Trick or Treat #WickedWednesday #Halloween #eroticromance #amwriting


Halloween is coming up soon, and I decided to use that as inspiration for my submission to this week's Wicked Wednesday meme. The prompt was "Chance Meeting."



Trick or Treat

 “So this guy I know gave me the address.”

Sasha walked into the room and tossed her purse on our couch. I didn’t look up from the computer. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“The address for what?”

“The address. To Kyle’s party.”

I shut my laptop.

“Um, so are we really doing this?” I asked.

We had been trying to figure out how to “accidentally” meet Kyle Jackson ever since Sasha moved to Hollywood. We had brainstormed many different plans, our favorite one being that she would take her dog to Kyle’s street and then pretend to lose the dog in Kyle’s yard. This would, of course, give her a reason to knock on his door.

But tonight might be our first real chance to meet Kyle.

He was having a Halloween party at his new mansion in the Hollywood Hills and so many people were invited that Sasha was sure we could blend in.

Once she was able to meet Kyle, she was sure he’d fall in love with her – or at the very least help her jumpstart her modeling career, which was going nowhere.

“Of course we’re doing this, Em. I even got you a costume.”

She opened up a bag and pulled out a pair of super-tight, overly embroidered bell-bottom jeans, a flowy-and-also-embroidered white top and a fake flower crown.

“A hippie? That’s something a 12 year old girl dresses as for Halloween,” I said.

“Well, it’s all they had left at the shop, so you’re wearing it.”

“It doesn’t even hide my face! I thought the plan was to go in masks and hope Kyle or his people don’t realize they don’t know us.” I put the crown on my head and looked in the mirror. It actually looked pretty hot on me.

“Alright, I’m in,” I said.


We got in.

I don’t know how Sasha did it, but she slipped us in the door and no one even noticed us. Of course, the party was packed with people, so it wasn’t that difficult to disappear.

Immediately, I scanned the room for Kyle. He wouldn’t be difficult to spot, since his arms and legs were covered with tattoos and he had an unmistakable – and perfect – side profile.

We didn’t see him.

“Well, he’s in costume,” Sasha said, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me through a sea of lanky models and into a hallway. “He could be anywhere.”

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to her. “We got into the party. Just chill out.” It was hard to hear over the music blaring from the great room.

“We’re splitting up! We have a better chance to find him that way,” she said. Then she shoved me toward a sliding door and took off in the other direction.

I surveyed the stark, white hallway and walked up and down looking for an open door. As I got farther away from the partygoers, the sound of my heavy cork wedges on the tile floor grew louder and louder.

No doors were open.

What the hell. I came this far. I took a breath, picked one and opened it.

I saw Kyle, sitting alone in his kitchen, perched at a giant white marble island with his laptop. His brown hair was knotted in a bun bouncing on the top of his head. He wore a cut-up t-shirt and jeans and a monster mask sat next to his computer. He ran his hands through his hair over and over, squinting at the screen.

“No. No. Did I say I wanted this blue? No, never happened.”

He was whispering, but his voice echoed against the floor.

He turned and saw me watching him in the doorway. His perfect blue eyes startled me.

“You, come here. Tell me what you think about this,” he said, beckoning me with his index finger and turning back to the screen. I noticed how graceful his hands were.

 “I told them I wanted this to be purple. Does this look blue or purple to you? This is the kind of shit I don’t have time for,” he said, refusing to look at me again.

On the screen was an album cover design. It was stark, simple and mostly black. In the corner was a tiny symbol. Purple.

So…Should I tell him it’s purple? I knew that was not what he wanted to hear.

“I don’t know anything about this stuff,” I said, coughing.

“You know as much as you need to know to have an opinion on a color. You’re not blind, are you?” He laughed to himself and didn’t look up.

I put my hand on his shoulder and my fingers grazed his collarbone. I dared to move them slowly up his exposed skin to his neck and then paused.

Again, he didn’t remove his eyes from the screen. Maybe he didn’t notice? I got away with touching Kyle Jackson’s neck. I had won the lottery. Hand me my trophy, I can go home now.

Then Kyle looked down, placed his hand over mine and tilted his head up at me. I tried to memorize the feeling of his fingers on my bare skin so I could tell Sasha later. I was dizzy with how star struck I was.

“Oh, okay, I see,” he said, smirking. He moved his lips close to mine and then removed my hand from his body. “Did you come in here to do a little trick or treating?”

“What? No,” I tried to back away but, still sitting, Kyle put his hand on the belt loop of my ridiculous-looking bell-bottoms. “I should get back to the party.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. As he moved to stand, he reached up, gently grabbing my chin and planting the softest kiss on my lips. I couldn’t protest or take in what was happening.

He broke away just as I shut my eyes to take in the kiss.

“Wait…do I know you? How'd you get in here?”

“I’m here with friends,” I squeaked out. “My friend really, really wants to meet you.”

He smiled, flattered.

It was now or never, I could see it in his eyes. So I went for it, pushing him by the shoulders back down into the chair and then straddling him. I moved in to kiss him again, focusing on the curve of his pink lips before I parted my own slowly and darted my tongue into his mouth.

He broke away again. “Whoa, slow down, you got my attention,” he said. I was sure this kind of thing happened to him all the time. But I could tell from his eyes he wanted me and I couldn’t say no.

He could say no, however. Or at least press pause on having sex with a strange girl in his kitchen during a party.

He put his palm over my mouth lightly and reached out for a piece of paper.

He signed it.

“This is for your friend,” he said, handing it to me.

Then he scrawled a phone number on the corner of the sheet and ripped it off. He stuck it to my bottom lip.

“And this is for you,” he whispered.

He lifted me off of his lap and strapped the monster mask across his face.

“Don’t call me before noon,” he said. He was gone.

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