Claire runs a brush through her long dark hair, smiling at the sultry creature reflected in the floor-length mirror in front of her. The costume clings to her curves like a second skin, flawless in its presentation; there’s no doubt she’ll turn heads at the Halloween masquerade that night.     

She runs her free hand down the side of the black bodysuit and rests it against her hip, scrutinizing the effect. Perfect as the outfit is, the ensemble is missing something… “Ah-Ha!” She grabs a headband topped with fuzzy ears and slides it over her forehead while tucking the ends underneath dark hair. With a satisfied nod, she winks at the tall, lithe Catwoman grinning back at her. “You’re gorgeous, darling,” she assures herself.   

Excitement makes her pulse jumps. It’s been a while since she and her friends have been to a big party, and even longer since they’ve been to a true masquerade. Claire loves dressing up, and having an excuse to highlight her greatest assets gives her an extra boost of confidence. Not that she cares what other people think, but turning men’s heads without dealing with the snide comments about her choice of outfits is always refreshing.   

Gabbing her cell phone to check the time, Claire frowns at the picture set as her wallpaper. The couple with their arms entwined look happy enough, but Claire sees the lie in the woman’s smile. Sure, Patrick is nice, and his surgical status at the hospital makes for classy dates, but it hardly matters when their outings revolve around his schedule. Most days he’s busy doing rounds, performing surgeries, or on call, and Claire doesn’t like her second place position of importance in Patrick’s life. Not at all.   

The doorbell rings, and Claire hurries from the room with a smile. Her friends are here, and she’s more than ready to forget her current thoughts and concentrate on having a wild time at the night’s party.   

“Come in,” she yells toward the entryway as she grabs her purse from the kitchen. “It’s open!”   

There’s a thud as someone opens the heavy oak door. Giggles follow, and Claire pokes her head into the hall to see her three best friends clustered in front of the black wrought-iron mirror hanging above her hallway table. Ava, her blond hair teased into an alarmingly high updo, is leaning into the glass to check her makeup, while Zoe arranges the ends of her long red strands over one shoulder so it flows over her coconut bra. Leah, the quietest of the group, watches them with a half-smile on her heavily made-up face before shifting her gaze toward Claire.   

“Hey, you look great,” she says, her dark eyes bright with excitement. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”   

Claire smiles back. Leah’s clown costume is cute, especially since Leah herself is adorable at 5’3” with an infectious personality, but even her elaborate makeup can’t hide the exhaustion and frustration lining her mouth.     

“I know, I know,” her friend laughs, gesturing down the length of her body, “I should have gone with a pig suit or something. With the weight I’ve gained, I could have pulled that off with no problem.”   

“Stop that,” Ava says, turning from the mirror and narrowing her blue eyes. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”   

Zoe faces Leah and crosses her arms. “And, you’re worth a million of those fake Bethany Martins, so don’t let your ex’s bad taste have you thinking otherwise!”   

Claire nodded in agreement. “Jeremy’s an ass,” she says, reaching out and pulling Leah into a hug. Claire isn’t a hugger, but the clown in front of her looks so sad she can’t help it. “We’ll have fun tonight, okay?”   

Leah sniffs. “Jeremy and I were together for five years,” she mumbles into Claire’s shoulder. “I just need some time, you know?”   

Claire releases her and steps back. “Of course.” She smiles at the angel, mermaid, and clown while waving a hand in the air. “OK, creatures of the night, our Uber is here. Let’s take this party by storm!”   

The girls hurry down the front walkway of Claire’s house and slide into the idling Expedition, and once the driver turns onto the main road, Claire settles against the door and shifts to the side so she can see all three of her friends. “Who has a date coming tonight?” she asks.   

“Not me,” Leah grumbles.   

Zoe adjusts her bra and frowns. “Lester is meeting me there after his poker game.”   Ava rolls her eyes and thumps Zoe’s bare shoulder with her hand. “For real? He can’t give cancel for one night?” 

