Thanks for your call last night. Steel and I are have gone traveling for the summer, your bff
The trailer door opens and I switch off the phone. Steel appears in the doorway.
“Good news, I’ve talked Papa Smurf and Cess into having you sit in on her basket toss booth.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re working a game, paid hard cash every week, just like me.”
“What do I do?” They just throw me right in like that?
“Cess will show you everything. It’s just selling. You said you wanted to sell, and now you are.”
“Who’s Cess?”
“The carnival princess. She’s a friend, and she’ll take care of you while I’m working.”
My hands start trembling, and I sit on them to hide it from Steel. I’ve only ever worked in my dad’s office before, never in a store or anywhere that I had to deal with the public before. The idea is daunting.
Steel sits down beside me and pulls my hands out from under me. He takes them in his hands, and the strength of his fingers helps me find my own strength.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. If you can make me walk away from my life of ten years, then you can convince some teenager to try to toss a softball into a peach basket.”
I smile and lean my head against him. He always knows how to make me feel better. There’s no question I’m happier with him. I don’t care about my parents, or his fight, all I care that he can sit here beside me and make everything better. Make me better.
“Let’s go toss some balls,” I say, standing up.
Every Rose has a Thorn
(STEEL)
Emily’s bent over, her head in the passenger area, looking for something. Her movements are slow, and her limbs look clumsy.
“What are you doing?” I ask, anxious to close her door and get back on the road.
“Looking for Kleenex.”
“So get in and then look for them, we need to go.”
“I can’t get in until I find them, your come is leaking down my leg and I don’t want to get it all over the seat.”
“So use your dress to wipe it off.”
She stops what she’s doing and cranes her head about to look at me, “My dress, my one piece of clothing? No way. Give me your T-shirt, and I’ll use that.”
I’m about to object when I realize how much cleaning up her pussy appeals to me. Like I can see what I do to it, plus touch it some more. I’ve got more clothes in the trunk anyway.
“Keep looking for the Kleenex,” I say, squaring myself behind her hips.
Pulling my T-shirt over my head, I ball it in my fist and rub it up her leg. Emily freezes, but doesn’t say anything. I wipe off both her inner thighs, and press my shirt against her lips, causing her to arch her back. Slowly, I moved the shirt through her folds, loving this idea of mine.
Damn, if we weren’t in such a hurry, I’d fuck her again right now.
She’s all cleaned up for now, but I gush like a bull. I push her hips to the side, and lay the T-shirt on the seat. It’s something, anyway.
“Thank you,” she says, her breathing slow.
Emily hikes her skirt around her waist, I guess so she doesn’t sit on it, then gets in the passenger seat. Shit, I thought the first five hours of looking at her long legs was hard, now I’ve got a view of everything below the waist to contend with.
I get back into the driver’s seat and pull back onto the highway. Emily reclines her seat, her luscious lips on full display to me. I force my focus on the road and getting us there in time.
She falls asleep almost straight away, and I keep on driving. When we get near, I use Emily’s phone for directions.
The sun is up when I pull into the lot where the carnival is. Emily wakes up when I stop the car.
“Where are we?” She asks, her voice groggy.
“We’re here.”
Emily’s eyes shoot wide open and her spine straightens.
“You don’t got nothing to be worried about,” I say and grip her hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll feel better.” She looks at me like a deer in headlights and I grip her hand tighter. “Don’t worry, Goldie, I’m here for you. Just trust me.”
With tight lips, her head nods, almost imperceptibly. I release her hand and get out of the car. I go around to her side to coax her out, but to my surprise she gets out on her own and is standing waiting for me by the time I get there.
“Holy shit, you made it,” Papa Smurf says, walking towards us.
“The promise of my own trailer? You’re damn straight we made it,” I say.
“And this is her, the one you drove us all nuts about over the winter?” He says, eyeing Emily.
“Papa Smurf, this is Goldie.”
“Goldie, huh. Nice to have you with us. I still can’t believe Steel convinced you to come.”
The comment makes her smile, and with a soft voice she says, “I was the one who had to convince him to bring me.”
“I’ll be damned. Ain’t never heard that one before,” he says.
“Enough of the Steel bashing, where’s our trailer?”
“How you going to pull it?” He asks, laughing.
“With this.” I point to the Corolla.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me. That little thing?”
“You’ll see.”
“I’d sure like to. Trailer’s over there, the little blue one.”
I grab Emily’s hand and say, “Come on, Goldie, let’s go check out our new home.”
“We’re leaving in half an hour,” Papa Smurf calls after us.
Pulling her across the field, various carnies I’ve known for years yell and whistle at me.
“Fuck you all,” I shout at none of them in particular.
“Fuck you too, asshole,” someone yells. I think it was Razor. Doesn’t matter anyway, they’d all say the same thing. So would I.
“This is it,” I say, pulling my hand on the trailer door latch.
It’s small, not much bigger than a bunkie room, but I don’t care. It’s all ours.
I open the door and Emily climbs in, looking around. I enter and shut the door behind me.
