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“Sorry, kiddo, but there’s a ‘no kids allowed’ rule at this party,” said my dad shaking his head, almost managing to look like he was truly upset on my behalf. “Not my rule, it’s Jim and Gina’s, it’s an adults only kind of thing.”

“I see,” I replied, raising an eyebrow slightly and crossing my under over my breasts. “And the fact that I am 19 now means what, exactly? When do I get to lose this ‘kid’ status?”

My dad smiled at me. He was a tall, broad, good looking guy. Perhaps there was a bit too much grey in his hair, perhaps he didn’t exactly sport the Adonis body type, but when he smiled it lit up his whole face, the whole room, and it made you feel wanted and loved. As he got older he developed a few more lines around his big brown eyes, but these were just the well-worn grooves made from flashing his trademark easy goofy grin at everyone and everything. Everyone loved my dad, and so did I, even though it was not exactly cool for a 19 year old girl to still love her father. He was just such a big, kind teddy bear who always made me feel the most important person in the world.

“When you turn 60, have grand-kids, use a walker to move around and put your teeth in the glass next to your bed. Then maybe, and I mean MAYBE, I may just stop thinking of you as my little girl in pink dresses and pigtails. Besides, this is just going to be a stuffy group of stuffy old people talking about stuffy old people stuff. Hell, I probably wouldn’t go, if your mom wasn’t insisting.”

Across the room, my mom snorted. “Dear, it’s been all you’ve been talking about for weeks. These are mostly your friends, so please don’t make me the ogre in your little fantasies, please.” My mom was completely the opposite of my dad. We got on by mostly avoiding each other. While I have inherited my dad’s quick sense of humour and optimistic view on life, I inherited my looks from my mom. We had similar black, thick hair, although I usually cut mine short compared to her long glossy mane, framing our heart-shaped, pale, flawless faces. Our eyes were both hazel, with mine perhaps having a few more flecks of green in them. Our bodies too were very similar, taking from all the women from her side of the family being busty with wide hips, with a thin waist. My breasts were a little larger than hers, reaching more towards the D-cup, while hers is upper-C. While we look the same, she has a cold, clinical take on the world. She usually only smiles when she is going in for the kill, about to make the killer point in an argument, or needing to put on a happy calming face to lull you into a false sense of security. No surprise that she’s a lawyer and a pretty ruthless one by all accounts. She treats my dad like a big child, and I think he likes someone who can bring a little order to his otherwise chaotic life.

My dad reacted to his wife’s accusation by looking overly hurt. “My dear lady, you wound me with your libellous comments! I am sure that it was you that insisted on going to this party, not poor defenceless self!”

Mom sniffed and looked back to the papers she had been reading. “It’s only libel if it is written. It was more like slander. Never mind, we’ll just stay at home then, if the thought of attending offends you too much.”

“Now, now, let’s not be too hasty,” said my dad, raising his hands defensively. “We’ve already bought our costumes, and it would be a shame to waste them. Especially yours!” He stepped in and kissed her on the head, then looked up at me waggling his eyebrows. I wondered what costume she was going to wear, to cause this reaction? Mom just muttered, “M’hmm,” and kept reading.

“Nice try dad, but you have been raving over this party for weeks now. It is certainly going to be your scene, so don’t you try to hide behind mom.”

“Et tu, Brute?” said dad, with a grin. “Anyways, we will have some dinner there, so feel free to fix yourself whatever. We won’t need a lift, we’ll walk home when we are done, as it’s only a few blocks. Don’t stay up late, otherwise you might see your mother a little worse for wear due to…” He made a drinking motion with one hand.

“Out,” said mom, pointing to the door. I need to go over this work for Monday, and if I’m to go to this party tonight I will need to work now in some peace and quiet. Out!”

“C’mon, kiddo. We know when we’re not wanted. Let’s eat some ice cream for lunch.”

“And no ice cream!” shot mom from the room as we left. We grinned to each other and headed out. My dad was a dork, but he was my dork.

The afternoon wore on, and drifted slowly into evening. We even managed to sneak some ice cream when mom was still working. Dad finally ducked off to the bedroom to change into his costume. Mom kept at her work, occasionally rubbing at her temples.

“You okay, mom? You look tired.”

“I am tired. This whole case is a legal bird’s nest, all mixed up all over the place. It falls smack-bang between a few different laws, without actually hitting any directly. It’s going to be a tough fight. And it is giving me a pretty bad headache.”