Zoe refuses to meet her gaze. “Whatever. I don’t need him to have fun, you know.” She leans forward and pokes Leah’s arm with a long finger tipped with a bright red nail. “Leah and I will hang out until he gets there.”   

“Gee, thanks,” Leah replies with a good-natured laugh. “Then you’ll drop me like a bad habit, right?”   

“I’m free for a bit too,” Claire adds. “Patrick got called into work, so he’ll be late.” Slouching in her seat, she picks a piece of invisible lint off her tight black pants. “Not that it matters, because this will be our last date. I’m breaking up with him.”   

Loud protests fill the car’s interior. “No,” Zoe cries, hitting the back of Claire’s headrest with her fist. “Come on, Claire, Patrick’s perfect!”     

Leah shakes her head. “Sorry it didn’t work out,” she says, her tone heavy with sympathy. “I really thought you had something.”   

The only one who seems unconcerned is Ava. In fact, she looks smug, and Claire narrows her eyes. “Nothing to say, Ava?” she asks.   

Ava has the decency to blush. “Well, I’m not surprised, that’s all.” She adjusts the halo perched on her head and clears her throat. “Dating for the holidays and then returning to the single life is your gig.”   

Claire purses her lips. “That isn’t true,” she argues. “What about…” Her voice trails off as she mentally flips through the list of men she’s dated recently. Carl, Bob, Kevin… Okay, so lately she hasn’t been with anyone for longer than two months, and the times she was attached happened to fall around national holidays, but who could blame her? Carl expected to split the costs of their dates every time they went out, Bob kissed her with all the talent of a 700-pound fish, and Kevin had been one of the most boring people she’d ever met. “Fine. My recent track record may not be the best, but I had good reasons for breaking up with those guys.”   

Zoe laughs. “Listen, as the person in our group with the finest, uncanny ability to date colossal losers, I have to say the men you’ve dated don’t come close.”   

“While true they weren’t the high calibre of the freaks you call boyfriends, trust me when I tell you not one was long-term material,” Claire mutters.   

“So, what’s wrong with Patrick?” Leah dabs the corner of her red-rimmed mouth and frowns at the smear of color on the tissue. “Hey, not to be insensitive or anything, but could you break up with him after I take this clown makeup off? I think I’m allergic to it and may need a prescription.”   

Claire rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with him, but coming in second behind a person’s job isn’t my style.” She shrugs. “Wanting to be first in someone’s life shouldn’t be a crime.”   

“It isn’t,” Zoe agrees, “but maybe it’s not Patrick you’re having a hard time with. Commitment has never been your strong suit.” She holds a hand up, palm forward, when Claire objects. “Not wanting to be with someone long-term isn’t a bad thing; hell, it’s how I approach relationships! However, I’m worried you’re making up excuses rather than considering the idea you might be afraid.”   

Warmth floods Claire’s cheeks, and she takes a deep breath. Her friends mean well, but they don’t understand how many last-minute cancellations she’s lived with or the lackluster experiences in the bedroom because of Patrick’s exhaustion. “Thank you for your concern,” she says, choosing to let Zoe’s words go without an argument, “and I’ll give it some thought.”   

A few moments later the car slows and rolls to a stop. Surprised, Claire turns to look out the window beside her. “Ohhh, they did a great job with the decorations,” she squeals. Opening the door, she slides from her seat and steps into the crisp October air. “Wow.” Jack-o’-lanterns line the curved walkway, the flames flickering and casting dancing shadows across the bricks. Orange string lights wrap around the bare branches of the oak trees, and purple tulle flows from almost everything that doesn’t have a heartbeat. The effect is eerie yet classy, and Claire shivers with excitement. “Okay, Ladies,” she says, smoothing the fabric of her catsuit against her hips. “Let’s get this party started!”   

Thick black cloth drapes the entryway causing complete darkness. Leah giggles as she clutches Claire’s hand. “Too bad I didn’t dress up as a miner, then I’d have a headlamp,” she jokes.   

