"Hi! I'm Joanne. Joanne Van Felt. Your neighbor?"
The woman gestured toward the house next door.
"Oh! Hi! I'm Marsha. Come in. Please. Apologies for the mess."
"No need to apologize. If I didn't have company I'd never clean."
Marsha led her neighbor into the kitchen. She was Marsha's height. Trim, but a bit top heavy. Her snug white blouse and wide belt emphasized her assets. She had perfect hair. Big hair. Her slacks fit snug. Everything was snug. A half size smaller and it would look trampy. On Joanne? The word dominatrix came to mind. Marsha blinked the thought away.
"Still unpacking I see."
"Yeah. The movers sealed everything in layers of plastic and it's taking forever to unwrap the stuff. Coffee?"
"Sure."
Marsha extracted cups and saucers from a box on the counter.
"You don't happen to have mugs do you? I thought we'd take a walk around the neighborhood."
"Yeah. Sure. They're here somewhere. Just give me a sec."
Mugs in hand, the women walked down the sidewalk.
"Ours," the woman said gesturing with her mug. "Derek works with Tod. Well not with Tod. He's at the same level as Tod's boss, but in another department."
"The green house is the Browns. Sue Chin-Brown. Computers. Pretty much has a lock on hardware rentals."
"There?"
"Randolph."
"The yellow house is the Paterson's. Another Sue, but she prefers Suzanne. And the beige one across the street is Gunn, Betty Sue Gunn. We have too many Sues in this neighborhood. We call her Betz. Mark is in recycling and security. Contrary to popular myth we are not a paperless society."
"That one?"
"Wilson."
It became obvious to Marsha that there was an in crowd and an out. As they walked the neighborhood, Joanne pointed out several houses, always giving the wife's name and a bit about the husband's business.
"How was your first day?"
"How do you think?"
"You look drunk."
"I am."
"Oh, Tod. I don't suppose you want a drink?"
"Why not? Why stop now?"
"So how was it?"
"Not at all what I expected. First they showed me my office and introduced me to Cheryl, my assistant. Your stereotypical dumb blonde, big hair, big tits. But she's not stupid. Not at all. And I said so. I asked her why, if she knew as much as she did about the business, she was an assistant. She said she had a life outside work."
"What does that mean," I asked.
"It means these," she gestured at the other offices, "are your new bff. They'll be your golf partners, your fishing partners, your hunting partners, your sports partners. I assume you've heard the expression about going along to get along?"
"You're sounding a bit insubordinate."
She shrugged.
"That's the reality. You'd better have your reality meter dialed in or I'll be training another boss in a few weeks."
"She said that?"
"Yeah. And I guess she's right. Anyway, she had everything organized. It's in that accordion folder. Oh, hell. Where is it? Oh, it's in the car. I think."
"Want me to check?"
"Nah. Well, anyway, I spent the better part of the morning being introduced to people. Thankfully they have an employee directory on-line with pictures. Anyway, after introductions it was lunch time. There was Pete, my boss, and Derek-"
"I met his wife today. Joanne. They live next door."
"So he said. There was Randall and Billy. Long story short we pretty much drank the afternoon away. I think it was a test of sorts. See if I could hold my liquor. See how I act when I'm drunk."
"Mm. Oh! Joanne invited us to a party Thursday night."
"Thursday? Isn't that Halloween? What about the kids?"
"She said there are only a few kids and they only go to arranged play dates."
"Well, that's a shame. I like handing out candy to the kids. Hey, wait a minute. Derek will be out of town. He's flying to Houston Thursday morning, coming back Friday night."
Marsha shrugged.
"Dunno. All she said is she's having a few friends over and we should be there promptly at six."
At 5:55 they walked out the back door. Marsha caught a glimpse of herself in the glass. She was dressed much the same way Joanne had been a couple of days before. Her body was more evenly proportioned that Joanne's and the clothes weren't as tight, but her tits filled her blouse and her ass filled her pants and Tod noticed and gave it a pat as they stepped through the doorway.
