Forecasters had been predicting rain since last night. “Trick or treaters need to incorporate an umbrella or rain gear into their costumes,” they said. The day had been in the 80’s without much humidity, but from the thunderheads that began building at four in the afternoon, it would get sticky later in the evening for the kids. It wasn’t long before a warm breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of rain.

At sunset, it turned hot and muggy like Chris Isaak singing Wicked Game; you could almost see the water vapor in the air. You could certainly feel it. Oppressive air pressing down on you from all around. From the open French door, Terry and I could see lightning one county over. That is not a typo. It is true. We are on the top of a hill, and the land beyond is so flat, you can see the sky one county beyond – 35 miles away. This storm is not producing enough electricity to light up the property like a real Texas thunder boomer, but we could see it at the horizon flashing cloud to ground – orange, heat lightning.

Just like the Thorne/Ellis household. Heat lightning. Terry had come home from a long trip, tired, grimy, and in need. We had our own weather system going in the bedroom that afternoon. Maybe our extra humidity and electricity combined somehow and brought on the storm.

As we got out of the shower getting our sweaty, drained bodies presentable for the few little children who would be stopping by, we decided that Terry and I needed to dress up.

“Too late to get to a costume store. Besides, who would you want to be?” I asked.

“Only Rhett and Scarlet for us. I could sashay you around the verandah,” my own Rhett Butler replied. I knew the wrap around porch was worth every penny I had spent when I built this house. What I could not have known was that I'd get an incredible return on my investment, much less how or with whom. But the electrical charge running through me at this very moment told me it was now and with this man. That same lightning that was flashing at the tree line was lighting up my belly.

“Next year we will plan ahead, and, hopefully, you will be home for a while before so we can do this right, my dear Captain Butler,” I faked my best Miss Scarlet, trying desperately not to swoon. Miss Scarlet can swoon. I can’t.

We relocated the costume search; instead of standing naked in the bathroom, we were standing naked in the walk-in closet.

I slid hangers to the side. “Terry, you’ll be easy to fix up tonight. Let’s go for the Army look. It’s in now, and your fatigues look great on you.”

“Seems like I’ve already been fixed up this afternoon.” He grinned lewdly, pulled me up against him to give my butt a sensuous caress for good measure, then released me just as quickly.

“Dino gave me something that will work a treat for your costume, Love. Wasn't my style, but I knew it would come in handy some day,” remarked the ever resourceful Mr. Thorne over his shoulder as he began digging in a box in the back corner of the closet. He tossed the gaudiest, brightest, reddest, biggest Hawaiian shirt; it made Magnum's shirts seem positively tame. I caught it one handed, then scrunched the shirt so I could pull it on over my head with my arms extended above me. The thing was so big it dropped straight down; I could have fit three of me in it. The hem fell to slightly above my knees; the shoulders drooped down my biceps; and the sleeves were ¾ length on me. I looked like Hilo Hattie in it and grinned at my image in the full-length mirror.

“It does fit my picture of what Dino would give you. People tend to give presents that they might like to have for themselves.”

I threw a questioning look at Terry. “He was stationed at Pearl, wasn't he?”

At his nod, I laughed. “I can see him, trolling the bars down on Hotel Street in Honolulu wearing something like this.” I twisted to check the rear view. “I’ll need to wear some kind of belt to give it some semblance of shape. I do have enough time to take the sleeves out if you are sure you won’t wear it ever. I can fold the collar under and make the front a nice deep V. But I won’t be able to bend over to give the little ones candy; it'll flop open and give them quite a show.” I batted my lashes at him, a la Scarlett. “You are the Candyman tonight.”

“Trust me, Love, it looks so much better on you than it ever will on me. I won’t be wearing it, particularly after tonight.” He chuckled with the sound coming from deep inside his chest. “Do me a favour? Wear just the shirt tonight.”

His focused look was straight on me, and his eyes were the greenish tint a Texas sky gets right before a major storm cuts loose. This was to be a continuation of the sultry, heavy sex of this afternoon. This would not be lovemaking but out and out sex. He was making me his, again.

