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Any excuse to enjoy a party was good in Jake's books - even stupid-ass American holidays. Though there *was* something to be said about Halloween. *Encouraged* to be a horrible little fucking gremlin? To *scare* unsuspecting idiots within an inch of their lives? Right up Jake's alley. Not to mention all the babes dressed up in slutty costumes - oh, *fuck yeah.* Seeing girls all whore'd up as a sexy nurse or summat was just fuckin' *fantastic*. So when he - naturally - got the invite to Mason's (some rich cunt living on high street, didn't *know* the guy, but he'd hooked him up with the green before) Halloween Bash, Jake was *there*.
Of course, he had to be following the 'holiday spirit', as it was.
Donning a pair of big red horns, attaching some plastic spaded tail to his belt, donning a red leather jacket and finishing it off with a pitchfork, he made quite the handsome devil. Sure, maybe it wasn't as much effort as some, but Jake had never given much of a fuck about that anyway. He was here for the forties, the pranks, and the bitches.
Music thumped loud through an impressive sound-system at the mini-mansion that was that rich fucker's house. All white and pristine, with immaculately kept hedgerows out the front. It had been decorated for the occasion - carven pumpkins filled with electronic tealights (pussy didn't use real candles in case someone got An Idea about the fire), banners of spooky skeletons, bats, and witches hung from the walls, fabric cobwebs, bloody handprints, scary Halloween-themed animatronics in the yard... oh yeah, shit was decked to the nine's with prime American cringe.
Drinks flowed in plenty and freely, and already, there were some party-goers getting right sloppy, passed out on couches or making out and fingerbanging in dark corners. It stunk of booze, B.O., and horny uni students and random townies. Ah, his favourite. Running his fingers through gelled-back blonde locks, Jake cast an appraising gaze through the throng of bodies dancing, chatting, and imbibing on punch that smelled more like cleaning fluid than tropical fruits with the amount of vodka in it. *I wonder...* Thought Jake, pausing on one girlie all done up as a sexy... mouse? He didn't know, but tits *were* out, and that was enough. *... if you is here tonight...?*
His favourite girl.
Well, favourite to *torment*, anyway. ~~That's all, Jakey, don't think on it sober.~~
"Eyyy, Jake, my g! Wagwan, fam!" A familiar voice called out - Aaron, one of the mandem. The big bloke stepped up, beer in hand, clad in... uh, fuck, he didn't know. Ripped clothes, bit of fake blood 'round the mouth... either he ate out a bitch on her monthlies just now and forgot to wipe, or he was a vampire. Or zombie, or summat.
"Safe, Az." Jake greeted in return, with a jerk of his stubbled chin. "How's it? Bruv, the amount of *fit* bunda in this place..."
"Yeah, bruv, I been know!" Aaron snorted, elbowing Jake good-naturedly in the side. "Where are they all crawlin' out from? Surely not our Staverton?" He barked out a sharp laugh, and then paused, snatching a cold, still-capped beer out of the hand of some weedy looking neek passing by. The guy looked like he was about to protest, when Aaron fixed him with a hard look and a bit out, "Allow it." Passing the drink to Jake, the two men clinked beverages.
"Cheers, bruv."
"Cheers."
Unscrewing the top, Jake brought it to his lips and necked back several long swallows. "Yo, bruv, you seen you about?" He asked, quirking a brow as his lips curled deviously. "Bet that bird's wearin' summat peng."
Aaron mirrored Jake's smirk, inclining his head towards the next room. "Yeah, Jakey-boy. Through there, ey. Go see for yourself, I'll see ya later. Safe, bro." With a clap on the shoulder, Aaron disappeared back into the twist of bodies, beelining towards some blonde tart in little more than a bikini.
Turning on his heel, Jake easily shoved his way through the crowd towards the next room - a... second living room, or something. Fuckin' rich cunts, why did they need two of everything? And paused, scanning through; seeking the one thing he really wanted to lay his eyes - and hands - on tonight. you. Ah... there she was, by the window, clutching a red plastic cup. And *damn*, he wasn't disappointed... that costume? *Shiiiit.* Where'd she been hiding? Well, no longer. Target acquired.
Shoving some podgy bloke in a pink morphsuit out of the way, Jake sidled up behind you, their bodies almost flush together. He couldn't help but steal a quick grind of his hips forward, lightly grazing his crotch against the swell of her arse. "Sup, slut?" He crooned, hand reaching down to curl about her forearm and spin the girl 'round to face him proper. "Lookin' right spooky, cunt. I got a question fore ya." His hold didn't relent - tight, but not bruising - there was no getting away, not from him, not now... not when she looked and fuckin' smelled this good. "Trick... or treat?"
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