Hallows Eve

We descended from the heights above like fallen angles come to Earth. The silence around us was broken only by the mechanical hum of cables running over pulleys. We watched the floors tick off across the lighted display overhead.


Our reflections peered back from the polished brass doors before us. She resembled a Lamia Korinthus, seductive in raven cape, glittering black corset and fringed short skirt. Her dangerous red boots threatened to advance above the length of her thighs. My double stood beside her reflection, holding her hand, debonair in black and red gothic raiment, looking so much like Lestat. Venetian festival masks hid what expressions may have betrayed.


Our descent slowed and then stopped to the chime of a bell. We arrived at our destination floor. The polished doors parted and we swept into the visual and aural cacophony of party-goers milling about in their chosen affectations for Hallows Eve, laughing, talking and insinuating in a comfortable lobby area. Scattered seating arrangements encouraged small groups to sit and enjoy each other’s company while sipping drinks and waiting for dinner to be served.


Standing in line before a mini bar gave a moment to appraise a few of the party goers. Many of the women wore outfits that exposed ample portions of their anatomy, no doubt intended to solicit interest. The men wore costumes in various motifs: sports action figure, bad boy, or comedic absurdity. At one point a nearly seven foot doppelganger to Gene Simmons’ KISS alter ego stomped up to the bar. Leering at a voluptuous female dressed in red hooded cape and fishnet stockings, he declared loudly for all to hear “Better watch out Little Red Riding Hood, I’m comin’ ta getcha tonight!” Without missing a beat, she turned to him and replied “Yeah? Got the tongue?”


Enjoying our drinks from a small seating area in the nexus of the lobby gave us time to people watch, and consider the possibilities. Many were in our age bracket, others were younger; a few seemed too old. One has to wonder how people three decades away from the peak of their youthful attractiveness could find interested playmates. Is it as Benjamin Franklin once said? “In the dark all (cats) are the same.”


An hour or so later everyone slowly filtered out of the lobby and into an adjoining dining room. We strode across the room to a table we selected at random. Our promenade past several tables was watched with close interest by several males and females. Lamia was the target of many admiring looks. A Mad Scientist directed his appraisal of her loudly to his table-mates.


We seated ourselves with three other couples already sharing conversation. They ranged in age from late 20s, to early 30s, and up to late 50s. All but one couple was married. The late 20s couple was affianced. It was fascinating that a couple so young was ready to explore the boundaries of their relationship. My Love and I have been together for nearly thirty years and only recently discovered enough of ourselves and our relationship to venture into these waters. Random conversation revealed each couples’ general experience in this thing we call the Lifestyle, and the fact the party was actually bringing together two regional groups from north and south of the Boston metro area. There were probably 100 to 150 couples gathered together for this evening.


We finished our dinner and excused ourselves to venture into an adjoining room that was set up as a disco. Halloween decorations and colorful but dim lighting gave it the cozy feel of a grotto. As we danced to the DJ’s early music sets the room began to fill and heat up. More than a few couples and intimate groups danced in ways intended to clearly signal their intentions. At one point we were visited by a couple we met before, Anna and Fredrick, with whom we developed a keen interest in getting to know better. Anna was asked how things were going with another couple they developed an exclusive relationship with this past summer. She explained briefly that the other couple made the decision to leave the Lifestyle. Despite any hopes we might have had to connect with them it became apparent this evening that Anna and Fredrick would once again be out of reach. After several minutes of small talk they excused themselves to fetch fresh drinks. She apparently had other interests, as was later confirmed by her dance floor explorations. She was on the hunt exclusively for female companionship. Her writhing to a heavy beat with another statuesque blond was worthy of motion picture erotica. The other’s insistent groping of Anna’s well shaped derriere revealed the fact Anna simply wore fishnet stockings under her skirt and nothing else.


Other couples came in and out of our space as we alternated dancing with cooling down on the sidelines. The early-30s couple from our dinner group came to dance near us. He was a virile Chief Of Many Feathers, and she was a curvaceous Pocahontas. Was their body language inviting us to join them? I am not sure. But no other couple held the same appeal as Anna and Fredrick….


The Halloween Party may have been a turning point. Angie and I have sensed for some time now that we may have come to the end of our adventure in the Lifestyle. Not necessarily because we feel any different about being polyamorists, but rather, we simply do not feel that we can find who we are looking for in the way of special friends over the course of a long courtship. We need that connection that can only be forged over time; learning and growing with another couple to where we can feel comfortable enough with the level of intimacy we share with each other as a married couple. We realized long ago that it couldn’t be a round robin of relationships, and certainly not in one night stands. Angie's feelings on this matter were validated this year as she formed something of a bond with her on-again-off-again lover, Wilson.


My own understanding of our orientation in this dynamic was brought to a fine point when Angie and I experienced a sexual interlude with Wilson’s other part time paramour, Angelica. To this day I am still more turned on by the recollection that Angie and I did Angelica together than the knowledge I had an experience, if somewhat unfulfilled, with a woman other than my wife. The counterpoint to this is the fact Angie still wants access to Wilson, though he appears to harbor some personal conflict with his role, and has put some distance between him and Angie. Maybe he feels guilty, but there is a hint that having Angie in such a superficial way only reminds him of the special thing Angie and I have, that he desires so much for himself. I have recently begun suggesting to Angie that she end this affair because there is little evidence the relationship will blossom into something more enjoyable. She is reluctant to let go.

I lay in bed alone in the later hours of the evening. I imagined her opening wide for the impalement, and replayed in my mind his repeated thrusts into her lubricious sex over and over. My own autoerotic climax coincided with theirs. I lay quietly for a time, and she entered our room in the dark. I could see her dim silhouette as she undressed. She gently slid into bed and under the covers to come close and cuddle me.“Did you have fun?”
“Um-hm”
“Did he fuck you?”
“No….. I was on top this time.”
“Did you come?”
“No, but he did.”
“He came into you?”
“Um-hm”
“I wanted you to have that.”

We slowly began to fondle each other, and I felt wetness streaming out of her. My erection reached maximum tumescence and I glided into her pre-lubricated flower. We made love very deeply and passionately. The loop played again deliciously in my mind. Did she replay the same? It did not matter. She was with me, and he was far away, like a remote and brooding Saturn.