He felt his stomach twist again and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool, marble tiles. Dred knew he would have to move on this and fast. He also knew Godrickle was right. Middy was just the right witch to help in this little charade. She’d do it for the children.
Midnight Cherrywood had a heart. Something he wasn’t so sure that any of the other witches of his acquaintance knew anything about.
This also meant he wasn’t going to allow himself to break it. If she agreed to this, he’d do her the favor of not fucking her blue. He felt an acute sense of loss that he was sure was just disappointment. He’d talk to her at the Masque.
He sighed. His choices of costume had narrowed consid-erably with this recent cranberry incident. Dred had been having trouble choosing what to go as. Both costumes included breeches and Hessians, but only one included an eye patch.
Dred knew both looked good on him, as did everything.
What would look really good on him was Midnight Cherry wood riding him like a broom. Of course, his brain wasn’t supposed to be going down that particular path anymore, but it refused to listen to him.
He felt like every kind of a bastard for thinking about his own pleasure after having just looked at those images. Not just his own, but Middy Cherrywood’s. Middy with her head thrown back, her lips glistening from their kisses, and her mouth open, begging him for more while straddling . . .
Bastard!
It didn’t matter anyway. She was going to agree to this and he wouldn’t use her after that. Dred had a code that he lived by. It wasn’t so much society’s morals, but his own.
There were rules and he’d learned the hard way that to break them was a one-way ticket to self-destruction.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Gargoyle Masque
“What part of
I’ll wear this when you shit four blue kittens
was unclear, Drusilla Tallow?” Middy screeched as she discovered that all of the clothes in her closet were gone, her drawers had been stripped as naked as she was, and all that was left for her to wear was the pleather catsuit, hooker boots, and the black-framed glasses of The Baroness costume from the
G.I. Joe
movie.
“Middy, you’re wearing that costume and that’s final,” Tally said with determination.
“I am not!” Middy honked like a goose that had sat on a rake. “No one will even know who I am supposed to be.”
“Warlock and mortal alike have all had a hard-on for The Baroness for almost thirty years. I promise they will all know who you are. Warlocks do go to the movies, you know.”
“I can’t show my face in this, Tally. I’m serious.”
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but no one, and I mean no one, is going to be looking at your face.”
“They’ll see my panty line.”
“Not if you don’t wear any.”
“Tally! If I don’t wear any it will . . . It will . . .” she tried.
“I’m on the other side of the door and you can’t say it?”
“The flora and fauna of my nether bits will not take kindly to direct contact with material like this.”
“Flora and . . . Oh! Will it be like pulling apart a grilled cheese?” Tally smirked.
“You are so crude.”
“Yeah, and I bet you’re still blushing. Come on! Live a little. You’re just going to be at this thing for a few hours and then you can change into something comfy. I bet the donations will go up,” Tally added.
“Fine.” Middy wouldn’t admit that she’d wanted to be talked into it. It would serve Dred right for demanding that she be his date to the fund-raiser. Though, perhaps the cranberry in the eye had been punishment enough.
Maybe. She couldn’t help feeling that insisting on her company was some sort of perversity to appease his bore-dom. If so, he deserved everything she could dish out. Especially showing up in a supernaturally tight costume where all of her attributes were readily visible, as well as her flaws.
She’d been told that her hips were too wide, her breasts too lush, and her ass too big. Tally didn’t seem to think so; the rail-skinny witch had told her on countless occasions that she was endlessly jealous of her ass. She said that in certain mortal circles, she had what was called “ghetto booty.”
Now, Middy had seen a few music videos and she thought that ghetto booty was kind of hot. Why was mortal society obsessed with models who could turn sideways and disappear? They didn’t look like women. They looked like cabin boys who’d been made to dress like girls and starved to show their ribs. Apparently, that was the standard of beauty.
Middy didn’t get it, but she didn’t really care too much.
If she were a warlock, not that she wanted to be, but if she were, she would want a witch that looked like a witch, not another warlock. After all, these were enlightened times. If a warlock wanted another warlock, why not have one instead of a witch that looked like one?
