Inches of Trust

Crimson Regret-1

Crimson Regret

The latex was going to be a total b***h to get out of his eyebrows. Woochie demon horns, Ben Nye crimson grease paint, black eyebrow pencil, Velvet black mascara, and black lipstick. Custom fitted fangs and a little denture adhesive. Spray his entire face and neck with Kryolan fixative so the makeup wouldn’t run or smear for at least a couple hours and he was good to go.

Brian Townsend stood back from the mirror. He was one deliciously handsome devil. Kind of literally, at least for the evening. No one at the Halloween party would be likely to immediately recognize him as a soft-spoken architect. His skin was colored a bright fire engine red. He’d used the latex to mask over the outer edges of his eyebrows so he could sculpt the rest into steeply upswept points. Three different shades of gold-colored hairspray gave his blond hair a candle flame sort of glow. Brian ran his tongue over the points of his fangs. They seemed secure enough. It would be mighty embarrassing to have them fall off in his beer. He’d spent nearly ninety minutes on the prosthetics and makeup. Now it was time for the tuxedo. He’d found it in a thrift store for eighteen bucks.

The party was being thrown at Alicia Day’s house. She was one of his fellow architects and they were friends. Alicia’s main goal in life lately seemed to be playing matchmaker. She’d noticed within a month of his starting with the firm that he was unattached. She’d paraded more than a dozen women in his direction, only to be astounded that her efforts were never more successful than getting him to go out for a drink with them. She’d been mystified and accused him of studying to be a monk.

He’d finally very carefully admitted to her that he had no interest in women, not in the bed partner sort of way. That had given her food for thought, apparently. And she’d gone nearly a month without further efforts. The last few weeks, she was obviously on a different tack, asking him leading and slightly embarrassing questions about which actors he thought were sexy. He was moderately sure she was planning on aiming him at some feather-brained cutie at the party. Oh, well, maybe he’d flirt and have a little fun.

God knew, he could use something light-hearted and frivolous. Over a year ago, his long-time lover had ditched him. Kyle had just up and told Brian that he was interested in someone new, and proceeded to move out of their apartment. Brian had been devastated. It’d taken him months to get his head back in gear. Brian had moved, changed jobs, and basically tried to start his life over. But there was no one in it. Maybe it was better that way. Damn, he was being pathetic!

He shook himself out of his dismal introspection and grabbed his keys.

* * * *

Wow, when Alicia had said it was going to be a fairly big party, Brian hadn’t realized she meant sixty or seventy people. Jesus, she must have invited every single person in their office and then some. And then he remembered her husband, Mike, was a stock analyst. Mike had probably invited a whole slew of the people he worked with, too.

The brownstone was packed with skeletons, witches, monsters, a few vampires, a trio dressed as the Three Musketeers, and a raft of other costumed bodies. He stood in the hallway looking for someone familiar. A wench whose bust-line was just barely contained by her bodice cruised by.

“Ooh, aren’t you the hot one!” she teased.

He grimaced at the pun. “Maybe I’ll see if I can light your fire a little later,” he responded. Not. But it was all in the name of fun.

He went in search of a beer. The main room downstairs held a table full of food, along with little labels like “witch fingers” and “pickled eyeballs.” He was particularly amused by the “boogers on a stick,” which apparently were pretzels with something green and juicy on the tip. But the absolutely most disgusting thing was the “kitty litter” cake. It looked real enough to make you gag, even if it did smell like chocolate and peppermint.

* * * *

“Oh, my God! Brian? “Alicia shrieked when Brian ran into her later. “I almost didn’t even recognize you. That is the most awesome makeup job I’ve ever seen.”

“All the better to tempt the unwary,” said Brian. He gave her a fanged grin.

“I never would have expected you to go so all out. Where’d you learn how to do the makeup stuff?”

“College. I hung out with a batch of people who liked to run the science fiction convention circuit. They taught me an obscene amount of makeup and costuming stuff.”

“Did you see Elaine? She’s dressed as a Hershey’s Kiss. She said what with being eight months pregnant, it was the only thing she could find that would fit.”

They both laughed merrily.

* * * *

Brian drifted for a while, chatting with a few people he knew, making lecherous comments whenever possible. It was fun. Questing for a second beer, he noticed a tall man in a Zorro outfit. The black pants were skintight and displayed the man’s long, lean legs. There was absolutely nothing shabby about that tight ass either. Zorro was talking to one of the women from the accounting department. Brian dredged his mind for the woman’s name. Leigh? Leanne? No, Lenore. She was dressed in a spandex unitard, and was trying to pull off her best Fantastic Four impression. Unh, spandex was a privilege, not a right. Her body was definitely not the “looks good in spandex” type, but she was sweet.

“Hey, Lenore, care for a bite?” said Brian, and flashed his fangs at her.

She blushed. “Alicia told me you were a demon.” She giggled. “I was really surprised. Your makeup’s great. Like the tux, too.”

“Introduce me to your boyfriend,” Brian suggested.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Unless maybe I can convince him to be.” She grinned and patted Zorro on the butt.

“Should you need rescuing, I am at your service. I am, however, not in search of a wife, senorita,” said Zorro. His voice was low and smooth. The guy was certainly playing it up. “Could I beg your indulgence and ask you to point me toward…drinks?”

“I was actually headed in that direction myself,” said Brian. “Maybe you could follow me…along the path paved with good intentions?”

“Ouch! Lead on, kind sir,” said Zorro.