Private Show (The Private Series)
Private Show
Copyright 2014 © by Danielle Torella
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Photographer: Mesha D. White
Cover Models: Randy Potvin and Danielle Torella
Cover Designer: Randy Potvin
Interior Design: Angela McLaurin,
Fictional Formats
Fall has crept upon us before we knew it, but then again, they say time flies when you’re having fun. And fun I am having.
I never thought in a million years that a guy like Ben would fall for a girl like me. But since that night at Chatz, when we had a hot intense quickie in the restroom and when he verbally assaulted everyone, by announcing that I was his girlfriend, things have been pretty great. Pretty great, considering that it’s only been a week since that little rendezvous.
What makes this time of year even better is that my favorite holiday is this weekend: Halloween!
I have always been a Halloween junkie since I was a little girl. When most little girls wanted to be Cinderella or that stuck-up Snow White, I wanted to be a bloody corpse, bride of Frankenstein or—no, wait—one year I did go as Belle from
Beauty and the Beast,
Belle, after Beast had torn off Belle’s arm and chewed out her left eye. Ahhh… memories.
Mom was always helping me come up with the goriest costume we could conjure up. While most moms would be grossed out or disappointed that their daughter didn’t want to be a princess, mine was smearing fake blood on my face. As an adult, though, I have never been a big clubber when it came to Halloween, because most women like to just wear their underwear as a costume. It’s not even a matter of All Hallows Eve anymore. No, now it’s about who can look the sexiest—or, in most cases, trashiest.
So I typically sit home and watch all the Halloween movies with bags of popcorn and a huge bowl of candy. Because I live in an apartment building, we don’t even get trick-or-treaters. Man, if I did, I would scare those brats right out of their Kmart costumes.
Also, after what happened at the first and last club I went to, I don’t know if I would want to step back into another club again. It’s safe to say that Dave really messed me up. I was just lucky enough that Ben was at the club that night for work, because if he wasn’t… well I might not be here today.
This year, though, Ben insists that we go to his family’s annual Halloween Bash. I’ll meet Ben’s sister Caroline, who he absolutely adores. Ben has looked out for his baby sister since their mother passed away giving birth to Caroline.
This little family bash is
the
party to be at for Halloween apparently. Ben told me that the Who’s Who of Seattle goes. There’s a live band and catered dinner, even a ten-foot-long table full of candy and desserts (it’s that last part that won me over, honestly). Every year there is a different theme. And this year’s theme:
Music and Movies
.
Ben told me he already has his costume all figured out, and why shouldn’t he? He expects the party every year and has time to plan. I, on the other hand, just learned about this party yesterday and I have three days to come up with something.
I decide to enlist the help of my gore-master right hand, my mother, and my best friend Erin, who is also going to the party. Apparently that Mark guy she was all over the other week at Chatz is one of the Who’s Who of Seattle, and seeing as he and Erin have been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now, he invited her along. So Erin needs a costume too.
We decide to hit up some funky thrift stores first. It’s what I have done since I can remember. Besides, who wants to wear a costume bought at a store, in which you will see a dozen other people in the same thing? Not me.
“OK, girls, what’s the game plan? What are we dressing up as?” my mom asks as we are walking into the first small shop. She is the costume master; she will turn anything into the costume of your dreams. She lives for this just as much as I do. Thankfully this year she has a date and is going out. My mom has dated a little since the divorce, when I was a baby, but never as long with one person as she has been with this guy.
“Sexy,” Erin says.
I let out a loud groan and throw my head back, as if in pain. “Why? Why do you want to dress sexy for Halloween? You can be anything. And Erin, you’re already sexy. How could you be any more sexy?”
“Well, bestie, first of all, thank you for the compliment. Two, I will be something creative yet, but I want to also mess with Mark the whole night.” She gives me an-all-too knowing wink and smile. Yeah, I know what she means: she wants to tease the hell out of the guy. Rile him up and take him home later.
Mom clears her throat from the next rack over. Great. Me and Mom never quite had an open relationship when it came to sex. Just the typical safe-sex talks, but nothing real. Which reminds me, I have an appointment tomorrow morning about going on the pill. It’s my Halloween surprise for Ben, since he hates using condoms all the time.
I nudge Erin with my shoulders and we start to giggle. Skimming through the racks, I start to consider Erin’s costume reasoning. It would be fun to tease Ben a little. So I start my quest for my first-ever sexy Halloween costume, but not too sexy since the party is still at his family’s place. Erin is filling her arms up with an array of clothing choices and hauls her butt to the fitting room, leaving her long red hair whipping behind her. Mom heads in the other direction towards the housewares and I decide to wander the racks and come across shoes.
I start scanning the shelf from the top, left to right, and the second shelf… nothing good so far. Then I see them. A pair of shoes that I would have died for when I was ten. Baby Spice platform sneakers! Holy Girl Power! Like the spaz I am, I instantly grab for them and hug them. Yes, I just hugged a pair of used shoes, so what? I immediately look on the bottom for the size, and
score!
Size six. I throw my purse to the ground, kick off my Chucks, and slip the beauties on. I am instantly five inches taller.
And it hits me. I am so totally going to be Baby Spice for Halloween. Just as my epiphany hits me, Erin comes strutting out of the pulled orange curtain makeshift dressing room, wearing what I can only assume to be a onetime Catholic school-girl uniform meant for the body of a fourteen-year-old. But on Erin, well, I will be honest: If I were a dude, I would have a boner.
She takes a little spin. “What do you think?” She asks me.
“Um, well, who are you trying to be?” I ask.
She grabs the hem of her white button-down dress shirt, pulls it up and ties it in a knot above her navel, then undoes the top three buttons to reveal her black bra. Pulls her hands to the sides of her head and makes pigtails. Oh, my God.