She wasn’t quite sure that it was okay to display her assets so obviously in polite society though. This was a fundraiser not a strip joint. Though, she knew of a few witches who went to these things husband hunting and everything they had to offer was splayed out like a selection in a candy store. Of course, there was nothing sweet about them.
They were all back-biting bitches who’d take your head off with their claws as soon as say anything genuine.
Middy didn’t want to be mistaken for one of those.
“Sweet Merlin with a ball gag! What is taking you so long? You’re not getting out of this.”
“You try charming pleather to smooth up your thighs and see how far you get,” Middy snapped as she shimmied and contorted, trying to urge the costume up over her body.
Suddenly, she was dressed and feeling much like she imagined a wench at a Renaissance fair. Middy didn’t know how these women did it. She didn’t think that her rack was supposed to be up that high. She could use if for a shelf, set her drink on it, and her Witchberry. Maybe even one of those monstrous (tasty) turkey legs.
“Is that better? I was always better at fashion charms than you. Now open the door. I need to see your hair to charm it appropriately.”
“I’m thinking that will be more like a hex,” Middy muttered as she opened the door.
“Hell, Mids. You look good.”
“You say that like it’s a surprise.” Middy frowned.
“No, I knew it would look great on you. It’s just you’re really beautiful. Now, hold still.”
Tally began the incantation that forced Middy’s hair into smooth, silky lines and added just a bit of length to make it fall to her hips, and she perched the glasses on the end of Middy’s nose.
“You want a mirror?” Tally asked.
“No. It will be easier if I just don’t think about what I’m wearing.” Middy wasn’t sure how she could forget, not with that slick material rubbing right on her clit. Tonight was going to be torture. “I really don’t want to wear this, Tally.”
“If you don’t wear it, you’re just going to be Snow White,” Tally growled. “Again. Like you have been every year since Academy.” Tally’s extreme distaste at the prospect was evident on her face. In fact, it was as obvious as a pile of elephant poop next to a Dodge Dart.
“It looks good on me.”
“It’s bor-ing.” Tally dragged it out like it was two words.
“Okay, so theoretically I let you out of this costume— what would you be?”
“A fairy princess.”
Tally snorted and sounded like a cat with a particularly vicious hairball. “A fairy
what
?”
“Princess.” Middy was resolute. “I want snowflakes in my hair and fairy dust on my cleavage and a pretty, sparkly dress. Oh, and a crown. I want a crown made out of ice.”
“And you’re going to use this costume to entice Dred Shadowins, how exactly?”
“I’m not! I don’t want to!”
“Of course, you do.” The hairball was back.
“Okay, I do. Women throw themselves at him all the time though. I am going to be different.”
“You already shot a cranberry in his eye. Isn’t that different enough for you?”
Middy tried to sit down, but the pleather wouldn’t bend.
So, it was more of a leaning over and then the rest was gravity. She was stuck on her back with her bosoms up to her chin and legs that wouldn’t bend.
“A little help, Tally?”
“Maybe it was a little tight. I had the best intentions.”
“Make with the fairy princess right now. Dred is going to be here any minute and I am flat on my back, dressed like a dominatrix from Hell.”
“I don’t want to.” Tally pouted with her arms crossed over her chest.
“You do it or I will hex all of your birth control potions. Every last one,” Middy promised.
“You fight dirty.”
“How else am I going to hold my own with Dred Shadowins? Now, do it,” she demanded.
“Fine, but you’re not getting any panties.”
“What! Why?” Middy realized that she was out of time as the buzzer rang. “Fine. Just fix it.”
Her fairy princess costume made it no easier to be upright; her bosoms were still launched out into space, the space between her chin and where they should have been.
If she arched her neck far enough she could almost touch her nose to her breast. They were glittery as she’d asked and she touched her hand to the top of her head and almost cut her finger on the sharp points of her crown.
Middy finally managed to roll herself into an upright position and gain her feet. Tally had given her four-inch heels, which she immediately shrank an inch. They now put her at exactly six feet even. She knew from Dred’s centerfold bio that he was four inches taller than that.