Claire eases her way down the hallway keeping Zoe’s shimmering mermaid costume in her sight. “Yeah, my cat vision is failing me.” She strains to see what lies ahead of them. “There’s light a few yards up, so we’re going in the right direction at least.”    “Good,” Leah murmurers. “I’ve never been a fan of the dark.”   

After a few more feet the hall brightens, and the four friends step into what could have been a ballroom in another era. “Wow,” Claire breathes, taking in the candles and skulls mounted on the walls. “This is something else.” Turning in a slow circle, she surveys the room. “There’s a mummy in the corner,” she cries, pointing to a spot next to the staircase where a statue wrapped in ivory-colored bandages keeps watch over the crowd. “And, look up! There has to be a hundred crows!” Ava, Zoe, and Leah tilt their heads back to peer at the vaulted ceiling where, as the women later find out, two-hundred and ten black birds hang from stands of fishing line. “This is amazing.”   

The four of them spend another minute exclaiming over the Halloween-themed refreshments, smoky dance floor, and green-glowing cauldrons on the tables before turning their attention to the other guests.     

“How are we supposed to recognize anyone?” Leah asks, tugging the sleeves of her clown shirt over her wrists and fingering their edges.     

Ava laughs. “That’s part of the fun of a Halloween party! Not knowing who everyone is gives you a certain sense of power.”   

“Maybe to you, but it makes me nervous.”   

Claire bumps her shoulder against Leah’s. “Even when you know who someone is, it’s hard sometimes. Think of it this way: no one knows who you are right away either, so there are no expectations.”   

“I guess,” Leah hedges. She grabs Claire’s hand as Zoe and Ava slide from their small group. “Stay with me, Claire?” she asks.     

After surveying the crowd, Claire gives a good-natured shrug. “Sure. There’s no telling if Patrick will even show up, so let’s find the bar.”       

Claire and Leah each order rum and Cokes and begin circulating the room. “I think that’s Barry Masterson by the dessert table,” Claire says, gesturing toward a tall man dressed as a pot of gold.     

“How on earth can you tell?” Leah cranes her neck to get a better view over the crowd. 

“Well,” Claire drawls, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “When you’ve had your legs wrapped around a guy like that, it’s hard to them to hide.”   

An understanding smile touches the corners of Leah’s lips. “I see.”   

“Old news,” Claire says, waving her free hand in the air in dismissal. “Like, before I even knew you.” She takes a sip of her drink and nudges Leah with her elbow. “Want me to introduce you?”   

Leah shakes her head. “No thanks,” she laughs. “Somehow I think you’re too hard an act to follow.”   

Claire reaches up to straighten her cat ears and frowns. “Bullshit,” she counters. “Before Jeremy came around you were a force to reckon with. Don’t let that waste of skin destroy who you are.”   

Leah opens her mouth to respond, but the sudden squeal of microphone feedback cuts off her protest. “What on earth…” Both women turn toward the middle of the room and watch as a 3-person band arranges themselves beneath purple and green lights, their instruments causing eerie shadows across the walls. “A live band?” Leah asks, her eyes wide. “This is insane.” 

“The Crenshaw’s love Halloween,” Claire explains. “They have smaller parties throughout the year, but this is the holiday they go nuts over.”   

Leah’s gaze sweeps the room. “They sure do.” With a half-smile, she gestures toward the band. “Crazy. I can’t afford a new CD let alone a live performance.”   

“So then, enjoy the opportunity!” Claire raises her voice, but she can’t be sure Leah hears her over the beginning strains of ‘Monster Mash.’ She is about to poke Leah in arm when she catches sight of something across the room, and her hand freezes in mid-air. “Unbelievable,” she murmurs.   

“What’s up?” Leah shouts, following Claire’s gaze. “Do you see something?”

“More like someone,” she replies, leaning toward Leah so she can hear her without having to scream. “Patrick is here, and he never bothered to let me know he was on his way!”

“Did you ever think he might want to surprise you?” Leah asks with a laugh.   

“Or hide from me.” Claire sighs and waves her empty cup in the air. “Need a refill?” 

Leah hands Claire her cup with a knowing wink. “Sure. I’ll save our spots, but don’t leave me here alone for too long without a drink!”   

