The mellow baritone of Frank Sinatra reverberated in the reception room of the Marriott Hotel as the elite of Dallas society attended the Hallow's Eve masquerade ball, hosted by the newest Mrs. J.R. Ewing.
J.R. nursed a neat tumbler of Bourbon and observed the carnival of costumes. The social event was held in support of one of his mother's beloved charities and the first of which Cally had contributed to since her arrival in Dallas. J.R.'s enthusiasm, however, dwindled considerably when his wife insisted upon a masquerade theme to foster the seasonal spirit.
"You have three wishes, master," the blonde playfully slid down the banister of Southfork's staircase and into J.R.'s arms before they left for the party. "I'm at your command." She had returned home earlier that day with his-and-her I Dream of Jeannie themed outfits despite his adamance that he would not adhere to the fancy dress code. He was certain Lucy had planted the ridiculous idea into Cally's mind; his petulant niece hummed the theme tune relentlessly in the week that led up to Halloween.
"Very dapper, J.R.," Bobby admired J.R.'s navy suit when his brother climbed into the limousine.
"Shut up, Bob," he snatched back the hat Bobby swiped from his head.
The party was an obnoxious bore, in spite of Cally's efforts to the contrary. One hour seemed to stretch out to five as if he were trapped in a time warp, until one of the hostesses produced a refreshed drink in front of him. "For you, Mr. Ewing," she smiled, sweetly. "From - - the witch across the bar."
J.R.'s eyes travelled to the opposite end of the bar where a feminine form all in black waved politely. He snorted in amusement when he jubilantly raised her own glass. With her face partially masked, she seemed acutely familiar and J.R. slithered in her direction, enthralled. "Well, hello," he tipped his hat in introduction. "Don't you look eerie. " Oh-so-seductively, she silently replied with a smile, one which J.R. returned with earnest intrigue. He knew that sly come-hither stare anywhere.
The celebration raged on into the early hours, and she was all that captured his attention.
She remained tucked away in the darkest corner of the ballroom and endlessly maintained the same polite expression, unbothered by any of the other guests. J.R. realised, perhaps for the first time, that she had attended alone.
"Mr. Ewing," the hostess returned into his universe and wordlessly produced a key.
At that moment, she rose to her feet and made a beeline for the elevators; her eyes locked onto his for every step. With his family securely occupied, J.R. traced her path and allowed a lustful smile as the elevator doors closed before he could pounce. His eyes tracked the display to number sixteen and waited patiently for his own elevator to arrive. Seconds stretched to minutes, minutes to hours before J.R. stepped foot on floor sixteen. A flash of black satin dashed around the corner at the furthest end of the corridor and he readily stalked his prey to find a door to one of the rooms hitched open on the latch.
"Hello, darlin'?" J.R. beckoned with a hint of caution in his tone. As if from nowhere, she appeared behind him and tenderly curled a hand around the back of his neck that trailed upwards through his hair. "You like to play games, don't you?" His attempt to remove her mask, for the final confirmation he didn't necessarily require, was rebuked. She firmly swatted his hand away and lured him toward the bed in only the material on her face. He chuckled, all too easily affected by her mere touch, as if she knew exactly what and how to do. Like witchcraft…
"Happy halloween, dad."
John Ross bolted out of the front door and into his father's arms. "Happy halloween, son." J.R. chuckled at the limitless enthusiasm his only child possessed. His eyes peered toward the door for the hint of movement inside. "Is your mama home?"
"She's in the kitchen," John Ross replied, as he chucked his weekend duffel into the backseat.
J.R. hesitantly entered the homestead and discovered Sue Ellen in the midst of an autumnal flower arrangement. "Happy halloween, darlin'," he beamed a Cheshire-cat grin. Alone, with only her, J.R.'s suspicions were solidified; hers were the legs wrapped around his waist at the height of ecstasy and passion a mere twenty-four hours earlier. She had fled the hotel room moments afterward.
"J.R.," Sue Ellen held a neutral tone - which was a marked improvement from their previous conversations since the divorce - and allowed the hint of a smile to flash upon her lips. "I hear Cally's party was a roaring success. I'm sorry to have missed it," she focused her attention upon the floral materials.
"Is that so?" J.R. twisted his lips, somewhat tempted into doubt as she all but dismissed his presence in her home. Her intentions had become difficult to read since their final separation, all the more so after his nuptials to Cally. "Well, there's always next year," he remarked, superficially upbeat. "I'll drop the boy off at school on Monday."
Any doubt and confusion dissipated as Sue Ellen hummed the tune to Witchcraft as if to serenade his departure.
