A Steamy Shower and a Halloween Pact

The rain shower ran for forty minutes. Forty minutes of steam and soap and hands that kept finding each other under the hot water. Aubrey washed Maya's hair while Maya leaned back against her chest, eyes closed, humming something that sounded like a pop song. Riley sat on the marble bench and let Topanga scrub her feet, which was either motherly or something else entirely at this point. Nobody labeled anything. They just let it happen.

By the time they dried off and found the robes closet—white, plush, oversized—they were wrung out in the best way. The kind of tired where your muscles feel like warm taffy. Riley made coffee from the penthouse's espresso machine, and Maya carried four mugs to the living room, where the couch cushions were still dented from earlier.

Aubrey dropped onto the couch first, tucking her bare feet underneath herself. Her wet hair was darker than usual, almost brown, and it hung past her shoulders in uneven pieces. She pulled the robe tight and took the coffee with both hands.

"So," Aubrey said. "Next Halloween." "Already?" Topanga said. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the couch, legs stretched out. Her hair was damp and wild, nothing like the composed look she usually carried. She looked ten years younger with it messy like that.

"Already," Maya said. She was on the other end of the couch, her small body curled into the corner, feet tucked under Aubrey's thigh. "We need to plan. Last year we waited too long and everything good was sold out." Riley sat between Topanga and the couch, her back against her mom's shoulder. "What are we thinking? Same trick-or-treat run through the rich district?" "The rich district was perfect," Aubrey said. "Those houses give out full-size candy bars. Some of them give out gift cards."
"Gift cards," Maya repeated. "That's the energy we need."

Topanga sipped her coffee. "Cory took Auggie and Ava trick-or-treating in the neighborhood this year. He said they hit maybe twelve houses and Auggie filled an entire pillowcase." "A pillowcase," Aubrey said. "Amateur. We used pillowcases too, but we hit sixty houses." "You grew up rich," Maya said. "I grew up efficient," Aubrey corrected.

Riley was quiet for a moment, staring at her coffee. Then she looked up. "What if we made it another game?" They all looked at her. "What kind of game?" Topanga asked. Riley set her mug on the floor. "Okay, hear me out. We go to the rich district. Same as before. But instead of collecting candy, we collect money." "Money," Maya said, tilting her head.

"Like tips. Donations. Whatever they want to give us. But here's the rule—every time a girl receives money at a house, she has to deposit an article of clothing into the big Halloween bag. Then she goes to the next property showing more skin." Silence. The kind of silence that meant everyone was doing the math.

Aubrey spoke first. "That's what we just did." "That's genius," Maya said. Topanga set her coffee down. "You want me to walk through a wealthy neighborhood taking off clothes at every house again?" "You did a lot more than that tonight," Riley said. "That was private. This would be—" Topanga gestured at the windows. "Outside." "You were outside too."

"The rich district has huge lots," Aubrey said. "The houses are set back. Long driveways. Hedges. It's not like walking down a public street." "And it's Halloween," Maya added. "People expect costumes. They expect weird." "They expect slutty," Aubrey said. "Have you seen what college girls wear on Halloween? A thong and cat ears is practically a burka compared to what some of them do."

Topanga looked at each of them. Riley could see the wheels turning—the lawyer brain calculating risk, the mom brain calculating propriety, and somewhere underneath all of that, the woman who had been bent over a couch armrest two hours ago calculating whether she cared about propriety anymore. "What would we wear?" Topanga asked. Maya sat up straight. "Costumes. Slutty ones. From the heels up. Like tonight"

"Heels up?" Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "Everything slutty starts with the heels," Maya said. "You pick the heels first, and the costume has to match the level of the heels. If you're wearing six-inch fuck-me pumps, the costume has to live up to that standard." "That's a philosophy," Aubrey said, but she was nodding.

"I need paper," Topanga said suddenly. Riley pointed to the desk by the window. Topanga got up, still in her robe, and pulled out the drawer. She found a pen and a pad of Maya and Riley's stationery and came back to the floor. She sat cross-legged and started sketching.

"You're designing costumes already?" Riley asked. "I'm designing my costume already," Topanga said without looking up. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right." Maya slid off the couch and sat next to Topanga, peering over her arm at the sketch. Her wet hair dripped onto the paper and Topanga nudged her away without breaking concentration.