“It’s nice,” she says, her voice a bit deflated.
“It’s great, look at this, our own table and chairs.”
“That’s a bed.”
“Now it is, but it turns into a table.”
“Oh.”
“That means we can sit in here when it rains, and don’t have to sit on the bed.”
“I thought you’d prefer the bed in the rain.”
“Don’t you worry about that. Bed, table. Hell, I’ll even bend you over this little stove.”
Emily laughs, “Is that a promise?”
“Don’t you worry, Goldie, I wouldn’t be surprised if we bust this trailer’s axle.”
I grab her hips and grind into her. My mouth smashes against hers, my woman in our trailer, and I know where this is going to end.
“Get the fuck out of there, we got to get ready to go,” Razor says, pounding his fist on the door.
“Give us five minutes.”
“That’s no way to please a woman. Goldie, he ever lets you down, you can come running to my bunkhouse any night.”
Enraged, I let go of Emily and fly out the door. I don’t care if he is like a brother to me, these fuckers need to know she’s off limits, and I need to make that loud and clear now.
“What did you say, asshole?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Razor says, not looking behind him as he walks away.
“I said, what did you say?”
“You heard me, that pretty woman ever gets tired of your disappointing fucks, she needs to know where she can come get a good one.”
Covering the ground between us as fast as I can, I lunge at Razor from behind and we go crashing to the ground. I’m on top of him, and push myself up by pushing his back down into the ground.
Everyone in the l
ot has stopped what they were doing and is rushing to us.
“Let me make this clear now,” I yell, “Goldie is mine, and if anyone does anything to upset or disrespect her, they’re going to have to deal with me. I don’t care who you are or how long I’ve known your fucking cocksucking ass.”
“Easy, buddy. I was just messing around,” Razor says.
“And that includes messing around,” I bark, and shove his back to emphasis my point.
“Fine,” Razor mutters.
Standing, I look around at everyone and continue yelling, “And so help me God, if anyone lays a hand on her, I’ll beat your fucking head in until you don’t have a face left. Is that fucking clear?”
I glare at various nodding faces. Some people murmur things before turning away and going back to their business.
Good. I think I got the message across.
At that moment, I look up and notice Emily peeking out the door, looking whiter than she did when we first got here.
Peace Sells
(STEEL)
It’s a Saturday in mid-May, and we’re still in Mississippi. It’s raining this afternoon, and the smell of damp earth mixes with the stink of the rides. Doesn’t matter, the carnival is busy anyway. That’s the thing with these little towns. The weekend the carnival comes to town is the only thing that happens all year.
I’m tired of standing out in the rain, and am going to swing by Emily’s booth to dry off under the awning.
But first I’m getting her a funnel cake. I even paid for it, and am loading it up with chocolate, toffee sauce and whip cream.
I make my way down the midway. A couple of chicks in shirts soaked from the rain and clinging to their tits are coming the other direction. They’re bleached blondes, and the taller one has tits so big that half the men she walks past crane their heads for another look.
They see my yellow carnival T-shirt, and beeline towards me. These girls know they can come to a carny for a mind-blowing fuck no local boy is capable of giving them.
Last year, I’d have had both of them at once in my room. This year, all I can think of is avoiding them.
“Hey, sexy man,” big tits says.
I ignore them and keep on walking.
“At least let us feel them muscles,” one of them shouts after I’m past them.
“We’ll give you a dollar if you show us them abs of yours,” the other shouts.
I used to pocket a pretty penny from local girls wanting to see my body. This year I’ve been turning it all down, which Razor’s been loving. He’s raking in all my turnaways, and is planning to buy a PlayStation from all the extra money.
Not breaking my stride, I ignore them and arrive at Emily’s booth. She’s standing there, somehow managing to make the yellow carnival T-shirt sexy.
“Hey, sexy,” I say, sitting on the counter. “I brought you something.”
Emily comes over to me, and leans in for a kiss.
“God, that smells good,” Emily says, breathing in the funnel cake.
“Don’t suppose you brought me one of them,” Cess says, tossing a softball in her hand.
“Next time,” I say.
“You said that last time,” Cess says.
“How’s it going, you selling any?” I ask Emily.
“She’s a natural. Ain’t you, Goldie?” Cess says.
“Not surprised. That pretty face could get a man to do anything,” I say.
“It worked on you,” Emily says and laughs.
She takes a big bite of the funnel cake, her eyes close as the flavor fills her mouth. That’s the look I’m used to seeing in our trailer, not from a bite of food.
A big, blond dude slaps five dollars on the counter. He’s with a buddy, a guy only slightly shorter who’s wearing a polo shirt. They look like the kind of people I’d expect Emily would be related to.
Cess snaps up the money and holds out three balls to him.
“I want them from her,” he says, nodding to Emily.
My attention is drawn from Emily’s pretty face to the idiot trying to win an impossible game.
“She’s busy, you gotta take them from me,” Cess says.
“I said, I want them from her,” he says.
The dude’s face coats in a smug smile as he stares at Cess. The back of my neck prickles. This guy had better drop it, if he knows what’s good for him.
