Mistaken identity leads to a Halloween trick... or is it a treat?
Author’s note: The events of this story take place October 31st, 2008.
Stacy shifted uncomfortably on the passenger seat as Greg slammed on the brakes at another stoplight. She wanted to lean back so that the shoulder belt didn’t dig into her neck so much, but the knife in her back really made things difficult. It was Halloween, and they were on their way to a friend’s house for a costume party. Stacy had found an old cheerleading outfit at the thrift store and, with her long dark-blonde hair drawn back in a high ponytail, she looked perfectly the part. That wasn’t gory enough for her though, so Greg had gone to a specialty store and bought a plastic retractable knife and some fake blood. Now, with the knife stuck in her back and a small line of blood trickling from the corner of her lip, she really did look like one of the bimbos out of Scream.
That was the fun part, because in truth Stacy had been the “bookworm” at her high school, the kind of girl the cheerleaders sneered at and never invited to their parties. Which was fine with Stacy… why would she want to go to some snotty girl’s house just to have all the popular boys ignore her while the disc jockey played awful music and everyone either got drunk, or stoned, or both? No, she had stayed home, gotten good grades, and been accepted at the University of Northern Colorado, where she was in her final year. It was in a physics class that she met her boyfriend Greg. Greg was the antithesis of every dickhead she’d met in high school. He was smart, sensitive, with a dry sense of humor that kept every conversation interesting, and they had been together for almost three years.
Stacy looked over at him and had to stifle another giggle. Except for the mask and green silky gloves, which he had thrown in the back-seat so he could drive, he was dressed perfectly as “The Joker” from The Dark Knight. She thought it funny that her gentle, caring boyfriend would want to dress as a maniacal terrorist. But he was so excited about the costume she didn’t have the heart to tell him that because of the movie and Heath Ledger’s death, she would bet one third of the partygoers would be dressed exactly the same.
To tell the absolute truth, seeing Greg dressed so “dangerously” was starting to turn her on a little bit. They had never role-played in the bedroom, but now she could see how it might be fun. Greg hit a bump, and the shoulder belt slid directly across her left nipple. To her surprise it instantly hardened at the teasing contact, and she had to stifle a small moan. Greg looked over and immediately saw her erect nipples, pressed as they were against the cheerleading sweater.
“Playing dress-up is turning you on, isn’t it?” he asked.
Stacy blushed furiously, but had to nod. Keeping his left hand on the steering wheel, Greg reached over and cupped her breast. As he squeezed the soft mound gently, Stacy let out a gasp of combined pleasure and shock.
“Greg, what are you doing? Someone’s going to see you!”
“No they’re not,” he answered, opening his hand to gently roll the palm against her now aching nipple, “and even if they did… who cares?”
Stacy was about to protest again, but when he dropped his hand and started to push up her short green and silver pleated skirt, she forgot what she was going to say. Breathing heavily, all she could do was watch in amazement as he exposed her white panties to any passing car that cared to take a glance. His eyes never leaving the road, he began to slowly rub the length of her pussy. Every time he got to the top of her slit, he pushed the material of her panties in just a little, making direct contact with her throbbing clitoris. Up and down, up and down, he never picked up the pace, and as Stacy neared orgasm she pressed herself harder on his hand, willing him to go faster.
Just when she thought she was going to explode, Greg abruptly stopped the ministrations. Stacy cried out in desperation, but all her boyfriend did was calmly turn onto a side road and park. There were already several other cars there, and she could see that the house the party was taking place at was in full Halloween regalia. She turned to Greg, about to ask why the hell he had stopped when she was so close, but as she opened her mouth he just smiled.
“I just wanted to give you a little taste of what’s to come later. I want you to walk into that party wet as hell, and I want to be the only thing on your mind while you talk with your friends.”
With that he opened the front door and stepped out. As he retrieved his mask and gloves from the back of the car Stacy unbuckled the seat belt, shaking her head in amazement. Greg had never teased her so unmercifully before, and he certainly had never touched her in the car! And the way he spoke to her just now… so forceful, so demanding. It was like wearing that costume turned him into a different person.
