Trick Or Treat
I really didn't feel up to Barbara's Halloween party, didn't feel up to being social at all, but she wheedled and whined long enough for me to say yes, I would be there, and suddenly I was rummaging through the closet looking for something to wear. Even if I only made an appearance, for her sake, I would have to wear a costume. I didn't think she would let me get away with saying I was dressed up as a middle-aged granola dyke. I'd have to do better.
I was at a complete loss for ideas and just about to call Barbara and cancel when I found the black leather jacket my ex left behind. Maybe it was a good sign that seeing it only brought back pleasant memories, a sign that maybe I was finally over her. She was wearing it when I first met her and I remembered how good she looked in it, how just the sight of her affected places low on my body. I ran my hands over the shoulder of the jacket, the leather soft and smooth. It still affected places low on my body. Maybe it had been her leather jacket the whole time.
But it gave me an idea.
I got a pair of black jeans and a white tanktop out of the dresser, grabbed the boots I used for hiking, put them all on, slopped on some styling gel and slicked my hair back, then checked out my reflection in the mirror.
It was like looking at someone else, someone I would have been ogling if I'd seen her at a bar. The leather jacket looked good on me, hung just the right way on my shoulders. My breasts weren't that big but the tanktop made them look rounder, firmer, bigger, showed off a nice amount of cleavage. I always liked my butt and the jeans accented it pretty well. But it was the overall effect that really shook me. Looking like someone else made me feel like someone else, made me feel confident, even a little cocky. I wanted to swagger when I walked, lean against a wall and swig beer right from a bottle, and even though I never smoked I wanted a cigarette.
The party was in full swing when I got there, cars crammed in the driveway and on the street in front of the house. Linda the dependable lesbian would have been there early, helped Barbara with the last-minute set up. But Linda the leather dyke got there when she felt like it, when she could make an entrance. I rang the bell.
Barbara came to the door. I love her. She's my best friend. She's also one of the few women in my life that I haven't slept with. Maybe the latter has something to do with the former. It's not due to lack of desire on my part. I'd jump her bones in a second. But Barbara has a terminal condition called a husband that makes anything but friendship out of the question. I told her once that if she ever wanted to have a threesome, I'd be game. Barbara laughed. Said she thought I was an absolute hoot. But I was only half-kidding.
I wouldn't have been kidding at all if she had been wearing then what she had on now. Barbara always went all-out when she dressed up for Halloween, but tonight she had really outdone herself. Or maybe this different me was seeing her differently, too. She had on a cheerleader costume, which had no right to look that good on a woman over forty, but it did. The sweater she had on was red and white with a megaphone embroidered on the front, tight fitting, drawing attention to her curves. Her skirt was red, fire engine red, and scandalously short. Barbara had great legs and the skirt showed them off. White ankle socks and white leather Adidas completed the look.
Barbara noticed how I was looking at her, and maybe for the first time realized that I might actually find her attractive, that I might look at her not just as a friend but as an object of desire. But if it made her uncomfortable it didn't show. She gave me a hug.
"I'm glad you're here," she said.
"Me, too," I answered, and was surprised that I actually meant it.
She pulled back and held me at arm's length. "Look at you."
I smiled. "Look at you."
The me who wore loose-fitting shirts and long denim skirts never would have flirted with her, but this new me was a little reckless and enjoyed making her best friend blush.
"Come on in," Barbara said.
While Barbara scurried off to play the good hostess I headed right for the mini-bar and got a glass of her special Halloween punch, a concoction of ginger ale, fruit juice, and rum. It was always better than the sum of its parts.
The old me would have taken her glass of punch and set herself up in a corner somewhere, avoiding people, avoiding conversation. But I wasn't that woman tonight. I was leather and attitude, strutting around the room, flirting with the women, letting the men think they had a chance. From time to time I would catch sight of Barbara, greeting people, making sure there was enough food, enough punch, and when I did see her I checked her out, looked at her legs, let my eyes follow the curve of her breasts, leered at her. She looked so hot in that costume. Had it transformed her like my costume transformed me?
I spotted her putting out a fresh cheese plate and slid up next to her, pretending I wanted another glass of punch when I really just wanted to be closer to her. She saw me, smiled.
"Sorry you came?"
"Not at the moment."
She smiled. "We're running low on beer. There's more in the garage. Help me?"
I let Barbara lead the way so I could watch her from behind. She really did have nice legs, and a nice ass to go with it. They were a set and the short skirt of her costume let me admire both with one glance.
The noise of the party was dull hum in the garage. Barbara squeezed between the two cars parked there to get to the beer on top of the chest freezer off to the side. When she bent over to reach for the beer her skirt rode up a little, flashing me a bit of cheek. The other me would have pushed her desire down deep before it got out of hand but this new me let it bubble to the surface.
I moved up behind Barbara, eased my hands over her hips, pressed myself against her like I had a bulge in my pants that she'd be able to feel. Barbara gasped, surprised, turned to face me. She started to say something but I shut her up with a kiss before she could get a word out. Her lips were surprisingly willing against mine. I slid my hand up her thigh, under her skirt, grabbing her ass. She moaned into the kiss.
After all the fantasies, the wanting, the wishing, I should have taken it slow, made love to her, sweetly, gently. But the person I had become when I put on the leather jacket wanted to fuck her, hard, fast, now. With my hands on her ass I lifted Barbara up, turned us around, set her down on the hood of her car, pushed her flat. I slipped my hand between her legs and rubbed the crotch of her panties, felt how wet she was. She moaned into the kiss as I fingered her, tracing the shape of her cleft while I kissed her throat, felt her pulse just under the skin. Barbara panted for breath. I pulled aside the crotch of her panties and trust into her. Her pussy clenched around my fingers as I pumped in and out of her with long, deep thrusts. She gasped and moaned, arched her hips against me. I kissed up the side of her neck to breathe heavily in her ear.
"I'm going to taste you," I whispered.
I slid further down on the hood of the car, pushed up her skirt, yanked down her panties, got my mouth on her. Barbara groaned. I sucked her pussy, plunged into her with my tongue. She cradled my head in her hands and held onto me as I went down on her, her great legs tossed over my shoulders, the heels of her sneakers pounding into my back. I dragged my tongue over the hard pebble of her clit, lashed it until Barbara cried out and her cunt spasmed around my face.
For a moment we just stayed like that and I laughed at the thought of someone walking in on us, finding Barbara sprawled across the hood of her car, skirt pushed up, panties down, my face in her pussy. I lifted my head up, looked at her, met her eyes, wondering where we went from here.
She said, "We should get back to the party."
"But you will stay after everyone leaves, won't you?" Barbara asked. "To help clean up?"
When I smiled it was me smiling, the old me, and I said, softly, "Yes."