Chapter 9: A Bevy of Surprises

"Stop! What are you doing, Mr. Mullen?" Holland questioned, hurrying around the bend, likely from the direction of the side door that she had taken Elliot and Graham through earlier.

Rushing forward, the red-wig-wearing Daphne Blake nearly stumbled on the curved, sloping driveway. Throwing out her arms, she waved them for several seconds until she regained her balance. Although she wasn’t wearing high heels, one could see how her wedged shoes might get caught between the bricks.

“Miss Bishop, he’s trying to kick me out of the party. Thinks I’m someone else,” Elliot called over.

“Quiet!” Mullen commanded, then turned to seek help from the headman’s aide. “Miss Bishop, can you help me? My orders come directly from Mercedes. She wants her classmate dressed as a mummy to be tossed out. I believe he spiked the punch.”

Chuck, the guard, chuckled while Tim, on the other side of the gate, commented that that’s a usual occurrence at high school parties. Bowers shot both of his subordinates a glare that told them to keep quiet.

“That was Freddie, not me!”

“I told you to be quiet, punk!” Mullen roared, then turned back to the approaching woman. “I just need to escort him out the gate for a moment, but Bowers won’t allow it.”

“As I already told him, a lockdown is in place. Fleeman said the order came directly from Mr. Raddatz,” Bowers relayed.

“Yes, that is correct,” Holland said, finally reaching the men. “I was with Mr. Raddatz in the ballroom when he gave the order. The Frost Diamond Necklace was stolen.”

“Whoa! No shit?” Chuck responded, while Tim whistled.

“You were already informed,” Bowers reminded.

“Hell, Chucky bet me it was a drill or test,” Tim called through the gate.

"I can assure you that it was indeed stolen. Once the power went off, somebody snatched it right off Ms. Horne's neck," Holland confirmed. "As for this young man, you're incorrect, Mr. Mullen. He's not the Mummy that Miss Raddatz wanted thrown out. According to the guest list, that is a Fredrick Illig. This is Elliot Keever, a last-minute invite by Mercedes."

“Right, the Keever kid,” Chuck responded, making Bowers throw his hand up for failing to stay silent. Instead, the regular security guard addressed his superior. “We didn’t have him and the chubby kid on the list. The boss had to come down here to okay their admittance personally.”

“I was there!” Bowers reminded, sounding exasperated.

“But he’s dressed as the Mummy!” Mullen protested while wiping the front of his matted hair.

Even Holland speculated about how demanding Mercedes must have been to have the man so sweaty. Then, she admitted it didn’t sound that unusual for her employer’s bitchy daughter. Yet, she needed to address the guard’s argument.

“Yes, tell them what character you’re dressed as,” the personal assistant said, motioning at the young guest.

“I already did,” Elliot muttered. But he raised his voice to repeat, “I’m the Invisible Man. The classic version.”

“Does everyone recognize the difference between the two classic Hollywood monsters? Excellent!” Holland said, getting shrugs and nods from all the guards, except a frowning Mullen. “Come along, Elliot.”

Unsure how to respond, the young guest nodded his thanks at Bowers and Chuck for semi-believing his story and identity. However, he didn’t acknowledge the guard, who looked pissed.

“Oh, I’d drop the Mummy hunt, Mr. Mullen. I believe we have a bigger boogeyman to catch now,” Holland suggested, turning around on a dime while already walking away.

Elliot noted the impressive agility she displayed. The leggy personal assistant also showed that walking upward in her wedged shoes wasn't nearly as tricky as the rapid descent. Following about six feet behind, the high school student’s gaze slowly rose from her shoes to those same long legs, emphasized by the pink pantyhose she wore. His eyes moved even slower when they reached the bottom of her short skirt. Then, a sixth sense told him to stop looking, but he failed to do so in time.

“Uh, thanks for the help back there,” Elliot said, attempting to distract from the aide catching him with a look over her shoulder. “Mr. Bowers didn’t seem likely to let me get kicked out, but Mr. Mullen kept insisting.”