Claire nods. “Be back in a few,” she assures her friend. Turning toward the spot she last saw Darth Vader, Claire winds her way through the crowd, careful to sidestep the guests with dance partners. Scanning the throngs of people, she catches sight of swirling black robes and hurries after them.   

Patrick knows I wouldn’t be able to hear my phone in here, Claire thinks, ducking to avoid an enthusiastic fairy’s elbow. What kind of game is he playing?     

The lights sweeping across the crowd makes it hard to keep Patrick in view, but she does her best. She follows close behind, drawing closer as they approach the edge of the dance floor, and without warning, a plan forms in her mind. It’s a crazy idea, but if it works, she might consider squeezing a few more months out of their relationship.   

“How’s it going,” a voice to her right yells, and Claire stops mid-stride as a hand grabs her elbow.   

“Damn it,” Claire sighs, losing sight of Patrick again. “Patrick’s here,” she explains to Ava, nodding her chin in the direction she’d last seen Darth Vader. “Mr. Avoidance didn’t tell me he got off work early, but I know how to surprise him.”   

Zoe appears next to Claire, her mermaid tail draped over one arm. “Oh? And what kind of scheme are you hatching?” Her blue eyes sparkle with laughter. “Does it involve a dark room and nakedness?”   

Claire thrusts the two empty cups into Ava’s hands. “Maybe,” she replies. “Hey, grab Leah a drink, okay? She’s somewhere back there, and I don’t know how long I’ll be.”   

“Sure thing,” Ava laughs. “Go get him!”   

Claire hurries away from her friends, her gaze darting around the room as she moves. Damn it, where did he run off to? Princesses, Marvel characters, and the occasional ghost catch her eye, but no one wearing anything close to a Darth Vader costume. She chews on her lower lip while standing on her tiptoes in a last-ditched effort to find him. 

Ah-ha! There, near the back wall, she sees the swirl of black as Patrick steps out of the ballroom and into the hall where, if the memories of parties past are correct, the coat closet is. Claire weaves her way through the crowd, the collective heat from all the guests causing a bead of sweat to slip down her spine. The costume allows only a little extra room for her skin to breathe, but at least she looks good; no matter how tired Patrick is he has a hard time resisting her, and Claire is counting on that very personality trait to carry out her plan.   

Ducking around the corner, she spots Patrick standing by the door to the coatroom. To keep as quiet as possible, she walks on her toes so the heels of her thigh-high black boots don’t touch the wood floor and holds her breath, just in case. Once she’s directly behind him, she halts and grabs his left shoulder. “Thought you’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?”   

Patrick spins to face her and takes a step backward, his mask wobbling at the harsh movements. His hands reach up to recenter the black helmet, and Claire’s gaze follows the onyx-colored gloves as they tug the plastic back into place.     

“Darth Vader was your final decision, I see,” Claire says, licking her lips. “Too bad you didn’t tell me earlier; I could have been Princess Leia and worn a gold bikini.” She runs a hand down the side of her leotard, then trails her fingers across her stomach. “Black cats are fun, but bad-ass princesses are even better.” Sliding her hand along her ribcage, she sucks her lower lip between her teeth while cupping her left breast. “You know, it’s a scientific fact that petting animals reduce stress. What do you say to stroking this kitty-cat?”   

Darth Vader freezes, his arms slack by his sides, but the rise and fall of his chest proves Claire’s suggestion interests him. Claire’s breath is coming faster too, and her stomach clenches at the thought of what she’s about to do. Her eyes narrow with challenge. “Do you want me?” she whispers, tweaking her rock-hard nipple through the dark fabric of her costume. A jolt of excitement shoots through her, heating her core and making her gasp. “C’m on, Vader, I’m wet and ready for you…”     

Patrick remains motionless, his shoulders tense. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, but Claire had come too far to allow him to decline her offer.  “Okay then,” she purrs, “if you stay quiet, I’ll take your silence as acceptance.” She gestures toward the place she remembers from the last Crenshaw party and leans closer, her dark red lips stretched into an excited smile. “Ready?”   

