“Give me a minute to look around,” Simon smiled at Mister E’s frozen featureless face.
“But of course. I’ll be greeting the new arrivals if you need me,” he tipped his head and headed back into the next room.
Alright. What was Simon going to wear? He was still a little unsure about this whole masquerade thing. What if he did hit it off with someone? They’d just be playing a character. He’s have to ask for their number and go out for coffee later to meet the real person behind the mask.
Ugh, tonight was getting complicated.
But first he had to find a mask. He quickly found a stereotypical masquerade mask and tried it on. Thankfully their host had set up a small mirror in the room. It looked… fine? He’d picked one with minimal flair. He could deal with it for the night, but something about it just wasn’t clicking.
As he rummaged through a trunk filled with masks, he found a pack of prosthetics.
They were those pieces of colorless foam latex, meant to be glued on and painted. He could still drink, but likely through a straw. It would hide his face, of course, but then again, he was looking for real connections. He didn’t want them to see Simon, the poor roommate with a shitty job and a useless degree. What he wanted was for them to see him.
It was a good thing that the prosthetics didn’t cover his eyes.
The eyes were the window of the soul and making eye contact was essential for making friends. He flipped through the packs, considering his options. Wolf… kinda generic? A big hit, for sure, but it was Halloween and he’d end up running into a bunch of wolves. He wanted to be remembered, so that was a no-go.
Hmmm, there were panther and tiger and lion packages as well. The lion had a big, fluffy faux-mane. Normally, he’d probably go feline. They were elegant and some were commanding and regal, depending on the costuming that went with them.
Except Chesh was already a cat.
Sighing, he tossed the cats in the discard pile. Along with the cats, he tossed the canines, too. He didn’t really have the proper build for any of the bears, so they were out. Definitely not cow or bull, he had spotted a guy with a bullring on earlier. There were a few birds, but the beaks were… big. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to speak with them clacking. Discarded.
Anything big and bulky, he yeeted, so elephant and rhino made their way into the pile.That left him with increasingly fewer options. Fox… mmm, that was an interesting choice. He could play a sly, sexy fox. He had a lithe, slim build. But they weren’t trustworthy. He wanted people to trust him.
By now, he was almost at the bottom of the trunk.
Boar… possibly, but again, he imagined a boar to be burlier than he actually was. He *could* wear a pillow under a coat, but those never really worked out. Stag was a nice one, but the antlers were sure to cause trouble whenever he tried to walk through doors. The last couple were squirrel, rabbit, and mouse, none of which called to him.
His hand paused as he uncovered the second to last package. Goat.
Hmmm…
He could pull off a goat. Ooo, and he could make it a play on the insult of stubborn old goat. Chesh had called him stubborn several times, and had to practically drag him kicking and screaming to the masquerade. Best of all, the horns were rather short as was the muzzle.
Oh, and it even came with a tuft of a goatee he could glue on! Simon wanted to laugh. It was perfect!
And now for the rest of the outfit. Hmm… there was a blue plaid shirt in the corner and black cotton trousers with suspenders. There was even a fake beerbelly in the corner he could strap on, rubbery and round.
Oh, but would that communicate what he wanted it to? Maybe… maybe not the beerbelly. But he’d keep these spectacles. They were old fashioned wire-rims that would sit nicely on the muzzle.
Yes, fit and lean, but professional and intellectual. The outfit added that touch of maturity to pull it all together. That was how he wanted to come off.
However, as he was about to put on the outfit, he saw a single article of clothing peaking out from the same shelf he found the suspenders.
He reached up and pulled out a large, crumpled jockstrap. It was clean and smelled freshly laundered, though discolored with sweat along the undercarriage. The pouch was huge, and Simon couldn’t help but gawk as he realized just how well-hung the owner must be.
“Talk about the junk of a pornstar.” Simon breathed, then blushed.
Maybe… he could wear it? He could stuff a sock in it for padding. Then he’d be a well-hung goatman.
