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The night was a perfect Halloweennight, the full moon alternately being revealed and then hidden byclouds scudding across the sky, a light wind stirring the dead leavesin their bright funeral colors across the graves of sleeping (?) dead,and the temperature cool but comfortable. Jack was dressed in brown,green, and orange camouflage to blend in, and it was almost as if thePumpkins and their vines appreciated his attempt. The pumpkins almostglowed in their fluorescent orange, and the vines almost seemed to curlup around him, their leaves caressing him, welcoming him. All in all,thought Jack, this was turning out to be a most pleasant prelude to themain attraction.One pumpkin in particular, seeming to glow more than others, had drawnJack's attention and had given him The Idea. He had brought a blackmask to wear, but really was not happy with it. This pumpkin was abouteighteen inches in diameter and Jack, with thoughts of a youthfulreading of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy. After all, Mavis had seduced her, Laura, by pulling off her sweater, exposing her small, delicious breasts, and inviting Laura to fuck her. And Laura knew from looking into Brenda's eyes, and from her reputation, that she wasn't an apprentice saint. She had taught her own baby sister how to fist-fuck her.This was a combustible moment. Laura didn't know whether some hot sexual event was about to happen or not."Can I get either of you a... coke? Or... I don't know, it seems too early for a glass of wine." It was five-thirty.Brenda's exciting eyes flickered dangerously. "Tea?" she said, with a faint glaze of sarcasm. "We could have a tea party." Ugh! I hate tea," Mavis said. "Coke is fine. I hate wine too."Laura looked at Brenda. "I've got Earl Grey and Camomile."Brenda's eyebrows raised spontaneously. "How kinky. Are you hiding them in the bedroom? Earl and Cammy might be doing the Big Nasty in there."Laura, in spite of herself, blushed beet red. It was a sexual innuendo, and she.
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