TRADING CLOTHES FOR MONEY

The limo smelled like leather and expensive perfume, and the partition window was down because Red had opinions tonight. "I knew you all were slut girl material," Red said, glancing in the rearview mirror at the four of them piled into the back of the limo. "But now you're dressed like them."

Maya adjusted the garter strap snapping against her thigh and leaned forward. "Red, you say that like it's a bad thing." I didn't say bad." Red's eyes crinkled. "I said material. There's a difference." She pulled the limo to a stop at the entrance to the wealthy district. Mansions lined both sides of the street, wrapped in orange lights and fog machines and elaborate graveyard displays that probably cost more than most people's rent. "Same rules as we discussed?"

"Same rules," Riley confirmed from the back, tugging at the hem of her coat. Underneath it, she was wearing exactly what her mother had sketched nearly a year ago—the bralette with the crisscross straps, the thong with ribbon ties at each hip, stockings clipped to a garter belt. Over that, layers. A scarf. A hat. Gloves. A button-down shirt she'd stolen from Maya's closet. The coat on top of everything. She'd planned for endurance.

Aubrey sat across from her in the Sexy Librarian costume she'd ordered the night of their planning session. Pencil skirt, button-down blouse, glasses that she didn't need, heels with ankle straps that Maya had described as marriage-ruining. Under the skirt, a thong. Under the blouse, a lace bra that unclasped from the front. She'd done the math. She'd be stripped down to underwear by house five and naked by house seven, assuming the houses kept paying.

Topanga was between them, and she looked like a woman who had walked out of a very specific fantasy. The bustier she'd built from scratch was boned and structured, black with red ribbon lacing up the front, pushing her breasts up into a shape that was borderline architectural. A skirt with detachable panels—four of them, each attached with heavy snaps—hung to mid-thigh. Underneath the panels, a garter belt and stockings and a thong that Topanga had selected with the same precision she used to select legal arguments. Heels, strappy, four inches, the ones Maya had pointed at in the sketch and said "those say I will ruin someone else's marriage."

"I still can't believe you're here," Maya said to Topanga. "Cory's with Auggie and Ava until eleven. I told him I was going to a friend's book club." "You're wearing a bustier that makes your tits look like they could hold up a bridge," Maya said. "Cory doesn't know what a bustier looks like." Topanga checked her lipstick in her phone screen. "He thinks I'm discussing novels."

Red put the car in park. "Ladies. Rich district. Halloween. You want me to circle the block or wait at the end of the street?" "Wait at the end of the street," Maya said. "We'll text when we're done. Or when we're arrested." "Nobody's getting arrested," Riley said. "Nobody's getting arrested tonight," Maya amended. "I make no promises about next year."

They climbed out of the limo one at a time. The night air hit Riley's exposed thighs and she felt it everywhere—the cold sliding up under her coat, finding the gaps between her stockings and the garter straps, pressing against the thin fabric of the thong. Her nipples tightened immediately, pressing against the bralette's flimsy material.

Topanga stepped out last. She stood on the sidewalk in her four-inch heels and looked down the street. Every house was lit up. Jack-o'-lanterns on porches. Wreaths on doors. Couples and groups moving between properties, most of them in normal costumes—ghosts, witches, a guy in a full dinosaur suit.

"We look insane," Riley said. "We look intentional," Topanga corrected. She was holding her Halloween bag—a large orange pumpkin bucket, the kind kids carried, except this one had a dollar sign drawn on the side in Sharpie. Maya had done it in the limo. "Remember the rules. Each house, we knock. We collect money. One item of clothing per house, deposited in the big bag. We go together. We leave together.

"And if someone doesn't pay?" Aubrey asked. "We flash them and leave," Maya said. "Free preview. No full show without compensation." "What if they pay extra?" Riley asked.
"Then we negotiate." Maya grinned. "I'm nothing if not flexible." "You're definitely something," Aubrey said.

The first house was a three-story Victorian with a wraparound porch and a butler answering the door. He was wearing a suit and a werewolf mask, which was a combination that shouldn't have worked but somehow did.

"Trick or treat," Topanga said, holding out the pumpkin bucket. The butler looked at the four of them. Then at the bucket. Then back at the four of them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded twenty. "I'm assuming this isn't a standard candy request."

"It's an upgraded experience," Topanga said. She was standing at the front of their group, exactly as she'd demanded—first house, first door, first piece of clothing off. She reached behind her neck and unclasped the collar of the bustier, the top edge folding down to expose the upper curve of her breasts. She pulled the detachable collar piece free and dropped it into the big bag. "Happy Halloween," she said. The butler swallowed visibly. He put another twenty in her bucket.
"Happy Halloween," he said, and closed the door.

