A Halloween Ball

“Sorry, Mr. Stacey is not here. Can I take a message?”

I try my best not to roll my eyes at the girl sitting behind the front desk. It’s not her fault my husband is not in his office. It’s also not her fault that he didn’t mention to me he’d be out. 

“Yes. You can tell him Mrs. Stacey came looking for him.” I clear my throat. “Do you know if he’ll be out all day?”

The girl at the front desk gives me a look of pity, making me regret asking. I could have just texted him and asked instead of letting his entire office know the communication in our marriage is practically nonexistent.

“You know what, never—” 

“Mrs. Stacey! It’s nice to see you in our neck of the woods,” Elijah, my husband’s analyst, says from the hallway. He speeds towards me.

I’m mortified—yet another person to witness our marital problems. “Hi, Elijah,” I say as happily as I can muster. This is his second year working for my husband, and I can’t help but notice how grown up he looks compared to the last time I saw him. The fabric of his dress shirt is stretched tightly across his chest and broad shoulders. The hint of a five o’clock shadow is starting to form on his chiseled jaw, and his eyes still have the bright enthusiasm of someone in their mid-twenties. 

“Anything I can do for you?” Elijah asks with a smile.

I debate whether or not it is worth asking Elijah for a favor, but considering that he might already be privy to the intimate details of my marriage due to working so closely with my husband, I figure it can’t hurt. 

“Yes, actually.” I reach into my purse and pull out a manila folder full of documents. “Please have my husband sign these. They are for our daughter’s trust.” 

I hand Elijah the documents, and I can’t help but notice his hand lingers a little too long on top of mine as he takes them. In that moment, a current of electricity passes through our fingers, waking me up, invigorating me in a way I haven’t been in years.

“I’ll make sure he does, Mrs. Stacey,” he says with a sly smile.

My heart skips a beat and my face gets hot. What is wrong with me? Elijah is at least ten years younger than me, and he works for my husband. I should not be having this reaction at all. 

“Thank you,” I force myself to reply dryly. “Have a nice day.”

I spend the rest of my day running mindless errands, and I am exhausted and in bed by the time my husband walks into our bedroom.

“Henry,” I say, looking up from my novel. “How was your day?”

There are bags under his eyes and his salt and pepper hair is disheveled. He loosens his tie as he replies. “Fine.”

“Did anything interesting happen?”

Henry walks into our bathroom. I hear water running in the sink for a few seconds before he replies. “No, just the usual chaos.”

“I stopped by to look for you,” I continue. “Did you have an important meeting somewhere in the city?”

“I had to fly to Chicago for the day. One of our clients was having a meltdown over his IPO. No big deal.”

I sigh. Henry has always traveled for work, and as his career in finance took off, his trips became more and more frequent. I used to work on Wall Street myself, and I remember there were days in the early years of our marriage where our hectic work schedules made it difficult to find time for each other. Still, when we did find time for each other, our clothes were never on. Our conversations lasted hours, and there was not enough time in the world to make up for nights spent apart.

When I stopped working to have our daughter, Dani, and became a stay at home mom, we somehow found a delicate balance. He would come home late, but by that time Dani was asleep and we could just be the two of us. Henry would keep me up to date on his work, and we would strategize together. After a few glasses of wine, things would always get steamy. I always wondered how we never had a second child.

The last few years could not have been more different, however. Dani left for college, taking our work life balance with her. We stopped communicating, which only led to miscommunication when we tried to be the previous version of ourselves. Henry flying to a different city for the day was a new low, even for us. 

I don’t care that Chicago is only two and a half hours away from New York, he should have at least mentioned it. I looked like a complete idiot stopping by his office today and asking to see him. No wonder the girl at the front desk looked at me like I was an abandoned puppy. What kind of husband doesn’t tell his wife he is leaving the city for a day?

I force a smile and swallow my anger. “Glad you’re back safe, honey.” 

I wait until Henry is showered and in bed before I say anything else out of fear of lashing out. I am both furious and too tired to fight. “Did Elijah give you the documents for Dani’s trust? You need to sign them by the end of the week.”

Henry lets out an exasperated sigh. “I came home straight from the airport. I haven’t talked to Elijah all day.”

“No worries,” I reply. “I have another set of copies just in case. You can sign them in the morning if you want.”

“No,” Henry says, fluffing his pillow and rolling onto his side. “I can just sign them from the office tomorrow.”

I am leaving my pilates class the next morning when I get a call from an unknown number. “This is Juliane Stacey,” I answer.

“Mrs. Stacey!” the husky voice on the other end of the line replies. “This is Elijah. I hope you don’t mind me calling you, I just wanted to let you know Henry signed the documents. You can stop by and pick them up whenever you’d like, or I can drop them off if it’s more convenient.”

