little drunk.
