"Could you pass my mascara?" Bette asked, tilting her head so she could more easily apply her make up in the mirror.

Tina looked over and smiled at her as she passed the jet black cylinder. "You look … devilish."

Bette grinned, but kept her eyes on the task before her. They were nearly late for the evening ahead, and that was completely unacceptable. After applying the rest of her eye make up, she turned back to Tina. She smirked at the beautiful golden hair mixed with extensions that clipped in for the interesting night ahead. They both enjoyed putting something different on, so no one could easily recognize them, if they happened to run into anyone they knew. It was, after all, supposed to be anonymous. "You look fanciful, and" her eyes lowered instinctively, "Hello cleavage."

"What do you expect with a corsette underneath this thing?" Tina chuckled, glad they had enjoyed a small dinner so she didn’t feel so confined in her costume. Then she looked back up to Bette. "You know, I really do love this little … celebration."

"Yeah, and we couldn’t make it last year," Bette sighed, walking past Tina to get her long black gloves. "That was a terrible shame." The dark make up only accentuated all of the black lining on her dress, along with the deep color of purple throughout. It was a renaissance-style flowing dress, giving Bette the appearance of a glamor-savvy, ancient beauty.

"When will the cab be here?" Tina asked, feeling completely comfortable and content with the promise of the evening. She knew she would enjoy the festive party of "All Hallow’s Eve" that was celebrated between a very elite community of BDSM, run in a new location each time so as not to be traced. It was all very dark, very underground, and best to call a cab to the event, because parking wouldn’t even be a possibility. The location was always some abandoned hole in the wall, or something of equal value. Nothing to be noticed. And they surely didn’t want to be caught in another town, their car towed from the scene. "I’m so excited."

"Nervous?" Bette asked, finally looking down her own body at what she had put together.

"Always," Tina confessed with a sweet smile, flattening down the front of her own, old-styled dress – hers in a gold tone, and a small pattern throughout. She looked the part of Anne Boleyn, except for her beautifully fashioned blond hair. "But I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. It’s so … rich. So real, and truly devious."