This is the first of a four part Halloween series which will be published between now and October 30th.
Buzzz Buzzz Buzzz my phone vibrated across the headboard. Shut up! I thought as I whacked it with a pillow. It was my day off so wanted to sleep in goddammit, not get up early and do shit.
I relaxed my shoulders, down through my chest and just started to return to dreamland when my phone started vibrating again. “Grrr…” I growled as I felt around above my head. This better be important, like someone dying or something. I opened my eyes just enough to let the light flood in, and see the screen.
“I love you,” read the top text from Adam. “Ill be home at 6, be ready” followed below. He woke me for that? I nearly threw the phone across the room but the bright light cascading around the drapes convinced me I probably should get up.
I dropped my phone on the bed to stretch the sleep out of my legs and arms. With a yawn I padded off to the bathroom. My return to the bedroom, the blinking red light on my Blackberry indicated another new message. This was too much, especially before I had my morning coffee. Still, out of habit I flicked to my messages on the way to the kitchen to find another text from my husband, “Don’t forget to get your costume or make the pumpkin pie”
Grrrr. I hate Halloween. I don’t know why adults love such a childish holiday, and Adam is probably the worst of them all. Luckily we were only going to one costume party this year, thought it was tonight. He’ll probably make me dress back up for tomorrow evening while we hand out candy.
I paused at the kitchen doorway to text back, “I WONT!” Now, coffee time.
After two cups of coffee, a yogurt and nice hot shower, I figured I should run over to the temporary Halloween shop and grocery store before lunch.
The shop was actually two empty store fronts with part of the adjoining wall knocked down. The left side contained the home decor and men’s costumes while the right side contained the cash registers, women’s and kids costumes. The current state of the store reminded me of toy store the afternoon of Black Friday, or a small town after a tornado. Empty boxes were thrown everywhere. Most of the clothes racks contained empty hangers and random parts of various costumes.
It took me ten minutes to find three complete costumes in anything close to my size; “A Sexy Kitty”, “A Sexy Nurse” and “A Wicked Witch.” The name sexy was just a pseudonym for slutty or scandalous, as in this situation. The nurse costume was basically a ultra short lab coat with a white garter and stockings and a plastic syringe. The kitty was not any better, resembling a leopard print leotard with a pair of matching fur ears and tail. Either would make me feel more like a cheap streetwalker than “sexy.” The witch’s costume was considerably less scandalous, though not something I would wear in public on any day other than Halloween. A short-sleeve black dress with a reasonable amount of cleavage was paired with black pointy hate and a fake mole.
The only problem with the witch’s costume was the package said the dress was a 2, and I am much more of a 4-6 type woman. You know, someone who actually eats, but cares about their figure. Maybe it would fit, but I should try it on before buying it. I would hate having to come pack to this place again.
The only clerk in the store pointed towards the back hallway when I asked about a changing room. She seemed more interested in her iPhone than me, and I didn’t blame her. She had a horrible job.
The hallway leading to the women’s dressing rooms was of the warehouse storage area than a finished hallway. Empty boxes were stacked haphazardly in piles against the walls. It was almost like a cardboard maze to find the dressing room area. Turning the corner I came across two quickly constructed dressing doors. Simple black painted plywood and 2x4s created the walls while plain wooden interior doors formed the doors. Luckily, one of the doors was open, so I wouldn’t have to wait.
I quickly latched the lock behind me and checked to make sure it worked. A little rattling and the door didn’t move. I started removing my top when I heard a women’s voice coming from the other dressing room. “You aren’t going out in that! It’s way too revealing!” I thought I heard over the haunted house music. The music seemed extra loud back here.
“MOM!” a distinctly younger female voice responded, followed by a bunch of stuff I couldn’t’ make out. It seems some girl didn’t like the costume her mother picked out. Well, I don’t really like mine either, learn to deal with it.
I was slipping off my jeans when I heard more noise coming from next door. This time it sounded more like water falling from a leaky faucet than voices. I glanced around the ceiling above the makeshift dressing room to see if I could see a water. Nothing, but the pitter-patter sound continued, getting a little quicker if anything.
I finished removing my jeans and slipped the witch’s dress over my head when I heard voices again coming from next door. This time, it sounded like the girl kept saying yes, roughly in time with the water drops. It was probably my imagination, or some additive chanting to the haunted house sound track.
The dress fit well enough, though it was a little tight and the skirt portion was definitely on the skimpy side. I bet I’d flash my panties if I bent over. Well there wasn’t much I could do about it, since the alternatives were definitely not any more conservatives. Why do they have to make all the women’s costumes so revealing. Even a nun’s typical costume would have been more appropriate in a sex store than a Halloween stop.
I returned the dress to it’s bag and got redressed. I was just starting to open the dressing room door when a young women came scampering out of the other dressing room, taking a kitty costume over to the rack by the door.
She had almost returned to the other dressing room when an older female voice stopped her in her tracks. “Go back and put it properly on the rack young lady!” I hadn’t paid the girl any notice until the mother reprimanded her. At that point I took a good look at her.
“Yes, mom!” The girl said sullenly, noticing me as she turned back towards the rack. Woman would have been a more appropriate term, since she looked to be in her late teens to early twenties. More likely early twenties since it was eleven o’clock in the morning on a Friday when teenagers were normally in school.
She started to blushing when she noticed me. I would have guessed it was from her lack of clothes, being that she only had on a simple nude bra and white nylon panties. The panties caught my attention when she bent over to pick up the discarded costume. Her bottom was a deep red hue, contrasting considerably to her white panties and thighs. Had she just been spanked I asked myself as I left the dressing room area. The watery look in her eyes seemed to reinforce that idea.
The sight in the dressing room haunted me the whole way to the grocery store. It was just on the other side of the shopping center, but still. Why would a mother still spank her adult daughter? Why did the daughter allow it? Did she like it or something? Who in hell would like a spanking? Was it just some sick prank they were pulling on me? All these questions and many more ran through my mind. No matter what the answers, it was wrong to spank anyone, especially an adult child. Someone should bend that old hag over and see how she likes it when she gets her ass beat.
Ding Ding Dong Ding Dang! The ringtone told me Adam was calling even before I fished the phone out of my purse.
“What do you want!” I snapped into the phone.
“I just wanted to see how your day was going and if you got your costume?” Adam responded with a overtly soft voice.
“Yes I got the dumb costume. A witch OK with you?”
“That seems oddly appropriate,” he said.
“Whatever,” mumbled as I rolled my eyes. “Is there anything we need at the grocery store?”
“No, just the stuff to make pumpkin pie.”
Of course we do, that is why I went to the grocery store. “Duh…I meant anything else, like food stuff.”
“You don’t have to be uppity.”
“Uppity? Really? Do you need anything else?”
“Ah, I guess not. Try to have a better day honey, I can’t wait to see you in your costume,” he voice dripping with insincere niceness.
“You bet,” I mumbled to myself before saying “Goodbye” and hanging up the call. He could be such a jerk sometimes. Now where are the baking goods?