"Fool! Not only is the Frost Diamond Necklace valuable; it's also a significant piece of Raddatz & Padfield history. Worrying about high school shenanigans is moronic," Holland declared, sounding far less sweet than before. "Unfortunately, we'll need to do something about your costume."

“We do?” Elliot asked as Miss Bishop opened and held the mansion's side door for him. It was the same door he’d first entered this afternoon with Graham.

“Yes, we do,” Holland replied, only after they’d entered. Then, she waited to elaborate until they made the left-hand turn through the door that led to the mansion's main east-to-west hallway. “If Mercedes issued an order to grab and toss the Mummy, you’ll need to worry about another overzealous guard seeking to curry her favor.”

“Great,” Elliot mumbled. He could easily picture another one or two youngish guards interested in impressing the sexy, wealthy redhead. The next one might do more than just grab his arm as Mullen did. I’ll probably get speared by a tackle.

Miss Bishop led Elliot past numerous guests milling around in what looked like a makeshift line in the long hallway. Everyone seemed to be gossiping or speculating about the theft and events leading up to it. As they turned the corner into the grand foyer, the CEO's personal assistant kept nodding to the guards they passed. Every single one of them appeared to know the current redhead.

Eventually, Holland led him to the cloakroom, where she instructed him to grab his clothes. Next, Elliot followed her to the main staircase. Miss Bishop had a very brief conversation with a guard stationed at the foot of the stairs before they ascended. Climbing the grand staircase truly put the short purple skirt and the treasure it barely hid on display.

I don’t remember Daphne’s skirt being that short in the cartoons. I guess this might be considered the sexy or slutty version, Elliot thought. Almost zeroed in with a laser focus, the young man watched the toned ass cheeks through the thin, pink material.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Elliot managed to turn his head this time when Holland looked back at him. The PA quietly explained that Fleeman had sent a contingent to search the mansion, starting with the attic. One of these guards was stationed in the intersection that led to the two wings on the south half of the second floor.

“Vincent, Miss Raddatz’s guest needs to change. Is there a cleared bedroom that he can use?” Holland asked.

“Let me see…You can use the one at the far end of the northwest hallway. We started there after finishing the attic,” Vincent reported. “You should inform Davidson. He’s leading the sweep down that side.”

“Understood, and thanks,” Holland replied, flashing her bright smile and patting Vincent’s arm as they passed.

Elliot couldn’t blame the guard for standing up a little straighter after the light touch. He’d bet money that the pretty PA was a popular member of Mr. Raddatz’s staff. Walking down the central hallway that ran north to south, the mystery buff spotted another guard patrolling like Vincent, likely from the north hallways.

This middle-aged man, having watched Miss Bishop speak with Vincent, merely nodded at the pair as she turned left. Now in the northwest hallway, they saw a pair of guards knock on a door under the supervision of a third. After the sharp, rapid knock, the supervisor used a master key to unlock the door, allowing the other two to enter.

“Whoa, talk about an army of guards,” Elliot remarked.

"It's far more than normal, that's for sure. All thanks to that letter. Mr. Raddatz brought in a whole second group, plus more men from the company's–"

A shriek cut off Miss Bishop’s sentence.

It startled the supervisor, causing him to jump forward before scurrying into the bedroom his men had entered. Holland threw out an arm to stop Elliot in his tracks. Behind them, the guard at the intersection moved slightly closer to peer past the pair.

“Outrageous! Do you hear me? This is utterly unacceptable, and Malachi will hear about it. Mark my words!” a balding man bellowed, stomping out of the bedroom. Half-dressed as a gray alien, he struggled to pull up his same-colored pants.

The guard supervisor appeared, sounding as if he'd just repeated the same apology he’d already given in the room. However, while he handed the man a gray alien mask, the supervisor spoke to a space cadet. Or at least that’s the best term Elliot could think of for the sexy costume worn by a breathtaking blonde. Silver, skimpy, and with red trim, the blonde’s front zipper sat down near her navel while she worked to squeeze a pair of huge breasts inside the tight material.