The yards were separated by an ornate hedge, but there was a gate. Tod pushed it open. Marsha stepped through. She was nervous. They both were. They shared a double vodka martini while they got ready, but it didn't seem to be helping. She resisted the urge to fiddle with her hair. She had had it done that afternoon and it was so not her. She was into pony tails, not curls and hair spray. Although she had to admit she liked the color. It was her own brown color, but leaning to auburn with a hint of red.
"Marsha! Tod! Come in. Come in."
Joanne backed away from the door and the couple stepped off the deck into the family room.
"We haven't officially met, Tod. I'm Joanne."
"A pleasure."
"Can I fix you a drink?"
Drinks in hand they got a quick tour of the house.
"I hope you don't mind helping with some last minute preparations. The other guests will be here in an hour or so. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other a bit better."
"Sure. Sure. No problem."
"Come. Let's sit for a minute."
It was a good thing they were sitting. Marsha had downed half her drink and her world began to spin - then it went dark.
Marsha, startled, jerked awake. The smell stabbed at her brain like a knife.
"She's coming around."
"Let her sit for a bit, make sure she's not nauseated. Last thing we need is her drowning in her own vomit."
Marsha blinked her eyes. Her world was a tear-smeared blur. There was a movement and that awful smell assaulted her again. Her head cleared a bit. A woman was leaning over her. No. Not a woman. A cartoon. That girl in Aladdin. Princess something."
The princess lifted her mask. The face beneath was Asian. Chin-Brown? One of the Sues? Marsha blinked.
Princess Sue was wearing a harem outfit and it took a second for it to register that it was nearly invisible, a soft, pale blue under which she could see large, brown nipples. Marsha glanced down. A tuft of black hair poked out.
"How do you feel?"
Marsha closed her eyes and nodded.
"Feeling sick?"
Marsha swallowed, swallowed again. Princess Sue touched Marsha's lips with a straw, she sipped, nodded.
"Thank you. No. I'm okay."
Marsha tried to reach for the cup, but her hand wouldn't move. She looked down. She was covered in green vines and she was naked! The vines were wrapped around her arms and wrists, her chest and waist, her legs.
"What ..."
Sue had replaced her mask and held up a roll of orange tape. Before her mind could register the action, Sue gagged her. She peeled off another strip and another, smoothing them across Marsha's face. She waved the smelling salts under Marsha's nose again and her head cleared a bit more.
The room was full of women, women in costumes, slutty costumes, caricatures of characters: witches, pirates, princesses, outright whores. They all had drinks in their hands and it dawned on Marsha that the party was in full swing. The noise level up there. Women laughing, giggling, shrieking. There was music and some were dancing. And then another thought penetrated Marsha's brain - there were no men. And then another thought came - where the hell was Tod? Had they sent him home so the girls could party? Then why invite him in the first place. And what was up with these fucking vines?
The princess was still standing there with the roll of tape. A pirate brought over a carved pumpkin. She turned it and Marsha saw that a slice of it had been cut out, but was held in place with a piece of the orange tape. The pirate lifted the slice and pushed the pumpkin over Marsha's head. Panic fought with shock. Shock won as the insides of the pumpkin, cool and slimy, engulfed her head and face. Marsha froze. Her mind in denial. The pirate squeezed the pumpkin, pressing more tightly to Marsha's head. The princess peeled off a strip of tape and Marsha could feel the pressure as she sealed the cut. Another strip of tape, more pressure on the other side. The inside of the pumpkin soft, yielding, molded itself to her. It was too late to scream. Marsha sat, bound naked to the chair, and trembled.
The cutouts didn't quite line up, but Marsha could see after a fashion and, once the claustrophobia lifted, she found she could breathe well enough. She heard muffled noise and, cocking her head, she saw the women were applauding, pointing to her and laughing. Then they stopped. She couldn't hear, but she sensed the room had gone quiet.
A woman entered. She was dressed as a nymph, with elf ears and a diaphanous gown. She wore no mask. It was Joanne! A man followed her. No not a man, a beast. No that wasn't right. Marsha's brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The woman had her hand down below his waist and Marsha realized she was leading him (It?) into the room by his cock.