“You are still going to the gorukle escort party, though, right? I mean, it would kill dad if you couldn’t go.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll still go to his silly party.”

Dad chose that moment to come in, dressed in his costume. He was a jester, all black-and white with bells on his hat, pom-poms down his front and a sad-face mask covering his face. The costume looked detailed, and quite fantastic.

“Nice, dad! Although why did you go with a sad face? I thought a happy face would be your thing.”

“Indeed it would,” he said, removing his mask, putting it in a hidden pocket, then pulling out another to take its place. This one had a broad grin on it.

“Nice! So you can swap them all night and keep people guessing!”

“That’s the plan!” I just knew his real face was grinning widely under the mask’s frozen smile as he postured grandly.

“Well, I am going to be a little longer here, so we may end up a bit late. I should be about an hour,” said my mom. Dad took off his mask, his face stony as he replaced the sad-face. “Don’t you look at me like that,” mom shot at the mask, “I said I would be there and I will. Why don’t you head over there early and get things started, I’ll be in later.”

Dad whipped off his mask, he was grinning again, and kissed mom on the cheek. “Okay, if that’s what you want. I’ll see you soon there, okay?” And with that he cavorted madly out of the house. I couldn’t believe he was walking to the party like that.

I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich for an early dinner. I couldn’t be bothered making a complex meal for just myself. I ate, cleared up, and then went in to remind mom about the party and ask if she was hungry. She wasn’t behind her desk, the papers were scattered across its surface in piles that probably meant something to mom. The phone rang, and I answered it.

“Hi, kiddo, it’s the courtly jester himself here. Has your mom left yet?”

“I don’t think so; I think she’s just getting dressed.” I walked down the hall and nudged open her bedroom door. Mom was sprawled out on the bed, still dressed, one arm draped over her eyes. “Uh, hang on, dad.” I stepped up to her lightly, covering the mouthpiece of the phone to make sure dad couldn’t hear, and I nudged mom, shaking her slightly, calling out to her. There was no response. And then I saw the bottle of pills beside the bed. It was open, the protective cotton wool out, and a mostly drunk glass of water was next to it. Mom was floating on the Valium clouds, again. There was no way that she’d be able to wake up enough to go to the party now. Hell, she probably wouldn’t wake up if someone was chopping off her leg with a blunt saw. Dad was going to be disappointed as hell, he was really looking forward to mom and him going to this do together, and now she was going to break his heart. And typically she left me to break the news. “Uh, dad?” I bit my lip, wondering what to say.

“Yeah, kiddo, still here. Is the lovely lass I married going to be here soon? The party is really livening up, I would love her here warming my side!”

I glanced around the room, not knowing where to begin. Then my eyes alighted onto mom’s costume. It was black, and shiny, and by the looks of the mask on the hook above it, it was a Catwoman’s outfit. I suddenly had an inspiration.

“Sure dad, she’s just getting dressed now. She should be ready pretty soon I think, and then I’ll hustle her over straight away!”

“Thanks, kiddo. Remember, no wild parties for you tonight! Maybe a semi-wild one would be okay, though… but remember to keep at least one piece of clothing on at all times.” And with that he was gone.

So tonight, I was going to go in two costumes. The first would be as Catwoman, and the second as mom! I bit my lip. I could do this. I would just pretend to be her, right up until midnight, when we threw off our masks, wouldn’t dad be surprised! I could do it!

I ran my fingers along the costume. There didn’t seem to be enough to cover all of me… ah well. I would find out soon. I took the clothes to my room, as I felt weird undressing in front of my unconscious mom. I stripped off, and pulled on the costume. There was a top that left a good deal of my stomach exposed, and a pair of pants that clung to me like a second skin. It was tight, and it was sexy, although I could easily see my bra and panty-line through the tight, black shiny material. I sighed, took off the costume, then my underwear, and replaced the costume. The top was so tight that you could easily see the outlines of my nipples through the material. It was meant for my mom’s slightly smaller chest. I hoped no one would notice them being slightly larger than those designed to be contained within these black, tight confines. The pants meant you could easily see the lines of my ass, and unfortunately you could see a slight uneven bump where my pubic hairs were. I have no idea how mom planned to combat this, probably with a thong I assumed. I briefly considered going through her underwear draw to see, but the thought altıparmak eskort bayan of wearing mom’s thong was too icky, so rejected the idea. I almost gave up then and there, but the thought of my dad disappointed by mom after I told him everything would be fine flashed through my mind.