She climbed out of the car, remembering at the last moment to pull her skirt down. Her legs were shaking and yes, her panties were sopping wet. As the wind picked up, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. True to Colorado Halloween tradition, the weather channel had forecasted snow later in the evening. Greg had already donned his mask and was walking towards the house. Shaking her head again at his strange behavior, she hurried after him.
Opening the front door, they were immediately greeted by “Monster Mash” blaring on the speakers, and sixty or so partygoers all in costume. As their hosts ushered them in, Stacy realized with a sinking sensation that her prediction was right. There were three other “Jokers” just in the living room, dressed almost identically to Greg. She turned to him in sympathy, but found herself looking into thin air. He had already left her side and was chatting with a few of his friends. Feeling a bit hurt at his brusque attitude towards her and his abandonment, Stacy wandered through the living room, absently noting costumes as she went. Apart from the usual witches, “Jason Vorhees’” and “Freddy Krueger’s,” she saw a Wolfman, a slutty fairy, and a guy in drag.
There were plenty of others, but she lost interest in them when she noticed her best friend Cara in a group of girls. Hurrying over to her, she had to admire her costume. Some might say dressing up as Snow White was a boring choice, but Cara’s shoulder-length jet black hair and fair complexion complemented the costume perfectly. When Cara shot her a wicked look and blew a kiss through ruby red lips, Stacy laughed. Hurrying over, she hugged Cara and the other girl returned the embrace, then held her back to look at her costume. At first she seemed confused about the line of blood trickling from the corner of Stay’s mouth, but then she noticed the knife in her back. Cara’s hand clapped over her mouth and giggling helplessly she sputtered “Oh Stacy, that is so evil! I love it!”
For a while the two friends chatted and Stacy forgot about Greg’s behavior. Only her damp panties and the slight tingling she still felt in her pussy reminded her of her boyfriend’s attentions in the car and his almost threatening promise of what he was going to do to her later. Lost in thought, she had to drag her attention back to Cara when she asked “So where is Greg anyway? I haven’t seen him yet.”
Stacy shrugged. “Well, he’s dressed as “The Joker”.” She looked around the room and pointed. “That’s him over there… I think.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Didn’t he know that half the guys were going to dress like that this year? I’m surprised he didn’t come up with something more creative.”
Stacy nodded. “I don’t know what’s come over him actually. He’s been acting strange ever since he put on that costume. It’s like I barely even know him.”
Before Cara could comment, the party’s D.J. announced a couple’s dance. Excusing herself, Stacy went to find Greg. She mistakenly talked to two other “Jokers” before she found him. “Hey baby,” he whispered, putting his arms around her waist, “how are you enjoying the party so far?”
Stacy stared up at him. Even his voice wasn’t the same anymore. “It’s okay. I have to say though; you’re acting really weird Greg. It’s actually starting to freak me out a little.”
Greg laughed. “I’m just getting into the evening Stace. And believe it or not, I’m helping you too. I mean, all those dirty thoughts I’ve put into your head now… you’re going to have the slutty cheerleader act down before you know it.”
Stacy laughed in spite of herself and allowed Greg to lead her over to the other dancing couples. As she moved to the beat of a song she had never heard before and Greg proved for the umpteenth time that he had no sense of rhythm, she laughed again. In “Joker” costume or not, this was definitely the Greg she knew.
After the dance ended Greg was once again converged upon by a group of his friends, and Stacy told him she was going to go get them something to drink. He nodded, and she thought she heard him say that he’d find her in a minute, but it was hard to make out much of anything with all the background noise in the room.
Finding the snack table, she got herself a glass of punch and drank it thirstily. Someone had dumped an unhealthy amount of rum in it, and though Stacy didn’t usually drink she made an exception and poured herself another cup. Grabbing one for Greg, she pushed through the partygoers, trying to find him. After ten minutes and no luck, she had drunk both cups of punch and was just deciding to find Cara instead when a pair of hands settled on her waist. Half turning, she looked up at the “Joker” mask and sighed in relief. “Where were you?” she demanded angrily.