“We’re truly sorry, ma’am. There was an incident when the power went out earlier. Both of you will need to assemble with the other guests downstairs,” the supervisor explained.

“The power went out? I thought that was from my orgasm. He’s quite a beast in bed,” the blonde space cadet revealed. However, she didn’t sound like she meant it to the others.

Meanwhile, her alien beast kept swearing and threatening over the disrespect. Pushing past Holland and Elliot, the bald man vowed to find Malachi or someone else in authority. Shrugging, his space lady thanked the supervisor for helping her straighten her supershort skirt before raising her zipper halfway to leave a wealth of cleavage.

The woman’s lack of outrage, nonchalant demeanor, and friendly handwave goodbye to the guards still inside the bedroom led Elliot to question her relationship to the balding man. While the alien hadn’t recognized Holland in her wig and costume, her eye roll said that she knew him.

“Mr. Davidson, I was informed by—” the personal assistant began to say.

“If she's an escort, I’ll drop however many weeks of salary she costs for a night,” one guard said, walking toward the doorframe from inside the bedroom.

“Try months, if you're lucky. I smelled gold digger more than hooker,” a second guard countered.

“Bro, whatever! Do you think I care? We both saw that same ass and those tits. I mean, my…”

“Don’t mind me, Hank. Carry on about your new girlfriend,” Holland giggled, appearing slightly intoxicated, which surprised Elliot. “As I wanted to say, Vincent said that we could use a bedroom, which you cleared already. I think, um, he mentioned the farthest one.”

“I don’t know, Miss Bishop. We hope to keep–” Davidson started to shoot down the idea.

“It’s personal business for the Raddatzes that we use a bedroom,” Holland stated, shooting a wink at Davidson that Elliot missed.

“Ah, I see,” Davidson responded, appearing uncomfortable again. “Sure, I guess you use that last room down there. Uh, we’ll be sure not to double back in there until you finish.”

‘Thank you,” Holland tittered, leaning in to kiss Davidson’s cheek lightly. Then, he hooked her arm underneath Elliot’s, which stunned him.

“Wait!” Davidson called out, halting the pair after roughly a dozen feet. “I’ll need to unlock the door. We’re locking all of them after they’ve been cleared.”

While the security supervisor jogged ahead, Holland turned toward Elliot as they resumed walking.

“First, we’ll need to get those bandages off your face. Just in case something interrupts, we don’t want another misunderstanding.”

Nodding at the suggestion, Elliot added a second nod while Holland said, “Thank you” again to Davidson for unlocking the door. With the door standing open, the pretty PA gestured for the guest to enter first.

The young man might have whistled in appreciation for the opulent room if he hadn’t thought that would embarrass him. A pair of armchairs flanked a vanity against the wall to his left. Straight ahead, a desk sat in a small alcove next to a window. To Elliot’s right stood a door that led into a small bathroom.

However, the room's centerpiece was a classic four-poster bed, with four vertical posts at each corner of the frame and curtains tied to them. Even more impressive to Elliot was the king-sized bed's canopy, a detail he'd only seen in movies and TV shows. All in all, the bed exuded old money and an air of old age, thanks to the detailed carvings crafted by master woodworkers.

Marveling at the bedroom, Elliot heard Miss Bishop shut the door behind them. Next, he heard the lock click. Assuming he should head into the bathroom to get changed, the young man turned in time to find Holland’s tongue jammed down his throat.

---

“Don’t worry. I got her!”

Graham winced, watching Percy’s dive miss Velma by the proverbial mile. Some of the party guests chuckled as they watched their classmate’s face slam into the grass. Considering Percy’s penchant for showmanship, they thought his bad dive might be part of a performance. That assumption didn’t seem far-fetched when the two Fembots rushed forward to help Austin Powers out of the small hole his chin had created.

While the two sophomores helped Percy sit up, Velma threw up her hands.

“I didn’t want any trouble,” she insisted, turning to move toward the woods.

