This one, like most of my stories, started as a micro and maybe works best till about halfway. After that, I do not take responsibility for my characters’ actions. Girls just wanna have fun, you know.

Shrouded in misty shades of midnight, lace and chiffon clouded her delicate frame like coastal fog. Mesmerised, I suddenly lost my appetite for the pumpkin flapjacks I was nibbling on.

Her pull was like a black hole to my chaotic galaxy, and my gaze plummeted into the very shadowy material she was made of.

It wasn’t just the snowy white hills of her bare shoulders that every vampire in the room craved to sink their fangs into or the face that every mad scientist wished to recreate... And let’s not talk about what all the Spidermen and Batmen wanted to do to her because, well, I don’t know much about superheroes’ interests and kryptonites’...

All I knew, I had to have her.

I wanted to see how that enormous black obsidian pendant swung against her chest as I pushed her against the wall. I wanted to see my gun-metal nails contrast her milky English rose complexion, how her puffy blood-red lips shiver and curse as my tongue scouts her body. I wanted to suck those delicate fingers one by one, exploring those ridiculously large custom jewellery rings with the tip of my tongue, and tell her how I crave to feel them inside me. I wanted to rip the cheap chiffon off her body, and if she complained that she won’t have anything to go home in, I’d tell her that she will never ever be allowed to leave.

Hey, Kat, time to get off cloud cuckoo and go talk to her!

 Still holding onto the wrinkly hands of her wizard companion, she raised her oversized witch’s hat and glanced around the room through wide, cobalt rhinestone embellished eyes.

Under my cheap supermarket feline mask, my green kitty eyes begged her to notice me.

Instead, they whispered something to one another and walked through the small crowd of the sitting room, towards the kitchen that now resembled a post-apocalyptic canteen.

Luckily, that was exactly where my group of friends also camped, so I headed in the same direction and walked up to the socialite of our pack, who knew the host and most of the people attending. “Who’s that girl in the witch costume?” I asked her.

“That’s Nina, Victor’s sister,” she replied blandly, clearly not sharing my burning passion for the spectral vision standing across the room.

 I had no idea who Victor was, but his sister was coming home with me tonight.

 I mixed one of my signature ‘one glass knocks you off your feet’ cocktails and waited patiently for Mr Wizard to make an exit.

“You look a bit bored,” I offered her the poison in the fanciest glass I could find in the deepest, most hidden cupboard-corner. Somehow, I sensed that plastic cups weren’t our thing.

We engaged in superficial chit-chat about the few people we both knew at the party.

I found out that Victor was the guy she came with. Yaaay!

And that she almost had to go trick or treating with her nieces and nephews instead of coming here. So glad her sister stepped up!

And that she really liked black cats. How lucky for me!

After a few drinks, I suggested we went for trick or treating since she seemed a little disappointed to have missed out on that kind of fun. For a minute, she was trying to figure out if I meant the actual knocking on doors or something entirely different.

It was either way, to be honest. There were definitely sweets to be involved... I just wanted to leave this boring-ass party and show her ‘the amazing view from my flat’.

“It’s just a small park it looks onto, but I promise you will like it,” I smiled coyly under my long whiskers.

 At that point, I realised that she hasn’t even seen my face yet. I completely forgot about the mask. (Swinger much? Guilty!) I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, so I just pushed it up my forehead as a make-do hairband.

Her eyes lit up brightly under the heavy cobalt gems, and the smile on her merlot lips widened. The naughty black kitty has done a somersault in my stomach.

*** 

Instead of hailing a cab, we decided to walk the few corners (fourteen to be precise, but who was counting) to my place. It was still only 9-ish, and a few kids were still doing their rounds, trying their luck for something better than cheap Love Hearts and Drumsticks.

When we reached the other end of my street, from the corner of my eyes, I saw a fit young bloke opening his door to a group of kids. I faintly recalled seeing him washing his BMW in the summer on a few occasions. On a whim, I pulled my sexy witch companion to his door and, before she could object, rang his doorbell.

“Aren’t you two way too old for trick or treating?” he stared at us.

“That is sooo rude,” Nina hissed. “You want me to turn him into a frog?” Her evil little chuckle was adorable.

“A mouse. We could keep him in a cage,” I grinned at her playing along.

“Oh, no, not a little grey mouse,” he pulled away in mock terror, pretending to shut the door on us.

But I put my foot in the gap. “Are we gonna get some sweets then, or you wish to spend the rest of your life in a cage? I might add it shan’t be a long life as this kitty is always hungry,” I chuckled.

“Ok, ok, why don’t you girls come in for some more adult treats?” he suggested, but when I gave him a suspicious look, he quickly corrected himself, “I just mean a glass of wine or something.”

I shared a glance with Nina, then replied, “Maybe next year. Now we just want some sweets.”

“And it’s better be some good ones like Malteasers and Twirls!” Nina snapped.

Even next year was unlikely, to be honest. If we weren’t too close to home, I would have been tempted to take him up on his invitation and end the night tying him to a chair to give him the treat of his boring suburban life.

Tonight, I just wanted my witch all to myself.

As it turns out, we didn’t even get to the window to see the view. We barely made it through the door before her stupid enormous hat flew across the room, and I found out that her English rose complexion was all just foundation (which, by the way, tasted delicious). And that her obsidian hexagon pendant fitted perfectly into my mouth (her request) and was the best fucking thing that ever touched my clit (my request). That she didn’t mind that her fishnet stockings fell victim to my feral kitten claws, but she did mind the dress. Ooops.

 Later, when we ventured deeper into the house and eventually found ourselves in my bed, I whispered into her ear, “It was the most special Halloween treat to cum on a witch’s fingers.”

“I’m a sorceress, you silly kitten,” she laughed softly, falling asleep, rubbing off my smudged whiskers.