Then I had an idea. A naughty idea, which I had to carry out quickly, before I lost my nerve. I stripped off again, and ducked into the bathroom. I grabbed a pair of scissors, took a deep breath, then went to town on my admittedly bushy pubic region. When I had felled the forest into mere stubble, I grabbed my shaving cream and razor I had just used on my legs this morning, and rubbed the cream over the stiff stubble in. It felt nice as my fingers brushed over my mound, I hadn’t been touched there for about 6 months by anyone else, not since my last boyfriend, whom I lost my virginity to, dumped me for being too demanding. Most of that was to do with sex — he couldn’t keep up with me. I must admit I had become a bit of an animal for a while there, jumping him at every opportunity. He became stressed at having to perform so often and ran off to find someone with a normal sexual appetite. Since then I just hadn’t found anyone else.

I snapped myself out of my thoughts, and began to run the razor over my mound in short, even strokes. It was hard to see down there, over my boobs, and I had to flatten them with the other hand, one leg bent awkwardly as I tried to see what I was doing. Soon I was hair-free, for the first time since puberty. I ran my hand over my smooth skin, and shuddered at the feeling. I now knew why some women do this, the sensitivity was amazing. If I had more time I would have tried it out with my buzzing pink friend resting in the draw by my bed, but dad was waiting. I pulled on the costume and stared at myself in the mirror. I knew guys stared at my body, most of them were none too subtle about it, but in this expertly crafted costume accentuated all of my already curvaceous body in a way that made me shiver. Could I pass for mom, though?

The answer was no because of my damned hair. Mom had long black hair, and mine was short. The mask would cover most of it, but the lack of hair peeking out the bottom would be suspicious. I bit my lip and thought, finally having a stroke of genius. A couple of years ago my mom burned her hair, leaning over a birthday cake, blowing out the candles. It was pretty bad; while she wasn’t hurt her hair was a mess. Now, mom was too vain to have it cut really short, so for a month or so she wore a wig, until it had grown back enough to be shown in public again. The wig was expensive, matched her current hair perfectly, and was now lying forgotten in her closet. I ran in, grabbed it, checked that mom was still dead to the world, then paused, noticing a pair of thigh-high black shoes in the corner, with some killer heels. Obviously this was part of the costume, as was the riding crop, and gloves with sharp-looking talons lying next to them. I had never thought of mom dressing this risqué before! I grabbed them and dashed back to my room, pulling them on, praying they would fit. And fit they did, like they were made for me. I took a few trial steps around the room, these heels were a little higher than I was used to but I could handle them.

I caught a look at myself in the mirror and saw a sexy strange woman there who I didn’t recognise. The heels made her look tall, her ass stick out, her boobs lift up. The mask hid most of her head, except for her chin and lips. She was shiny, sexy, and all but nude. Just wearing this costume made me feel like sex on legs, and I began to feel the familiar tingle of my horniness begin to switch on. I tried to dismiss it, as I was just going to see dad and his cronies at a party, but I looked and felt amazing. I ran the riding crop along my ass and thigh, relishing the naughty look of it all. I quickly touched up the costume by applying some red lipstick, and some dark eyeliner and I was ready to go. To the party. Three blocks away.

Was I really going to walk to the party dressed like this, looking almost naked? Hell, was I ready to walk around a party looking like this, leaving nothing to the imagination of the dirty old men there? Why the hell did I think I could do this?

The phone rang again, startling me. I pounced on it, fumbled it and answered it, a little flustered and feeling slightly shameful at what I was answering it in, for some stupid reason.

It was dad again. “Just after an update about your mom. Still coming?”

I took a breath. I pictured dad devastated by mom not turning up, then pictured him delighted at the joke I would pull on him when I removed my mask at the stroke of midnight. I could do it, for him. After all, he has done so much for me in the past.

“Sure dad, she took ages getting ready. You know her. She just left, and should be there soon.”

“Excellent! I haven’t seen her in her costume yet, and I can’t wait to see it! Rrrrrrowl!”

“Dad. Your daughter here. Gross.” If nilüfer eskort bayan only he knew, I thought, arms covering my chest protectively.

“Anywho, catch you on the flipside!”