They walked down the porch steps and Maya was already laughing. "His hand was shaking. Did you see his hand shaking?" "I saw," Topanga said. She looked composed, unbothered, the same expression she wore in courtrooms. But Riley could see the flush creeping up her chest, the way her breathing had changed. Topanga was turned on. The exposure was doing something to her that she hadn't expected.

Second house. A couple answered, both in costume—she was a cat, he was a doctor. The woman looked at their group and her eyes went wide. "Oh my God, are you doing the clothing game?" "You know about the clothing game?" Aubrey asked. "My sister did it in college. She made three hundred dollars." The woman was already reaching for her purse. "This is amazing. Hold on." She came back with two twenties and a ten. "Fifty. That's for all of you."

Aubrey unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, showing the lace bra underneath and the cleavage it created. She pulled the buttons free of the fabric—she'd reinforced the holes so they'd snap off cleanly—and dropped them in the big bag. "Decorative buttons," she said. "Counts as one item." "That's cheating," Maya said. "That's resource management," Aubrey said. The woman laughed and her husband put in another twenty.

Third house. A man in his fifties, silver hair, open collar, holding a glass of something amber. He looked at them on his porch and his expression went through three phases: confusion, understanding, and then something that looked a lot like appreciation. "How much?" he asked directly. "Whatever you think the view is worth," Maya said. He pulled out his wallet and took out three twenties. "Split that however you want."

Riley removed her gloves, finger by finger, pulling each one off slowly while maintaining eye contact with the man. She'd practiced this in the mirror. She dropped both gloves into the big bag. "One pair," she said. "Counts as one." "Generous interpretation," Topanga murmured. "Strategic interpretation," Riley said. "I've got a lot of layers."

The man watched them walk away and didn't close the door until they'd reached the next property.
Fourth house. No answer. They knocked twice and moved on. Maya deposited nothing and looked annoyed about it. "Lost revenue," she said. "You don't pay to play," Aubrey said. "You pay when you play." "That should be on a t-shirt."

Fifth house. A Halloween party visible through the windows—people in costumes, music, a bar setup in the foyer. A woman answered the door wearing a devil costume with a pitchfork. She was tall, dark-haired, and her eyes moved over all four of them with an attention to detail that felt like being x-rayed. "Get in here," she said. They looked at each other. Topanga nodded.

The partygoers parted as they walked in. Someone turned the music down. A man in a vampire costume whistled low and the devil woman elbowed him. "I'm Serena," she said. "And you four just became the entertainment." "We're not entertainment," Topanga said. "We're a fundraising effort."
Serena laughed. She pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her bra—literally from her bra—and dropped it in the bucket. "That's from me. Anyone else?"

The vampire put in two twenties. A woman in a angel costume contributed a fifty. Someone Riley couldn't see added a ten. Topanga unsnapped one of the four panels on her skirt. It fell away, exposing her left thigh to the hip, the garter strap visible, the edge of the thong. She placed the panel in the big bag. The room got quieter.

Aubrey unzipped the side of her pencil skirt. The zipper went all the way up, just like the product description had promised. The skirt slid down her legs and she stepped out of it, standing in her blouse, thong, heels, and thigh-high stockings. She put the skirt in the big b.

Maya removed her hat, then her coat, depositing both. Underneath, she was wearing a corset and a thong and her own garter belt. The corset was red and it pulled her waist in and pushed her breasts up and the room made a sound that wasn't quite a gasp and wasn't quite a groan but was definitely something.

Riley took off her scarf and her button-down shirt, leaving the coat. Underneath, the bralette Topanga had designed, the one with the crisscross straps, the one that covered almost nothing. Her nipples were hard and visible through the thin fabric. She could feel the air on the exposed sides of her breasts. She put the scarf and shirt in the big bag and her hands were trembling, but not from cold.

Serena was staring at Maya. "You," she said. "You're something else." "Thank you," Maya said. "I practice." They left the party with two hundred and ten dollars in the bucket and Serena's phone number, which Maya tucked into her garter strap.

Sixth house. A man answered alone. He was younger than the others, maybe mid-thirties, and he was wearing sweatpants and a Mets shirt and he looked like he'd been watching TV on the couch. He saw them and his mouth opened and nothing came out for several seconds. "We're collecting for charity," Maya said. "What charity?" "The charity of us," Maya said. "We're the charity."

He pulled out his wallet with shaking hands and gave them everything in it—sixty-three dollars, including ones and coins. "I don't—I don't have more in the house." "That's generous," Topanga said. She unsnapped the second panel of her skirt. Now both thighs were exposed, the thong fully visible from the front, the garter straps framing her hips. She put the panel in the big bag. The man's eyes tracked the movement of her hands and didn't leave her body until they were off his porch.

