Page 39 of Marrying My Moth Lady

Trucks and cars park in wavy lines on the grass, with worn paths between the rows. They lead to a fenced area crowned with colorful lights. People exit their cars to hike to the outdoor concert. They wear cat ears, wings adorned with fairy lights, glowing headdresses, fluffy tails, and flashing masks. I count more than a dozen men and women fighting the mud atop stilettos. Each outfit is more outrageous than the last…until I spot a few women wearing nothing but neon body paint. Lordy, we ain’t on my side of the forest anymore!

“Don’t just sit there gawking, my beauty. I want to get inside before the first set,” Horus says as he offers me his hand to climb out of the truck. “I brought you these too.”

He hands me a pair of heart-shaped glasses with slats running across the top half of lens holes. Anyone who notices my eyes glowing red would assume it is an effect of the glasses. I put them on with a smile so wide it strains my cheeks, and I add the earplugs. I can’t believe we are at my first EDM rave. I wobble in the grass to the tune of my husband’s sexy laughter. We cling to one another on our trek to the festival doors.

“This is a dream come true,” I whisper against his glow-paint tied-dyed shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he says, setting me on my feet to collect our wristbands. Since I don’t have an ID, I get a stamp on my hand to show I can’t buy alcohol. Horus and I laugh at the absurdity that I would buy alcohol when I can barely walk in my heels on the uneven ground as is.

“Hey, Specs! Over here!” A man in a straw hat decorated with glowsticks yells at us. Under his arm is a tiny brunette dressed in butterfly wings and a dress with blinking lights around the hem. They stand in a half circle with two other couples.

“Phew! I was worried about how long it would take to find the brotherhood. I should have known Bull would wait by the entrance. That’s why we voted him fraternity president over a decade ago. We graduated and moved on, but he steps into the leadership role whenever we’re together.”

“That’s so sweet—”

“Not too sweet,” Horus says, distributing manly hugs with back slaps. “These assholes let a biker and his babe carry me out of a bar after the last rave I attended. Amber and Rash could have robbed me blind—”

“And it was hilarious,” says a greying man, reaching for my hand. “Specs needs his attitude adjusted every few years. They call me, Bull, and this is my wife, Darla.”

“I’m Chains, but you know me as Herbert Van Waussal. I sent the blueprints for your house,” says a blond man with a prominent bald spot. “This glowing kitten is my wife, Amy.” Amy is a blond half my size but makes up for the height difference with oversized, pink cat ears. They match her pink dress and glowstick accessories.

“I’m Maestro and this is my wife, Chelle,” says the one in the elaborate hat who waved us over. His wife has long black hair with wisps of grey above her ears. Her wings are black like mine, but strapped to her shoulders by neon yellow bands.

“Everyone, this is my wife, Millie,” Horus says, introducing me to his core group of fraternity brothers and their wives. “Please be gentle with her.”

“Nice to meet you,” I practically squeal.Friends!My hands wave under my chin between handshakes. I’m so excited. No veil! They see me for who I am. Wings fluttering and antennae vibrating with happiness, I make my first female friends.

“Gentle with her? She’s married to you! I bet she could chew diamonds and bench press a car with the strength it takes to stomach you!”

The group laughs—including a beet-red Horus—and continues to rib one another until the sun sets. I learn Maestro owns the farmland we stand upon and organizes a rave every quarter to annoy the neighbors. They attacked when he came home from college and modernized the farm. One neighbor called the cops about his inflatable Santas on his first Christmas home, and it was on.

Bull, a prominent attorney, filed for festival permits every season for the next fifty years. With one hundred percent of the proceeds going to the local food pantry, the city and state were happy to oblige. They waved noise ordinance rules. The cops who first visited to deflate his Santas, now direct the traffic for concertgoers.

No wonder Horus pledged into this fraternity. They bury hearts of gold under cords of vindictiveness, just like him. I can’t even be mad at the group for luring him into Amber’s trap. If they had kept an eye on their drunk, introverted friend, I would have never met the love of my life.

Bull leads us through the crowd to the stage. People—some with horns clipped into their hair—step to the side when they see Bull charging through. This crowd is thick as fleas on a dog’s back. Lots of the dancers pat Maestro on the back as we pass. A woman runs her fingers through the feathers on mywings. At first, I’m shocked a stranger would be so bold as to touch me. Then a shiver creeps up my spine at her invasive touch.

What if she was someone bigger than me? Can I fly away? I’m delighted by the look of awe on her face until Horus growls at her. Should have known my husband would take offense and protect me. With a giggle, I tug my possessive husband behind me. What a turn-on when he gets all possessive! He’s like a mountain lion guarding his prize. I can’t wait to reward him for guarding me by grinding against him all night.

“Delts are here,” Maestro yells at a security guard. “Okay folks, this is our booth. If you need anything, let my man Mitchell know. Once the night gets rockin’, I wouldn’t step outside of the barriers. He can’t keep eyes on all of us.”

We step up a foot onto a raised platform. Horus suffers ‘robbing the cradle’ jokes when I’m helped up the stairs and my handstamp glows. Folded chairs rest against the back, but there’s enough room for eight people to dance. A wooden barrier is just over waist high. If someone wanted to get to us, Mitchell would have time to get to them as they climbed. Our guard wears a radio, so he could call for backup, too. I’m in public, but secure in a smaller enclosure. These are normal security procedures, judging by the behavior of Horus’s friends, but I’m grateful not to be so exposed.

“Comfortable?” Horus whispers from behind me. He bites the lobe and sucks the flesh beneath my ear.

“I’m so happy,” I whisper in return. The other couples whisper in similar embraces, so I don’t mind Horus’s PDA.

“Just wait,” my husband says with a mercurial smirk.

“DJ Redi in the house! Athens, Ohio make some noise!” The DJ yells into his microphone. He’s half the height I picturedhim to be…or maybe his keyboards are tall. Two jumbo screens flank the stage, so we get an extreme closeup of the little man. His curly hair may be naturally red, but the stripes of green, blue, and purple are definitely not. The stage lights glitter off his eyebrow piercings above his bright, green eyes.

The crowd’s answer rattles my bones. My antennae tuck into my hair for protection. Colored smoke unfurls like ethereal fingers from the stage. Lasers pulsate to the tempo of the rumbling bass, sending bolts across the sky. I can’t help but chuckle when I imagine the grouchy neighbors listening to this in their living room as their couch strobes different colors.

“Who’s ready to get wild with Redi?” The DJ shouts.

Our calm collected posse sways with men hugging their wives in front of them. These are accomplished businessmen, and their wives certainly won’t—

“My favorite song!” Chelle yells while grabbing Amy’s hands. They drop to a squat while singing lyrics I’m pretty sure aren’t until the end of the song. Their drinks slosh and throw ice cubes. “Join us, Millie!”

---