A heat forms between my legs at the sound of his voice. Is dropping off documents part of Elijah’s job description or is he going above and beyond? Maybe the issue is that I want him to go above and beyond, not for brownie points with my husband, but for me. 

“I can stop by in a half hour or so,” I reply. “It’s no problem.” A wave of excitement washes over me as I hail a cab and head for my husband’s office, and it’s for all the wrong reasons.

Elijah is already waiting for me at the front desk when I arrive. His eyes graze me from head to toe, making me feel self conscious. He somehow looks more handsome than the day before, and I try not to ogle him. I blush and I suddenly feel both ridiculous and like a teenager again. 

“Hi Elijah, thank you for helping with this. My husband and I really appreciate it,” I say as professionally as possible. I have to maintain a sense of decorum, regardless of how difficult it is turning out to be.

He hands me the manila envelope, his hand once again lingering on mine just a bit longer than considered appropriate. “Of course,” he replies with a smile. “Let me know if there is ever anything I can help you with. Anything at all.” 

I smile and nod politely and leave as quickly as possible. His smile melts me like butter in a way not even my husband did when we were younger, and it terrifies me.

Weeks go by without seeing or hearing from Elijah again. Then weeks turn into months. I almost forget about him. Almost.

Henry comes home late every night for a week. It gets so bad I can count on one hand the total amount of words we’ve exchanged over the course of several days, and I finally decide to take matters into my own hands.

I shower and do my makeup very lightly. I spray on Henry’s favorite perfume, the one with cherry undertones he gifted me for my birthday. I slip on red lingerie and lay seductively on our bed, waiting for him to enter the room.

I wait. And wait. I’m waiting for so long I’m half asleep when he finally comes to our room. “Hey,” I whisper. “Are you ready for some fun?”

Henry looks me over from head to toe, his eyes lackluster and his expression nonchalant. He comes over to my side of the bed, gives me a kiss on the forehead and smiles weakly. “Not tonight, honey. I’m exhausted and I have a big meeting tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I smile, trying not to look wounded. “Another night then.”

I wait until Henry is fast asleep to slip out of bed and into our guest room. My husband works hard, very hard, but I am finding it harder and harder to not resent him for our lack of communication. I can at least say I’m trying, which is more than can be said of him.

Angry, frustrated, and aroused, I take out my rabbit vibrator and allow myself to indulge in thoughts of Elijah. It feels wrong, but that’s also what makes it feel so right.

I lay on bed and run the vibrator across my boobs, circling my nipples. Then I move it down my stomach and let it finally reach the area between my legs, where I press it tightly over the fabric of my lingerie against my labia. I leave it there for a minute or two, turning up the intensity of the vibrations until my panties are soaked.

I take my panties off, throw them across the room, and circle my opening with the vibrator. My legs buckle from the pleasure. I wonder what it would be like for them to buckle under Elijah’s touch, and I hear myself let out a moan. 

My body is desperate for more, and I finally slip the vibrator inside, positioning the bunny ears to hug the sides of my clit. The sensation of the double stimulation is exquisite. The vibrator is long and thick, reaching my G spot each time it pulsates. The bunny ears vibrate to a different rhythm, rubbing and kneading my clit firmly. 

I amp up the vibrations, and the pleasure is so intense I grab onto the sheets and bite into a pillow to stop myself from waking up Henry a few doors down.

I play with myself for a while, changing the combination of vibrations, twisting and turning the rabbit vibrator inside of me but never taking it out. All the while, my mind never strays from thoughts of Elijah, wondering how his lips would taste on mine. How his tongue would feel against my skin. Just when my body can’t take it anymore, my legs close on themselves waves of pleasure cascade over me. 

I fall asleep in the guest room, satisfied and spent. I don’t think Henry notices I’m gone or even cares.

I wake up the next morning feeling guilty, and decide I will never let myself think of Elijah in that way again. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done, and I found myself thinking about him more than once, each time ending with a session with my rabbit vibrator. 

When it was finally time to plan the annual Stacey Halloween Ball, I threw myself into planning a bigger, more grand party than ever before just to keep my thoughts at bay. I also reminded myself my daughter would be home from school that weekend to attend, and used that as fuel to focus.

I obsessed over every detail: the theme, caterers, decorations, party favors, costumes, guest list and invitations. Everything had to be perfect. It worked. I spent the entire month of October planning the party, and I didn’t succumb to wanton thoughts of my husband’s analyst that entire month.

On the night of the masquerade ball, our Manhattan penthouse suite was transformed into a regency era ballroom. The glittering skyline seen from our floor-to-ceiling windows adds a modern backdrop to the sultry, professionally-styled setting. 

Henry is lacing up the corset of my red and black gown—the most he’d touched me in the last few months—when he throws a wrench into my perfect evening. “I’ve invited a few guys from the office. It was very last minute. I hope you don’t mind,” he says.

