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"That’s him over there… I think."
Cara rolled her eyes. "Didn’t he know that half the guys were going to dress like that this year? I’m surprised he didn’t come up with something more creative."
Stacy nodded. "I don’t know what’s come over him actually. He’s been acting strange ever since he put on that costume. It’s like I barely even know him."
Before Cara could comment, the party’s D.J. announced a couple’s dance. Excusing herself, Stacy went to find Greg. She mistakenly talked to two other "Jokers" before she found him. "Hey baby," he whispered, putting his arms around her waist, "how are you enjoying the party so far?"
Stacy stared up at him. Even his voice wasn’t the same anymore. "It’s okay. I have to say though; you’re acting really weird Greg. It’s actually starting to freak me out a little."
Greg laughed. "I’m just getting into the evening Stace. And believe it or not, I’m helping you too. I mean, all those dirty thoughts I’ve put into your head now… you’re going to have the slutty cheerleader act down before you know it."
Stacy laughed in spite of herself and allowed Greg to lead her over to the other dancing couples. As she moved to the beat of a song she had never heard before and Greg proved for the umpteenth time that he had no sense of rhythm, she laughed again. In "Joker" costume or not, this was definitely the Greg she knew.
After the dance ended Greg was once again converged upon by a group of his friends, and Stacy told him she was going to go get them something to drink. He nodded, and she thought she heard him say that he’d find her in a minute, but it was hard to make out much of anything with all the background noise in the room.
Finding the snack table, she got herself a glass of punch and drank it thirstily. Someone had dumped an unhealthy amount of rum in it, and though Stacy didn’t usually drink she made an exception and poured herself another cup. Grabbing one for Greg, she pushed through the partygoers, trying to find him. After ten minutes and no luck, she had drunk both cups of punch and was just deciding to find Cara instead when a pair of hands settled on her waist. Half turning, she looked up at the "Joker" mask and sighed in relief. "Where were you?" she demanded angrily.
Instead of answering, he started steering her through the crowd while she protested half-heartedly. They reached a staircase, and never taking his hands from her hips he half led, half pushed her up the stairs. Stacy clung to him, fully cognizant now of the effect of her three glasses of punch. By the time they got to the top of the stairs she completely understood his intentions, and wasn’t at all surprised when he stopped at the nearest door and opened it. There was a shout from inside, and Stacy just had time to glimpse the startled faces of two lovers before her Joker shut the door again. She wasn’t sure, but she thought one of those faces had been Cara. She was tempted to re-open the door, but Greg was already steering her further down the hallway.
The next room was obviously the master bedroom, and it was surprisingly vacant. Stacy giggled helplessly when she saw it. Did Greg really intend to make love to her here? She was about to ask him just that when he gave her an almost violent shove through the door. She felt a resistance and then a rending sound, and she realized he must have torn the fake knife from her cheerleading sweater. She stumbled, and grabbing the bedpost to keep from falling, turned just in time to see Greg slam the door shut and lock it. Before she could even begin to react he was on her, pushing her down onto the bed so she lay prone beneath him, staring up at his masked face in shocked disbelief.
"Greg, what is your problem? I’ve never seen you like this before! What’s going on with you tonight?" But instead of answering, her Joker slid a gloved hand under the sweater and began to roughly fondle her breast. "Greg! Greg, stop that! I’m trying to talk to you! I – oooh!" Her protests were cut off when his fingers found a nipple and tweaked it through her bra.
Taking full advantage of her momentary distraction, he tried to one-handedly pull the sweater over her head. Almost in spite of herself Stacy helped him, then unclasped her bra and sent that falling to the floor as well. Now lying back on the bed with her small breasts fully exposed, she smiled up at him nervously. "Please take off the mask Greg. I want your mouth on me." But he just shook his head and re-instated his hands on her breasts. She forgot her request and moaned in pleasure as his fingers circled over her nipples. The silky smooth material of his purple gloves created sensations she had never felt before, and she found herself wondering how those same gloved fingers would feel rubbing against her clit.
The Joker must have been thinking the same thing, because one of his hands was gliding down her thigh and hiking up the short skirt. Before Stacy could plead once more his fingers were there, rubbing the length of her slit through the thin material of her panties. The friction of the cloth on her clit was unbelievable, and when he slipped a gloved hand beneath the elastic and none-too-gently shoved a finger in her damp opening Stacy bucked against him, moaning unintelligibly.
He fingered her to the edge of a mind-shattering release, but just like their car-ride, stopped before she could get there. Stacy wanted to hit him, but calmed when she saw that he had released her only to rid himself of his pants. Desperately she pulled off her panties, not bothering with her skirt, and nearly passed out when he entered her in one smooth stroke. The ride was hard and fast, and like nothing she had ever felt with Greg before. This was the very thing he had promised, and as Stacy’s orgasm hit her last clear thought was that he had definitely delivered.
She was vaguely aware of her Joker stiffening inside her, and shivered when she felt him coat the walls of her pussy with his seed. When she opened her eyes he had withdrawn and was pulling up his pants. Stacy started half-heartedly pulling down her skirt, but stopped in shock when her Joker just turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Right," she thought, finding her panties and pulling them back on, "that’s just fine. That’s just fantastic." She was furiously yanking on her bra when she heard the door open. "What do you want Greg?" she snapped, then looked up just in time to see the shocked expression on his face.
"What the hell is going on here Stace?" He held his mask in one hand, his green silky gloves gripping it so hard it was nearly crushed. Stacy looked again at his hurt face, then did a double-take of his hand. Green gloves…green gloves??? But they had been purple before. With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach she abruptly realized what just happened. Judging by the look Greg was giving her, he had too.
"Well then," he muttered softly, pulling the damaged mask back over his head. "I guess this means we’ll be going home. Get your clothes back on and meet me at the car in five minutes. I think you need to be punished – severely."
He walked toward the door but turned back when he heard Stacy sniffle. Dispassionately, he watched as a single tear trekked its way down her cheek.
"Ah Stacy," he mocked chillingly, "why so serious?"
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