Instead of the ball gown she’d wanted, she ended up with what could only be described as a tutu. It wasn’t exactly that short, but it was close enough for frog tossing and hex bombs. Middy had to admit that her legs looked really good, especially in those heels with the laces that twined up her calf. What there was of the skirt was white and glittery with a layer of crinoline underneath that was a lovely ice blue.
She supposed it would do, even though she felt very naked without her panties. It was sort of empowering though, a much better feeling than all of that plastic-pleather horror.
The doorbell rang again, a large sound that practically shook the foundations of the old Victorian house. She’d assumed that Tally had gone to answer the door. Apparently not, since he’d felt the urge to ring the bell a second time.
Middy took gingerly steps in her new heels and opened the door. She usually checked through the peephole first and was now heartily sorry that she hadn’t. If she’d peeked, she would have been able to take in Dred’s costume without gasping like she had the first time a boy had put his tongue in her mouth.
He was wearing breeches. Sweet Morrigan have mercy, breeches! They hugged his strong thighs with extreme prej-udice and disappeared down into Hessian boots that she so loved to read about.
It was worse because her perusal of
Weekly Warlock
told her exactly what was under those camel-colored breeches.
She immediately wondered what it would feel like to be straddling him in her current, knickerless state with him still wearing those. They were a soft fabric, not cotton, but textured. Middy almost reached out a hand to touch them, but was able to curb that disaster before it happened.
Middy was finally able to tear her gaze from the package and look up. He was dressed like a pirate. His white-blond hair curled just a bit under his ears and out from beneath the red scarf he’d tied around his head. Usually, she would find that incredibly lame, but it just seemed to work for him. Especially the eye patch, which she was sure was not part of the costume.
It gave him an air of danger that was just enough to twist her nipples. They were hard against the silky material of her bodice and she was thankful that it had been reinforced with a touch of padding so it wasn’t obvious.
He looked at her like he was the Big Bad Wolf and she was prey. Yes, that’s exactly what she felt like, a sacrificial offering. Or a steak.
It was a heady feeling to know that he wanted her. No matter what was up his sleeve, a warlock didn’t eye a witch like that without carnal intent. It didn’t matter that he was a bastard extraordinaire as she was so fond of saying. She had talked herself into losing her cherry tonight and she was going to do it. It didn’t matter that she didn’t like him. She liked his body and he was supposed to be talented in bed, so she wouldn’t get caught up in any weird virginal/stalker attachment. Then, she’d be more confident as a lover when she did find someone she cared for. It made sense, sort of.
“You look lovely, Midnight.”
“Thank you.” She blushed. “I should have expected something dashing from you. Like a pirate.”
“It was in the running before the eye patch, but since I already had it on . . .” He shrugged. “Are you ready to go?”
“Just let me get my bag.” She held the door open for him to come inside while she tried to think of the spell to make her current bag match her costume.
Tally came out of the bathroom in just a towel and gasped when she saw Dred. “Shame on you, Middy. I didn’t know you had company.” She let the towel gape just a bit.
“Ah, the infamous Drusilla Tallow. I see you and Middy are still close,” Dred said as he pursed his lips.
“Tally, please.” She smiled.
“I don’t kiss and tell. A man’s tally is a private thing and I don’t think I know you well enough just yet to talk numbers.”
Tally, rather than getting upset, giggled. “
Call me
Tally. It’s my name. You are so bad.”
“I can’t help myself.”
Middy glared at Drusilla, wondering just what the hell had gotten into her. Tally had helped her decide that Dred was the one. This was going to happen and now her roommate was wandering around half naked trying to get his attention? That was obviously what she was doing. Why else would she be flapping around in nothing but a towel?
“I’m ready,” Middy offered casually, as if the sight of her best friend trying to undermine her efforts hadn’t pissed her off like a prized bull with a bee stinger in its nut sac.
“Are you going to the ball, Tally?”
Oh, if he asked her to come with them, she was going to . . .