Without waiting for an answer, she opens the door, grabs Patrick’s arm, and yanks him into the coatroom. “C’mon,” she pants, ducking behind the Chanel and Prada swaying from wooden hangers. “I’m so fucking horny, I’m about to explode!” With a less-than-gentle shove, Claire pins Patrick’s shoulders to the wall. Her red-tipped nails dig into the chest of his Darth Vader costume and slides her body against him. “Ohhh,” she sighs, grinding her hips against the bulge underneath his cloak. “Is the Dark Lord happy to see me?” Not expecting a response, Claire reaches down to find the opening in the fabric. “Ah, there, it is,” she whispers, pushing her hand inside and trailing her fingers across his cotton underwear. She smiles at how hard he is. “Well, I guess you are!”   

Patrick doesn’t reply, but his breathing increases as she caresses his cock. Tilting his chin up, he rests his head against the wall, his Adam’s apple visible above his cloak and bobbing as he swallows.   

Claire smiles with satisfaction. “Do you like that?” she whispers, increasing the pressure. She pushes his underwear aside to wrap her fingers around hot, bare skin. Air whistles between her teeth as she sucks in a breath. If the thickness of his dick proves anything, having sex in public must excite Patrick as much as it excites her, and a flash of excitement makes her stomach to clench. “We’d better be fast so we don’t get caught,” she pants. “Are you ready for your pussy cat?”   

Patrick’s head jerks upright, and Claire pulls her hand free. With a giggle, she turns around and presses her ass against Patrick, wiggling from side to side until he grabs her hips, holding her tight against him. Once she’s still, Patrick slides one hand down her stomach, his fingers caressing her through the bodysuit as he moves, until he reaches the crease of her inner thigh. He hesitates, so Claire opens her legs wider, urging him to touch her. “Please,” she whispers, shifting her weight so his hand slips to the edge of her costume. “I’m ready for you.”   

His fingers work their way under the elastic near her hip. The heat of his skin against hers makes her knees weak, and she reaches out to brace herself. Patrick’s hand is getting closer to where she aches the most, and Claire bites down on her lip to keep from whimpering. It’s taking so long…     

Finally, his fingers find her wetness, and Claire can’t stop the groan from escaping. Patrick slides his thumb between her pussy lips, parting them and sending an electric zap to Claire’s toes when he brushes against her clit. He slips a finger deep inside her aching hole, pumping in and out a few times before adding another, his thumb rubbing her clit with every stroke. Air hisses through Claire’s teeth, and another moan escapes before she can silence it. Her hips churn side to side in time with Patrick’s hand, her stomach clenching in preparation.     “I’m going to come,” she pants, thrusting against Patrick’s fingers. “Don’t stop!”   

After a few more thrusts Patrick stops, leaving Claire’s pussy throbbing in frustration. Looking over her shoulder, she glares at him and frowns. “I was so close, damn it.”    Patrick is still, but in the shadows she sees something in his hand. Squinting, Claire recognizes the package of a condom, and she smiles back. “Well, get on with it then,” she urges. “Fuck me hard, you naughty boy! I’m ready to explode.”    Claire leans forward and places both hands on the wall. There’s the tell-tale rip of foil, and before Claire brace herself in preparation, the head of Patrick’s cock eases between the wet folds of her cunt.     

“Yes,” she hisses, arching her back. “Keep going.” Arms trembling, she shifts her weight backward, beckoning him with a seductive sway of her hips. “Slam it into me, Vader!”   

With a grunt, Patrick slides into her with one thrust. Claire gasps as his hips slap against her ass, his cock filling her so deliciously she feels every vein sliding against the slippery walls of her pussy.     

“Holy shit,” Claire pants. “You feel fantastic!”   Patrick starts to move, a slow, sensual in-and-out motion that makes Claire groan. She’s stretched so wide it borders on painful, but the electric current flowing through her far outweighs any discomfort. She grits her teeth, focusing on the rising tide of pleasure as it crests, hovering just beyond her reach, waiting for that one final touch…   

Once again, Patrick stills, and Claire cries out in frustration. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her knees shaking from the cruel withholding of her orgasm. “Fuck me, hard! Now!”

