A Costume Party at the Forum

Author’s Note: The following story was written for the Halloween Story Contest 2022. It chronicles the events of a young Literotica author (me) as she attends a costume party.

I suppose I’m more of a storyteller by nature, so the majority of the tale will be seen by many of you as non-sexual in nature. However, I will say that when sex does come up, it involves oral sex … and perhaps some amount of exhibitionism.

For the most part the story is written from the first-person point of view. I mentioned that the young author is me – and it is. It’s a way for me to describe my experience as I began poking around in the Literoti-verse. As site rules forbid writing true stories about real people, I must confess that the following is a work of fiction – all of it. Right?

Finally, I’d also like to give a special thank you to several of the members I’ve met on this site – QuietElegance, FifthEstate, Duleigh, and MillieDynamite have all kindly given me permission to weave their pennames into my story. They are incredible writers and each has left an impression on me. Thank you again, I am immensely grateful for your insights, comments, and support.

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“I’ve turned up to costume parties in the wrong costume. I’ve made social faux pas a plenty. I’ve put one foot in front of the other and fallen over.” – Benedict Cumberbatch

*** Prologue ***

She sat in the bay window and stared out into the field. Alone in the world now, death having claimed both her parents in the past year. She knew she had to get back into the world if she was to survive. But it was too soon. The pull of hiding, of being anonymous was still strong.

Perhaps the online world would be a good start.

There were multitudes of social media sites and it wasn’t going to be too hard to find one that suited her. She knew she’d need to set-up a profile. Something that would reflect her personality while still giving her a sense of anonymity.

She was thinking about possible usernames when she saw a raven land on a nearby tree. In truth, the black velvet bird was hard to see as the day’s light had started to give way to the darkness.

“Raven,” she thought. How sad that such an intelligent bird was taken to symbolized loss and death.

It reminded her of the number ’13’ and how it was often maligned. The unlucky number that was feared – the fear of witchcraft. The fear of women.

“Raven,” she thought again. “No, not Raven …”

“DarkRaven13”

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*** October, 31, 2022 ***

My mouth fell open as I looked up at the giant screen hanging overhead. I had just entered the venue where the party was being held. An adults-only event right here in Inglewood. The decorations were great – a huge haunted-castle ice sculpture, complete with a bubbling moat was directly behind the check-in table. Everyone was in costume. You could feel the buzz in the air.

Oh, the giant screen, I almost forgot about that. A 25-foot long by 10-foot high electronic billboard hung overhead that read:

‘WELCOME TO LITEROTICA’S HALLOWEEN COSTUME BALL 2022’

But that wasn’t what caught my eye, it was the images projecting on either side of the welcome message. The left side consisted of an image of a very muscular man dressed in a dashing pirate outfit. He wore the trademark billowy white pirate shirt and pants, black pirate boots and a black silk sash about his waist. A black bandana / eye-mask finished off the look. After about ten seconds the image morphed. Same pose. Same boots, sash, and bandana. Though the rest of his clothes had disappeared. And oh yeah, he was sporting a huge erection. The title below him said, ‘Mr. Skull and Boner – Male Winner 2021’.

The image of the female winner on the opposite side was just as stunning. She stood there, dressed in black. Her flowing long black hair matching her fluttering cape. The red laces crisscrossing her barely-there corset straining to keep in check her very-much-there bosom. Her stockinged legs straddled a broom that was being held seductively in one hand. As the image on the screen transformed, her corset laces broke open, spilling her breast out in plain view. The broom also changed, turning into a massive strapon that she gripped tightly. She was called ‘Wicked Bitch of the West’.

This was clearly unlike any other costume party I’d ever attended.

Well truth be told, I’ve not really attended many parties lately. It only been four years since my parents died, and about a couple of years since I started peeking out into the world again. Facebook, Instagram – they helped at first, but the invasive nature of those platforms left me feeling too open and vulnerable. I dated a few times, nothing serious really. I guess I’m not the most open person around. Getting close to others, letting people in, letting them see the real me … it scares me.