As he moved towards me, he brushed against the tall wicker clothes hamper spilling his recently unpacked clothes - and the sheets I had stripped off our bed this morning in anticipation of his homecoming and put on fresh ones - in a pyramid heap on the floor. He pinned me against the wall rubbing his torso against me with both his legs planted sturdily between mine, turning me on to a fare thee well. I felt blood rushing to places I had no idea even had a blood supply. Terry had no blood anywhere in his body but his dick. He wheeled our bodies around and pitched us down on the clothes pyramid with my back propped up, keeping one hand on my lower back to gauge how close he was getting me, pressing more of his weight on me.

I began rubbing my newly shaved legs up and down the outside of his prickly, hairy legs to have another sensation of his power and our unique differences. I needed his roughness to my softness as he began attacking my neck in earnest with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the cords of my neck, moving to the hollow of my throat with the same fervor.

He slid his hand under the XXL shirt, moving his hand upwards, barely grazing my body with his palm – up my leg, over the hipbone that tried to come through my skin to get to his touch, across my stomach up to its target brushing and holding my nipple with his palm just as surely as if a string connected us; he was asking it to rise to meet him. I arched my back to move into his touch; he wouldn't let me. The light friction was all I was allowed.

“No, I lead. I am giving us back some of the time we lost.” He rumbled, a completely in control, wild Terry Thorne. He kissed my lips deeply, with power and command. My head sank back into the soft clothes on the floor, my back already beginning to spasm. He could feel how close he had taken me. He changed the angle of attack on my lips assuring no part of my mouth was left behind; our tongues touched anywhere there was purchase.

I tried to move my hands clutching at his back to get the red, floral impediment from between us. He used the arm under us to pull me closer so my hand could not move to the buttons. His fingers moved through the shirt placket and began unfastening as quickly as if he was looking at the buttons rather than burying his face in my right breast where the V neck now sprawled open, rasping his tongue over and around its peak. I mimicked his hand movement on his back showing him what he was making me feel. Terry only allowed enough room between us to manipulate the button he was working on, then closed that gap between us again. Six buttons between my breastbone and thighs. Once they were all undone, he simply flipped the shirt conscripted to dress open to gain access to all of me laying it out under us.

The only words either of us had spoken were when Terry had laid claim to his power - that he would command. I couldn’t have spoken if I had tried; I could barely breathe. Rapid, shallow breaths were all I could manage from my need for him to take me and from what he was doing to me.

He returned to asking my nipples to come to his mouth and hand, and all I could do was let them. My hips began asking for him to come to me. I began undulating under him, rolling my pelvis and stomach up his trapped cock, sliding upwards to free him, trying hard to tell him what I wanted. I nipped and licked his stronger, broader chest rubbing my hair against his neck.

“I missed you taking me, Terry,” I whispered into his chest, hoping he could hear me.

“I want to show you how sexy you still are to me. How much I want you. That I can be strong for you. That I am still your man.”

As my back spasmed again and I arched up to get closer to him, I hooked my heels around his thighs. Asking him to enter me. His hand dropped between my legs testing, making sure I was ready for his answer to my wordless question, rubbing my clit, making sure I could answer him. I slid my heels higher on his thighs, watching my hands making circles on his shoulders before they traveled down his back, feeling the muscles in his back flexing under my touch. He mated our slits, gathering moisture from me to ease this unspoken conversation.

He answered by raising his head and looking at me as he entered me ever so slowly, exhaling as he placed his head next to mine as he stopped, fully within. He began thrusting in earnest, setting a slow, steady pace to bring me along with him. I didn’t want slow, steady; I was ready for much more. But this was not my operation; it was Terry’s. He ignored my eager, rapid hip movements. He nipped my ear in the same steady pace he wanted whispering, “Follow me …follow me.” I slowed my breathing to his pace though my lungs had other ideas.

His hand on my hip guided our pace as he finally gave me what I thought I wanted, at the time he felt we were ready. His thrusts were stronger, faster. I followed. He kissed down my jaw line holding my head in place with his lips when all I wanted was to toss it from side to side. All that energy had to have some place to go. I felt it travel down my back and make a lightning connection as I came. I felt his hitch as he let go; he pulled my hip to him with one hand and used his hand at the small of my back to meld us. He settled us back on our makeshift bed still moving as one, slower now as we both rode out our orgasms until we stilled. I felt my eyes close; it was good to have him home.

