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Halloween was the best Holiday of the year. It was a night you could indulge your fascination with all things dark and malevolent, but furthermore, it was the one night that he could get around unnoticed. Thanks to Halloween, his purple gloved hand enclosed yours as you wandered the Gotham fairground. You walked hand in hand, boldly exposed, yet completely invisible.
The crowd was made up of all things, ghosts, goblins, clowns of course, and even the occasional bat. The latter caused a tension in his grip as he flexed at your arm like a junk-yard dog.
The lights of the fairground dazzled beneath an inky Gotham sky, and the hum and tinkle of carnival music filled the air. As you turned the corner between stalls, you squeezed his hand tight, pulling him towards the haunted house that stood beckoningly before you.
“Wow!” The lanky ticket-man eyed your date with darting blue eyes. He had remnant spots of adolescence along his jaw, and a thin wisp of beard on his chin. The young man swallowed without blinking “Man, that’s gotta-be the most life-like costume I’ve ever seen… and I’ve seen a few.” He raised his fingers to his own cheek absently as he marveled at the detail of J’s jagged grease-paint.
Seemingly aloof, J’s dark eyes shifted lazily to meet the lad. You noticed the twitch at his scarlet lips as he resisted the urge to lick his infamous scars. It was a mannerism expressed more often when agitated. You could only imagine the violent impulse he was suppressing. On any other night, he would wring this dweebs neck just for existing - but not tonight. Tonight, was date night. You had waited a full year. With luck, you would make it through the evening without a detour to the ‘drop-off’ with a dead body.
“Two, for the haunted house please.” you said.
J let out a snort beside you. He didn’t share your love of the holiday. His life was a one-man horror-show in which he both starred and directed. He had more thrills on any one night in Gotham, than a life-time of Halloweens could offer. But you were his little pet and he indulged you one special night a year.
You took your ticket stubs and proceeded to the entrance. The doors were draped in wispy synthetic cobwebs and a witch cackled from a broom overhead. It was entirely cringe, but you loved it. As you moved up the gangway your heart raced with anticipation.
“Go” J said, pushing you ahead.
“Me?” you asked, incredulous. You didn’t want to be the front-line for whatever popped out!
“Yes you” he grumbled with a roll of his dark eyes. “Someone jumps out at me, and I’ll kill em.”
Fair point.
You took the lead and pushed forward into the dark. The path was dimly lit by a red glow coming from the corridor ahead, you shuffled cautiously towards it. Wolf-like howls echoed in the dark, and dangling things brushed your shoulders, sending a ripple up your spine. You inched forward.
A scream escaped you as a corpse ejected from a coffin and suspended over your path. You ducked to pass under, squealing in delight, which earned a low chuckle from J as he followed your footsteps.
Lightening flashed as you ventured out of the corridor and into a graveyard. Smoke swirled between the headstones and the dirt mounds heaved. Before anything wretched could erupt, you ran forward, as fast as you could manage without tripping.
You were puffed and giggling nervously when you stopped.
“J?” you called as you reached behind you. He didn’t answer so you spun, flailing a hand in search of his suit clad form. You strained your eyes for his familiar silhouette against the black, but found nothing. “J” your voice was hoarse as you whispered his name, but only the intermittent groans from the cemetery answered you.
Cheeky ass-hole! Did he get bored? Had he turned back to strangle the doorman?
You had no choice but to press on alone.
You fumbled your way along, the mouth of a castle barely visible ahead. Your breath was shallow and fast as you followed the grey descent of stairs into the castle dungeon. You braced yourself for the next inevitable jump-scare and cursed J for leaving your side. Nothing could have prepared you for the arms that wrapped around you and hauled you through an invisible doorway.
Your eyes flashed, catching glimpses of your surroundings as you were pulled off course. You made out the external scaffolding and light boxes that were the exoskeleton of the haunted house.
One hand clamped over your mouth hard and an arm around your chest restricted the rise and fall of your ribs. At first wild panic surged from your heart to your finger-tips and you scrambled against your attacker. But, as your nostrils filled with the familiar scent of gun powder, cigarettes and grease paint - your fear subsided, quickly replaced with anger. You twitched in J’s arms, trying to break away from his gloved hand so you might free your mouth and scold him.
“Uh-uh.” he warned, with a click of his tongue, smiting your efforts easily.
