Twelve Months

“So, we have to pretend we have never met?” Sara asked confused by the request on the invitation to Lincoln’s Halloween party. She sat with her legs tucked under herself on the large cushioned chocolate brown corner group couch that sat in the middle of their lounge.

“It’s like a masquerade ball,” Michael told her, shaking his head sideways as he emerged from their bedroom in only a towel. His upper body was covered in clear, warm droplets of water and steam evaporated from his skin. Sara shot him a look over the back of the couch and Michael smiled back at her with a laugh. “Ok, so Lincoln is far from masquerade status,” he admitted leaning onto the back of the absorbent couch cushions and locking his fingers together.

Sara snorted a teasing laugh. “He’s a slob,” she said bluntly with a grin as he rested his face next to hers. “And balls are supposed to have finely matured alcoholic drinks, which I can’t drink by the way,” she said with a hint of sarcasm towards Michael.

“Hey,” he retorted with a raised eyebrow. “We both contributed to the making of this child,” he smiled moving his hand to rest lightly over her still flat stomach. At three months Sara was neither showing, nor feeling pregnant. She had no morning sickness or daytime nausea and functioned as well as she did before, if not better in her hectic day job as an ER doctor.

Sara’s eyes darted between the invitation in her hands and Michael’s manly fingers as they danced around each other beside her face. “I can’t believe I can’t drink,” she huffed with a pout when she saw the clipart cocktail glass with a blue hued beverage inside it in the top corner on the invitation card.

Michael leant in closer to her and his hot breath on her skin made the hair on her neck prickle with excitement. “Mind blowing contributions I might add,” he whispered passionately unable to hide the wide grin that spread across his features as he ignored her angry remark. Sara’s hand snaked up behind his head and pulled it to her. His skin was still wet from his shower and it stuck to hers like natural glue while he tenderly kissed at her jaw line. “And besides,” he panted through kisses, “Lincoln’s idea of “finely matured alcoholic drinks” are beers he has had in his fridge for over a week”.

Sara giggled in the back of her throat, turned her head and presses her lips to Michael’s. He smelt like shower gel, the fruity scent invading her nostrils as her smiled against her sweet kissable lips. Sara pulled away and her eyes met Michael’s blue green orbs, the corners creased up as he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Lincoln keeps beer that long?” she joked and Michael left the back of the couch with a hearty laugh. Sara chuckled to herself as he padded down the warm wooden flooring and into their carpeted bedroom.

“We have to wear masks?” Sara shouted over her shoulder as she flipped over the pristinely white card in her hands and read the small print. Lincoln had really gone all out on this party, as he seemed to every year and had every year since his exoneration. Sara couldn’t help but think he was compensating, making the most of life in case he should ever be framed again.

“It will be fun,” Michael called back, his voice bouncing off the creamy coffee coloured walls of the hallway. Sara’s face twisted in her reluctance to believe him. She was a creature of habit and change didn’t suit her too well. For her, Halloween meant dressing up, apple bobbing and candy by the truckload. An old fashioned ball, accompanied with being the only sober person at the party made Sara feel a little apprehensive.

When they arrived at the party, it was already alive. Lincoln had traded the violin and string orchestra for a live band and there were no waiters. Drinks, as expected, were served in blue and red disposable plastic cups like a college party. Sara smiled to herself as she trudged through the party in her costume, her arm looped through Michael’s.

Her costume was heavy and the shiny material scuffed against itself as she walked through the first floor studio apartment. The dress was a deep ruby red with black lace decoration and the body piece fitted like a corset, constricting her breathing and creating an appetising cleavage with her swollen breasts. Her hair was wrapped into a tight bun on the back on her head with two lengths left free and curled into ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders. Her mask was not yet on and she held it tightly in her hands. It was a black cast of half a face that had red feathers peaking from its top like a cockerel crest.

Michael had hired his costume with Sara’s so that they matched. It was a modified black tuxedo with a white shirt that had two buttons open. Around the cuffs of his jacket was a thick rim of ruby red lace that intermingled some golden jewels, which sparkled in the lighting. The same lacy decorations pinstriped down each leg of his pants and he finished it off with some polished black shoes. His mask was similar to Sara’s but white and lacked the flamboyant feathering, covering only half of his face like the Phantom of the opera. For theatrical effect Michael had bought some coloured contact lenses and his eyes glowed a feral yellow colour.

