Billy slowly made his way through the mansion, searching for the billiard room. Concentrating on finding the bar there was a good task to keep his mind off the heavy ache between his legs.
A sharp clacking sound made his ears perk up. That was the sound of two balls hitting each other if he'd ever heard it.
Billy winced and grunted. That was clearly the wrong metaphor to use. With his next step, he reached his leg out a little wider than his usual gait and surreptitiously shifted his jockstrap to more comfortably hang between his thighs.
"My, my," came a husky voice from his left. "Only a goat could pack that kind of a load this early in the party."
Billy stopped and turned, giving the stranger an annoyed frown. The last thing he wanted was someone keeping him from getting milked-- getting buzzed so he could enjoy the party with fewer anxieties flittering about in his head.
The offender was a tall, wide-shouldered man in his thirties, wearing a rust-brown three-piece suit with French cuffs and spats. His choice of mask was a red fox, and the mask itself was quite detailed. It had realistic fur and whiskers, and reached around the head where the large pointed ears were attached. The bangs of his short, scruffy brown hair hid the mask's top edge, but he could make out the bottom edge, which seemed partially blended into his cheeks similar to Billy's own prosthetics.
The masquerading goat was so distracted by his predicament down below that he blurted out what was on his mind. "That's a really impressive mask."
The fox visibly recoiled a little. Billy almost thought he saw a set of sharp teeth behind his dark lips. "I'm not wearing a mask. Nobody here is. This is my face." He spoke with strong impatience. Billy felt his spine wilt. He'd broken a rule.
Billy dipped his head in a reconciliatory way, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "Deepest apologies. Sir. I've mistaken you for someone else."
The gesture seemed to work, as the stranger leaned back into the swagger he had a moment ago. This time, there was more of a sly grin on his muzzle. How appropriate.
"You're not as smart as you look, eh?" he said with a knowing wink.
Billy wasn't sure how to answer that. He was going for wise old goat, but he wasn't actually a Harvard-educated lawyer. Who was this guy actually addressing, Billy or Simon?
The rules. Gotta follow the rules. Stay in character. Billy cleared his throat to adopt the most respectable tone he could muster. "Dear sir, you are speaking with a graduate of Harvard and a highly experienced lawyer."
The fox raised and tilted his head in a way that made Billy want to headbutt him with his fake horns. "Oh, a Bostoner! I suppose with that attitude, you fancy yourself one of those Boston Brahmins with the accent and everything. Although you clearly have let yourself slide on the dress and grooming code."
Brahmins? What was this guy talking about? "If you say so. I was born and raised in Boston, after all." He cleared his throat again. Some of his syllables weren't coming out right, particularly the O's. "My name's Billy Gruff."
The fox-man's large ears swiveled toward Billy as he spoke. It almost made Billy stutter in surprise. Even with all of the detail these people poured into their costumes, he hadn't considered animatronics. Maybe the fox was right about him not being so smart.
Suddenly the man thrust a hand toward him, to shake. His fingernails were oddly long. "Clint Strongwood. Pleased to meet a fellow New Englander."
Billy paused for a moment, wondering if shaking the fox's hand would seal some shady deal. He carefully grasped hands and shook, looking him in his bright blue eyes. They were sharp as knives, but attractive. Danger was seductive, after all. And he needed his balls drained pretty badly.
Grunting as he pulled his hand back, he nodded up to Clint and spoke back in a vaguely Boston accent. "Good to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I was on my way to the... to find someone." He turned and started walking away, stroking his goatee in irritation. It felt like there was more of it.
He heard Clint call out "Enjoy the party. I'm sure we'll meet up later." Not giving him the satisfaction of a parting glance, the heavily hung and somewhat shaggy-looking goat-man strutted down the hall.