"Are you ready yet?"

"No, hang on."

"Okay." I looked into the mirror and adjusted my mask. Halloween was not one of my favorite holidays, especially since the candy-distributors began to scowl at us and say that we were too old to be trick-or-treating. Of course, our classmates had been telling us that since we were freshmen. The scowling parents were at least nice enough not to steal our pillowcases and punch me in the stomach. But Gemma always looked forward to the 31st and spent a lot of time on her costumes, so going trick-or-treating was pretty much a given. Part of our Halloween ritual-her favorite-was the Unveiling of the Costumes, when I would finally meet the reason I couldn't see her outside of school for the entire month of October.

"Alright, I'm ready now," she said through her bedroom door. I pushed it open and stepped inside. Gemma was wearing a black unitard with a string of white digits sewn into a spiral pattern from her toe to her neck. She beamed happily at me, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"So it's my turn to go first, right?" I asked.

"No, you went first last year."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it's my turn." Of course, I knew it wasn't, but I enjoyed building her anticipation.

"Yes, you went first last year. It took you an hour to guess 'innovation, ' remember?" It was true. I tended to have trouble with the "abstract idea" costumes.

"Oh yeah. Okay, you can go first. I'll give you a hint if you need-"

"Spider-Man."

"Damn!" I tore off the flimsy plastic mask and tossed it onto her desk. "Toys 'R' Us costumes are always so unsubtle." She giggled.

"The logo on your apron didn't help. Now you." I pondered the carefully sewn numbers on her costume for a moment.

"Are you the set of natural numbers?"

"Nope." She did a pirouette, then clasped her hands behind her back and grinned. "Guess again."

"Umm," I turned my head sideways, as if the different perspective would make everything clear. "Pi?" She gave me a dirty look. Of course not. Gemma would never choose something that obvious. "Well..."

"Look more closely," she suggested. I examined some of the numbers on her belly:... 420513754...

"Where does it start?"

"That would give it away! Keep looking." I followed the spiral with my eyes until the string of numbers dissapeared behind her back. Guessing where they continued on the opposite side, I traced my gaze upward along them... 190587755... Soon my gaze discovered her breasts. I don't normally spend a whole lot of time staring at my girlfriend's tits-not that I don't love them, I do-but I suppose a month of Gemma-deprivation had altered my priorities a bit, and I found myself marveling at their roundness and how they struggled valiantly against the confinement of two layers of spandex. "Hey," she mock-protested, "don't get distracted!"

"No, I think I found something..."

"I think you have, but they're not going to help you identify my costume."

"But isn't that a decimal point?" I extended my finger toward her left breast.

"I'm sure there's no decimal point there," she said as she swatted at my hand. I proceeded anyway; however, instead of pointing at anything, I placed my palm on the side of her breast and rubbed her nipple through the fabric with my thumb. It stiffened a bit under my touch, and as further confirmation of her position regarding the issue at hand, she said, "I guess you ought to double-check. Just to be sure." Leaning forward, I kissed the base of her neck. "See it?" I let my eyes focus on her back momentarily... 33593992...

"Nope, not yet." My lips moved up until they found hers, and locked together. I slid my tongue in-between her lips, where it met its counterpart. They played a game of cat-and-mouse, advancing and retreating from each other while my lips moved against hers and my hands moved against her frustratingly covered breasts.

"Hmmn," she moaned as she wrapped her arms around me and stepped backward. Her calves touched the side of her bed, and without separating our lips, we sat on the edge. I brought my hands up her arms to her shoulders and slid the straps of her unitard over them. It took some some effort to work the tight fabric down to her waist, and she eventually had to pull back from me in order to free her arms from the spandex restraints. Once liberated, her arms crossed over her chest and she pulled her sports bra up and over her head in a flash of 88% nylon and 12% Lycra, releasing a pair of bouncing breasts into my waiting hands.