It had all started earlier in the night, while I stood in the kitchen pouring liquid green Jello into glass baking dishes. As I slid the dishes into the fridge, someone called out to me.
“Hey man, great Bear costume!” I groaned, closing the fridge. I put on a smile, turned. The kitchen was a menagerie of costumed guests, milling around, sipping beer from plastic cups. Clowns, witches, ghosts, a man dressed as a robot, they all chatted and laughed, swaying to the music coming from the living room. I was dressed in a full-body brown bear suit, my nose painted black.
A pirate walked up to me. “Hey Papa, where’s Mama Bear? I thought you and Jenni were-”
“Yeah, we were.” I said dryly. “Excuse me, won’t you?” I said, avoiding eye contact. I headed towards the hallway.
In the hall I stopped, trying to breathe. It was hot in the bear suit. I was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, but I was sweating. Part of it was the circumstance. Jenni, my girlfriend of a year, had cajoled me into throwing this costume party. My roommate agreed, and we spent the week decorating the house. Jenni and I rented our bear-suits, one of which I wore; the other was hanging forlornly in my closet. I stood under the green light in the hall, marveling at how cruel life was.
A group of giggling ballerinas swarmed into the hallway, passing a joint back and forth. I slid past them, heading for the back door. I thought I’d go to the back yard, get some fresh air and take a leak. I pressed through the crowd of costumes dancing in the living room. Then I froze.
Jenni was there. She was standing in the corner, dressed in a tiny red-sequined dress. Her blonde hair was in pigtails, her pouty lips painted with bright lipstick. The hem of her dress was ridiculously high, revealing her pale thighs in the orange party lights. She saw me, then leaned towards this huge guy, dressed as a pro basketball player. He whispered something to her, and she rubbed her hand along his body, rippling the vinyl ’99’ on his chest.
I didn’t know his name, I didn’t even know the name of the player he was supposed to be. It didn’t matter. There she was, rubbing her red sequined bosom up against him, their lips tangling and smearing against each other. I watched his hands slide down her back, heading for the pleats in her skirt.
I turned around, heading for the bathroom. I bumped into my roommate, Thomas. He looked over my shoulder, frowning.
“Aw, man, that ain’t right. You guys broke up three days ago!”
“Two days ago.” I said. I forced myself not to look.
“In your own house, no less. Should I make them leave?” Thomas was a great friend.
“No, we don’t want a scene. What the hell kind of costume is she wearing, anyway?” I asked.
“Oh, Marty’s around here somewhere, videotaping shit. Jenni and him came as a ‘Pimp-and-Ho’ couple.” Thomas smirked, shaking his head. “It’s appropriate I guess.” he added, patting me on my back as I headed down the hall.
I made it to the bathroom door, and then I heard it again.
“Hey, Papa Bear! Where’s Mama?” I gritted my teeth, not even looking up. I reached for the bathroom doorknob. I turned it quickly, swinging the door inward.
“Occupied!”
I looked up. Sitting on the toilet was a Tiger. Bindi, a slender, long-haired student from India was sitting on the toilet, her tiger suit unzipped and around her ankles. She grabbed at the suit, pulling it up to cover her bare lower body, her long black hair covering her chest.
“Whoah, sorry.” I averted my eyes, backing up and closing the door. I sighed, leaning against the wall. I stood there for a moment before I realized Bindi wasn’t wearing ANYTHING under that tiger suit. No bra, no undies, nothing. My mind lingered on these details, trying to forget the scene in the living room.
The door opened. Bindi came out, grinning. The tiger suit fit her lithe body like a glove, accentuating every curve. Her form was almost painted with black-and-orange stripes, a long plush tail sticking out above her firm buns.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling guilty.
“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I have to unzip this whole damn thing to pee.” She waggled her black nose and painted on whiskers at me, giving me a crooked smile.
“I know what you mean.” I didn’t, really. My bear-suit had buttons up the front, and a nice flap over the groin, which reminded me I needed to pee. I tried to step past her to the bathroom. She put an orange paw on my chest, stopping me.
“Are you alright?” Bindi and I had Psychology together. She was a very bright student, and extremely perceptive. She studied my face for a moment.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I tried to smile, pushing past to the bathroom. Bindi was not sated. She held me still, looking into my eyes. “I saw them earlier. That’s not your fault.” She patted me consolingly. It was an odd comment, but it felt strangely reassuring. I thanked her.
Bindi smiled. She leaned up and gave me a kiss, right on the lips. It was warm. I sighed, trying to tell myself I was too sad to enjoy it. Bindi touched my cheek with her plush paw and headed down the hallway.
In the bathroom, I sat down on the toilet. The seat was warm. I thought about Bindi’s dark legs, her flesh resting on the seat moments before. I had always been attracted to Bindi, but being with Jenni had been enough. For some reason I tried to think about Jenni, tried to be sad. But I kept feeling that warm seat under me.
Later on I wandered the party a bit, smiling to guests, picking up empty beer cups. In one room we had a black light, and people were dancing slowly to jazz. There was a small crowd there. Several of the group were whispering, stealing glances into the corner. I walked in, leaning on my room-mate’s book shelf to see what everyone was watching.
I felt my stomach go cold. There, sitting on a futon couch in the corner was Jenni and #99. Jenni’s straps were off her shoulders, her red dress drooping to reveal her white bra, which glowed in the backlight. The two were making out, groping each other fiercely.
Marty was there, dressed as a Pimp, his checked blazer one size too big. He chewed on a fake cigar, and in his hand he held a video camera. He looked through the viewfinder, angling for a better shot and putting on the airs of a porn director.
“Smile for the camera, love.” Jenni smiled, pretending to be shocked as #99 groped her breast. A few people giggled. Marty warmed to the attention, giving them further direction.
“All right now, I want to see penetration. Don’t you guys?” Marty questioned the group. A few people laughed, most nodded and agreed. I was desperate to turn away, but I couldn’t. I clutched the hard book-case, trying to dig my fuzzy bear-claws into the wood.
Jenni spread her legs, revealing white panties, which also glowed in the black light. #99 smiled, pulling her body towards his as he pretended to mount her. They dry-humped, pretending to be passionately screwing. Marty filmed it, moving around from angle to angle.