Finally, you succumbed, relaxing in his grip. He seemed pleased at this and let out a soft hum of approval as he leaned in, to press his cheek against yours. The corded texture of his scarred cheek pressed against your own and you felt the workings of his jaw muscles as he held you against him.
“What’s a damsel like you doing, all alone in the dark? Hmm?” J rumbled in your ear. “A wee-lass like your-self could get herself in All. Sorts. Of. Trouble.”
You panted into his hand, nostrils flaring. Even though you were relaxed in his familiar embrace, his glove-clad grip against your mouth was stifling.
“Or does trouble ex-cite you? He asked with a lilt in his voice.
His breath was warm and moist on your face as he spoke but the air cooled quickly on your skin and sent a shiver down your spine.
“Answer me.” he demanded, tilting your head so your skull rested on his chest, your chin lifted to expose your neck.
You nodded awkwardly into his glove.
“Ahh – good” he purred, nuzzling into your exposed neck. “Sounds like you’re just. my. type.”
He caught your ear lobe and gave it a sloppy nibble sending little trills of excitement through your body. As his attention shifted, he released his grip on your mouth and you sucked in frigid air.
“Jesus! J! You scared me half to death!” you snapped. But, as his hot lips ventured into the crook of your neck, your anger dissipated “Why did you leave me in there…” you mumbled, but you had lost interest in your own question. Your mind grew blank of everything but the jester’s mouth on your skin.
He chuckled deep in his chest “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Just a pinch of adrenaline, keeps things, ah, interesting.”
He ran his gloved fingers over your cheek and down your neck, following the line of your carotid artery. You felt the beat of your pulse under his fingers as he pressed gently.
“Funny how easily life can be switched off” he mused, as he traced his fingers around your neck. You felt like a delicate bird under his crime-hardened fingers. “Such a fine- line” he admired. You weren’t sure if he referred to the contours of your neck and shoulders, or the fragile gateway between life and death.
You startled at the slice of a switch blade flicking open in the dark. His knife hand raised to your throat and your heart sped as he traced it down you with a feather light touch. The razor-sharp blade threatened your delicate skin, but with clinical precision J traversed your contours without a scratch. Your breath arrested as his hand hitched underneath your shirt. With a sharp flick of the wrist, he severed the strap on your bra.
“As I was saying” he hummed “It’s not safe around here, not safe at all.”
He flicked the knife shut and returned to it to his coat pocket.
He still hugged you to him as his gloved hand returned to your skin, sweeping up the smooth scape of your belly and cupping your breast.
A moan escaped your lips as he squeezed, rolling a gloved thumb across your nipple.
Whatever this roll-play was, he was turning you on like crazy.
“Your gonna- need to quit the whimpering, doll, or someone might put an end to our fun. Can you do that, hmm?”
You nodded your head against his chest. You yearned to spin around and crash your lips against his, to wrap yourself around him. But J was calling the shots.
“Let’s see, shall we?” he challenged, as he raised his glove to his teeth and yanked it off. Then his bare hand snaked south in a smooth stroke across your mid-drift and under the waist band of your jeans.
***
Your legs were still trembling as you excited via the metal gangway that ran parallel to the entrance. Your head in the clouds as you excited the haunted house with your favorite clown beside you. As you emerged, you scanned the skyline of your ominous city, looming beyond the lights of the fairground like jagged black blocks.
The view made you smile.
“Hey!” yelled the ticket-man. “What the hell took you so long?”
This time J’s grin spread wide. Not a friendly grin, but blood thirsty like a shark. He looked crazed under the down-light of the exit.
The young man eyed J.
All the sweat and the rubbing up on you had worn a patch in his grease paint, creating a window to the scars below.
The young man’s eyes widened. You could almost see the clogs turning – maybe this was more than a great costume… maybe he had stumbled into mortal danger…
He didn’t seem to want to find out.
“Thanks for visiting” The ticket-man mumbled, then quickly turned his back.
J squeezed your hand as he led you off the gangway.
“Ice cream?” he asked casually, with a hitch of an eyebrow.
“Sure” you answered, tucking yourself under his arm.
J lent down and smacked a kiss on your forehead. “Happy anniversary my Halloween- Queen” he purred. Then you, and Gotham’s most wanted, blended seamlessly into the crowd.