Wills never fussed with himself. He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, but never made a big thing of getting ready.
This time he ran over the time limit he’d set for himself, and I wondered what was taking him so long.
“Um…Theo,” he called from the bedroom. “I’m…uh…I’m not sure about this…”
“Come on out and let me see what you look like. If worse comes to worse, you can wear one of your suits and a pair of shades and go as a Secret Service man.”
He gave a choke of laughter. “I don’t think so.” The Lone Ranger walked out of our bedroom. “I’m sorry, babe. I thought this was a good idea when I picked out the costume, but I didn’t realize these pants would be so…so tight.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his body. Dressed in pale blue except for the black boots and black mask, he made the perfect foil for my Zorro.
The usual bland suits he wore had to be the reason no one had fucked him before me. Well, it was their loss, and no one was getting a chance at him now.
And Wills was right. His pants appeared to be spray-painted on. The holster belted around his hips framed the discreet bulge of his genitals.
“Are you…” I cleared my throat. “Are you wearing underwear?”
“If you could call it that.” He turned around so I could see his ass. “It’s a G-string.”
I licked my lips. “So I see. It’s a good thing I’ll be armed.” Even though he wasn’t wearing those lick me, suck me, fuck me jeans, I’d still be fighting off horny rent boys all night. I pulled out my sword, slashed the air with it, and went forward into a lunge. Then I straightened and put it back in its scabbard.
“And you…you don’t mind that I look like this?”
“I don’t mind, Wills.” Not much, at any rate. I tossed my cape over my shoulder, swaggered across the room to him, and pulled him into my arms, running my lips along his jaw. One of my clients had been an undersecretary at the Spanish Embassy, and I breathed Spanish love words into Wills’s ear.
“Theo, that’s Spanish!”
“I thought as Don Diego Vega that would be appropriate.”
“You thought….” He slid his arms around me and took my mouth in a voracious kiss.
He had a weakness for Spanish love words? I’d have to remember that.
* * * *
The annual Halloween Ball was being held this year at the William Henry Harrison Hotel, down the road from the Madison Arms. The ballroom was smaller, but since it wasn’t a night off for all the boys, the crowd wouldn’t be as great.
When we walked in, the orchestra leader took one look at Wills and signaled his horn section. They began to play the “William Tell Overture.”
Wills touched the mask over his eyes. Apparently secure his disguise was in place, he grinned and let out a breath. “This looks really nice, Theo.”
Orange and black draperies hung from the walls and pinned to them were cutouts of bats and black cats, ghosts and caldrons, witches and warlocks.
“Excuse me for a minute, babe.” He walked off, and I stared after him, enjoying the bunch and flow of the muscles of his ass.
Before I went after him, I was distracted by the approach of an angel. Tall, well-built, blue-eyed, blond…his tunic was blindingly white, and a massive, golden sword hung at his side. An amazing costume, capped by white wings that rose above his head, the feathers tipped with gold. He had to be new to the area because I didn’t recognize him.
“Se? or Zorro.” He gave a slight bow. “I am the Archangel Michael. His majesty would like to see you.” He gestured toward where Charlemagne stood, surrounded by his court.
Charlemagne was dressed as the Prince of Darkness, from the pointy little horns on his forehead to the red suede boots on his feet. Who would have thought someone with his hair coloring could carry off all that red?
Wills had just rejoined us. “Ranger, this is Michael.”
Michael ran his gaze over Wills. I slid an arm around my lover…my lover. This Michael could just find his own.
The archangel gave a faint smile. “And your friend, of course.”
“Your friend of course what?” Wills was only mildly curious.
“A command performance before Le Roi.”
“Pardon me.” Michael gave a slight bow and crossed the floor toward the door. His movements were smooth and graceful.
“Babe?”
I shook my head and turned to Wills. “Time to meet Chuckles.” No time like the present to see if Wills was drawn to Le Roi’s red hair. “Come on, babe. I’ll introduce you to him.”
I was concentrating on his reaction to Charlemagne and failed to notice the werewolf who staggered up to us and threw his arms around me.
“I love a man wearin’ a mashk.” He planted a slobbering kiss on my mouth. Although it was early in the evening, I could almost get drunk from the alcohol fumes on his breath.
The ballroom was noisy, but I had no trouble hearing the click of a pistol’s hammer being thumbed back.