Welcome, Dear Reader…
*Appropriate… /lights up and smokes… Very nice, Clicky…*
…to last year’s Halloween tale!
*Shh, Clicky, let Dear Reader read…*
‘Cos Play’s The Thing!
By Roo B. Doo
I was having a lovely dream. The sort of dream you dream about having. Josie was sat over me, exquisitely filling her Wonder Woman costume with her tanned and taut flesh. Her righteous arse cheeks, spread, hovered tantalizingly above my face, the blue silky gusset that ran between them was nearly within touching distance.
“Copy that, Elvis. Coming in to land,” Josie said curtly, followed by a burst of static. “And I hope to God Harry has managed to get the undercarriage down.”
It was then that I realised we were about to crash. I hadn’t been able to find the invisible landing gear that Josie had implored me to fix. The one on her invisible plane, the plane she was now bringing in to land. I looked down past my feet at the ground zooming up toward me, before stealing one last glance up at the in-flight entertainment above. “Oh fuck!”
I woke in a sweaty start to the urgent buzzing of my iPhone on the bedside table. “I’m up!” I yelled into the cool, empty darkness, before hitting the snooze button and flopping back onto my pillow, clutching the phone to my gut. It felt smooth and hard against my hot skin.
I’d been dreaming of the Josie again, F.A. Kontrell’s HR Manager and the office goddess I’d been lusting after since the Fat Kontroller, our boss, had hired her into the fold two years ago. Last year she’d dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween, and just like in my dream, Josie had filled the skintight costume to perfection. In real life. Unfortunately, and exactly like my dream, she remains just as elusive. One day, I sighed and snuggled back down under the duvet to review the highlights of this latest dreamy romp. The next time my mobile phone suddenly vibrated into life, the intrusion was much more welcome.
Hallo-fucking-ween again, I thought malevolently when I finally got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I’d never been fond of the ritualised bollocks foisted on us as markers of time – Christmas, Easter, Halloween – but since the Fat Kontroller had given our bitch of a receptionist, Shazza, carte blanche to organise the festivities, I’d come to dread their arrival for the inevitable disaster that followed.
Last year, the old boy had been railroaded into a last minute ‘dress up for charity’ celebration of all things Halloweeny by Shazza, whilst I’d been out of the country, enjoying the delights of Ibiza on a well deserved break. That sorry episode had resulted in a blood-splattered bathroom, a year’s worth of PTSD therapy for Ian, our lanky and highly impressionable apprentice, and a grand sum of £22.50 raised for a charity – still undisclosed – a fiver of which was extorted from me for not not knowing I needed a costume!
Well not this year; this year I was prepared thanks to Dana Cossetti, high-flying VP of the American conglomerate that has recently swallowed F.A. Kontrell’s biggest client, Clovis, whole. We’d been introduced to each other back in the spring, whilst Dana was making a whistle-stop tour of her firm’s European acquisitions, and the Fat Kontroller was looking to secure the lucrative contract he’d signed with Clovis by any means necessary.
Any initial disgust I felt at being pimped out by my boss was soon dwarfed by lust for his selected john the moment I clapped eyes Dana Cossetti’s legs and heard her earthy, Texan drawl. And being a Yank, she took both Halloween and competition very seriously indeed…
Despite the godawful hour, arriving first at the office does have certain benefits: picking the best parking spot for one thing, lack of Shazza for another. Mainly it allows me to get on with some productive work before the Fat Kontroller rolls in. Today it also meant I could get changed into my Halloween costume with some degree of privacy before the rest of the rabble arrived. Except upon arrival I found the security alarm switched off and the main door unlocked. I pushed it open and peered into the deserted, unlit office beyond. “Hello?”
Shit! I bet he’s here already, I fumed, striding round to my desk, expecting to see the Fat Kontroller. I was stopped in my tracks though by a loud thud from the other side the office. Not him then, I surmised and changed direction, curious to see who’d beat me in to work. “Who’s that?” I called out but was greeted with silence.
Perhaps it was the date or that the far side of the office was bathed in deep shadows, weakly lit by the meagre daylight that eked through from beneath the window blinds, but it felt very spooky. I suddenly felt the urge to creep. What if it’s a burglar? I thought. Why the fuck didn’t you switch the overhead lights on? I shifted the garment bag carrying my costume to over my shoulder and crept forward, Scooby Doo style.
“Hello, who’s there?” Nothing. I picked up a stapler from a nearby desk and held it open in front of me. Oh yeah, that’s bound to scare off an intruder. Why not brandish a fucking ruler and threaten a stinging slap?
“Harry, is that you?” Golden light flooded the corner of the room as the door to the far office opened. Josie poked her head out sideways, her raven tresses tumbling down in a waterfall of curls. She looked relieved to see me. “Oh thank God, I need some help with this thing.”