Moaning, Patrick slams into her, and Claire exhales with a drawn-out sigh. “Just like that,” she pants, biting her lower lip. One of Patrick’s hand drops to her pussy to massage her clit as he thrusts behind her, and the touch of her finger makes her groan. Patrick’s cock is relentless, sliding along the walls of her cunt, touching all the secret places that make her toes curl, and she’s close, so damn close to cumming…

Patrick’s fingers dig into her hips. His pace is almost frenzied, and that coupled with the sound of skin against skin has Claire’s nerve endings sparking with excitement. She increases the speed of her finger, grinding her ass back against Patrick’s thighs as he thrusts into her. “I’m going to cum,” she grunts. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the electrical currents flowing from her core, the tightening of her pussy around Patrick’s cock, the groans and murmurs of Patrick’s pleasure….  “I’m cumming,” she moans, her fingers sliding over her clit in a blur of excitement. “Fuck, Patrick!” 

Her orgasm slams into her, her legs shaking from the force as it rolls through her, the waves so strong she almost collapses. Patrick grips her hips, holding her upright as his cock pulses deep inside her spasming cunt with an orgasm of his own. Air hisses through his teeth, and his hand reaches underneath their bodies to nudge her fingers out of the way. The feel of his palm cupping her pussy, the pressure against her clit steady but not overwhelming, make her stomach clench as ripples of pleasure flow over her. “Yes,” she murmurs, her shoulders jerking in response. “Perfect.” 

They fall silent, each enjoying the softening fingers of heat caressing their skin. Claire’s consciousness slowly returns to the present as the last tendrils of her orgasm fade, and her cheeks blaze with the realization of what they had done.   

“Damn,” she says, shifting away from Patrick and pushing herself upright. “I hope we weren’t too loud.” She adjusts the elastic of her bodysuit, hoping the trial of Patrick’s release doesn’t show through the fabric. With trembling fingers she combs through her hair, a grin touching the corners of her mouth. “Jeez, Patrick. If this is any sign of things to come, pardon the pun, our relationship is headed in the right direction, don’t you think?” She turns, eager to hear his opinion, and the smile dies on her lips. There’s no one there.  “Patrick?” she asks, her gaze darting around the small room as if a six-foot man could conceal himself behind a few dozen coats. “Are you here?” Silence fills the coatroom, pressing against her, and she swallows. “Hello?”  Claire teeters on her heels as she takes a few steps towards the door. Where did he go? She straightens her headband so the pointy cat ears are upright again rather than hanging underneath her neck. More importantly, why did he leave?   

Taking a deep breath, Claire opens the coatroom door a crack, and seeing an empty hallway, slips from the room, cheeks flushed. Her gaze slides back and forth across the hall as she rushes toward the source of the thumping music, but even as she re-enters the main ballroom and makes her way towards the last place she saw her friends, there’s no sign of Darth Vader.   

A bobbing halo appears over the heads of the partygoers, and Claire hurries in the direction of the angel, mermaid, and clown swaying in time with the upbeat music.  “Hey,” she greets them, tapping Zoe on the shoulder. “What did I miss.” 

“Nothing,” Ava replies, turning to face her. “We’ve been here listening too…” Her voice trails off as her eyes narrow. “What the hell is wrong with your makes up?” 

Claire reaches up and swipes a finger underneath her bottom lip, and when she looks at her skin, her fingertip is smeared with red. “Oh, I guess I need a touch-up.” 

“You need more than that,” Leah replies, laughing. “Your face seriously needs a do-over.”  Zoe puts one hand on her hip, her gaze traveling up and down Claire’s body. “More like a costume do-over,” she says. A smile pulls the corners of her mouth upward. “Although, I bet whatever happened was worth it.” 

