I’ve been playing around with titles, trying to create a spark that would lead to a story. This one was the title of an old detective novel. It led to a story that fits this time of the year. If there’s a Halloween Contest, consider this my entry.
Marianne.

I was walking along a street I knew well, when something felt odd. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I just carried on. A few paces on, the feeling went away, and I continued on to my workplace. I immersed myself in my business and forgot all about the feeling.

That feeling had occurred on Friday morning at seven, and I arrived at work not long after to open up for my employees to be in for a seven-thirty start. We were a hardware store, open six days a week. I was the owner, having inherited it when my parents both went into a home. They died a few months later. Since then, we had expanded the business with some new lines, mainly an imported brand of electric items that my father would have never approved. They worked for a few years and were cheap enough to replace when they didn’t work any longer.

My name is Edward Transom, and the store is Transoms’ Trove. I don’t oversee the general operation; I have a manager for that. I go in and open up, just because it’s what I’ve done for more years than I’d like to think about. I had worked in the store as a child, tidying up in the evenings, after school, and being indoctrinated into the world of tools, nuts, bolts, washers, nails, paint and all the other things we carried. In those days, it was a genuine treasure trove of goods, a lot that we no longer stock, once all these powered tools came to be used.

I only worked to lunchtime, as my main job was making sure the finances were good, talking to the company reps, and ordering stock. Much of my job was now automated, with all the financial and stock control on a web-based application shared by our accountant. It made things easy at tax time, and he was able to warn me if our cash flow was dropping.

After High School, I had gone straight into the store, working every area until I knew the business inside-out. I had taken over the management in my thirties, as my father stepped back. In those days, I had started to have my lunch in a café across the road, ending up marrying the waitress. Unfortunately, she had an affair with the rep that we bought all our bolts and screws from, and I divorced her after fifteen years of marriage.

Now, I lived in the home I grew up in, along with all the memories that went with it. There were still some trinkets that my wife had left behind, as well as a lot of things that my parents had left. My life was now wake, work, eat, sleep and repeat. Week after tedious week. I couldn’t sell the business and let my team down. The only buyer would be a big chain, who would just shut the shop, sell the land and smile as they offered everyone a position in a very large shed, an hour or more from their homes.

That Friday, when I retraced my steps, the odd feeling didn’t happen. A week later, on the Friday morning, I felt it again, as if someone had called me. I stopped and looked around me. I was outside an Asian grocer. Friday, for some reason, he started later than usual. Normally, he would have some stock out on the pavement, but Friday mornings, the pavement was clear.

I looked around, and the only thing I could see that wasn’t normal was that some kids must have been playing noughts and crosses on the pavers, as there was a half-done game. I looked at it and noted that it was unfinished because it would be an obvious draw. The noughts were in white chalk, and the crosses were in red. They must have been drawn during the night, as the grocery was open long hours, with that part of the pavement usually covered in boxes.

The following Friday morning, I had that feeling, again, and it was stronger than before. I glanced at the pavers and saw that there was a different game today, again unfinished, but this time the noughts were red. That was really odd, because we had a shower of rain just after dawn, and these chalk marks should have been washed away.

I shook my head and carried on with my day. The following Friday, the odd feeling was stronger. I looked at the pavers and there were just two red circles, on adjacent pavers, much redder than before. I had the strangest compulsion to go and stand on them but was running late and had no time for such tomfoolery.

The following Friday, the two circles were bigger. The compulsion to stand on them was almost too strong to resist, and I was saved by another person I knew coming up behind me.

“Good morning, Transom. You’re standing there like you’ve suddenly remembered that you’ve left the bathwater running.”

His voice broke the spell, and I noticed that the red circles had disappeared.

“Nothing like that, Joe. I just remembered that it’s two weeks to Halloween. A few of the staff have been suggesting that we do something special for the Friday night. I’ll get Jack organising that. We could have a special on ‘Spooky Spades’ or ‘Horrible Hoes’.”

We both laughed and he followed me into the store when I opened up.

“I remember the very old days, when your Dad was running the place. There were so many cobwebs in the dark corners, it was Halloween every day of the year.”

“I remember those days as well. I had the job of cleaning them off, but I could only get the ones I could reach. It took a couple of growth spurts to get the higher ones. Thank goodness for modern industrial vacuum cleaners.”

I got him the things that he needed for his job, that day, and wrote it up in his account book. That morning, I spoke to Jack about doing the Halloween special, and offered overtime rates to anyone who was prepared to work a late night, closing at eight.

The following week was a lot of talk about the next Friday. We had the shop window painted with a skeleton holding a nail gun, a witch stirring a paint pot, all the usual fun things. I ordered some spray-on spider web, and some blow-up ghouls. I also did a quick stocktake with the stock program to see what we had on the shelves that had been there too long.

On that Friday morning, the circles were slightly different. There was now a third one between them and the shop front, forming a flattish triangle. I resisted any compulsion to go near them, as I had a store to set up for a sale week.

