Congratulations on Consummating Your Costumed Romance!

You and Trisha have been feeling each other out for a while.  Sometimes you’ll linger at the shared border of your territories and chat, using Disney approved catch phrases from each of your characters to form a lurid code.

“Hakuna Matata,” for example, means “let’s bump uglies in the breakroom bathroom in an hour.”  “You ain’t never had a friend like me” is how you say “I’m so wet that I think it might be showing through my bear costume.  And when the two of you start shouting Billy Joel lyrics at one another, which is acceptable at your job for whatever reason, it’s just how you tell one another that you both desperately want to leave your husbands and start new lives together.

But your romance has remained confined to the hours you spend as contractually obligated representatives of the Walt Disney corporation, entertaining children and angry parents alike in the urban wilderness that is Anaheim.  You usually keep your costumes on and just do high-school level stuff through them.

But today all that’s going to change.  After you finish your shifts, the two of you are going to corner one another in the breakroom.  After standing face to face, resisting the urge to kiss for like, twenty minutes, Miguel, the guy who will have been staring at you the whole time, will give up on seeing any action and leave the room, finally, which will prompt the two of you to tear into one another, lips meshing, hands caressing, tongues exploring.

After fifteen minutes of intense makeouts, the two of you will look into one another’s eyes and the unspoken message will pass between you that this is the night that you get a hotel room and finally make this thing happen.

The motel will be a few blocks away, a drab stucco affair brightened only by interspersed, unhealthy potted plants.  The sheets will be rough, clean-ish at best, but you won’t care.  You’ll stumble into the room and fall upon one another with a fury neither of you believed you were capable of.  Neither of you will have really had a lesbian experience before that went this far, but the entire thing will feel so right, so natural, that you’ll begin working each other towards climax with an almost unnerving skill and familiarity.

When you’re finished you’ll be laying there on top of the covers together, limbs twined and knotted.  Sweat will stain the sheets, and you’ll both be breathless and sated.  Your costumes will be packed in dufflebags, sitting in the two cars you drove up in outside.  They’ll seem so far away, relics of a past life.  They won’t warrant discussion.  Their future loss, their implied departure from your lives, will be a given after what has just happened, as certain as the letters you’ll write to your spouses, as the car trip to come, into the hills, mountains, valleys, as far as you have to go to be together, unfettered, unbothered, and unmolested.

Congratulations on Consummating Your Costumed Romance!