“Night dad.” Well, there was no getting out of it now! I strutted over to the booze cupboard, and poured myself three shots of vodka, shooting them one after the other. If I was going to do this, I needed some liquid courage. I walked to the door. I gripped the handle. I took a deep breath. I grabbed mom’s handbag to hold my keys, lipstick and wallet. I opened the door and stepped out into the world looking like sex on legs. I waited a couple of minutes to make sure there would be no screams or accusations of indecency, but there was nothing but the evening birds, preparing to sleep. I could do this!

I walked partway down the road, stopped, rushed back and grabbed the riding crop. So much for a dramatic exit!

I clicked my way along the footpath, my heels loud on the concrete. My wig itched slightly, and my mask felt odd covering my head, but that was not the worst of it. Every step had the skin-tight pants sliding back and forth over my unprotected pussy, which felt strange and wrong now that it was freshly shaved. At first it was uncomfortable, but soon, with the liquor beginning to course through my head, it began to feel nice. Really nice. A car honked going past, and a couple of young guys waved enthusiastically, flipping me the thumbs up. I just smiled and kept walking. I felt sexy, and soon I began to also feel aroused. When I got to this party I decided I should probably spend most of it sitting down, so I wouldn’t ruin the material between the legs with the moisture I could already feel building within me. I felt my skin prickling with goosebumps under the thin material, for more reasons than the cold air on this autumn day.

Finally I made my way to the house, a couple of sad balloons handing out the front as a form of invitation to come inside. I sighed, hoping tonight wouldn’t be boring. I walked up to the door, and opened it, and was immediately awash with a party in full swing. The music was pumping, although it was a little out-dated, and the lights were dimmed. People were crowded in, drinking, dancing, chatting, moving as a mass of kaleidoscopic bodies. There were even a couple of people on the couch making out, not what I expected from a parents’ party at all! The air was abuzz with laughter and merrymaking, the party had a great feel to it, not unlike those thrown by people my own age. I ducked between animals, princesses, pirates and ghosts, all in varying quality of costume. I had to admit, some of them looked great, showing off some older bodies that had held up pretty well. I saw some sexy nurses, a muscular Tarzan, a dominatrix in a top-hat. I was getting some pretty damn appreciative glances, but at least I didn’t feel too over-dressed.

My alcohol-fuelled buzz was in full-flight now, and it gave me to the confidence to walk about looking sexy and confident. I remembered that I was supposed to be mom, so I strode about like I owned the place, and damn anyone who got in my way. I exchanged simple pleasantries, I wasn’t sure who most people were in their masks, but I talked, keeping it brief as I stalked from room to room, past fancifully dressed bodies, enquiring about the jester. I felt a few people rub up against me, and I felt more than one hand brush over my tight ass, and I suspect that at least one of those times it was a woman. Soon I was directed to the kitchen, which was slightly better lit. I was met by the scene of my father, the jester, making punch while regaling a rapt audience about an accident he had last winter, slipping on ice outside our house. He had made a complete fool of himself and was rushed to the hospital with a bruised coccyx, but he was such the master storyteller that everyone was laughing along with him, rather than at him.

Finally his eyes settled on me. He made a show of slowly looking me up and down, his eyes glittering, behind the sad face mask. He ducked into the pantry, fumbled about, then leapt out, hands out in a ‘ta-da’ kinda way, his mask now the smiling one. People clapped, and so did I, although lightly (I was meant to be my mother). He danced his way over to me and hugged me.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it!” he said.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” I replied, keeping my voice deliberately husky. Hopefully he would think I was trying to keep in character.

“Indeed you did!” he said, hugging me again, his hand for one awkward moment squeezing my ass. “So let the party begin!”

There were cheers and raised glasses. My dad realised I hadn’t got one, so he scrambled to grab me a glass of champagne. Now, normally I don’t drink champagne as it goes straight to my head, and I get a bit silly. But I was supposed to be mom, and she drinks champagne. I began sipping it, and found that I quite enjoyed it. For some reason it was soon empty, and was somehow refilled again. I hung on dad’s arm, pretending to be his wife. We chatted, joked and had a great time with the people around us. Dad occasionally shot me looks, which I took to be questioning under his mask whenever I was acting too nice. At one stage he pulled me into the corner and pushed his mask against my ear, saying over the music, “What’s gotten into you? You really seem to be letting yourself go! I like it.”

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