He chuckled, imagining how silly it would look, a kinda nerdy-looking goatman with a bulging crotch. Still, while it might raise a few eyebrows… maybe that was exactly what he needed? It would definitely grab people’s attentions. Maybe even in a good way.
Which would ultimately lead to disappointment when he dropped his trousers.
Simon sighed before giving in and adding it to the costume. He might regret it if he found a dude and they ended up disappointed, but it was just a costume. It was no worse than wearing a muscle suit.
His phone beeped, and he realized he’d been taking too long.
“U get lost in ther?” Prince Chesh texted.
“Putting on my costume.” He texted back. “Gonna be 30 minutes.”
“Kk, text when done,” Chesh replied.
Working as quickly as he could, he donned his chosen outfit and hung his own clothes up in a little cubby.
Then he carefully applied the prosthetics. It took him a good fifteen minutes. Then he applied the gray ‘fur’ makeup, using various shades, and a sort of tannish-pink for his nose and the insides of the ears. The horns, thankfully, were already a nice lacquered white.
The hardest part was gluing on the bushy eyebrows and goatee without making a mess of glue and fake hair.
In the end, Simon stood up and examined himself in the mirror. He looked like a goatman, his hair slicked back and dyed a light gray to contrast his iron gray ‘fur’, like his eyebrows and goatee. His plaid shirt and suspenders made him look older and studious, while the prominent bulge in his crotch implied that he was rather naughty, too.
Simon grinned. Perfect.
He was afraid he’d look goofy, but he actually kinda looked sexy. Even with all the prosthetics and paints, he could see his nice jawline. His intelligent-looking eyes sparkled in delight, peering out under bushy brows. He looked confident and elegant.
Simon added a little curl to his goatee and stepped back out into the entryway, “I uh- Excuse me, Mr. E? I think I’m ready.”
“That’s Mister E-“ The masked figure’s head perked up as he spun around, “Oh! So you are! What a fine selection.”
“Thanks,” Simon chuckled, snapping the straps of his suspenders. “I was hoping it didn’t look goofy.”
“No, you are certainly not goofy,” Mister E said firmly. He leaned in a little closer, “So… Who are you?”
Simon blinked.
He looked down at himself, then back up at the masked man, “I’m… a goatman?”
“Uh huh…?” The figure nodded, “Does this goat have a name?”
Simon’s eyes lit up. “Oh! You’re asking about my character!”
“My, this *is* your first time,” the host laughed politely.
“Sorry, umm… Goat… Goaty… Greg? Uh- Greg Goatsy?” Simon rambled off a passable name.
“I don’t think you want to call yourself Goatsy, sir.” Mister E said. “Considering the implications…”
Simon flinched. “Right… yeah, I get your point. Uh, how about.. how about Gruff? Billy Gruff Sr?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Billy,” Mister E held out his hand to shake, “I hope you thoroughly enjoy my masquerade.”
“I’m sure I will,” ‘Billy Gruff’ reached out and shook his hand.
“Have fun,” the masked host gently shooed him into the rest of the house.
Now that he was out of the entryway, Sam wandered through the gigantic mansion.
He could pick up on the music that was being pumped through hidden speakers that were in every room. Simon’s mind boggled at how complex the sound system was and how long it would have taken to set up. The volume was set at the perfect level, too, high enough to create a lively party environment, but low enough that everyone was still able to carry on a comfortable conversation without having to raise their voices.
Speaking of which, this place was packed!
There were masked figures everywhere Peter looked. He was feeling a little better about his appearance. He hadn’t known how he’d stand up to what the rich people here wore. It seemed he didn’t have to worry.
Some people went all out with head to toe Halloween costumes, but most of the partiers just had small masks obscuring part of their face. Some were as ornate as the masks belonging to Chesh or Mister E, but a lot of people clearly just had a store bought Halloween mask.
