First time story: The Invitation – A Halloween Story by The_Technician. Gerry Maxwell is invited to a very special Halloween Party. If a strange man in a strange car hand-delivered an Halloween Party invitation to you, would you go? Gerry did. And this is what happened.
First time story: The Invitation – A Halloween Story
by The_Technician
Genres: Fantasy, First Time, Male/Female
This story only mildly erotic. It is much more of a romantic mind game concerning what might happen… could have happened… once should have happened… on that mysterious holiday we call Halloween.
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This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Gerry Maxwell carefully reached into the very back of his closet and lifted out the old, cloth garment bag which held his Halloween costume. It was nearly four o’clock and Halloween trick or treaters would soon be ringing his doorbell.
The formal attire and cape were now almost 90 years old. They had been a gift a decade ago from his 98-year-old great-grandfather when he was discarding things in preparation for going into a nursing home. His great-grandmother had died when Gerry was a young child. Gerry barely remembered her, but “Grandpa Gerald,” as he had always called his great-grandfather, was an integral part of his childhood.
The costume was an exact copy of the famous outfit worn by Bela Lugosi in the Broadway play– and later in the film– Dracula . In the right front pocket, in a small black cloth bag, was a set of very realistic fangs which clipped onto your teeth. Hanging over a special separate hanger under the shirt was the red sash which distinguished the Count as royalty.
“It was made for Raymond Huntley,” Grandpa Gerald had explained when he gave it to him. “He was supposed to wear it in the stage version of Dracula when it was brought to this country in 1927. But Raymond so disliked the play– and his part in the English cast– that he refused to come to America. So the producers cast Bela Lugosi as Dracula instead.”
As he handed the old-fashioned garment bag to his namesake, Grandpa Gerald said, “Bela wasn’t the same size as Raymond, so the costume was discarded.” After a short smile, he continued, “But Raymond was the same size as me, so the stage seamstress, my mother, your great-great-grandmother, brought it home for me to use as a costume.
“You could probably sell it for a lot of money,” he added with a shrug,“but it would please me very, very greatly if you held on to it at least until I pass away. There is quite a story related to that costume that I may tell you some day.”
Gerald had honored his great-grandfather’s wish and kept the costume. Surprisingly it was also exactly his size, so each year for the past several years, he would wear it as he passed out candy to the neighborhood children. And each year he would say with a sigh as the last child walked away, “Someday I will have children of my own… … if I ever meet that perfect girl of my dreams.”
It wasn’t that he was holding out for perfection. Actually he wasn’t holding out at all. But like so many young, brilliant, entrepreneurs, he was very nervous and bumbling around women and had never been able to develop a relationship past a few rudimentary first-date kisses. So he lived in his nice house all alone and spent his Halloween evenings making other people’s children happy by passing out candy dressed as Dracula.
The sun was just starting to dip over the horizon when the last of the super heros and goblins departed his doorstep. Gerry remembered his father telling him that there had once been a time when trick or treating was done after sunset, but the dangers of traffic– and the modern world– had transformed trick or treating into a before dark experience.
As the small witch and ghost– accompanied, of course by their ever-present parents– disappeared down the sidewalk, a maroon and gray Rolls Royce Silver Ghost glided to a stop in front of Gerry’s house.
That got his attention. He was an avid car buff, so he immediately recognized the magnificent antique machine. It was in superb condition and looked almost new. Gerry could not help himself and stepped out onto his stoop for a better view.
As he stood staring at the Rolls, which idled silently at the curb, a uniformed chauffeur got out of the front portion of the vehicle and walked up the sidewalk. “Master Gerald Maxwell?” he said as he stood at the base of the steps. It was more of a statement than a question, but Gerry nodded his head in response.
“This is for you,” the uniformed man said as he reached out and handed Gerry an envelope.
“I will await your answer in the car,” he added as he turned and walked stiffly back to the open front seat of the Silver Ghost.
The envelope was thick, ivory colored stock. It looked very old and very expensive. Gerry’s name was written in bold blue-black script on the front. He smiled at the fact that it said, “Gerald Maxwell, Esquire.”
He untucked the back flap and opened the envelope. Inside was a printed invitation. On the outside it said in very ornate printed script, “You are invited to an old-fashioned Halloween Masquerade party.” That explained the strange way it was addressed.
The invitation, like the envelope, looked old and expensive. It was high-quality ivory cardstock paper with hand-feathered edges. Gerry ran his fingers across the message on the front of the card. The printing was of a type that could not have been done on a color copy machine– or even at most print shops with modern print masters. The ink was raised slightly from the paper indicating a quality off-set press with special ink and engraved plates. It was almost impossible to find printers who could do that anymore. Today almost everything was computer printed or done with computer-generated flat-etched masters.
Inside the invitation, in the same glossy black raised ink, it gave the location of the party as “The Hargrove Mansion,” and the time as “Halloween, beginning at dark.”
Beneath the elaborate printing was a handwritten note in the same blue-black ink as on the envelope. It said, “It would please me very much if you would come to my party.”
It was signed, “Maddy.”
Gerry stood tapping the invitation against his hand for several seconds and then said aloud to himself, “Why the hell not? It’s probably a mistake and I will end up getting kicked out of the party when Maddy– whoever she is– discovers I’m the wrong person. But I don’t have anything else to do tonight, and I’m already dressed in an old-fashioned costume.”
Shutting off the porch and livingroom lights, he slipped the invitation into the front pocket of the jacket and walked out to the Sliver Ghost.
“Count me in,” he said to the driver.
In reply, the driver handed him what looked like a black, silk, handkerchief. “You will be needing this,” he said politely.
When Gerry looked confused, he explained, “Your costume doesn’t have a mask.”
“Oh,” Gerald said as he unfolded the silk to reveal a soft mask. He tied it in place around his face as the driver opened the rear door and indicated that he should enter.
He half-way expected there to be other people in the car, or at least that they would stop to pick up other guests. It had to have cost a lot of money to hire this extraordinary car and driver for the evening, so surely whoever was giving this party would not have done so just for him… or for whoever it was that the driver was actually supposed to be picking up.
The car, however, was empty when he got in, and the driver didn’t stop for anyone else as he drove across town and began the drive up the winding road to what the locals called “Snob Hill.”
In the grand old days of the city, many of the wealthy elite had luxurious mansions there. Today, the mansion grounds had mostly been sold off and the huge houses had almost all been subdivided into apartments. The one or two huge estates that were still intact were museums or– in one case– a cemetery with the mansion acting as the cemetery mausoleum.
The Silver Ghost rolled along almost silently, just as Frederick Henry Royce had intended it to do. Even the time worn and pot-holed street leading up Snob Hill felt smooth beneath the large wheels and superb suspension designed by Sir Frederick.
A man in an old-fashioned livery uniform opened the heavy iron gates at the entrance as the car glided silently up to it. He closed the gate behind them as they continued slowly on up to the mansion house.
As they approached the house, Gerry thought to himself that it looked very much like the picture that Grandpa Gerald kept in his room at the nursing home. Gerry had asked him about it once and he explained, “Your great-grandmother– God bless her soul– was once from a very rich family. But she lost everything in the crash of ‘29.”
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