Pfft, burglar. I strolled up to her office, getting rid of the stapler as nonchalantly as I could on the way. “Sure. What’s the-” I felt my jaw drop. “Problem?”
“It’s stuck,” Josie gasped, looking over her bare shoulder. She was wrestling with the zip at the small of her back. “The zip feels stuck but I can’t see why. Will you have a look?”
If last year’s Wonder Woman costume had been a joy to behold, then Josie’s mermaid effort today was nothing short of a triumph of form over fantasy. Hallelujah! my brain screamed.
“Wow, great costume,” I croaked, sinking to my knees. It was going to take every ounce of willpower to not press my face up against her fulsome, metallic gold arse, and kiss it. Profusely, scaly or not.
“It’s a bit elaborate,” she purred, running a delicate, tanned hand over the flare of her hips and down the curvy, shimmering, fish scale printed fabric. “But I couldn’t resist,” she informed me with a girlish giggle and a swish of her tail.
Oh you’re fucking killing me! I mentally wailed but decided to keep my mouth shut: my hands were shaking, my eyeballs were sweating; I couldn’t be any more nervous if faced with a bomb, pliers in hand and commanded to cut. I furtively licked my lips. “Um…”
“Can you see where it’s caught?” Josie asked pushing her fishtail arse closer to my face.
Breathe, you idiot! I took a gulp of air and dived in. “I think it’s caught on the lining.” I tugged and pulled gingerly with nervous fingers until the zip and lining freed themselves of each other. With a sigh of relief, I fastened her costume up with a smooth zziiipp and sat back on my heels. “You look… magnificent.”
“Oh thanks, Harry.” Josie tottered round and gave me a full frontal of her washboard stomach and the pink clam shells cup bikini top that shielded her perky breasts. I could have quite happily sat there all day but she held out her hand to help me up. She spotted my garment bag discarded on the floor. “Ooh so you did remember to bring a costume this year?”
My costume? I’d quite forgotten all about my costume; my costume had been completely blown out of my mind by the way she looked in her costume.
Missing out on the chance to win a bottle of Glenfarclas for best costume at last year’s Halloween hullabaloo had stung. The Fat Kontroller had donated it as first prize and he only ever drank the finest whisky. I’d idly mentioned it to Dana, who taken this year’s competition as something of a challenge. My costume was really Dana’s costume; the only input I had was to simply wear it, and share first prize with her when next she was in town. A Christmas date I was looking forward to immensely .
“Come on, what are you wearing?” Josie asked impatiently.
Well this is awkward, I thought with a mental grimace. I rocked up onto to my feet and started to unzip the bag. “Funny story, Josie. An American mate sent this to me about a month ago…”
“Oh my God, Harry, we’re both mermaids for the day!” Josie laughed, freeing the fishtail of my costume from its protective casing so that she could fondle it. Strange, she seemed genuinely delighted that, essentially, someone else would be wearing the same frock as her. “We’ll be twins!”
“If you mean like Schwarzenegger and Devito, then yeah… Totally!”
“Oh Harry, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Josie said coyly, perching on her desk and lazily swinging her legs so that her fishtail glittered and gleamed. “You don’t look anything like Danny Devito.”
Fuck! Is she flirting with me? “Whereas you look exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger?”
Josie picked up a shell encrusted mirror from the desk and peered at her reflection. “Only when I’m on my period.” She quickly placed the mirror back down. “Hey, I know. If you changed now, we can go sit out on reception and wait for the others to arrive.”
Here? She wants me to take my clothes off here? I was confused and still reeling from her flirting. If that was flirting. I decided not to chance it. “Okay, I’ll go to the ladies.”
“No!” She slid off the desk and bunny hopped toward me. “No time to lose. I’ll help you. These things can be a bugger to get into.”
“Well alright then,” I said shrugging off my coat and biting my lips to disguise my grin. “You know Shazza’s gonna be pissed when she gets in and finds us camped on reception.”
“Better than that, she’ll be absolutely horrified!” Josie flashed a wicked smile and plucked the garment bag from my hand so that I could get undressed. “Happy Halloween Harry.”
*Way to roll your eyes, Clicky… /stubs butt…*
4 thoughts on “Story Time: ‘Cos Play’s The Thing!”
Ah, the unequalled Equals.
Only those of a certain age (i.e older than our hostess) would recall them being plugged incessantly on (pirate) ‘Wonderful’ Radio London.
This eye-witness remembers they were brilliant live!
Sadly they split, but as a consequence founder member Eddy Grant then gave the world this:
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😀 I lived in Electric Avenue from 1967 – 77. In a flat, right at the very top, overlooking the market 😀
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What a coincidence!
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