A few people greeted them with handshakes and happy smiles while they pushed through the crowd to find the host. Lincoln’s apartment was big, much bigger than Michael and Sara’s. It seemed compensation for almost losing your life for a crime you didn’t commit was in the hundred’s of thousands of dollars. Lincoln shared his apartment with his son LJ but it was hard to distinguish between who owned what with their maturities being so close.

Finally, after navigating the crowds of people Sara doubted even knew Lincoln, they spotted him. With a beer in his hand he was laughing with a couple of his friends next to the punch bowl. His costume was severely cliché, consisting of a royal blue jacket made of velvet that buttoned with big shiny brass buttons and displayed golden embroidery around the cuffs. His shirt was white with huge neck ruffles, the material folded several times down his chest and frilly shirt cuffs hanging down at least a foot from his wrists. Sara looked at Michael whose chest jolted with a laugh he tried to hide as he reached out at tapped his brother on the shoulder.

Lincoln spun around, his face instantly widening into a tooth grin as he grappled Michael into a bear hug. “Bro!” he exclaimed loudly and Michael patted him on the shoulders hard. Pulling back from Michael he focused on Sara, his eyes roaming her entire body as she stood in her costume. Lincoln was a flirt, pure and simple and he always said what he was thinking, however crude. “Holy hell!” he cried with wide eyes that were fixated on Sara’s breasts.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she smiled and gripped Michael’s arm possessively, leaning into it to hide.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “Please do. You look…” he paused, titling his head slightly as he thought of the words. “Did you have surgery?” he prodded, unable to shake the notion of Sara’s breasts from his mind. Michael cleared his throat and Lincoln’s head snapped up to meet his brother’s warning stare. “I’m sorry Sara, that was rude,” he said and winked at his brother’s scowl. “Let me get you two a drink,” he offered, stepping backwards to the table behind him.

“No thanks,” she gestured with a flat palm when Lincoln shoved an open bottle into Michael’s hand and tried to do the same to her. “I’m not drinking tonight,” she beamed a secretive smile at Michael. Michael took a swig of his beer and his mouth twitched as he held in his elation. Lincoln’s eye’s narrowed at them both and he withdrew his beer-laden hand slowly.

“Why?” he asked eagerly. “Post operative orders?” he winked with a crooked smile and then pretending he had breasts, he proceeded to knead the air in front of his chest playfully. Michael laughed out loud at his brother’s antics, which warranted him a light slap on his arm from Sara.

“Sara didn’t have surgery,” Michael stated, never taking his eyes from her perfectly crafted face as he wound his arm around her life-baring waist. Lincoln watched them intently, unable to decipher the messages they conveyed with a series of eye flickers and smiles. Sara leant into Michael’s embrace and gave him a small nod. He turned to Lincoln and sucked in a large breath of air, his body buzzing with exhilaration. “We’re having a baby,” he chimed proudly to his brother.

Lincoln’s face erupted in the biggest open mouth smile Sara had ever seen and he grabbed them both for a gentle hug of congratulations. Sara felt crushed between the two men, who were more excited about the new life growing inside of her than she was. Lincoln pulled away from them and exhaled hard, desperately sucking in air again as his heart pumped more blood to his overworked lungs. “I’m going to be an uncle!” he chanted to a passer by who gave him a fearful smile.

“We’re glad we could help,” Michael teased his older brother taking another swig of beer. Lincoln’s gaze whipped back to them and he closed his eyes and shook his head, silently punching himself in his mind.

“I’m sorry guys,” he said. “I’m so selfish. Congratulations,” he said with worth and leant forward to kiss Sara on the cheek. She pouted her lips against his rough, stubbly face and thanked him with a pleased smile. Lincoln shook Michael’s hand and they toasted the new life with a clink of their beer bottles.

The rules of the party were simple. You were not allowed to talk with your partner unless you disregarded everything you had ever learnt about them, and you were to fabricate a new life for yourself, purely for the amusement of the evening. Plus, as Lincoln had stated, it gave you something to talk about in the morning. Sara fingered her cup of water absently as she walked the inside of the expansive apartment, smiling at people she didn’t know from behind her mask.

“Good Evening,” a thick, velvety voice chimed from behind her. Sara turned quickly, her uncomfortably high-heeled footwear flattening the carpet they stood on. “I saw you from across the room and couldn’t help but notice how radiant you look tonight,” the masked man commented with a smirk. Sara’s flushed pink into her cheeks and softened her posture.