I wish I could tell him the truth, that I do in fact mind. I compiled the guest list very meticulously. Our Halloween balls are reserved for our closest friends and family. They are a brief moment once a year in which I don’t have to be the perfect wife, mother, or even hostess and I can simply be Julie. Not Juliane, but Julie. Even Dani was able to fly home from school to attend, and I have always been very selective about what people I allow to be around her. Henry was ruining everything by bringing people from the office. 

Instead, I just shake my head and smile. “Of course not,” I reply. 

Once Henry is done lacing up my dress, we grab our masquerade masks and head downstairs to greet everyone. We used to always take each other by the hand when we made our costumed entrance in the early years. Now we don’t even try. Henry walks two feet ahead of me, the ends of his black velvet tailcoat dangling behind him.

All our guests are wearing glittering gowns and tailored suits, their masks making them hard to identify from afar. I mingle amongst them, enjoying the few precious moments I have left until they do and try to find Dani. I finally see her in the living room, her pale blue dress a stark contrast to the dark hues everyone else is wearing. Mask or no mask, I can recognize my only daughter anywhere. I’m mere feet away from her when Henry, who is followed by a young gentleman, reaches her first. 

“Dani,” Henry begins as he puts an arm around our daughter. “I want to introduce you to Elijah. He’s an analyst at my firm and has a bright future ahead of him.”

“Nice to meet you,” I hear Dani say, her bright blue eyes sparking behind the masquerade mask.

I have no right, and I know it’s wrong, but my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. What is wrong with me? Why am I upset that two young people are being introduced at a party? It’s not that I’m worried my daughter will like Elijah—he’s obviously an eligible bachelor close to her in age—it’s that I’m worried Elijah will like her. What kind of mother am I for being jealous of my own daughter? The terrible kind, that’s which.

I turn on my heel and head straight for the kitchen. I need to get a grip on myself. This is not appropriate behavior and Henry’s friends from the office have now officially arrived. This party is quickly turning into my worst nightmare.

I pour myself a glass of wine and drink it in one swig. Then I pour myself another, put on a smile, and head back out to my guests. An hour goes by. Two hours. I see Elijah head in my direction once or twice, but I manage to successfully avoid him. It’s for the best. The third time, however, is different.

“Julie,” he says, approaching me from behind and catching me off guard. 

Elijah called me Julie. Not Mrs. Stacey, not even Juliane. But Julie. My ears perk up at the sound and I can’t help but turn around, my eyes wide.

“Are you going to keep avoiding me all night or are you going to let me say hi?” he asks.

“That’s rather forward of you,” I snap, taken aback by both his honesty and mine. 

“But you don’t deny avoiding me,” he smirks.

“Well, then. If that’s what you want,” I say, raising my glass of wine. “Hello.” I turn to leave. I barely managed to keep my thoughts of him at bay, and now I’m alone with him in the kitchen.

“Not so fast,” he says, grabbing my arm. “I haven’t seen you in months, and I came here tonight solely to see you.”

My heart skips a beat. I ignore it. “I could be your mother,” I reply, feigning offense.

Elijah looks into my eyes. “You sure as hell are too hot to be anyone’s mother.”

I almost spit out my wine. I feel myself blush and a heat spreads between my legs. I like what he said. I like how confident his voice sounded when he said it. Most importantly, I like the way his eyes set my skin ablaze.

“You know I’m married,” I say, mainly to remind myself how very, very wrong this is.

Elijah rolls his eyes. “Like that’s ever stopped anyone. It’s definitely never stopped your husband.”

My jaw drops open. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he adds. “It just had to be said. It kills me that he goes around sleeping with other women when he could be at home, fucking you silly three days into tomorrow. I know I would.”

“I—um,” I really don’t know what to say.

Elijah grabs my hand and begins to caress it. “Let me make it up to you.” He kisses my hand. “Please. I know you’re angry. Let me help you get revenge.”

The sensation of Elijah’s lips against my skin ignited something primal deep within my soul. All my previous inhibitions, all my objections to my natural attraction to him suddenly dissipate. I lead him up the stairs and into Henry’s office.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Elijah says, locking the door behind him.

“I think about you all the time,” I finally admit. 

Elijah takes one long look at me before grabbing my neck and pulling me into a kiss.

His lips are soft yet firm, and he kisses me sweetly at first before darting his tongue into my mouth. His hands roam my back and he begins undoing my corset without breaking our kiss. 

I pull off his red tailcoat and rip open the white shirt he’s wearing underneath. I run my hands up and down his chiseled torso before pressing my bare boobs against his chest. Elijah responds by grabbing my ass and trailing my neck with kisses. His warm breath against my skin gives me goosebumps, and I feel myself melting into his touch.