Instead of answering, he started steering her through the crowd while she protested half-heartedly. They reached a staircase, and never taking his hands from her hips he half led, half pushed her up the stairs. Stacy clung to him, fully cognizant now of the effect of her three glasses of punch. By the time they got to the top of the stairs she completely understood his intentions, and wasn’t at all surprised when he stopped at the nearest door and opened it. There was a shout from inside, and Stacy just had time to glimpse the startled faces of two lovers before her Joker shut the door again. She wasn’t sure, but she thought one of those faces had been Cara. She was tempted to re-open the door, but Greg was already steering her further down the hallway.
The next room was obviously the master bedroom, and it was surprisingly vacant. Stacy giggled helplessly when she saw it. Did Greg really intend to make love to her here? She was about to ask him just that when he gave her an almost violent shove through the door. She felt a resistance and then a rending sound, and she realized he must have torn the fake knife from her cheerleading sweater. She stumbled, and grabbing the bedpost to keep from falling, turned just in time to see Greg slam the door shut and lock it. Before she could even begin to react he was on her, pushing her down onto the bed so she lay prone beneath him, staring up at his masked face in shocked disbelief.
“Greg, what is your problem? I’ve never seen you like this before! What’s going on with you tonight?” But instead of answering, her Joker slid a gloved hand under the sweater and began to roughly fondle her breast. “Greg! Greg, stop that! I’m trying to talk to you! I – oooh!” Her protests were cut off when his fingers found a nipple and tweaked it through her bra.
Taking full advantage of her momentary distraction, he tried to one-handedly pull the sweater over her head. Almost in spite of herself Stacy helped him, then unclasped her bra and sent that falling to the floor as well. Now lying back on the bed with her small breasts fully exposed, she smiled up at him nervously. “Please take off the mask Greg. I want your mouth on me.” But he just shook his head and re-instated his hands on her breasts. She forgot her request and moaned in pleasure as his fingers circled over her nipples. The silky smooth material of his purple gloves created sensations she had never felt before, and she found herself wondering how those same gloved fingers would feel rubbing against her clit.
The Joker must have been thinking the same thing, because one of his hands was gliding down her thigh and hiking up the short skirt. Before Stacy could plead once more his fingers were there, rubbing the length of her slit through the thin material of her panties. The friction of the cloth on her clit was unbelievable, and when he slipped a gloved hand beneath the elastic and none-too-gently shoved a finger in her damp opening Stacy bucked against him, moaning unintelligibly.
He fingered her to the edge of a mind-shattering release, but just like their car-ride, stopped before she could get there. Stacy wanted to hit him, but calmed when she saw that he had released her only to rid himself of his pants. Desperately she pulled off her panties, not bothering with her skirt, and nearly passed out when he entered her in one smooth stroke. The ride was hard and fast, and like nothing she had ever felt with Greg before. This was the very thing he had promised, and as Stacy’s orgasm hit her last clear thought was that he had definitely delivered.
She was vaguely aware of her Joker stiffening inside her, and shivered when she felt him coat the walls of her pussy with his seed. When she opened her eyes he had withdrawn and was pulling up his pants. Stacy started half-heartedly pulling down her skirt, but stopped in shock when her Joker just turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“Right,” she thought, finding her panties and pulling them back on, “that’s just fine. That’s just fantastic.” She was furiously yanking on her bra when she heard the door open. “What do you want Greg?” she snapped, then looked up just in time to see the shocked expression on his face.
“What the hell is going on here Stace?” He held his mask in one hand, his green silky gloves gripping it so hard it was nearly crushed. Stacy looked again at his hurt face, then did a double-take of his hand. Green gloves…green gloves??? But they had been purple before. With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach she abruptly realized what just happened. Judging by the look Greg was giving her, he had too.
“Well then,” he muttered softly, pulling the damaged mask back over his head. “I guess this means we’ll be going home. Get your clothes back on and meet me at the car in five minutes. I think you need to be punished – severely.”
He walked toward the door but turned back when he heard Stacy sniffle. Dispassionately, he watched as a single tear trekked its way down her cheek.
“Ah Stacy,” he mocked chillingly, “why so serious?”