After wincing over the dive, Graham had already started to hurry in their direction. Now, concerned about Velma escaping into the forest and the possibility of another costume change, the crime hobbyist glanced at the guys behind him.

“Go on, grab her!”

“What?” Karsten responded.

“I thought you wanted just to locate her,” Ryle said, looking unsure about the idea.

“Yeah, Mercedes said to protect you, not grab a girl,” Bash added.

“You’re football players. Can’t you run her down and grab her? Heck, even tackle her?” Graham challenged.

A round of I-don’t-knows and murmurs about hurting a girl sounded. Instead of one of the football players following Graham’s plea, another person sprinted past the group.

“I got this bounty!” Reese announced.

“Uh, I don’t think there is a reward, but you never…” Graham trailed off, realizing he sounded like an idiot.

“Damn, look at her go,” Diego said.

“Those boots must be killing her feet,” Bash commented about the cowboy boots.

“I wanna know how she’s even running in them. Mine are killing my legs,” Ryle admitted, pointing at his red Superman boots.

With Velma nearly to the treeline, Reese reached her in the nick of time. Executing a sliding leg tackle, the swimmer hinted at her past youth soccer days. The takedown worked perfectly, sending Velma to the grass similarly to Percy’s crash, while her head barely missed the first exposed tree root.

“My glasses!”

The in-character cry set off another wave of laughter from the partially drunk spectators. Bash and Diego reached the Cowgirl/Marshal and the cartoon crimebuster. Unsure about their next move, they opted to help Reese stand up.

“Yes, yes, no need to thank me for slowing her down. I’m glad to help for free, Grammy,” Percy announced, taking a bow. “Now, if any of you ladies feel the need to reward this hero, the line forms at the bottom of the guest house’s stairs. I’ll gladly quench your horny thirsts.”

While the pair of Fembots giggled, Simone marched over, annoyed. Motioning for the two sophomores to get out of the way, the dark-skinned soccer star knocked Percy back onto the ground with a one-armed shove to his shoulder. Despite the blow that sent him sprawled out on his back, Percy's motormouth didn't cease.

“By the waters of the Nile, I’ve been Marc Antony-ied by Cleopatra! Oh, the horror, my love!”

Graham automatically opened his mouth to correct his family friend’s historical inaccuracy, but stopped when her heard the mystery woman speak.

“What the hell, Reese? That hurt!” Velma yelled, turning to get on her hands and knees. “Where are my glasses?”

“Do I know you?” Reese questioned while Velma crawled around, searching the grass.

A triumphant shout answered as Velma found her glasses. Sitting up on her knees, the brainy character held the glasses up to the light to check for any cracks.

“Whew!” the mystery woman said, sighing with relief. “These types of fake glasses aren’t cheap.”

Thrown off by Velma’s apparent lack of concern about escaping, Graham tried to take charge. With Ryle and Karsten joining Bash, Diego, and Reese, they had formed a circle around Graham’s suspect. Finding a voice he might have never used before, the bookworm’s tone projected confidence and command.

“Don’t even think about trying to run. We have you surrounded. Not only that, your game is up, lady. I know you were disguised previously as Batgirl. Your appearance as Velma Dinkley shortly before I discovered your discarded outfit confirmed my theory.”

“Yep, you got me, Graham. You're pretty good at noticing someone out of place and solving the puzzle. But you didn’t need to sic everybody on me.”

Something about Velma's voice struck a chord with Graham, but he ignored it and pressed on.

“Ah, so you know my name. Not that it’s all that surprising. A good thief knows his adversaries who are coming–”

“Her,” Percy corrected.

“What? Yes, alright. So a solid thief would know her–”

“I’m not a thief, Graham,” Velma interrupted.

“Of course you are. You’re the jewel thief known as the Seeper!” Graham announced, enjoying his big reveal moment, which he never expected to have.

“Who? Seriously, Graham, can’t you figure out who I am? Kinda lame for a crime buff like you,” the mystery woman remarked.

