Halloween Romance
Sequel to
Mischief Night Magic
Part Three: A Cup of Spiked Punch

The first annual Halloween dance was being held in the gymnasium of Benton Agricultural High School. And as expected the gymnasium was filled to the rafters with teenagers all outfitted in cheap, off the rack Halloween costumes. The moment I stepped into the gymnasium was the moment I felt a sudden chill pass over me. I felt like I was being watched. The Deejay stopped the music and all eyes turned and focused on me. A room took a collective breath and then released as I slowly waded into the sea of bodies.

“Dude.” I heard one of my classmates whisper to his friend. “Who is that new girl? I don't think I've seen her around the school? Is she new or something?”

“I don't know, but she's hot. I would love for her to come over and clean my room if you know what I mean, but that little maid outfit works.” His friend said as he peered toward me. “She's got a nice ass and that is plenty of cushion for some pushing if you catch my drift.”

I blushed and turned around and offered them both a little wave and a wink. And I swear to God, I thought I saw a trickle of blood starting to pour out of their noses as I waved to them. I felt like I was holding play dough in my hand and that sense of empowerment made me feel like a goddess.

Anyway I pushed past them and tried to make my way toward the punch bowl. Now this is the deep south, and nine times out of ten the punch at any social gathering is spiked. Trust me when I say this, nobody here wants to be sober at these types of dances, not even the adults who have been drafted into watching over us.. That not to encourage underage drinking by any means. It was just a fact of life here. A hallmark of social life in the deep south. Maybe things are a bit different up North. Maybe not. I don’t know. 

“Oh My God.” One of the girls said, she was dressed as a cheerleader or maybe she was a cheerleader. “Did you get a look at that little vixen?” The girl dressed as a cheerleader said in a voice that sounded more like a hiss than the vocal cords making a noise that translated into human speech. “I bet she just dressed like a maid because she thinks all the boys are going to get hard on because of it. Such a little slut!” She added.

“Totally!” I heard her friend say. “I heard no, I read online that girls who cosplay as maid's and schoolgirls do so because they think it's 'Kinky' you know. You know all they're doing is sending out a message that they're easy. Wearing that kind of costume is like holding up a bright neon sign saying 'Hey I fuck for chicken nuggets.'

“That saucy little minx!” The other girl barked.

“Totally bet she has a pair of handcuffs on her, like the metal the police use, not the fussy, soft ones you can buy in the mall.” She said with a smirk.

I slowly turned my head toward the two girls who were just chatting up a dust storm about me and smiled. In the south we are taught to kill them with kindness and well I'd learned a thing or two about killing them with kindness in the short amount of time I’d been living as a girl, on and off. . And so I walked up to them and in my best, and sweetest tone of voice said.

“Oh bless your heart, you talking about me?” Now in the south when a woman walks up to you and looks straight in the eye like I was looking at these two and says 'Bless your heart'. You know you're deep in the swamp. So deep in fact that you might just throw your hands up in the air and give up any hope of ever getting out again and accept your fate with pose and grace.

The two girls peered toward me and then shifted their attention away from me. I could tell the bashful look that came across their faces as they looked down at the floor. Finally, the girl who started it all, looked up and peered into my eyes. She then gave me a look that I could only say was a cross between a pout and a sulk. The look brought to mind a guilty little girl would give her mother when her mom caught her dipping her hand into the cookie jar. Said little girl was just moments away from getting a verbal beatdown and getting pulled across her mamma lap, cause one thing southern women hate more than sabbath breaking, swearing, and back talking is catching you ruining your appetite before dinner. 

Her friend seeing the treatment her friend was getting started to move away from her. As not to let her escape my attention. I turned around and fixed her with the most feral smile I could muster. You should have seen how their faces drained of color and their arms and hands started to tremble as they peered toward me. Then I turned my eyes away from them and once more I started to walk toward the punch bowl.

I made a conscious effort to draw attention to myself. I started each step by putting my toe down first and then the heel of my foot. I noticed moving like this gave my hips a swinging motion. The wishing of my skirt caused me to get goose pimples and the way the boys looked at me, caused me to titter a little. I found myself starting to think, 'That right boys, look at me, drool over me, lust for me, take your mental photographs and save them for when you go home tonight and you pound your meat.' Where that thought came from I had no idea. But it popped into my head all the same.

Then the deejay started to play again. The music started again. I took a deep breath, reached over the punch bowl, took into my hand a paper cup and the ladle and I poured a good measure of ruby red punch into my cup. I raised the cups to my lips and took a drink and then it hit me, the moment I swallowed the punch was the moment I felt like I'd swallowed a fireball.

The moment that fireball touched my gut was the moment I felt a powerful new sense come over me. I took a deep breath and helped myself to another up and then I started to move, I could not help myself. I think the drink went right to my head because I could feel all self control starting to slip away. The music was thumping louder and louder.

The lights were so dim the room could be pitched black. The heat from a hundred bodies, all moving to the sound of the music made the room hot and humid. And then I made a mistake. I reached down and took my third cup of spiked punch. This time I did not sip it, I shot it down. As it I titled my head back, swallowed it all in one big gup and then crushed the paper cup and tossed it into the paper waste can.

Then the deejay kicked things into high gear, the music started blaring, the whole room started to shake, a loud, heart thumping tempo echoed in my ears. My hips started to sway with the music. The boys leaned over and peered at me, their eyes starting at my face and then traveling down to my chest then to my feet before going back up and centering on my modest set of boobs. Something then started to come over me, I felt a powerful hunger starting to creep over me, my senses seemed heightened to an almost supernatural level.

I could sense everything. And by that I meant my dormant sex drive had awakened and was now going into massive overdrive. I could feel that beast roaring in my chest. I started to feel my heart racing with each step I took as the music grew louder and louder with each passing moment. I could not begin to put into words the things I was feeling at that very moment. It was like my inner slut was coming out to play for the first time. All I wanted to do was grind hard against those boys, to feel their body heat, to hold them, to let them do all manner of things to me.

I knew in the storage room to the left the football team kept a few old mattresses. I briefly entertained the idea of getting a few of the stronger boys from the herd back there. First We'll start with some kissing. Kissing would lead to them putting their strong hands all over my body. Fondling my breast and exploring every inch of me while I explored every inch of them, then more kissing, then they would push me down on the mattresses, and slide off my silken, french cut panties and then heaven.

That thought made me pant like a dog in heat. I felt my cheeks starting to flush with color. After all tonight was the night. I once heard my older sister say this to one of her girlfriends, and I'm going to quote this word for word. “Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” I think she picked it up from one of those shows she liked to watch.

Anyway if that was true. I was going to milk this once a year night for all it was worth. So look out world. Because tonight Heather Delilah Soenksen is out on the prowl and she is looking to get her some man. She is looking to feed and by damn she is going to feed. She is going to feed till the cows come home, she is going to shake this world up. Just you wait and you will see, the world will never be the same again.

All these thoughts swirled around like a tiny, violent windstorm inside my head as I stepped onto the floor and took into my hand the first boy I saw, I started spinning him around and he started spinning me around and it was pure heaven, pure bliss. I had never felt so alive, now I just needed to score me some man the night would have been perfect.