Seventh house. Empty. Porch light off. They kept walking. eighth house. Another mansion, another couple. The husband opened the door and his wife appeared behind him. The wife looked at their bucket, at their outfits, at the progressively more exposed state of each woman, and she smiled. "I love Halloween," she said. She contributed a hundred. Her husband contributed sixty.

Aubrey unclasped her bra from the front. The cups separated and her breasts were exposed—full, pale, her nipples tight in the cold air. She pulled the bra off through the sleeve of her unbuttoned blouse and placed it in the big bag with a precision that made Riley think she'd rehearsed this. She probably had. The husband's mouth was open. The wife was looking at Aubrey's breasts with an expression that was more than appreciation. It was interest. Active, specific interest.

"Next house," Aubrey said, and turned. The blouse was still on her shoulders, open, hanging loose, her breasts visible between the gap in the fabric as she walked. Maya removed her corset. It took her thirty seconds and a lot of wiggling, and when it came off, her breasts were bare and small and perfect, her nipples pink and hard. She dropped the corset in the big bag. "That thing was killing me anyway."

Ninth house. The door was answered by a man in a tuxedo who clearly had a party happening behind him. He didn't ask questions. He looked at the four of them—Topanga with her skirt half-gone, Aubrey with her breasts out, Maya topless in a thong and garter belt, Riley still in her coat and bralette—and he reached into his jacket and pulled out a money clip. He peeled off five twenties. Her right hip, the left side completely bare, the thong visible, the garter strap running down her bare thigh. She deposited the panel in the big bag.

Riley took off her coat. Underneath was just the bralette, the thong, the stockings and heels. The night air hit her bare stomach, her bare sides, the exposed undersides of her breasts where the bralette didn't reach. She put the coat in the big bag and stood on the porch of a mansion in almost nothing and felt the man's eyes on her and the woman's eyes on her and she was wet. Not mildly. Not subtly. She could feel it between her thighs, the slick warmth that had been building since the third house.

Tenth house. Serena's neighbor, apparently. A woman in a black dress who opened the door and said, "Serena texted me. Come in." They went in. The woman was alone. Her living room was candlelit and she had a bowl of candy on the coffee table that she clearly hadn't given to anyone. "I've been waiting," she said. She put two hundred dollars in the bucket without blinking.

Maya knelt in front of her. Not because the game required it. Because Maya had always known when to push further than the rules demanded. She took the woman's hand and placed it on her own bare breast. "Happy Halloween," she said. The woman's fingers squeezed. Her breath caught. Maya held her gaze and didn't look away. The woman's thumb moved across Maya's nipple and Maya's mouth opened slightly.

"Next house," Topanga said, and her voice was controlled but Riley could hear the strain in it. Maya stood up. The woman's hand stayed in the air for a moment, then dropped. Outside, on the sidewalk, Maya was breathing hard. "That was—"

"I know," Riley said. She grabbed Maya's hand and pulled her close and kissed her in the middle of the street, her tongue in Maya's mouth, her hands on Maya's bare waist. Maya moaned against her lips. "There are children on this block," Aubrey said. "There are no children on this block," Maya said against Riley's mouth. "This is the rich district. Their children are at boarding school in Connecticut."

Eleventh house. A man and his wife and another couple, all in costumes, all holding drinks. They contributed a hundred and forty dollars collectively. Topanga unsnapped her last skirt panel. The skirt fell away entirely. She stood in the bustier—now open to her navel, her breasts nearly exposed—and the garter belt and stockings and thong. She deposited the final panel.

Aubrey removed her blouse. She was naked except for her thong, stockings, and heels. Her body was long and lean and her breasts were full and heavy and the two women in the doorway were staring at her with the same expression Serena had given Maya. Riley untied the ribbon on her left hip. The thong loosened. She retied it looser, so it hung lower, showing more. She put the ribbon in the big bag. "One ribbon," she said. "One item." "That is absolutely cheating," Maya said. "That is resource management," Riley said. "I learned from the best."

Twelfth house. No answer. Thirteenth house. A man who looked like he played golf for a living. He opened the door, saw four nearly naked women, and said, "I need to sit down." He sat down on his porch bench. They stood in front of him. He contributed eighty dollars and didn't ask them to do anything except stand there while he looked.