"Is that a corset?" Maya asked. "It's a bustier," Topanga said. "Lace-up front. So I can loosen it when it's time to come off." "Clever," Aubrey said from the couch. She was watching with her green eyes sharp, that look she got when she was amused and turned on at the same time. "But what about the rest of us?"

Maya grabbed the pen from Topanga and started her own sketch on a separate page. Quick lines, messy but clear. "I'm going as a devil. Red. Horns. But the whole thing comes apart in pieces—the tail detaches, the bodice unzips, the skirt is just a wrap." "A wrap skirt over what?" Riley asked. Over whatever I have left by house four," Maya said.

Aubrey reached for the stationery. "Give me that." She drew something fast and confident. A long coat. "I'm going as a detective. Trench coat, hat, heels. Underneath—" She tapped the pen on the page. "A thong. Garter belt. Stockings." "That's like six items," Maya said. "You'll be naked by house seven." "I'll be naked by house five," Aubrey said. "I'm counting the hat."

Riley hadn't sketched anything. She was still sitting against the couch, her robe open at the collar, thinking. "What about me?" "What do you want to be?" Maya asked. "Something that comes off in layers. Lots of layers. So I can last longer." "Coward," Aubrey said fondly. "Strategist," Riley corrected. "I want to make it to the end of the street."

Topanga was still drawing. She'd moved on from the bustier to what looked like a skirt with detachable panels. "What's the money situation? Do we keep what we collect individually, or pool it?" "Pool it," Maya said immediately. "Split four ways. Winner gets to decide what we do with the extra. Just like tonight." "Extra?" Aubrey asked. "Whatever we collect above what we spend on costumes," Maya said. "There's always extra in the rich district. Those people tip like crazy on Halloween."

Riley pulled her robe tighter and leaned forward. "So we agree? Halloween, rich district, slutty costumes, money game, clothing comes off at each house?" "I have conditions," Topanga said. "Of course you do," Maya muttered.

"First, we stick together. All four of us, same house, same time. Nobody goes off alone." "Agreed," Riley said. "Second, if anyone gets uncomfortable at a house, we leave. No questions, no pressure."
"Obviously," Aubrey said. "Third—" Topanga paused. She looked at Riley. "You have to help me pick the heels." Riley grinned. "Done." And Fourth, we get Red to go with us and drive her limo for us.

Maya clapped her hands together once. "It's settled. October thirty-first, rich district, four sluts, a limo, and a Halloween bag." "Four sluts," Aubrey corrected. "You're not exempt from the title just because you're short." "I'm five-two. That's practically average." "For a gymnast," Aubrey said.

Maya threw a couch pillow at her. Aubrey caught it and held it against her chest, smiling into her coffee. The conversation drifted. Topanga kept sketching, filling a second page with heel options—strappy, platform, stiletto, pointed toe. Maya rested her chin on Topanga's shoulder and pointed at a pair with ankle straps. "Those. Those say 'I will ruin your marriage." "I'm already married," Topanga said. "Those say 'I will ruin someone else's marriage,'" Maya amended.

Aubrey had pulled out her phone and was scrolling through costume sites. "Look at this one. 'Sexy Librarian.' Glasses, pencil skirt, button-down. The whole thing is designed to come apart piece by piece." "That's literally your job," Riley said. "I know. That's what makes it funny." Aubrey zoomed in. "The skirt has a side zipper that goes all the way up. One pull and it's gone."

"Buy it," Maya said. "Already in my cart." Riley got up and padded to the kitchen in her bare feet. She poured more coffee and stood at the counter, looking out at the city. The lights were different after what they'd done—same skyline, same buildings, but the glass felt thinner somehow. Like the city was closer.

She thought about Halloween. Walking through the rich district in heels and barely anything else. Knocking on doors. Collecting money. Taking off clothes in front of strangers. The idea made her stomach tighten, and she couldn't tell if it was fear or arousal. Probably both. Probably the same thing. Maya appeared beside her. She'd tied her robe but it was crooked, showing most of her left breast. She didn't fix it.

"You're thinking about it," Maya said. "I'm thinking about it." "Scared?" Riley looked at her. Maya's blue eyes were steady, that look she got when she was reading someone. She'd always been able to do that—cut through Riley's overthinking and find the thing underneath. "Excited," Riley said. "And scared. And excited that I'm scared."

