I walked the block and a half from my neighbors' house, taking extra care to stay on the sidewalk and on my feet. It was Halloween and the Watkins had thrown a hell of a party. Bev Hodgkins had taken some wine she brewed from last year's pumpkin. It went down smooth and snuck up on you fast.
Bev was dressed as a farmer's daughter. Though in her mid 30s, the Daisy Dukes looked good on her. Good? Unbelievable. This sweet single mother of three was dynamite with her painted on freckles, her red and white plaid shirt tied under a pair of breasts that were trying to bust their way loose (pun intended) and the pieces of straw in her Dorothy from Oz wig.
I went over to thank her for bringing the wine and she ordered me to dance with her. The next thing I knew, we were holding each other and she was sweeping my mouth with her tongue and cupping my balls with one hand, my butt with the other. I found that those globes inside her shirt were 100% real and extremely responsive to touch.
"What brought that on?" I said when the song ended and we broke apart.
"Some people just don't take hints, Steve. I've been trying to get your attention for a few years now. For a while there, I was beginning to think you were gay or you lost it in the war or something." She glanced down at the junction of my legs. "I don't think either of them is accurate after our dance."
"Oh. I just didn't think of you that way," I said. At her slight frown, I ammended, "Of course, this outfit changes that."
"I do have to keep up appearances in front of my girls," she said.
Just then an alarm clock went off. One of those old fashioned pieces with the two gongs with a clapper between, stuck on top of the analog clock. Several years ago, the alarm clock rule was installed for our neighborhood parties, the afternoon after several partiers had overstayed their welcome at the Harris' Fourth of July barbecue, keeping them up until well after three AM. Whoever threw the party made it known what the cutoff time would be and the clock was set for that time. Anybody still there five minutes after the alarm went off paid the hosts twenty bucks and twenty for each five thereafter. The clock had made it to more parties than I had, being out of town for the Easter egg hunt party a couple of years prior. Joel Gibbons was made to walk home naked after the Labor Day party when he refused to pay his twenty bucks and wasn't allowed to attend any parties after that. He moved before the next holiday season.
Bev made me promise to call her next week and I agreed. She ripped part of a page of a magazine and wrote her name and number on it. I put it in my pocket without a glance.
As I stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, I reached out with my right hand. Being in my pants pocket at the time, I came across the note Bev had given me. I pulled it out and looked at it. I turned it up and down and sideways but I couldn't figure out what the picture was that she had written over. I moved over to a utility pole with a lamp on it and stood under the light.
Gil Watkins was probably going to be pissed the next time he cracked open his Playboy. Bev had probably gone right to the centerfold to find her 'scrap of paper'. What I held in my hand was a picture of a silicone enhanced tit with her name and phone number written on it. Instead of the heart a high school girl would have put underneath it, she had drawn a crude picture of an erect penis and scrotum. Talk about hints!
I opened the gate and stumbled up the concrete pathway to my home. I'm a nostalgia buff and I came across one of the few remaining two story homes in our neighborhood. The couple that owned it were going through a divorce and just wanted to get out, so I got a hell of a deal.
My house is grey, has dormers in two of the upstairs bedrooms, has a big white porch across the front with two big steps to get up to it and a swing a couple of feet to the right as you get off the steps to the porch. The porch has a rail completely around it except where the steps come up. The whole front lawn is surrounded by a three foot white picket fence, complete with swinging gate and rosebushes. Very Wonderful Life.
Not wanting to be the Halloween Grouch, I'd left two pumpkins with candles in them on the porch, at either side at the top of the stairs, and a big brown grocery bag full of miniature bars of candy. I'd turned down the edges of the bag so it would stay open. It was right in the middle of the two pumpkins, blocking entry to the porch. The candles were still flickering dimly and the pumpkins weren't smashed. When I got to the first step, I could see that a good amount of candy was still visible. No vandals, no greedy kids. What more could you ask for when you deserted the kids to get drunk on pumpkin wine and check out the neighbor lady's goodies?
As I reached over to pick up the bag, something caught my eye. I looked over at the swing and shook my head, certain that what I was seeing was somehow induced by the wine.
There was a girl curled up on the couch, asleep. Her feet were on the end closest to me and the legs were bent slightly. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, to keep warm, I supposed. She was wearing some kind of green dress. At first I thought it was a Girl Scout uniform, but if it was, they've sure gone through a hell of a change since I was a horny Boy Scout.
This thing couldn't have come down past mid thigh. The way she was curled up I could tell that she was wearing green panties. They were satin or some similar shiny material. I scanned up and saw that there was a slit down the front that I imagine displayed a lot of cleavage when the wearer was standing up. Cleavage? What the hell was I thinking? She couldn't be over four feet tall. No one that young has developed enough to approach cleavage. But there was the evidence right in front of me. She had a pair on her that would have pleased any Hollywood starlet.
It was a hell of a costume. The dress was nothing special and I imagine it could be found at any upscale boutique that catered to the clubbing crowd. But what was under the dress was what was so amazing.
Now, get your mind out of the gutter. Yeah, that was amazing, too, but what I'm talking about is her makeup. Or maybe I should say her die job or her paint job.
At first I thought she was wearing green panty hose or tights. Her legs were Kelly green. Something seemed not right about them and I leaned closer. I could see tiny green hairs growing out of her legs. Not panty hose or tights; these were her legs.
I looked at the arms that were clutching her stomach. The same color green, the hairs longer and also green. Her face was the same, No hair on it, though. Her lips were a deep blue and her hair was violet. On her head, her eyebrows and lashes. I stole a quick glance at the satin panties but I couldn't see what was underneath them and wasn't drunk enough to make peeking to find out un-sleazy.
Something about her thighs caught my attention. I looked closer. The hairs on her legs were a slighly lighter shade of green than the skin. It would be impossible for someone to die the skin one color and the hairs a different one. Somehow, I had a little, green woman asleep on my porch. Really green, not some Halloween trick. It immediately brought to mind what the cynics used to call extra-terrestrials: Little Green Men.
I don't know if I did something to startle her. I know I didn't drool on her though I may have breathed heavily on her leg. In any event, she woke up, saw me and gasped.
I imagine I was something to gasp at. At 6'5", I was almost twice as tall as she appeared to be. Whether or not she could tell my full height the way I was bent over her, peering at what her angle of view probably interpreted as her twat, I was probably something to at least be curious about, if not scared downright shitless. The size and the body position were one thing, the costume was another.
Of course I was in costume. You didn't expect me to go to a Halloween party without one, did you? I was dressed as Howdy Doody, the beloved puppet who ruled the airwaves, at least for children, from 1947 to 1960. His plaid shirt was partly responsible for the acceptance of color TV when it came out in the 50s. Right along with the NBC peacock and the opening sequence to Disney.
For those of you who don't remember that time period, as I don't, Howdy Doody was a marionette. His buddy and puppeteer was Buffalo Bob Smith. Howdy was a child and Bob was his friend. These days, the child abuse crowd would take a long hard look at a man who constantly had his arm around a little boy on his lap, but back then, nobody thought twice about it.
I went overboard in my costume. I found a bright red wig and combed it in that kind of messy, almost over the eyes fashion of Howdy's. I had the red and brown plaid shirt, buttoned all the way up and a pair of tan slacks, both courtesy of the local thrift store. I did my makeup myself, and did a pretty good job, even if I say so myself. I created his exaggerated smile with bright red lipstick, similar to but different from what Nicholson did in Batman, and I found a brown eyeliner I was able to make freckles with.
.... There is more of this story ...