The Horny Housewife’s Halloween

It hadn’t been easy negotiating with my folks for a Halloween party at our place.

A week of argument and foot-dragging had finally paid off after a series of tactical explanations and “growth opportunities for a young adult” speeches.

I was on a mission to scale the Beta Sigma social ladder at my college—a necessity if I was ever going to move out of the house. I was only a freshman, so acceptance was a long shot, but my parents chose to pay for my tuition and NOT dorms or housing. With my parents living only twenty minutes from campus, they figured it was a no-brainer. A part-time job and some penny-pinching on my part still wouldn’t cut it, though, so I needed to find a shortcut.

I’d heard stories about Beta Sigmas requiring pledges to live in the crew’s mansion for the first year, so after a little number crunching and figuring, I knew there were four spots vacant. Four Beta Sigmas. Only three would be selected from this year’s crop of twelve potential pledges.

In short, I’d found a loophole to getting out of my parents’ house and meeting a steamy group of coeds, but first I needed to make the list.

Step one was selling my folks on me rushing and pledging my rights to the Beta Sigma party animal.

First, I tried explaining how they’d benefit from me moving out of the house and not crashing in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, my dad was a heavy sleeper, and my mom, Gen Ryder, was a homebody.

Plan B was arguments about “becoming my own man” and “establishing independence for the greater good.” I didn’t quite win the argument, but they seemed to see the logic. In the end, I got the green light by promising to visit Sunday night for family dinner.

Once I got the go-ahead at home, I needed to stand out on the road to making the Beta pledge list. I volunteered for every conceivable activity and kissed the butts of the decision makers. I did everything to make myself invaluable and look good.

I got a lucky break when the college—under pressure from locals—banned on-campus parties for Halloween.

Halloween happened to fall on a Friday that year, and Beta Sigma was famous for its themed costume parties. This was a blow to the frat, and I knew if I could concoct a way around the rules, I’d have an inside track.

The Ryder family house is huge, located in the affordable-bourgie part of town. I knew my parents’ finished basement and backyard combo would be ideal. They were going to be out, attending a Halloween party they went to every year. I campaigned to host a party of my own, vowing to keep everything below board.

The neighbors wouldn’t be a problem, since they were set up for high-end tailgating, and my parents wouldn’t be home. My folks didn’t like the idea but eventually caved after I suggested they make a night of it and grab a hotel room. I also agreed to schedule a cleaning staff to come out, clean everything up, and bill me—and I offered to pay for Mom and Dad’s hotel rental.

I didn’t have the cash, but the Beta Sigma treasurer was convinced to take care of those expenses in return for me making the party happen.

After my last class on Friday, I spent the afternoon prepping. I went out and bought all the necessary ingredients for our Beta Sigma “secret jungle punch”—basically a potent mix of Everclear, some secret ingredients, and an old trash can repurposed for the purpose.

Next up was the costume. Easy. I went as Farmer McBasketball Star—a costume featuring a numberless jersey, red basketball shorts, a matching headband, and some old Chuck Taylors.

The party started at midnight, and my parents were leaving early for their own party at nine. I planned to finish my prep work and invite the bros over at ten for pre-party drinks.

I was in the living room when my parents returned. Both of my parents wore last-minute costumes. Dad went as a cowboy—right dow