Then I found almanbahis the world of adult social media. Chat rooms, web cams, and finally Literotica.

At first, I just read the stories on the site. A guilty pleasure I suppose. But as time went by I found there was much more to Literotica than just stories – forums and writing resources were available for a would-be writer like myself. I began to make contacts there. I began to make friends.

Anyway, that’s how I heard about the costume party. One of the writers posted a notice about it. I fretted over a month about attending. Would I really be brave enough to attend what would likely be a sexually charged event? What if I saw someone I knew? What if someone saw me? I told myself to stop overthinking things like I always did and finally just drove over to the craft store to buy myself some costume making supplies.

I consider myself moderately okay with a sewing machine. The dress was easy enough as getting a pattern online is easy to find these days. The costume theme this year was basically to dress as your Lit penname, so I decided on a black maxi dress, but incorporated a tied-back halter top design so I could have it sleeveless with an open back. It had a lace, darted and fitted bodice, but what I really liked was the Georgette cascades as it draped to the floor.

The mask was a bit tricker since I’d never done one before. I decided on a type of venetian mask – you know, those half, over-the-eyes type ones that concealed one’s identity. Of course it too was black, and I made a short bird’s beak that rode just above my nose. The finishing touches consisted of placing some black feathers at the top of the mask that “feathered” back. I liked the effect it made, as when I put it on you couldn’t quite tell where the feathers ended and where my own hair started.

There were more than a few days when I started second guessing my decision to attend.

Keeping the dress and mask hanging in plain sight helped me to push down my apprehension. I’d done just enough work on it to make myself realize it’d be a waste not to show up. So on the day of the party I slipped on the dressed, test fitted my mask for the hundredth time, and applied the blood red lipstick I’d chosen. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked okay. But I felt something was missing. My arms looked bare I decided, so I found some scrap pieces of black satin ribbon and crisscrossed it around each arm, starting from my elbows and moving towards my hands. I secured it at my wrists, and let the ribbon ends drape about twelve inches below the tie.

That gave the outfit a sexier look I thought. I felt a bit more ready for the night.

As I’d mentioned earlier, the venue was in Inglewood. The Forum. THE Forum to be exact. From what I knew it used to be where a lot of sporting events were held. It had fallen into disrepair after the local sports team moved to another facility, but it was recently purchased, and the new owners fixed it up. It was mostly used for music concerts and special events now.

Check-in took only a few minutes, and once I got my wrist stamped I was good to go. The hall that I walked into was amazing. Halloween decorations everywhere. I could see a stage set-up to the left as I entered. As far as I could tell everything was happening on the floor area and no one was really allowed up in the seated portion of the arena. Still, it could easily accommodate five hundred or so. It was huge.

The place was already busy. It was about four o’clock and I’d gotten there about an hour after the doors had opened. I looked around trying to get my bearings as well as trying to see what I’d gotten myself into. I admit, I was somewhat worried it’d be filled with all the “beautiful” people.

But as I scanned the crowd it became evident to me that those in attendance were like most people in the general population. There were short people, tall people, slightly overweight ones, people with frizzy hair, some with no hair. Normal people. At least that’s what I gathered, even though everyone was in costume. I smile inwardly. These were the beautiful people I thought to myself.

I made my way to what appeared to be the information booth. I knew there was going to be a costume contest and I wanted to know how that worked and what time it started.

“Actually, the contest started the moment you walked in,” the woman behind the table explained. She was wearing a carnival barkers’ outfit that looked stunning. “We actually have several judges this year. They’re all out on the floor now. If one of the judges think you have potential they’ll hand you an orange card. Just before midnight they’ll call all the orange card holders to the stage. Men on one side, women on the other. The man and woman with the largest applause gets the win.”

I liked that idea, it reminded me of those dance contests I’d seen in the movies, where someone tapped the couples’ shoulders to tell them they were ‘out’. But in this case it was to almanbahis giriş let the person know they were in contention, and later allow for the attendees to make the final decision. I turned and scanned the crowd.

