The orange lights Dave had strung across the living room ceiling were already on when they walked in. Someone had the sliding door to the patio cracked six inches, and the smell of weed drifted in and mixed with the sweet chemical scent of the fake fog machine Lisa had set up in the corner by the TV. The fog sat low around people’s ankles. Alex kept the plastic fangs in his jacket pocket. He had tried them on in the car and they made him lisp. The cape felt heavier the second the warm air of the house hit him. Sophie had told him to wear something so he wouldn’t be the only one in normal clothes, so he wore it over the white button shirt he had left half unbuttoned and the black pants that were easy to move in.

Sophie’s sweater was white and thin enough that the shape of her nipples showed clearly when she turned under the lights. No bra. Her nipples were stiff, the points poking out and faintly visible through the fabric even when she stood still. The neckline dropped in a deep V that stopped just above her navel, so most of both tits sat out in the open, the soft inner curves pressed together and shifting when she breathed. She wore a pair of fake black-rimmed glasses to finish the teacher look; they sat a little low on her nose. She had done the fake cum herself in their bathroom before they left. She had mixed lotion with a little water until it was thick and streaky, then painted it on with her fingers: several lines across her cheeks and chin, one thick streak running over the left lens of the fake glasses and down onto her cheek, another from the corner of her mouth, a drip sitting high on the upper swell of her left tit, and more disappearing between them into the sweater. The pencil skirt was black and short enough that the tops of the black seamed stockings showed with every step. The heels were four inches and made her hips shift when she walked. She had left the panties on. They were plain black cotton, nothing lace or special, just what she had grabbed from the drawer.

A man in a torn hockey jersey and zombie makeup turned as they came through the door. Makeup was smeared around his mouth. “Fuck, Sophie.”

She smiled with her mouth closed so the streak on her chin wouldn’t smear. “Slutty teacher. Stayed after class.”

“Looks like she stayed after class more than once.”

Alex laughed because the people near the door laughed. Sophie’s hand stayed in his for the first few minutes while they said hello to Dave and Lisa. Lisa hugged her carefully, hands on Sophie’s upper arms, so she wouldn’t ruin the cum. Dave told Alex the fangs were a nice touch even though Alex wasn’t wearing them. Then a woman dressed as a sexy nurse — short white dress, red cross on the chest, thigh-highs — pulled Sophie toward the kitchen for a drink, and Alex ended up by the drinks table with a beer, talking to Dave about a server migration that didn’t matter on a Saturday night.

He watched her across the room while he talked. Two men standing near the couch were looking at her chest more than her face. One of them said something that made her laugh; she touched his forearm and left her hand there for a second longer than she needed to. The fake cum between her tits caught the orange light and looked wet. Alex took a longer drink of the beer. The cape kept catching on the edge of the table every time he shifted, so he took it off and draped it over the back of a chair. The shirt stuck to his back almost immediately.

Sophie came back with a vodka cranberry in a plastic cup. She stood next to him for a while. People kept stopping. A woman in cat ears and a black leotard told her the fake cum was “nasty in the right way.” A man dressed as a pirate — eye patch, open shirt, plastic sword — asked if the streaks were edible. Sophie told him they were not and laughed, and the pirate looked at her tits again before he walked off toward the patio. Alex stood there with the beer and felt the open shirt stick to his skin. The house was warm. Bodies moved past them. Someone turned the music up.

They danced for one song near the speakers. Sophie’s ass moved against him in time with the bass. The skirt rode up; he felt the top band of the stocking against his palm when he rested his hand on her hip. When the song ended she kissed him once, quick, mouth closed, and said she was going to find Lisa. He watched her walk toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms and the downstairs bathroom. The skirt moved with her steps. A man in a devil costume with plastic horns and a red cape watched her go, then followed a few steps behind with his drink in his hand.

Alex talked to the couple who had just moved in down the street. They were dressed as matching skeletons, black clothes with white bones painted on. The woman kept adjusting her wig. He checked his phone. Fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t see Sophie. He walked through the living room, nodded at a few people he half-knew, and stepped out onto the patio. Two women were smoking by the fence, one in a witch hat, one in a cat costume that was mostly ears and a tail. No Sophie. The air was cold. He came back inside and found the devil standing near the bathroom door at the end of the short hallway, adjusting his belt with one hand. The devil nodded at him like they knew each other and kept walking toward the kitchen. Alex went down the hallway. The bathroom door was open and the light was off. One of the bedroom doors was closed. He stood there for a second with his hand on the wall, listening to the music from the living room, then turned around.

Sophie was in the kitchen when he came back out. She was making another drink at the island, stirring with a straw. Her hair was a little looser around her face. A few strands had come free near her temples. The fake cum looked different. The line on her left cheek sat higher and thicker than it had when they arrived. There was a new streak under her right eye that hadn’t been there before, running toward her cheekbone. The drip between her tits had smeared sideways across the sweater in a wider patch. She looked up when he walked in.

“There you are,” she said. She stepped in and kissed him. Her mouth tasted like the cranberry and something else, faint and salty under it. She pressed against him longer than she usually did at parties, her tits against the open shirt, the dried edge of the cum on her chin catching on his skin.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m good.” She looked past him at the room. “People like it. They keep saying things.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

They stayed near the island for a few minutes. Sophie kept getting stopped. Alex watched a man in a paramedic costume — blue shirt, fake badge — lean in to hear her over the music. The man’s eyes stayed on the cum streaked across her cleavage while she talked. Sophie laughed and touched the man’s wrist when she answered him. When the man left, she turned back to Alex and took his hand.