From that Saturday, the staff started dressing in appropriate outfits, with me asked what I would wear on the Friday. I hadn’t really thought about that, so I told them that it would be a surprise. A couple of the girls thought that I would look good as a vampire, being tall and slim. Another suggested that I’d look good as a witch. We were all selling lots and having fun doing it. I even got into the act when I sent out the accounts to our regulars, with a bill covered in spider web and a note that seven-day payment would be backed by a spell, if not paid. By Thursday, we had a few cheques through the post with flattened spiders in the envelopes.

On Friday morning, I dressed in my usual suit, but had bought a Dracula tie, my only attempt at getting into the swing of things. When I reached the grocers’, I was hit with a wave of command. I looked around, seeing nobody, and then went over to where the three red circles were. The two outer ones were about three inches wide and a couple of feet in diameter. They were the colour of blood.

The latest circle now looked like a pair of lips, and as I looked at it, the circle seemed to become ovaloid, as if the lips were in kissing mode. I really couldn’t help myself and stepped into the two original circles. Suddenly, I couldn’t move my feet. I started to panic and was about to call out for help when a curtain that was made of shimmering sparkles rose up around me. The cylinder that I was trapped in filled with mist, and I couldn’t see the ground anymore. I stopped struggling and waited for whatever was to befall me. What did happen was totally unexpected. I suddenly felt cold around my legs and there was this sensation of a mouth kissing them, moving up towards my waist. My breathing became ragged as I became more aroused. The lips reached my erection and started giving me a blow job, something I’d never experienced before but had read about.

I moaned and gave myself to the ghostly mouth, ejaculating with more force than I had ever done in my life. It flowed through my whole body in waves and left me wrung out like a dish rag. I may have blacked out for a few seconds, I don’t know for sure, but when I opened my eyes, I was looking at my reflection in the shop window.

Gone was the tall, slim, man in his late thirties. I was looking at a statuesque woman, with raven hair and a body to make men crazy. I was wearing a black witch outfit from one of those manga stories, showing bosom and some leg, the lower part covered by black boots with impossible heels. As I looked at myself, I put my hand into a shoulder bag and pulled out a crimson lipstick to freshen up my lips, then put it back and started to walk to the store.

When I got there, I opened up and went to my office, putting the bag on my desk. Then, I went back to the door to greet the staff as they arrived. All of them thought that my outfit was fantastic, and that I had outdone myself. There were a few comments about the fantastic wig and realistic breasts. I had a wonderful day, basking in compliments and being chatted up by strangers who had come along for the sale.

We sold more, that day, than any three days combined, and ninety percent of it was through the card readers, so there wasn’t enough cash to worry about a bank run. All day, I acted like the queen of the place, and none of the girls worried about me using the womens’ toilet. It was a wonderful day, with me, that is, the me inside, wondering about the absurdity of the situation.

Here I was, every inch a beautiful woman, and those around me thought that I was just the boss in a very good disguise and calling myself Trove. I wasn’t going to show anyone the vagina that I now had or invite them to feel my nipples. No, I stayed in character the whole day, having lunch across the road and helping out until we closed at eight. As the staff left, I got more than a few hugs, and then put the lights out and set the alarm. As I locked the door, I noticed a handsome man waiting for me.

“Good evening, Trove, have you enjoyed your day?”

“I have, sir. It’s been different, to say the least. Who are you?”

He gave me his business card.

“My name is Lucious Demonte. As you can see by my card, I am a representative of the House of Dante. We specialise in interesting experiences, just like the one that you’ve had. I do have to tell you that we have no control over the Crimson Circle. That has a mind of its own and only chooses one lucky fellow each year, at this time.”

“So, you know about my sudden change, this morning. Is it permanent?”

“Only if you want it to be, Trove. If you just go home and go to bed, you’ll wake up as you normally do, in your old body, a shadow living a drab life. Do you want that?”

“What’s the alternative, to be like this, for ever, and a slave to Hell?”

He laughed.

“That’s so last millennia, my dear. Like the products you sell, things evolve. You would live a life that befits a beautiful woman, attracting men and women like moths to a flame. The thing is that everyone that you take to bed will have an unfortunate accident. You won’t be involved and would have moved on after marking them, once or twice, for collection. There is only one downside for you, and that is that you will never be able to have a lasting relationship, as once you’ve enjoyed the sex, they will be gone. The sex, by the way, will always be as good as you experienced this morning.”

“So, what do I do to make it permanent?”

“There is just one person who can offer you that, and that’s me. I’m the only one that can bed you and live. I’m the only one that you can take to bed without fear of losing me. I’m the one who can make this your forever life if you give yourself to me. And I do mean for ever, I can tell you that it’s a very long time. Would you care to join me at my hotel? If you do, the home that you return to will be the home of a beautiful woman, and her business will be something suitable. You would be Trove Transom, and everyone would only know you as that, until you take on a different identity for the next forty or fifty years.”

I smiled and took his proffered hand. Around midnight, I left his hotel room after a number of world-shaking orgasms. On the way through reception, I collected my first customer. I got home in the early hours, which wasn’t a problem, seeing that the business I now ran didn’t open until dinner time. I still sold screws, but usually only one at a time. Smiling, I explored my new looking home, a place decorated to suit a beautiful and sexy nymphomaniac with lips like a crimson circle.

Marianne Gregory © 2025