“You won’t be able to tell who the judges are,” she said reading my mind. “The first year we did this everyone know who he was and he was constantly swarmed. From what I heard a few of the guests even tried to bribe him with sex.”

We both laughed at that. “Well this is the first time I’ve ever been to one of these events,” I replied. “I’d be terrified at being up on stage. Besides, I don’t think I’d be in the running anyway.”

A lot of the designs were clearly a level or two above mine. Admittedly, many were very explicit and daring. Others were stylish, refined and polished. There was a small stand mirror on the table, and I glanced at my reflection. My costume was more reserved and muted, and I suddenly felt very amateurish.

I think she sensed my mood shift and wanted to make me feel better, as she then gave me the once over. “Oh it’s not just about the costume. Each of the judges have their own biases.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “I hear one of the female judges this year has a taste for younger female newbies.”

I blushed at her words and didn’t quite know how to respond.

“At any rate,” she went on, “here’s a map of the floor. We’re standing right here,” she pointed out on the 8-1/2 by 11 inch piece of paper. “By the way, I can print you out some contact cards if you want.”

“Contact cards?”

“Yes, a lot of attendees like having them to pass out. Sort of like business cards if you will. I just need your Lit name and I can make you a few.”

“Oh sure,” I said. “DarkRaven13 is my username.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you DarkRaven13. I’m The Ring Mistress.”

“Raven’s fine,” I said. “In fact, several have started just referring to me as DR.”

“I like Raven better. But we’ll list your whole Lit name, that way people can find you faster on the site. Just be careful about who you give them to. Or who you accept them from. Getting them from certain men often feels like getting a dick pic via email.”

I nearly burst out laughing at that. I liked her sense of humor. After making me a dozen cards I thanked her again and began wandering about. I felt better having made some amount of conversation with someone. That and I had a map in hand and felt a little less lost.

I was staring at the map and comparing it to my surroundings. From what I could tell the entrance side of the arena was where the food and drinks were. And on the perimeter towards the back were several rooms. They appeared to have been set up just for this occasion. According to my map it looked as if there were 15 separate rooms. Ten smaller ones that were listed for two to three people. And five larger ones, meant to accommodate up to six. It didn’t escape me as to what they were for.

I was standing somewhere in the middle where vendor booths were located, as well as an open space with a scattering of tables and chair. Along the right wall, opposite the entrance there appeared to be a …

“Raven? DarkRaven13?”

I turned to see who had called my name. A woman dressed in a beautiful dark green evening dress was moving my way. Her eyes were covered with a green velvet masquerade ball mask. Her look was understated yet sophisticated.

“You are DarkRaven13 aren’t you?” she asked. “We chatted once in the forum pages. I’m QuietElegance.”

It took me a few seconds to recognize the name. “Yes. Oh, I remember now. It’s nice to put a name with a face,” I said. “Or at any rate, a masked face.”

It was nice to see someone I’d somewhat already knew, though it did feel a bit odd being addressed by my Lit name and calling someone by theirs. For our own safety, we were cautioned by the event organizers about giving out our real names. Sort of a double security to keep our anonymity intact – Lit name and masks.

“You can just call me Quiet,” she said. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago. There’s so much to see and the decorations and outfits are just amazing.” I waved the map I had been holding towards her. “I was thinking of getting something to drink …”

“It’s over that way,” she pointed.

And with that we started to make our way over to the bar. It was definitely one of the more crowded areas.

“I was worried about coming tonight. I thought it might’ve been wall to wall sex happening, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle that.”

Quiet let out a short laugh. “Just like the Lit site, they do have to abide by some rules here. However, I’m not sure if you noticed that line of rooms towards the back?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s on the map too.”

As we got our drinks Quiet explained that consenting couples or groups were allowed to use the rooms if they were unoccupied. Each room had an electronic sign above the door, letting you know the almanbahis yeni giriş room name, and if it was available.

“So if you see a free room and have the urge,” she laughed. “There are a couple of the rooms that have a 15 minute gap between occupants, otherwise once the people leave you can slip in.”

“Gap time?”

