Scare Me
Frey stood slumped on the side of a worn wooden fence constructed from old wooden pallets, both arms looped though, hanging lazily. Tipping her neck back she shook some of the long black hair out of her face, stopping to stare aimlessly at the battered ceiling. The room was dark, and the creepy yet corny haunted house soundtrack played loudly in the background. Bloody goat heads hung, stung on ropes, an eerie red light shone down on them. A short frightened scream awakened her from a steady daydream, her head snapping in the direction of the noise. The muscles in her upper legs tensed as the sounds of footsteps grew closer. At the first sight of people she silently counted, 'One…two…three,' then burst into a sudden bolt of speed towards them, screaming at the top of her lungs. "HELP ME! He's coming, gotta hide gotta hide!" The abrupt screams stopped the guests in their tracks. With her face and ripped clothing covered in fake blood, bruises and filth the group of, this time teenage girls, returned their own screams, cowering together in a small huddle shaking with fear. Frey stood, panting slightly from the brief act of insanity, and then stalked the startled group around the wooden pallet maze until they were out of her area. 'Job well done…' She thought.
The old tech building was literally stuffed with employees. The loud buzz of voices, music and the occasional chainsaw sound tests nearly covered up the shouting of the supervisor. "Ok, OK EVERYONE! Please quiet down and listen!" Liz, a short-statured yet strong headed individual stood on a fold-out chair shouting over the sea of heads. "We open the house in two hours, so get all your costumes ready and line up for make-up. Since our regular called in sick we have an extra hand today to help out." Heads turned to a tall, slim yet well figured, ghostly-looking girl who sat perched upon a stool near the make-up bench. She wore a simple pair of black skinnies, knee- high black leather boots, and a white tank rolled up past her bellybutton. At the announcement she turned to Liz, short choppy bleach-blond hair and electric blue bangs falling over one eye. "Her name's Rayne, so if you have any questions please come to her." The growing mummer of voices grew again and the thick bustle of bodies began moving. Frey stood in the back of the small room, her shortness and overall shallow presence providing protection from most collisions. "Hey Beautiful." Hunter, a tall, muscular and flirtatious individual slid past her, winking mischievously. Frey rolled her eyes and turned to escape to the back room where she changed clothes. The loud chatter dyed down as the familiar white-wash sound covered her senses in the barren, silent room. 'Rayne… What an alluring person." She pondered, 'It seems she adapted to the horror department fairly quick. And wow…what a figure…' Back in the main gathering the workers were finishing up with their costumes, ripping fabric with pocket knives and squirting thickened-fake blood on mainly everyone in the room. A high, eccentric voice suddenly rang out, "Rayne, we need more blood here!". Jazia, openly gay and proud, stood over a group of intended "cannibals", waving an empty squirt bottle. He sported a high-necked, vintage striped suit soiled with green paint and tears. "On it." The tall girl slipped off the stool and wound through the crowd to the back rooms.
Meanwhile Frey stood awkwardly, one arm snagged on a straight pin to the side of her tattered costume top. "Well this is just great…" She growled, trying to remove the sleeve without ripping the last thin connections of the material. A faint "thud" made her turn towards the door, a bottle lay on the floor. "Oh! …I'm sorry." Rayne stood in the doorway, holding several empty bottles, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. Frey shook her head, "No no it's ok,do you mind helping me out with this top for a sec?" "Sure." Rayne set down the bottles and stepped towards her. Frey turned her back towards her, reveling where the fabric had snared. "I'll have to slip this side off and untangle this, so lift your arm" Rayne quietly instructed. Together the two worked off the top slowly, as to not rip the already severely torn, once-was white blouse. Finally off, Frey stood clad in only undergarments and socks. Rayne coughed quietly, working the top with her long, thin fingers, glancing over only once at Frey only to find the girl break off her own intrigued stare. A sharp shiver crawled up Frey's back as the sharp light blue eyes darted back to the torn fabric, but for a split second had been focused and dilated with interest on her body. 'What am I thinking? She's a makeup artist, not a love interest… But she noticed me. She returned my stare.' Frey turned back around and stared at apparent nothingness, nervously fidgeting with tiny bow on her pink laced bra with black trim, not as discreet of a choice of work wear as she thought. "This is fixed." She jumped and turned towards her again, once more focused on her icey-blue eyes and slight sway of hips as Rayne took two more steps closer. "A-ah thanks, I'm glad it could still be salvaged." Frey stuttered, taking in the strange, sweet scent of mint coming from the girl who now stood so close to her. "Want me to help you?" Rayne asked. Frey nodded, shivering slightly as the tall beauty directionally prodded her upper arm, slowly slipping the tattered blouse back on. She turned back around, only to find the older woman's lips a few inches away from her own. An audible gasp rang through the silence room, Frey quickly sprang back, "O-ok I'm gonna finish dressing, thanks for your help." "No problem." Rayne briskly walked out, grabbing the forgotten bottles and another full bottle of pre-made fake blood. The long haired girl stood still, watching until the other reached the main prep room. 'Now…what just happened…and what led to that?'
Positioned in her normal area at the house, Frey stood slumped against the stacked pallets, her face still slightly flushed from the encounter with Rayne. Her body, her movement, her eyes… her lips. She fidgeted with her costume; a pair of cut-up skinnies, a blood-covered white-blouse and a pair of Mudd brand boots. 'How can a simple stranger pull such feelings…?', Frey pondered, 'Yet why was my reaction so great in the first place?' Mixed feelings gnawed at her thoughts, yet basic instinct came back in a heated flush to the pit of her stomach. That sharp, icey stare of desire… of want. "What am I doing? Haha, so stupid…", she quietly conversed to herself, "This is just work, they're all my friends, she's just…a new friend." A sudden creak behind her made her jump, but stilled at the sound of another's faint breath. She felt the heat from a body ghost her back gasping, as a pair of lips brushed the nook of her neck. A pair of hands gently clutched at her waist, one rising up along her side exposing flushed, heated skin. Frey felt a strong thud of want poundthrough her veins as the hand poised on her left hip yanked back roughly, grinding her backside into Rayne's groin. Both girls groaned slightly, arching simultaneously, turning hungrily to locate each other's lips in the dark. The blood pounded thick and loud in Frey's ears, her lips now pulling and dancing roughly with Rayne's, hands trailing up to snake through the short bleach-blond hair. The air thickened with their pants, a single slipped moan slicing though like a knife as Rayne's hands cupped Frey's backside, pulling her midsection onto an arched knee, the wonderful friction making her bite her lip from letting any other noise escape. "ahh fuuuck…" Frey arched her head, the stressed whisper drawn out as Rayne descended, teeth finding purchase on the exposed neck. The two unconsciously rocked in steady motion, shirts bunching and lifting with their strong clutches. With one hand ensnared in the older woman's short choppy locks, Frey retrieved her other hand and proceeded to slide it down Rayne's now exposed stomach, stopping to hover over her belt buckle. The mouth at her neck stilled. She faced upward, searching aimlessly in the black for the sharp eyes she knew she could never find. A warm exhale suddenly tickled her lips, and she felt Rayne slid past her cheek, her smooth, milky skin like velvet, until the breath reached her ear. "Feel me." The tickle of her heated whisper called goose bumps to prickle up the back of Frey's neck. In one fluid movement she slipped her hand under the belt, trailing down inside the ripped low-rider jeans and *BAM*. The two jumped apart in a startled jolt, now obvious to the incoming sounds of screams and intentional thuds from other workers. Frey sighed as she heard the familiar footsteps closen, and turned to Rayne, only to find the woman nowhere to be seen.