I reach for my mask to remove it, but Elijah stops me. “Leave it on,” he says. 

Then he grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around. He kisses my back and shoulders while undoing my skirt. I feel the wetness pooling between my legs and suddenly my skirt is not coming off fast enough. 

My skirt finally falls to the floor, pooling into a puddle of fabric at my ankles, leaving me wearing nothing other than crotchless panties, garter belt, and stockings. Elijah presses himself against me, and I feel his growing erection against my ass. He nibbles on my ear and takes one boob in each hand. He twists and tugs on my hard nipples, kneads and massages my boobs. Then he runs a hand down my abs, making his way to my pussy. He trails my labia with his fingers at first, teasing me, making me wet and bursting with desire. My back arches involuntarily when he plunges in and starts rubbing my clit.

Elijah squeezes my clit between his index and middle fingers. He starts off slow at first, then speeds up and increases the pressure of each rub. The sensation is borderline sinful, and I find myself completely lost in the mind-blowing pleasure. 

He slips one finger inside. Then another. Before I know it, Elijah is thrusting his fingers in and out of me while the palm of his hand rubs against my clit. The pleasure is so intense my legs buckle and shake as the sensation ripples through my body. A loud moan escapes my lips. I just came from his hand alone.

“Did that feel good?” Elijah whispers in my ear, pulling his fingers out from inside me and then licking them off.

I nod, too far gone to speak.

I’m still reeling from the pleasure when Elijah sweeps the top of Henry’s desk with his forearm, pushing all of the things onto the floor in a single motion. I work quickly to pull off his pants and underwear, and his giant cock jumps out like a spring. I grab it and give it a squeeze, then I start rubbing it, pumping it up and down. 

I see Elijah close his eyes behind the mask and he tilts his head back. “Fuck,” he says, his husky voice barely audible. 

Seeing Elijah enjoying my touch this much makes me wet again. I am taken aback by just how much I want him inside me, how desperate I am to feel his giant, hard cock inside me. I speed up my handiwork, squeezing his dick a bit harder.

“I need you inside me,” I demand. “Now.”

Elijah’s eyes fly open. He looks utterly primal and hungry—hungry for me. He takes me in his arms and lifts me onto the desk.

The polished wood feels cold against my ass, sending a shiver down my spine. Elijah doesn’t waste another second and spreads my legs open, making me thankful I decided to wear crotchless panties. He gently pushes me back onto the desk so that I’m laying on it, but my hips are freely against the edge.

My pussy is wet with anticipation when Elijah inserts himself inside me, filling me up. His cock is thick and hard, and my pussy feels so tight against it. My eyes roll back from the pleasure as he starts pumping in and out of me. I wrap my legs around him, pushing him deeper and deeper inside me with each thrust.

I feel my body climbing steadily, each thrust bringing me closer and closer to an orgasm. I’m not ready for this to end, not yet. 

I unwind my legs, and Elijah lifts them up, placing one on each of his shoulders. This new position makes my G spot more accessible and he hits it with each thrust. He moves his hips faster and faster, driving me absolutely wild. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on before my body bursts with pleasure.

“I’m going to cum soon,” I gasp.

“No,” Elijah responds. “Not yet.” Before I have time to react, Elijah pulls out from inside me, leaving me wanting and desperate for more. He walks around Henry’s desk and sits on his chair.  “Sit on my dick,” he orders.

I straddle Elijah with my back towards him and slowly lower myself onto his throbbing dick. I let out a moan the second it’s fully inside me. 

He puts a hand on each of my boobs and squeezes them. “Ride me. Ride me hard until you cum,” Elijah whispers in my ear.

I immediately start bouncing on his dick, lifting myself up and dropping down onto his lap hard and fast. I grind my hips at the same time, moving them around and around so that his dick leaves no part of my pussy left untouched. 

Elijah starts bouncing his knees, making it feel like his dick is vibrating inside me. He reaches around my waist and plays with my clit as I bounce on him, creating the ultimate, most electrifying sensation pulsing through my body. 

I keep riding him, grinding on his thick shaft, and moving in whatever way I want. Elijah has not stopped rubbing my clit and is now also pushing me down deeper and harder onto his cock with every bounce. The pleasure is so intense I cannot hold back anymore, and I bounce myself harder and harder until the heat between my legs spreads throughout my body and I cum.

My body hums and I fall back onto Elijah’s chest as I reel from the pleasure. I let the sensation wash over me for a full minute before I go back to riding Elijah until he comes. He shakes and I feel his dick pulsing inside me as the waves of pleasure ripple throughout his body.

“Would you like to stop by the office again on Monday?” Elijah asks, his voice hoarse. 

“Is Henry going to be there?” I ask.

“No.”

“Great,” I sigh. “We can do this again in his other office.”