Claire wipes underneath her eyes with the napkin Leah hands her and winks. “It was,” she assures her friends. “When we head home, I’ll tell you all about it.” 

The four women face the band, and Claire sips the rum and Coke Zoe sets in her hand. The liquid slides down her throat, the combination of heat and sweet wetting both her dry mouth and the fire in her stomach. Relaxing her shoulders, she pushes the thoughts of Patrick and his mysterious disappearance from her mind. Once home she’d call him to figure out what happened, but now it was time to focus on what she had come for: the party and her friends. 

   After confiding in Zoe, Ava, and Leah, they all agreed Claire should give Patrick another chance. Zoe had said it best. “Shit, girl, if I had a guy willing to bend me over anytime and anywhere I wanted, I’d marry him.” 

Claire pulls her costume off, tosses it into the hamper in the bathroom, and waits for the water to warm as she rubs facial cleaner between her hands. Patrick had really surprised her that night, and considering one of her main reasons for ending their relationship was their lackluster sex life, it made sense to continue seeing him, to see if his behavior had been a fluke or something she could work with.

After scrubbing her face and patting it dry, Claire climbs into bed, stretching her arms overhead before switching off the light. She grabs her phone and scrolls through it, finding her last texting conversation with Patrick and staring a new message below the thread.

HEY THERE, HANDSOME. TONIGHT WAS AMAZING. MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU.

     Almost instantly, a reply text appears.

I’M GLAD YOU HAD FUN. SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT TO THIS ONE. I WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU AND SEE YOUR COSTUME. IS IT TOO LATE FOR A PICTURE?

Claire’s heat flutters against her ribs. What does he mean he ‘couldn’t make it’? 

HAHAHA, HILARIOUS, she types, frowning. JUST BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T SPEAK DOESN’T MEAN YOU WEREN’T THERE.

Claire bites her thumbnail as she waits for Patrick to reply. His joke isn’t funny, and she wants him to stop fooling around and admit he had a great time too.

WHAT? I’VE BEEN AT THE HOSPITAL ALL NIGHT.I TOLD YOU I WOULD TEXT IF I ABLE TO MAKE IT. 

Claire’s stomach clenches. Patrick’s teasing was going too far, and it was pissing her off.

OK, JOKES OVER, she types. IF YOU WEREN’T THERE, WHO WAS IN THE COATROOM WITH ME?!

A few seconds later her phone beeps, and a picture of Patrick appears. He’s dressed in hospital scrubs, and the background is clearly the ICU desk. By his haggard expression and the wrinkled condition of his clothes it’s clear has been there for hours, and Claire’s fingers go cold with the realization that whoever had been with her in that room hadn’t been Patrick. 

I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU WERE WITH, BUT IT WASN’T ME. WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE COATROOM WITH A RANDOM GUY?

Claire’s heartbeat is so fast, she wonders if she’s having a heart attack. Had she seriously had sex with a complete stranger? What the hell happened?

GETTING MY COAT

She bites her lower lip. The excuse is lame, but she doesn’t want Patrick getting suspicious. 

I THOUGHT THE GUY I SAW WAS YOU, THAT’S ALL. 

After a brief pause, a reply appears.

ACCIDENT JUST CAME IN. I’LL CALL YOU TOMORROW.

Claire drops her phone onto the mattress and draws her knees into her chest, replaying the scene from the coatroom in her mind. Sex with a stranger wasn’t her deal, but there was no denying it had been good. Amazing, actually. Her breathing slows as she recalls how she approached the man she thought was her boyfriend and the very little one-way conversation that followed. It had been a mutual fucking, no doubt about it, and no matter how Claire viewed the situation, she had been the aggressor. She hadn’t come out and asked if the guy was Patrick, gave no sign she cared who he was, and had never given him a chance to refuse her advances… Hell, she had practically forced him to take her!

Claire drops her head back against her pillows, smiling. She has a secret, and a delicious one at that. She may never find out who the man in the coatroom was and might never see him again, but one thing is for sure; he will in Claire’s memory forever, ready to star in her fantasies and please her whenever she wants him to.