“They’re the ones reserved for a specific fetish crowd. The other rooms might need a quick wipe down, but those take a bit more effort.”

“Eww,” I threw my arms up. “I don’t think I’m visiting any of the rooms.” We laughed at that and started chatting about all the people we were seeing in their costumes.

“Who do you think is going to win tonight?” I asked. “I can’t wait for midnight.”

“Oh it’ll probably be one of those gorgeous, buff guys. The woman’s sure to be some blonde thing, armed with the latest and greatest in breast enhancement. They always win.”

“Well it shouldn’t have to be that way,” I said resentfully. “Why can’t that guy win the best male costume award? I think his outfit is smart looking.” I was pointing at the well dressed, ‘normal-ish’ looking person moving from table to table.

“Well for one thing, that’s one of the restaurant staff picking up empty dishes off the tables.” Quiet was laughing again. “And for another, that’s a woman.”

After a moment Quiet said a little less jokingly, “People often say they’re more interested in what’s inside a person, rather than their physical appearances. But at the end of the day …”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I was a little ashamed of myself and felt like a hypocrite. Deep down I knew I fell into that same trap. I often said one thing and did the other. I didn’t want to be like that tonight.

“Oh hey, look!” Quiet was pointing to guy dressed as a construction worker. “Speaking of buff, that’s last year’s winner.”

“The guy on the electronic sign outside?” I asked? “How can you tell?”

“Well okay, I can’t be certain, but he has the same build. That and his pirate mask,” she laughed. “Perhaps we can get him to drop his pants and we can get some confirmation.”

We both broke out into laughter again. But Quiet had one thing right. He was damn hot. Tight tee-shirt, sexy as hell jeans, and a tool belt that hung oh so right. The only thing looking out of place was the bandana mask over his eyes.

“Damnit,” I thought. I was doing it again. Right after telling myself that I would not be ogling someone just for their physical appearance.

When Quiet joked and asked if I was going to invite him to one of the back rooms I blushed and told her certainly not. I vowed to have more self-control than that.

“Perhaps next year,” I said, trying not to sound too much like a prude. “I just want to feel my way around this year. Figure out how all of this works. Sex can come next year,” I joked.

“Ahh but by next year that special someone who catches your eye now might not be interested next year. I say take your chances and combine the night’s reconnaissance with plan execution.”

We chatted for a while longer. Another acquaintance of Quiet’s stopped by, so with wine in hand, I collected my map and contact cards, then excused myself to let them talk.

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I recycled my map as I began exploring the rest of the venue. However, I kept the contact cards even though I hated carrying them around. I regretted the fact that I hadn’t sewn in a hidden pocket in my dress.

It appeared to me that many of the attendees were gravitating towards the forum groups they frequented. I saw a lot of the Author’s Hangout crowd over in one corner. A few tables away was the BDSM crowd. They were quite easy to spot. And I could clearly hear from way across the room what must have been the Politics group – they were loud and seemed like they were in a heated debate.

Still, it seemed like there was a lot of cross-over meetings and conversations, as most people belonged to a multitude of groups. Not only that, but it seemed like people also congregated according to the type of writers they were. The largest was definitely the Loving Wives area. There must have been twenty-five at least. I watched them for a while as it made me smile to see them drinking and having a good time.

“You’d have expected there’d be more people in troll costumes lurking near them wouldn’t you.”

I jumped and nearly knocked the drink from the person’s hand who’d come up unexpectedly behind me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t paying attention and you kind of startled me. I hope none of your drink spilled on you.”

Smiling, the gentleman said, (for he looked a gentleman indeed), “Don’t worry about it. It was my fault after all, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

He was dressed as Julian Assange, the founder of ‘WikiLeaks’. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but after a brief moment I knew it was FifthEstate, or ‘Fifth’ as I came to call him. He and I had started an email correspondence lately. He was an excellent writer, primarily in IR and NC stories, and I loved getting to know him. We once spoke of meeting and grabbing a drink together, especially given we lived in the same location. It was nice to finally having that drink.