Taking out his phone, he texted Chesh.
“Hey, I’m finished.” Simon sent.
“Cool, meet by da snack bar near back patio. I hav 2 tell u smthn.” Chesh sent back. “Don’t pretend 2 b ur character yet.”
Sighing, Simon explored the mansion.
The size of this place was truly mind-boggling. Past the foyer was the grand ball room. Two grand staircases flanked the sides of the room. Near the back was a gallery with a small outdoor courtyard. Simon waded though clusters of people who were all wearing masks, speaking with eachother in hushed whispers.
He’s expected Clark to be in the courtyard, but aside from a few couples, there was no snack bar. A hallway stretched to the left and right.
When he glanced to the right, he saw that it led to a room with a pool table, so that was likely the billiards room, and the smells of food were coming from the left, which meant… Simon followed his nose and took a left.
He entered into a very large living room with a TV that was as big as the wall that was playing some football game with the sound off.
People were lounging on couches and gathered around several snack bars and a large banquet with a punchbowl. Some were watching the football game. Honestly, so far it seemed like a normal social gathering. Simon wondered why he had felt so nervous.
Heck, no one here knew he was unemployed, single, and the only reason he’d come here was because his nouveau riche friend from high school had taken pity on him.
Simon scoped out the chatting groups of masked partygoers, hoping to see Clark’s purple suit somewhere around here, but none of them were Clark. Judging from the view of some of the rear windows, a good amount of party had spilled out onto the back lawn.
Maybe he was out there?
Shit, he wasn’t interested in playing hide-n-seek when he could be networking. Even if Clark was playing it cool and telling him to get laid, Simon knew he needed to make some friends fast. Simon re-read the text message.
“Snack bar… near the back patio… “ SImon murmured to himself.
He glanced back up and looked around for a snack bar. There was a juice bar, some sandwiches on a buffet table. Outside, on the patio, there was a full bar lit with tiki torches and some snacks on tables nearby.
Shit!
The problem wasn’t that he couldn’t find the ‘snack table near the back patio’, it was that there were fifty snack tables near the back patio!
“I am near the back patio.” Simon texted. “Where are you? Which snack table?”
“Behind you.” Clark texted back.
Simon whirled and finally spotted Clark.
On the far side of the room, Simon saw someone by the window with a devil mask talking to a guy who had apparently gone for a bull ring. Off to the Devil mask’s right was Clark! Relief washed through Simon. Clark was talking up someone wearing a lion mane. Besides Clark, someone was wearing a crisp black suit, a snow leopard mask, and… an ear piece?
Huh, was that guy security for the party? Made sense. But he seemed to be very interested in Clark.
Simon felt his lips curl into a smirk.
Heh, maybe Clark was going to be the one getting laid tonight. Good for him, though the Snow Leopard seemed a little scrawny for Clark’s tastes. Clark was into big, brawny dudes. Back when they went to college, he would have to wear headphones to drown out Clark’s girlish moans when some guy or another plowed him.
Clark paused and turned, waving Simon over.
Simon nodded at the lion masked man, who, incidentally was actually not his type. The suit the bulky lion was wearing was bulging in the wrong places. It was clear he was wearing a girdle in an attempt to look more muscular and fit.
The costume the man was wearing was nice though, recalling the garb in Arabian nights: a flowing midnight-blue cloak was draped over his shoulders and flowed to the floor, embroidered with silver threads. The design evoked the constellations. His Arabic clothing-what little of the garments Simon could see under the cloak-appeared to be made of pure silk.
Dude was rich. Maybe that was why Clark was hanging out with him. It was strange, because Simon never pegged Clark as a gold digger.
When Simon checked the lion man’s face, he could tell the guy was jowly and older, maybe... in his fifties or sixties. The tawny mane that framed his round face barely concealed the man’s doublechin.
“Simon, meet Babar Azmaray, adventurer and explorer.” Clark smiled.
