“Guess not,” I said, brushing my hair out of my face as I righted myself, and there he was, right behind me, hips pressing me against the edge of the counter so I had to place my palms flat on the surface to keep my balance. His cock was like steel, an iron bar against the ass I’d just been teasing him with.
“Wolves are very dangerous, you know.” He placed his palms on the counter beside mine.
“You don’t think Little Red can handle herself?” I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his dark gaze. What was happening? Some part of me thrilled at it. Another part of me balked. It was the wrongest thing in the world to be doing this, imperceptibly grinding my hips back against his erection, but it felt so right.
“Is Doc home yet?” Mrs. B called down the stairs. “Did I hear his car?”
“I’m home!” he called and I felt the shift in his hips, the way he rubbed his cock up and down, into the crack of my ass through my skirt. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
He grabbed my hips, holding me to him, hard, hard, and I gasped. Then he let go, walking away without another word.
I took a deep breath, going back over to the counter, opening bags of candy while Doc stopped at the stroller, looking down at the baby.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He squatted down, squeezing Holly’s foot, making her squirm and smile. “Gonna take lots of pictures of you, little one. Your first Halloween.”
“Isn’t she sweet?” Mrs. B came sweeping down the stairs, looking adorable in her Little Bo Peep costume. Her skirt was short too, ruffled pink and white. She bent to pinch Holly’s cheek. It was hard not to. “My precious.”
Mrs. B couldn’t resist. She clicked the snap on the belt, lifting the baby out of her stroller.
“I just got her buckled in,” I protested, pouring Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups into the bowl.
“Oh she can be rebuckled.” Mrs. B snuggled the baby, showering kisses on her little face, leaving lipstick marks I’d have to wipe off before we took pictures.
“Look at you!” Doc exclaimed as Henry tromped down the stairs in his boots, his face painted, thanks to his mother, like a cat-Puss in Boots. Janie behind him, wore a long satin dress, the right half pink, the left half blue. She was going as Sleeping Beauty. “And my little princess. You look beautiful.”
Doc kissed his daughter’s cheek as she came into the kitchen before he headed up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. B called.
“To get my camera.” He was already halfway up.
“You gonna be warm enough in that?” Mrs. B asked, eyeing my skirt. “Guess we should have thought of that when we ordered these, huh?”
Your husband has been keeping me more than warm enough, I thought, but didn’t say it. I still wondered about that night I’d brought Christian home. Had he really been watching us?
“All that walking, I’ll be fine.” I assured her, pouring Kit Kats into the bowl.
“Can’t we go by ourselves?” Henry begged for the ten millionth time. I rolled my eyes, opening a Kit Kat and breaking off a wafer, putting it in my mouth while he and his mother argued and Puss stamped his boot.
“Henry, I told you, no! You’re not old enough yet.” Mrs. B bounced the baby on her hip. “Besides, who’s going to carry Holly’s bucket?”
Henry scoffed. “We have to trick or treat for her?”
“Well she can’t do it by herself,” his mother replied.
“She’s not going to eat any candy.” Janie, whose ingenious pink and blue dress idea had come straight from the Disney movie, was brushing her long, blond hair, which we thankfully didn’t have to cut after our summer gum wad incident. “Why do we have to get any for her?”
“Because I said so,” Mrs. B said, removing one of her blond ringlets from the baby’s chubby fist.
“You guys are just going to eat it later,” Henry grumbled, picking up his white glow-in-the-dark ghost bucket from the table.
“Well, it’s either that or we raid your candy,” I called over my shoulder, still chewing my Kit Kat.
“Good point.” He held out his hand to his mother. “Give me her bucket.”
His mother smirked, handing over the glow-in-the-dark Frankenstein bucket. Janie’s was a pumpkin.
Of course, we weren’t ready to go out trick or treating quite yet. First Doc had to take pictures of everyone in front of the fireplace, all of us smiling and saying, “Cheese!” or, if Henry and Janie were complaining about how long it was taking and refusing to smile, maybe “Smelly socks!” or “Cheesy underpants!”
“So you’re the family photographer?” I asked Doc as Mrs. B strapped the baby into her stroller once again while Janie and Henry fought over who got to carry Holly’s bucket. The once reviled task was now being coveted. “That’s a nice camera.”
I had to admit, I was jealous. My own was ten years old and I still used film. Actual film.
“Thanks.” His camera was digital and he was flipping through the pictures he’d taken, leaning in to show me. “I’ve always been an amateur photographer. Used to take pictures at weddings when I was in college for extra spending money.”
“I sell mine on stock photo sites.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “What do you photograph?”
“Whatever sells.” I shrugged. “Nature photos, stills of objects. You’d be surprised what people want to blog about.”
“Is there any money in it?”
“Not much. A little. Extra spending money, like you said.”
“I like photographing people.” He cocked his head at me. “You would make a beautiful subject.”
“Thanks.” Damn, I was blushing again. That made a slow, sexy smile spread across his face.
“Want to pose for me some time?”
“Sure,” I agreed, feeling my blush deepen. He’d never said a word about naked photography, yet both of us seemed to know exactly what he meant.
“You ready, Gretchen?” Mrs. B called, pushing Holly in her stroller toward the front door.
“Duty calls.” I turned and walked away, feeling his gaze follow me. I made sure I added a little swing to my hips.
Mrs. B pushed the baby’s stroller through the neighborhood while Henry and Janie ran from house to house, gathering candy, taking turns at every stop to fill Holly’s bucket too. There were a great many spoils to be had in their subdivision-some of the houses even gave out full sized Snickers bars! When I was a kid, we were grateful to get Dum-Dum suckers and Smarties.
By the time we’d circled back around to our block, the buckets were overflowing and Holly was slumped over in her stroller, fast asleep. The porch light was out as we approached the house.
“We ran out of candy, can you believe it?” Doc called as we pushed through the front door, Henry and Janie in the lead, wanting to tell their father all about the scarecrow who came to life and scared the pants off them. It was just a guy in a costume sitting in a lawn chair, waiting to scare passersby, but it was all Henry and Janie could talk about.
“There were so many kids,” Mrs. B exclaimed. “I swear their parents drive them into our sub because they know we give out such good candy.”
“I’m going to go put these on my laptop.” Doc got up from the sofa where he’d been watching Law and Order and picked up his camera from the coffee table.
“Remember, you can’t post any pictures of Holly on Facebook anything!” Mrs. B called as he headed through the kitchen.
“I won’t,” he assured her. “I took some non-identifying ones. I can share those, can’t I?”
“Just not her face,” Mrs. B insisted. It wasn’t just her being paranoid. The foster care system made that a requirement. No identifying pictures were allowed to be shared of foster kids by their foster families. Not that I blamed them. Holly had been rather infamous in our little community, after what she’d been through. It was better that no one knew we had her.