The dogs' barking got us moving. It wasn’t Someone’s coming barks; it was angry. I could hear hoof beats in the pasture. Never a good sign.

Terry checked his watch. “It’s only 5:15. Can’t be the tots yet.” He quickly tossed on his cammo’s, left me to alter the slightly rumpled muu muu, and get the candy organized for the “tots.” That meant dumping the Baby Ruth and Snicker bars in the plastic, glow in the dark Jack-o-lantern tub.

Terry loped back in before I had a chance to do much with my costume. He was already dressed in his.

“Bloody hell, it looks like those idiot new neighbors have started a bonfire across the fence line. Toss me my night scope from my gear bag. Maybe I won’t have to go all the way across the paddock to see what’s what.” I handed Terry the binoculars, letting my subconscious take in that he now trusted me enough to handle his professional equipment. I will bask in that knowledge later.

With his news, I tossed the shirt/dress back on over my head, stuffed my feet into my barn shoes, and headed out the back door. We walked quietly into the paddock towards the barn. Running was out of the question. The horses were already running; they needed us to be calm. Dammit, I always put them up for Independence Day and New Years in case the ever present fireworks start a fire. Maybe I should find out where the idiot neighbors went to college so I can start putting the horses up on that fall homecoming day as well. Fire is the bane of a horse owner's existence.

I had started dipping up feed so I could lure frightened horses into their stalls by rattling the feed bucket. That is one almost guaranteed way to get a horse to come to you.

“If it is a fire, it hasn’t spread from the first time I saw it,” Terry reported standing outside the barn bringing his goggles up for a closer look. “Fuckwits. False alarm. They put up orange, pumpkin lights on their walkway. Who the hell strings lights for Halloween? You stick a flashlight in a carved pumpkin! Just looking at it, it looked like a grass fire getting started. Guess they didn’t realize they were spoiling a Halloween treat for us. But the drill did get us decent for the tykes. And got your Commando, commando.”

Weren’t we going to be a pair answering the door tonight? On the surface, two seemingly responsible adults dressed for Halloween. Underneath, a naked wahine and a real commando. The kids wouldn’t get it but one look at my face, and their moms would know. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Our first Trick or Treaters were a toddler Spiderman, and you guessed it – a pre teen dressed in fatigues. Army guy, meet THE Army guy. We had a good laugh with the mom accompanying them.

The most interesting group who came by was three teenagers, the Scream guy, the Rabbi, and the Boy Scout wearing Harry Potter glasses. The Scream guy's mask was so unwieldy that the Rabbi and the Boy Scout had to lead him. I was incredibly proud of us for getting the door closed before we collapsed in laughter at a blinded horror character.

The last caller of the night was a pink, sparkly princess. Terry, being a true Prince Charming, bowed to her and gave her an extra Baby Ruth bar right before her mother, Yvette, came onto the porch. Yvette, you see, is our neighbor down the road. For one day she was Terry’s running buddy. Yvette is petite, blonde, big boobed, and married. Terry stood in the doorway with his arm around my shoulders; I snuggled into his side a little closer as we said good night to Yvette and her princess and turned off all the outer lights.

The rain had held off, but the lightning was moving directly for us in the oppressive, close night. It was dead dark in the bedroom as I waited for Terry to join me. I saw the fluorescent Jack-o-lantern eerily floating towards me.

A flash of lightning struck close by lighting up the bedroom for an instant. It was just long enough for me to see a lecherous grin on Terry's face as he slid up the bed.

“Trick or Treat, Little Girl.”

NOTES

Magnum	A reference to the old TV series, “Magnum P.I.” starring Tom Selleck. Magnum was a private investigator, based in Hawaii.
Hilo Hattie	Hilo Hattie, a very large woman, was a traditional dance instructor with an entire troupe of hula dancers. At the time when the only convenient way to travel to Hawaii was by ship, Hilo Hattie and her dancers were on the dock when each ship landed, officially welcoming visitors to the Islands with the hula.
Pearl	Pearl Harbor, an U. S. Naval installation in Hawaii. As with all Naval installations, has its contingent of U. S. Marines.