An object tapping the bookworm’s right shoulder made him turn around as Little Bo Peep pulled her shepherd’s crook back. The notorious gossip looked almost comical in her pink bonnet, if not for her smug expression as she shook her head.

“Ooh, wrong guess, Higbee. Way wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Just like an episode of Scooby-Doo, you’ve mistaken the imposter for the fake ghost,” Nellie proclaimed.

“Not to nitpick, but I don’t recall any episodes like that. And to be honest, I’ve watched the early years dozens, if not hundreds, of times,” Percy stated.

“Fine, Percy, would calling her a red herring work better for you than an imposter?”

“It might.”

“What are you two babbling about?” Reese challenged.

“I’m trying to give the big reveal that Higbee botched. So if you don’t mind,” Nellie responded, getting sarcastic. “That’s not a thief. She’s our resident actress: Spencer Jepson!”

The high school senior in question shrugged before pulling off her wig.

“No way!”

“Damn, she is a good actress.”

“Whoa! I don’t know that Jepson could be that hot,” Bash remarked, glancing at his friends.

“Spencer? But I thought you went to a drama camp for the weekend. Elliot said—” Graham recalled.

“Sorry, I lied to a few people to throw off suspicions,” Spencer admitted. “I wanted to test my ability to sneak into the biggest party of the year while being incognito.”

“Worked for me,” Ryle admitted.

“You did an awesome job, girl!” Carmen cheered.

“Ah, I suspected it all along,” Percy declared dismissively.

“Please. I had you wrapped around my pinkie,” Spencer shot back before regretting it. “And that wasn’t meant to be sexual!”

“Shit, sorry about the tackle, Spence. I thought Higbee was onto something, but maybe the bullies made him paranoid,” Reese suggested.

“Oh, no. I’ve been following a red herring around all night? This is humiliating,” the school’s crime expert moaned. “I thought the Seeper might have chosen a copycat costume to sneak around in.”

“Actually, I don’t think you were that far off, Higbee. I saw you sense it with another person. With Corbin,” Nellie recounted before pointing over to the other side of the pool.

Graham followed her finger to see Haylee Uphoff, Elliot’s ex, flipping out on Corbin Barron. Clearly drunk, the ginger-haired Black Widow didn’t give a damn about avoiding a scene. A hard shove nearly knocked Corbin into the pool.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Corbin said, lifting his helmet’s faceplate. “I didn’t blow you off earlier.”

“Bullshit! I practically threw myself at you!”

“That wasn’t me, Haylee!”

“Hang on,” Graham muttered, walking closer to his side of the pool. Squinting, he studied Corbin’s Iron Man costume. “You’re right. That’s not the same costume that the other person wore.”

“Stay out of this, Higgy!’ Haylee shouted.

“Hold up. What do you mean?” Corbin queried. “How can you tell?”

“Easily, now that I decided to stop being a moron and pay attention,” Graham said. “You’re wearing different armors.”

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Haylee said, feeling a little dizzy, which prompted Terra to come over and steady her.

“Armor? What armor?” Corbin questioned.

“You're wearing a Mark IX Armor, while the other Iron Man had on a Mark IV,” Graham explained.

“I don’t follow you,” the current Iron Man responded.

“Wait, is Higbee talking about his suit?” Bash asked.

“No, it’s not called a suit. Iron Man wears an armor. Those dumbed-down films ruined the name. It’s simple enough to notice the differences. Corbin’s armor is often called the Neo-Classic armor, and is the post-Armor Wars version that Tony Stark wore in the late 1980s and early 1990s,” Graham explained. “The other man had on one of the armors often grouped together as the Classic Armor. However, the Mark IV debuted in the 1970s and was worn for a considerable time when Rhodey filled in as Iron Man. Well, before he nearly burned–”

“Oh. My. Gawd! Enough with the nerd talk!” Haylee roared.

“It is a Halloween party, and you are wearing a comic book character’s costume,” Graham pointed out, gesturing at her Black Widow bodysuit.