Satyr! That's what he was. He had furry legs, a bare chest. He had a pointy, black goatee, elf ears, dark eye makeup, and horns! Two little stubs of horns on his forehead. The woman released his cock. It pointed straight out and a bit up and it had a bit of a curve to the left.
Tod!
The music came up, the women danced. The satyr bopped along, his cock bobbing in rhythm. The nymph dropped to her knees and sucked his cock into her mouth. Other women applauded and squealed. Two pirates rubbed up against him. One of them swapped places with the one on the floor. The satyr moved to the music.
He was either drunk or stoned. Tod didn't dance. Well, not without some chemical assistance.
The satyr made the rounds. All the women got a chance to suck his cock, some two or three at a time.
The women danced, asses jiggled, tits bounced, mouths sucked. And then the fucking started. The more adventurous wrapped their legs around his waist, impaled, writhing. Several simply sucked him a bit, then turned their asses to him. Whether he was fucking their asses or pussies, Marsha couldn't tell, but wherever his cock had been, there was always an eager mouth to urge him ever onward. And urge him they did. Whenever his cock left a pussy, hands reached for him. Drunk characters giggled, pushed at each other. The satyr, Tod, danced and fucked. His body taking on a sheen of perspiration.
Marsha's emotions were all over the chart: disbelief, anger, despair, rage, jealousy ...
"You'd better have your reality meter dialed in."
The words ran through her head - twice - a third time. Marsha watched the satyr, Tod, her husband screw the neighborhood women. They say behind every great man is a great woman. They also say that if mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy.
It was the women who were in charge ... of everything. In charge of their men and their careers, in charge of the neighborhood. If they wanted to screw the new guy, well, what choice did she have? If he passed the test or, more importantly, if she passed the test life would be good. And then she had another thought. Would she take Tod's place? Would the roles reverse? Would the men get a shot at the new girl?
Joanne came over to her. One of the princesses was with her. They untied Marsha, dragged her over to the satyr. He pushed his cock through the pumpkin's mouth hole into Marsha's mouth. At first she didn't want to suck him. She was still feeling a bit hurt and angry. But then her pride kicked it. She was his wife, God damnit! and, besides, she gave a damn good blowjob. He tried to pull out several times, but she set her teeth and held him until he went back to fucking her mouth. And then it started and she knew exactly what it was and when he pulled back this time she let him, turned around and presented her ass. He plunged into her. She sensed rather than heard the cheering women. A thought crossed her mind. Did he know he was fucking his wife? Or at that point did all pussies look and feel the same? She worked her muscles the way he liked, milking him with each thrust, and he came. Came like emptying the county reservoir. It filled her to overflowing, ran down her legs. And still he fucked her, making an inhuman sound, a sound fitting for a satyr. A sound she'd never heard before, but a small part of her hoped it would be a sound she'd hear again.
The next morning the doorbell rang. It was Joanne. They had settled on the back deck, mugs of coffee in hand.
"The little blue pill."
"Blue pill?"
"Viagra. And some topical anesthetic. We wanted it to be good for him, but too good. Well, not 'til the end, anyway."
"What about the drugs?"
"Drugs?"
"You gave him something. It wasn't booze. Pot?"
"Oh, that. I have no idea. It's one of Chin's concoctions. Oriental. A bit of this, a bit of that."
She shrugged.
"He remembers."
"Oh? Did he tell you?"
"No, but I can tell. When you were done with your fun you gave him something, damn near knocked him out. I almost had to carry him home. But he remembers most of it I'd wager."
"Mm, not so much. He'll remember he was at a Halloween party and things got a bit out of control. That's all. But there'll be some guilt and that will translate into some pretty things for you, if you catch my drift."
Marsha frowned.
"Now what?"
"Hm?"
"Now what. Do I get a go with the guys?"
Joanne sputtered, almost spit coffee.
"Oh, no dear," she laughed. "It doesn't work that way. Not that way at all. We women get what we want so the men can get what they want. And what they want is prestige, a corner office, a girl on the side, bragging rights on the golf course. Pour me another cup of coffee. Tell you what, add a drop of brandy and we'll have a nice long chat. You need a reality check."
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20.01.13