RSVP – A Halloween Story by The_Technician..,
Would you like to attend The Most Fabulous Halloween Party of All Time? A demonic Halloween party thrown by Lilith and Asmodeus may not be everyone’s idea of fabulous, but it is very sexually charged… and discharged. , WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2021 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Halloween is supposed to be a spooky and scary time of the year, but this is just weird. I work on Halloween stories all through the year as the ideas come to me, and I keep them in a folder on my computer called– of course– “Halloween.” As it gets closer to Halloween, I edit and refine the rough drafts and then around the start of September, I *********** four or five of what I consider my best stories to post on the various sites where I submit my stories. I put them in a subfolder with this year’s date on it and do my final tweaks and edits and when the time is right, I post them.
That’s how it is supposed to work. But this year something weird(er) happened. When I opened the folder to work on my final four, there was an extra story in the folder that I didn’t write. Well, at least I didn’t remember writing it. I write a lot of my stories at two or three in the morning and I have some very interesting sleep problems. It is always possible that I wrote a story in my sleep that I don’t remember. That is always possible, but this story had been edited and cleaned up and put in final form. Writing in my sleep I can accept. I’ve done weirder shit. But editing and all of that? Even I’m not that strange… I don’t think. And the story didn’t have my usual copyright and content warnings.
The story is titled RSVP and is written from a woman’s point of view. I read it… and reread it… and then put it back in my potential stories file. But the next night it had been moved to my final ***********ions folder and one of my ***********ed stories had been moved back to the parent folder. I switched the files back and did some final editing on my ***********ions, but the next night, RSVP was back in the final ***********ions folder.
I set up one of my motion-triggered cameras so that it could see my computer and left it on overnight. It recorded me working on my computer twice during the night, but I remembered both times. Besides, the screen was visible in the video and I did NOT open, edit, or move RSVP. And yet, the next morning, RSVP was back in the final ***********ions folder.
I opened the story in my word processor and reread it… several times. After reading it three times, I finally said aloud, “Someone or something wants me to post this story, so I guess I will go ahead and include it in my stories for this year.”
That’s when the words, “Thank you” appeared at the end of the story. I again spoke aloud, saying, “OooooKaaaay” as I saved the story. I decided to add this explanation to the beginning of the story and post it just as I received it from whomever or whatever wrote it– apparently a young woman.
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RSVP
My story starts way back at the turn of the millennium. For clarity, I probably should have just said, “My story begins in the year 2000,” but I really want people to read my story and the turn of the millennium sounds so much more foreboding than the year 2000. Maybe it would be even more ominous to say that my story begins on the first Halloween of the new millennium.
Actually, my story begins about two weeks before the first Halloween of the new millennium. Not everyone used email back in 2000, but I did. I even had an AOL account and one of those brand new DSL lines from the local phone company that gave me the tremendous speed of 52 Kbs.
The email had the subject line “Would you like to attend The Most Fabulous Halloween Party of All Time?” I checked who it was from and was surprised to find that it was from me.
“Nice try,” I said aloud, “using my own email address to get around my spam filters.” But then I stopped. My spam filter was rather primitive, but it was supposed to detect spoofed addresses– they called them false addresses back then. It should have flagged this as a phoney scam email. But it didn’t. I looked at the full header and IP information and could see that it seemed to have actually come from my account. The only explanation I could think of was that my account must have been hacked– we said “breeched” back then.
I know I shouldn’t have opened it, but curiosity does more than just kill the cat. It causes young women to do things they shouldn’t do… like open very suspicious emails.
There were no weird links or anything like that. It was just a short email saying “The Most Fabulous Halloween Party of All Time will begin at eight o’clock on Halloween night. If you are willing to come, RSVP by replying to this email and be ready to be picked up at eight o’clock sharp.”
It was stupid. But I didn’t have a date or an invitation to a party for Halloween, so I hit reply and typed, “Why not?”
A few moments later my reply showed up in my own inbox. I laughed and forgot all about it.
Halloween night, I was curled up on the couch wearing a t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts, reading a book, when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door I gasped in surprise. An absolutely beautiful woman stood there holding a leash and a red collar. The lights of the room reflected off of her tight pants suit as she swished into the room.
“Ready to go to the party?” she said with a smile. Her bright red lipstick was edged in a darker red so it set off the shape of her lips against her alabaster skin. Her pearly white teeth almost gleamed as she smiled at me. Her flawless face and emerald green eyes were framed in flaming orange hair that had to be totally natural. Color like that can never come from a bottle.
“Party?” I stuttered as I stared at her overpowering beauty and presence.
“Yes,” she replied, stepping into the room. “The Halloween Party you said you wanted to go to.”
“I thought that was a scam,” I said quickly. “Besides,” I added. “I don’t have a costume. And I’m not even sure that I want to go.”
“That sort of indecision,” she replied, “is why you lost your last boyfriend and why you have cut yourself off from all your regular friends.” She pouted her red lips at me and said sarcastically in an almost sing-song voice, “Now it’s Halloween and you, a beautiful twenty-year-old girl, have no place to go.”
“But I still don’t have a costume,” I said.
“Look at me!” she said forcefully. “What is my costume?”
“Well,” I said, gulping as I looked at her, “you’re all dressed in black. And it’s really tight and shiny.”
“It’s called a cat suit,” she said as she ran her hands down her hips. “Do you like it?”
It was really, really shiny, and really, really, really tight. Not only could you tell that she had no underwear on, you could also tell that she had lots of long, wavy pubic hair. I felt something tighten between my legs. I’d never been turned on by a woman before, but she was making me wet. I felt something on the front of my t-shirt. She was running a single finger down my chest, starting at my shoulder and stopping right at the tip of my right nipple.
I wasn’t expecting anyone to come by, so I wasn’t wearing a bra. It was just me under the t-shirt. It felt like an electric current was passing from her fingernail into my nipple. I shuddered heavily and drew back away from her.
“How long’s it been?” she asked calmly.
“How long since what?” I replied.
“How long since you’ve gotten laid?” she asked, now running her fingers around the base of my breast. She flashed a quick smile and added, “… or maybe had fabulous sex with another woman?”
“I’ve never!” I said loudly.
She laughed and replied, “Gotten laid or been with another woman?”
“Been with another woman,” I said defensively.
“If you come with me tonight,” she said, staring directly into my eyes, “I can guarantee you that you will do both… and more… as many times as you want… for as long as you want… perhaps forever.”
There was something about the way her green eyes seemed to bore into me that made me want to cry out, “I’ll go! I’ll go!” But instead I said dejectedly, “I still don’t have a costume.”.
“Have you not been listening?” she said angrily, grabbing me by my shoulder. “I told you that I brought your costume.” She held up the collar and laughed at my shocked look.
After she let me stand there with my mouth open for several minutes, she said with a grin, “See, I brought this.” She twirled the bright red collar on the end of the leash, then she added, “Mother Nature gave you the rest.”
“You… You… You…” I sputtered. “You want me to go naked?!”
“No,” she replied firmly. “YOU want you to go naked. You just can’t bring yourself to do it unless someone makes you.”
“That’s not true,” I said defensively. Somehow it didn’t sound quite as emphatic as I intended it to be.
“Oh, no?” she said with a wide smile. Then her face hardened and her voice got very harsh as she yelled out, “Strip! Now!”