“Don’t worry about it, Hails. Only care that it means Corbin didn’t blow you off,” Terra prodded.

“Oh! I’m sooo sorry, babe!” the drunk redhead cried, lunging forward to hug her current crush.

Watching until it became clear that Corbin wouldn’t topple backward into the pool, taking Haylee with him, Graham turned back to face the others.

“You’re right, Nellie. We have two Iron Mans at this party, and I doubt Mercedes okayed a repeat of the same character.”

“You know she didn’t,” Carmen agreed, stretching her slinky figure in her Catwoman costume while adding a purr. “Good catch, Grammy.”

“Uh, yes, thank you,” the flustered bookworm said. “That means the other Iron Man is a party crasher. Where’s Elliot?”

---

The kiss turned long and intensely passionate.

Holland’s tongue played delicately with Elliot’s at first, flicking and flaunting its way around the narrow opening in his costume. A brief respite occurred as the personal assistant pulled back to smack her lips slowly. The pause ended when the fake redhead slammed forward, mashing Elliot’s back against the wall. Miss Bishop’s skills easily outclassed Haylee's, his ex-girlfriend, as her tongue darted around the inside of his mouth, seemingly teasing his tongue. Overwhelmed by the unexpected onslaught, the shocked young man could only moan softly.

After a final thirty-second salvo, Holland pulled back with a worshipful expression as she gazed lovingly at Elliot. As she stared deeply into his light-brown eyes, the current Daphne Blake reached up to softly caress the bandages around the Invisible Man’s cheek. Then her blue orbs sparkled mischievously as she leaned around to whisper through the bandages covering his left ear.

“You saved me from a potentially nasty fall. That makes you a hero, and heroes deserve rewards.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a—”

“Shhh,” Miss Bishop shushed, using a finger to stop the younger man. “Perhaps I exaggerated slightly, but Halloween is the night for role-playing. And I’m about to rock your world with my gratitude. Also, my adrenaline has been pumping since the ballroom, and I need to relieve the tension badly.”

“Um, okay,” Elliot nodded.

“Good, let’s take this off first,” Holland said, turning the young man so that she could remove his smoking jacket. Afterward, she placed it carefully onto the center of the armchair before nudging Elliot farther into the room. “Why don’t you start removing those bandages finally?”

Recalling where he tucked in the final strip, Elliot tugged the gauzy material out of his shirt’s neckline. While he did so, Holland began to strip unseen behind him. First, she kicked off her wedged shoes, then shimmyed her pantyhose down her slim legs. Once finished, she untied her green scarf, then unzipped her purple dress and let it drop to the floor with a little help from her hands.

As Elliot removed the final bandages from the top of his head, the pretty PA helped by pulling off the shirt with the remaining bandages. Pleased to see the unblemished skin on his back, Holland finished all but one move by pulling his pants down. Then, she spun him around to face her.

“Whoa,” Elliot murmured, taking in the lacy purple bra and panty set that the twenty-three-year-old wore.

Smirking at the manner in which the young man drooled over her barely contained D-cups, Miss Bishop took charge, gently pushing him over to the bed with a similar soft directive. Elliot didn’t need any other encouragement as he realized this shocking hookup might actually happen.

Already on edge from the attention that Val, Pomona, and Isannah gave him previously in the pool cabana tent, Elliot’s manhood filled quickly. Holland noticed with a jerk of her head back and to the side, a perplexed expression forming.

“You can’t be…” the personal assistant said, trailing off before she looked at Elliot’s face. Did I hit the jackpot with this high school guy? “Remove them.”

Down to his underwear, Elliot didn’t need to guess what she meant. Following the order, the young man pushed his boxer-briefs down over his rock-hard dick. Once freed, possibly the most impressive cock that Holland had ever seen sprang out, causing her to gasp.

“Holy fuck. I hit the motherlode,” the gorgeous fake-ginger said, dropping to her knees in front of Elliot. Then, before another word was spoken, Miss Bishop enveloped the head of his dick.