Topanga pulled the bustier down to her waist, exposing her breasts completely. They were full and heavy, larger than Riley's, the nipples dark and hard. She folded the bustier top down and tucked it into the big bag. The man on the bench made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

Fourteenth house. The last house on the street. Red was waiting at the corner in the limo, the engine running, the partition down. A woman answered. She was older, elegant, wearing pearls and a silk robe. She looked at the four of them—at Topanga topless in a garter belt, at Aubrey naked except for a thong and heels, at Maya topless in a thong, at Riley in a loose bralette and a barely-tied thong—and she opened the door wider.

"Come in," she said. "All of you." They looked at each other. Topanga stepped in first. The woman's living room was warm and dim and smelled like candles. She closed the door and turned to face them. "My husband is asleep upstairs," she said. "He's been asleep since nine. He's been asleep since nine every Halloween for the last twenty years." She paused. "I've been answering the door alone for twenty years."

She reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to Topanga. Inside was three hundred dollars. "I've been saving that," she said. "For something interesting." Topanga looked at the money. Then at the woman. Then she did something Riley had never seen her do—she hesitated. Not because she was unsure, but because she was deciding how far to go.

She stepped forward and kissed the woman. Not a polite kiss. Not a Halloween kiss. A real one, her hands coming up to the woman's face, her bare breasts pressing against the silk robe. The woman's mouth opened under Topanga's and her hands found Topanga's waist and they stood there in the candlelit living room kissing while the other three watched. When Topanga pulled back, the woman was flushed and breathing hard.

"Happy Halloween," Topanga said. "Happy Halloween," the woman said. "Same time next year?"
They walked out of the house and down the sidewalk to the limo. Red was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette she'd clearly been saving for this moment. "Well?" Red asked.

Topanga opened the bucket. It was stuffed with money. And the big bag with clothing. She pulled out the bills and counted them on the hood of the limo while the four of them stood in the street in their final state of undress—Topanga in garter belt, thong, stockings, and heels; Aubrey in thong and heels; Maya in thong and heels; Riley in bralette, thong, stockings and heels.

"Nine hundred and eighty-three dollars," Topanga said. "And sixty-three cents." "Split four ways," Maya said. "Two hundred and forty-five each," Aubrey said. "And some change." "What about the winner?" Riley asked. "Who gets to decide what we do with the extra?" "What extra?" Maya asked. "We spent four hundred on costumes." "The sixty-three cents," Aubrey said.

They all looked at the coins on the hood of the limo. "I vote we give it to Red," Maya said. "For driving." Red picked up the sixty-three cents and looked at it. "Sixty-three cents. For driving four half-naked women around the rich district on Halloween." She pocketed the coins. "I've been tipped worse." Red did complain though. Four naked ladies and I'm fully dressed. Maya chuckled and simply said "Ladies." Within three minutes Red was wearing only her heels.

They climbed into the limo. Riley sat in Maya's lap because there wasn't enough room because of the big bag, and because she wanted to. Maya's hands found Riley's bare hips immediately, fingers sliding under the loose thong strap. "House eleven," Maya murmured against Riley's neck. "When you kissed me in the street." "What about it?" "I came a little." "I know," Riley said. "I felt it."

Topanga was in the back corner, reassembling her bustier, snapping the panels back onto her skirt. Aubrey was pulling her pencil skirt back on, stepping into it with the practiced ease of someone who'd stripped in front of strangers before and would again.

"Next year," Topanga said, tying the bustier collar back around her neck, "I'm adding more panels. Six instead of four." Six?" Maya said. "You were practically naked by house thirteen." "Exactly," Topanga said. "Which means next year I need more houses. Red, how long is the rich district?"

Red looked in the rearview mirror. "Mrs. Matthews, are you asking me to find you a longer street?"
"I'm asking you to find me a longer night." Red put the car in drive. The limo pulled away from the curb and the mansions slid past the windows, their jack-o'-lanterns grinning, their porch lights going dark one by one as the trick-or-treating hours ended.

Maya's hand was between Riley's thighs under the thong strap, her fingers sliding through the wetness that had been building all night. Riley's head was back against Maya's shoulder, her eyes half-closed, her breathing slow and deliberate. "You're going to start something you can't finish in a moving vehicle," Riley said. "I've finished things in moving vehicles before," Maya said. "Ask Aubrey."

"Don't ask me anything right now," Aubrey said. She was watching them. Her green eyes were dark and focused and her tongue touched her lower lip. Topanga looked up from her bustier rebuild. She watched Maya's hand moving between Riley's thighs. She watched Riley's mouth open. She watched her orgasm in the limo. They finally returned to the penthouse and invited Red to stay. She was still naked, only heels.

The others began to get comfortable again by stripping to their heels. Maya got the champagne and Riley got the flutes. Maya poured and Riley past each flute. Riley then toasted: ""To next Halloween. Everyone repeated.