“A pleasure.” Babar said in a really terrible British accent. “I’m also the son of a wealthy sheikh. Trained in both statesmanship and combat. I went to Oxford, of course, and while I winter at my family palace in Saudi Arabia, I own houses all over the world.”
“You’re Arabic?” Simon asked in disbelief, seeing the man’s very pale-skinned cheek.
“It’s my character,” Babar winked at Simon, his voice a low whisper. “A *very* dashing rogue and enthusiastic lover, as your regal friend here shall soon find out.”
Clark colored under his mask and cleared his throat. “He doesn’t know about the rules. First timer.”
“Ah!” Babar grinned. “My mistake. I shall not spoil it for him, then! The first time is the most exciting!”
“First time for what? What’s going on?”
The two men exchanged knowing glances.
“Nothing to worry about. It’s temporary, so don’t freak out when it happens.”
“When what happens?” Simon asked.
“Chesh…” Babar said warning. “Don’t spoil it… “
“I’m not!” Clark protested, “but I do need to know what your character is so we can give you… suggestions.”
“Do we need to?” Babar asked.
“Yes. Do you recall the man who dressed as a toilet?” Clark shot back.
Babar winced. “Touche. What is your character, sir?”
“Uh…” Simon hesitated.
These guys were taking this character thing weirdly seriously.
“Hurry up. The last guest is running late, but when he arrives, the party really starts.” Clark said, making a ‘get on with it’ motion with his hands.
“Is there going to be an orgy?” Simon narrowed his eyes.
“What? No!” Clark said, appalled.
“A shame.” Babar murmured, sipping his punch.
“Why would you even think that?” Clark asked, elbowing the lion-masked man in his paunch.
“Rich. Secret party…” Simon said. “Come on, is this a sex thing or something?”
“It… yes, Babar, I know, no spoiling, don’t give me that look.” Clark snarled at Babar before turning his attention back to Simon. “Look, what are you going as?”
“I was going as Billy Gruff.” Simon replied. “He’s, uh… an intellectual with a very important job.”
“What job?” Babar prompted.
“... Lawyer?”
“You can do better.” Babar said, taking a sip from his punch.
“Babar! This is his character, not yours, butt out!” Clark hissed.
“And he’s, uh,” Simon gestured at the prominent bulge in his crotch.
“Well hung,” Babar grinned. “Yes, that’s it, my boy! Good… good…”
“Babar!” Clark looked mortified. “If you had said that after the last guest arrives.”
“What?”
“You said ‘my boy’.”
“British colloqualism.” Babar protested.
“I thought you were a shiekh.” Simon said.
“Sheikhs often go to Western nations for their education.” Clark explained.
“Fine. I’m a well-hung lawyer named Billy Gruff who lives in a luxury apartment.” Simon said. “Are we good?”
“Just be careful with what you say and the actions you take over the next few hours. Stay in character. If you don’t, things can get weird.”
“What? The character police will take me away?” Simon scoffed.
“No, you’ll-” Clark was cut off when a bell rang.
Everyone in the room glanced up at the same time.
Mister E strode purposefully into the room. His featureless porcelain mask gleamed as the last rays of the setting sun struck it. Their mysterious host took up a position on a podium next to the banquet table.
“The final guest has arrived.” Mister E announced, speaking into the microphone. “For guests who have returned: Welcome back! To those who are here for the first time: Welcome! There are prizes and raffles happening every hour, so please, participate! Meet people! And most importantly: Stay in character! Voting for best character starts in two hours. You can find the box next to the banquet table in the living room. Simply fill out the character’s name. If you don’t know their name, then they weren’t memorable! The winner will be announced at Midnight. Any questions?”
The room was dead silent.
Honestly, Simon had more than a few questions. Unfortunately, it was pretty clear that despite Mister E’s words, this wasn’t the time to ask them. After a few moments, Mister E spoke again.
“No questions? Then let the masquerade… Begin!”