Maya reached up and touched Riley's face. Her fingers were warm from the coffee mug. "That's how you know it's worth doing." "You sound like a motivational poster." "I sound like your wife," Maya said. "Same thing." Riley kissed her. It was soft, unhurried, nothing like the frantic energy from earlier. Maya's lips tasted like coffee and hotel soap. She pulled back and Maya was smiling.

"Your Mom's drawing a thong," Maya said. "Of course she is." They went back to the living room. Topanga had filled three pages. The third page was dedicated entirely to underwear options, drawn with surprising detail—lace patterns, strap placements, cut angles. She'd labeled each one with a number and a note about how quickly it could be removed.

"When did you become a lingerie designer?" Aubrey asked. "I've always had opinions about lingerie," Topanga said. "Now I have an excuse." Maya sat on the floor and pulled the sketches toward her. She held up the third page. "Number four. That one. The strappy one with the open back." "For me or for you?"

"For Riley." Riley looked at the sketch. It was a bralette with thin straps that crossed in the back, leaving almost nothing covered. The matching bottom was a thong with a single ribbon on each hip. One pull and it would come apart. "That's three pieces," Riley said. "Bralette, thong, and the ribbon sides count as separate." "Clever girl," Maya said. "You'll make it to house eight."

"If I start with enough layers." "Coat over the costume," Aubrey said. "A coat is one piece. Scarf is another. Hat, gloves—" "I'll look like a winter catalog." "You'll look like a woman who planned ahead," Aubrey said. "There's a difference."

Topanga set down her pen. She gathered the sketches and tapped them against the floor to align the edges. "I'll have the costumes ready by October twenty-eighth. That gives us three days to adjust anything." "You're making them?" Riley asked. "Buying and modifying. The bustier I'll make from scratch. I have a sewing machine at home."

"Cory's going to notice a sewing machine running at two in the morning," Maya said. "Cory thinks I'm making Halloween decorations for Auggie's school party. He's not paying attention." "God bless Cory," Aubrey said. "Don't bless Cory," Maya said. "Just don't tell Cory."

Topanga looked at her sketches one more time, then folded them and slipped them into the robe pocket. "It's settled. We have a plan." Riley refilled everyone's coffee. They sat in the quiet of the penthouse, the city humming outside, the cushions still warm from what they'd done earlier. Four women in white robes with tangled hair and lazy smiles, planning the most ridiculous Halloween of their lives.

Aubrey nudged Maya's foot with her own. "What do you think the rich district guys will do when four half-naked women show up at their doors?" "Open their wallets," Maya said. "And their wives?" Topanga asked. "Open their wallets faster," Aubrey said. "Rich wives appreciate good lingerie. It's practically a bonding experience."

Maya raised her coffee mug. "To next Halloween. To the rich district. To being sluts in heels." They all raised their mugs. "To being sluts in heels," Riley repeated. Topanga clinked her mug against the others. "To the rich district. And to Cory never finding out." "Cory's not going to find out," Maya said.

"He found out about the Halloween party," Riley said. "That was different. That was a party. This is—" Maya gestured vaguely. "Tactical." "Tactical nudity," Aubrey said. "That should be the name of our group chat." Maya pulled out her phone and created a new group chat. She named it "Tactical Nudity" and added all three of them and Red. Then she sent a message: "First meeting October 28. Bring your heels and your courage."

Topanga's phone buzzed. She read the message and typed back: "Bring your sewing machine and your dignity. You'll need both." Aubrey typed: "I'm bringing neither." Riley typed: "I'm bringing a really big coat." Maya looked at her phone, then at Riley, then back at her phone. She typed: "Riley, if you show up in a parka, I swear to God I will unzip it myself on the front porch of the first house."
Riley typed back a single emoji: a devil face.

Topanga put her phone down and stood up. She retied her robe, this time properly, and looked at the three of them on the couch. Her expression had shifted—something focused, something determined. The same look she wore in court. I have one more condition," she said. "What?" Maya asked.

"When we hit the rich district, I go first. First house, first door, first piece of clothing off." She paused. "If I'm going to be a slut in heels, I'm leading the parade." Aubrey slow-clapped from the couch. Maya whistled. Riley stood up and hugged her mom, pressing her face into Topanga's shoulder the way she used to when she was small. "You're going to be the best slut in the parade," Riley said.

"I know," Topanga said. "I designed the outfit."