“Your choice, you take my balls, or you forfeit your money,” Cess says.
“Oh, I think that pretty girl wants to give me the balls.”
It pisses me off, but I know how common fuckers like these guys are. I take another bite of funnel cake and wait to see how Emily handles the situation.
“Now careful boys, you wouldn’t want my boyfriend here to pulverize your pretty-boy faces now, would you?” Emily says.
“He’s your boyfriend? Sweetheart, you can do a lot better than him. Let me show you all the things a real man can do.” He pauses and stares at me. “Not some scumbag like him.”
Enough. I slip off the counter and ball my fist, intending to knock the mother-fucker down with a right hook.
“This is nothing, we get at least one of him an hour,” Emily says, a worried look in her eyes.
“Don’t mean he doesn’t need his head kicking in.”
A crowd has gathered round the booth. Everything inside of me is telling me to beat the guy into next Tuesday, but I decide it’ll be more fun to humiliate him in front of the town. He’ll be the laughing stock for years to come.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you six balls, no charge. If you get one in, good things will happen.”
“Good things like what?” He says.
“Good things like I won’t break your faces,” I say, and take another bite of the funnel cake.
“And I’ll give you the balls you paid for,” Emily says, laughing. She knows it’s impossible for them to win. Emily walks back to the baskets, getting the balls. But I know the real thing she’s doing is making sure the angles on the baskets are set to impossible.
“I don’t know, Steel, that’s giving them pretty good odds. He looks like he knows how to throw a ball, ain’t no way you’ll win that one,” Cess says, winking at me.
“Six balls and you don’t think we can get one in?” the blond laughs, “I’m a pitcher.”
“Line ‘em up, Cess,” I say.
Cess puts the six balls on the counter, three in front of each of them. He picks up the first ball, aims, and throws. The ball hits the basket, and bounces out again.
“Five more tries to prove you’re really a pitcher,” I say, wiping toffee sauce from the corner of my mouth.
He ignores me, and takes another throw. The ball hits the back of the peach basket and bounces out.
“I hope you don’t treat women the way you treat the balls, just nailing it as hard as you can. It takes finesse,” I say, smirking.
“Up yours,” he says.
He throws the next ball, gentler this time, but it still bounces out. The guy’s got good aim, I’ll give him that.
“This is bullshit,” he says, looking around at the crowd.
“Ain’t no bullshit. Pass me some balls, Goldie, I’ll show him how it’s done.” Emily gets two balls out of the basket at the far end. I take one from her, look at the asshole and say, “I only need one.”
She tosses the other ball in her hand, and I take aim.
“Pay attention, you might learn something,” I say and release the ball into the basket Emily took the balls from.
It lands in the basket and thuds against the ball that’s already in it. The ball she left in it stops the new ball from bouncing out again.
“Your turn,” I say, looking at the crowd and laughing. I lean against the counter, glaring at him as he takes aim and I take another bite of the funnel cake.
“Ah, come on, let’s stop embarrassing the poor guy,” Emily says.
“Shut up,” the guy snaps.
He throws two more balls, both of them hit the basket
and bounce out again.
“Seems like this town is in need of a better pitcher,” I say.
The crowd laughs, and the guy turns red with anger and embarrassment. He throws the last ball, and it bounces out again, of course. He puts his head down, mutters something under his breath and pushes his way through the crowd.
“That was fucking hilarious, you crack me up,” Emily says and gives me a quick kiss.
Her kiss floods me with heat, and I know I made the right decision in humiliating the fuck out of the guy instead of throwing that punch. Various people from the crowd have now lined up for their chance at doing what the town’s star pitcher couldn’t. Emily takes the first guy’s money, an old guy wearing a T-shirt that barely covers his beer gut.
She hands him three balls and directs him to the basket I used, with the extra ball still in it. The guy takes aim and his first ball lands in the basket.
I look at the crowd and say, “Good to see there’s someone in this town who knows how to throw a ball.”
They laugh and some even clap. I’m buzzing from defeating the asshole. Surprisingly, it was far more satisfying that giving him a black eye.
Leaning across the counter, Emily throws her arm around my neck and pulls me close. I crush my mouth against hers, reveling in the taste of my woman.
New World Man
(EMILY)
It’s June tenth. My twenty-first birthday. But it’s a Saturday, and that means I’ll be sitting in this booth all day, convincing idiots to give me five bucks to try to throw a ball into a basket.
When are they going to realize they can’t win? Unless I want them to, that is.
Cess says we have to make sure it seems like you can win, so every so often, we tilt the baskets to keep the balls from bouncing out again. You can’t tell the angles from the other side of the counter, but we still have to be extra cautious because the state regulators are known to come round posing as players. They’re checking for fixed games, and if we get caught, that means a big fine for the carnival, and Papa Smurf’s boot up my ass.
I love getting to choose who I want to win. Somehow, men who are dicks to their girlfriends never do. But when I offer a discounted or free set of balls to their girlfriends, they always win. Assuming they can hit the basket.
Carnal: Pierced and Inked Page 12