“I’m pregnant,” she admitted with a beaming smile that she tried to keep straight upon her face. “My partner and I are to be parents,” she told him with mock aristocracy. One of his eyebrows wiggled upwards above his yellowy eye and he took her hand in his. Bringing it to his lips he planted a soft kiss to her delicate skin and brushed a thumb over her knuckles.

“That’s wonderful news,” he told her, leading her away from where they stood and shooting a quick glance over her shoulder before pulling her into a small room. It was dark, the door closed out the sounds of the party and Sara heard the door lock slide into its place in the doorframe. Her body came to life with expectation as Michael turned in the darkness and took her face in his hands, brought her lips to his and kissed her.

Sara dropped her cup of water with a giggle and arched herself into Michael as her lips parted and granted his tongue entry. Michael’s head dipped up and down as he tasted her on each forceful thrust of his tongue. Sara gripped at the back on his head, pulling him closer to her as she devoured his mouth hungrily and Michael reached up to pull the colourful mask from her face. The elastic pinged against his fingers with a sting that he ignored and discarded the mask to the floor.

Michael pushed his chest against Sara’s, edging her backwards into the room until the back of her knees bumped into a bed. She unexpectedly wrenched her lips from Michael’s as she toppled onto the springy obstruction with a giggle. Michael’s knees sank into the luxurious bed sheets as he climbed over her body hurriedly, silencing her laughing with a sweet kiss.

“Do you even know whose bed this is?” Sara asked him with a smirk when he pulled his lips from her own. Michael shot a glance around the room humorously but could see nothing in the darkness. Sara busily unbuttoned his shirt some more and moved her mouth to taste his inky skin with her tongue.

Michael’s heart raced as she trailed wet kisses in between lick on his bare chest, clutching at the bed sheets beside Sara’s head. “I don’t care,” he growled as he sat back on his knees and yanked his jacket from his shoulders. Sara followed him, her mouth never leaving his chest where she playfully sucked on one of his nipples. Michael moved to unzip her dress and the material rubbed together as it was discarded over her head, her inflated bosom bouncing into view.

“What if it’s Lincoln’s?” she joshed between kisses as her hands moved to unbutton Michael’s pants. Michael’s hands roamed her body leaving tiny sparks of electricity surging through her veins with every touch. His hands found her panties and he tugged on them, ripping them down her legs and throwing them onto her dress.

Michael pulled her face from his chest and gave her a wicked grin. Sara licked her lips with anticipation and dived for his mouth, pulling him backwards with her when she fell onto the bed. Neither cared whose bed it was as hormones raged their bodies. Michael’s entire body shivered as he reached into his boxers and freed his engorged member and held his breath as he positioned it at Sara’s soaking opening.

The muscles inside Sara ached for attention and yearned for the fast paced friction of their lovemaking. They both panted hard and fast as they stared into each other’s eyes lovingly. Michael’s eyes were primal, even without the yellow contacts and Sara’s were clouded with half sated passion. Michael braced a hand next to Sara’s head and angled his hips upwards, watching her face as he invaded her core.

Sara’s eyes pinched closed, her breath hitching as Michael slid home treacherously slowly. Her mouth hung open and he slid his hand to cup her cheek when he invaded it with his hot tongue. Michael quickened the pace, the fear of getting caught sending erotic signals to his brain. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth and silenced her moans as he thrust deeper and quicker into her relentlessly.

Sara has little time to react as Michael raced to bring her to her orgasm. Sara’s body tingled with a mixture of trepidation and pleasure as they ground against each other on someone else’s bed. Her breasts jiggled against Michael’s chest with painful delight and she gasped into his mouth, her voice climbing higher with every thrust.

Michael reached a hand down between them and pressed against her nub, the bundle of nerves twitching and constricting the muscles inside of her. Her head slammed into the mattress as she came, calling Michael’s name against his lips as her hands dug into the artistic skin on his shoulder. They were invisible in the darkness, Sara’s body enveloped by Michael’s, and he rode her release greedily, his own striking him blind a few seconds later.

Sara held Michael’s face to her chest as he returned from his ecstasy with snagging breaths. He began to giggle against her skin when his hand smoothed over the bed sheets above them and made contact with a familiar shaped furry object. “What is it?” Sara smiled under his rattling weight.

“It’s Lincoln’s bed,” he confirmed with a chuckle, the teddy bear in his hand unimpressed with their display, it’s unchanged features etched onto Michael’s mind from his childhood.