Fairground Attraction

by Raven McAllan

  “Thank you.” She kissed him firmly on the lips. “That shows trust.”

  “That”—he returned the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips open before slipping inside—“is love. And trust. Because I do love and trust you. As you’ll find out next week.”

  She nodded but said nothing. Just leaned into him.

  “Careful, you’ll get all sticky.”

  She moved back slightly and put a finger in the middle of the mark then moved the digit to her mouth and sucked.

  His cock might have been spent, but it was interested.

  “Down, boy.” She grinned, looking about sixteen. “You’ve had your fun. How are you going to explain this away?”

  “I’m not.” He picked up the high-viz jacket he had removed from the cupboard and put it on. “I’ll walk to the trailer and change. You coming with me?” She nodded. “We’ll go out of the emergency gate there, cut behind those generators, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to make us very inconspicuous, do you?” She nodded at the bright yellow jacket he was shrugging into. “It might cover the evidence, but it’ll cause plenty of questions. Do you have a bottle of water here?”

  He took one from a small box and passed it over. Watched as she unsnapped the lid and threw the contents at him. He gasped as the coldness hit him just above the waist and ran down his torso, the denim rapidly changing to the color of the first wet patch. Vairi helped it along with a few well-chosen rubs, designed, he decided, to cause him maximum awareness and discomfort.

  “That’s better. It’s an ‘oops I tripped and flung my water all over you and I’m really sorry moment’. Visible, noticeable, explainable, and, er, subtle?”

  He shivered. It might be a warm evening, but the water wasn’t. “As a sledgehammer. Subtle,” he elaborated as she looked blank. “But better than the jacket, I’ll grant you. Right, let’s go before I shrivel up and go into hibernation.” He took her hand and walked swiftly toward the accommodation compound, keeping a wary lookout for anyone in the vicinity. Luckily, it seemed everyone had congregated near the Ready Room, from where, in the distance, voices could be heard. He unlocked his trailer and stood back to let her in. She hesitated, and uncharacteristically, he lost his temper.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he snapped. “I’ve just jerked myself of on a bloody ride for you, and you don’t trust me enough to wait inside while I get rid of the evidence? Sit there then, or go to the others. Suit yourself.” He knew he’d over-reacted but for the life of him had no clue how to show Vairi that he wasn’t a total prick. Instead he turned and walked inside, not looking back to see if she had followed before he carried on into the bedroom. It took a second to decide he would make enough time to shower so he stripped and went into the bathroom, turned the shower on and stood under the stream of hot, welcome water. Probably amongst the shortest showers on record, but he needed to go and add his thanks to Phil’s and he’d prefer not to do it all wet and sticky.

  Raid dressed as fast as he could, pulling on another pair of jeans and similar-colored T-shirt before, he went back into the lounge area. Vairi sat still on the settee and looked up as he entered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s me. All I wanted to do was strip off and get into the shower with you.”

  He studied her pale face, seeing the regret in her eyes and the dejected droop of her shoulders. “So why didn’t you?”

  Vairi bit her lip and tilted her head to one side. “Because I’m a wuss and I need to be sure. I’m not doing anything until I’m sure.” Determination was uppermost in her tone. “Never, ever again.”

  “About what?’ He sat next to her and tied the laces on his trainers, glancing up as her did so.

  Vairi laughed. “That’s the problem. I don’t have the answer yet. When I do, you’ll be the first to know, after me. Until then, I’m being careful. If I do decide what I want, you’ll realize it. With or without your secret coming out.”

  Did that mean she was beginning to think he was trustworthy? Dare he ask? Another look at her pale and resolute face decided for him. No questioning, coercing, or probing. Wait and see.

  “Right then.” He stood and held out his hand. “We’d better go meet the others or there will be totally erroneous speculation being bandied about. Hold on while I grab some bottles to hand out. Not an excuse, because I told Phil I would, but with luck it may waylay some gossip.” He opened a cupboard and removed a dozen or so bottles of spirits. “These should do. Wait while I make a box up.” Two minutes later, the bottles safely stowed and clutching the box, he gestured for Vairi to precede him out of the trailer. As she shut the door behind them, his mobile rang.

  Raig raised his eyebrows, and Vairi began to laugh as she slid her hand into the tight front pocket and, he was sure, brushed his material-covered cock on purpose as she pulled the phone out and, at his nod, answered it. He listened to her side of the conversation, obviously with Phil.

  “Two minutes, we had to find a box for these bottles. I was trying to help and killed the first one. Yeah, lethal box killer, that’s me. No, nothing like that. You think? I’ll ask, shall I? ‘Kay, I’ll tell him. Sounds good to me.” She ended the call and, eyes twinkling, slowly, deliberately slipped the machine back into his pocket.

  “Phil says they’ve got Chinese takeaway, and there’s a party going on. He asked were we having our own party. Did we want to just put the bottles on the step for him to collect. Cheeky sod.” She laughed as she passed on the contents of the call. “I dissuaded him of that idea, but he wanted to know if he needed to run interference for us.”

  She didn’t seem annoyed, thank goodness. Raig laughed as she checked the door was locked and slipped the key into his back pocket with a definite grope.

  “Did you not think to tell him we can run our own interference with a bottle of water?”

  “Damn.” She clicked her fingers in mock annoyance. “I knew there was something I should have said. Ah well, another time.”

  “Ah, maybe not water. Something less wet. I don’t mind some wetness, as er, I’m sure you guessed. Maybe a long shirt or…” He paused and winked. “Naked? High-viz jacket? You walking tight in front of me, wriggling that gorgeous butt. No, screw that. Oh shit, that didn’t come out as I meant it.”

  Vairi doubled up, laughing at him.

  “Getting yourself in a twist, Raig?” She mocked him and herself as she wriggled her butt and put her hands on his, using them to roam over the globes, and making him ultra-aware of her, her own personal scent surrounding him as she pressed close.

  “Maybe I’d better not do that, or we’ll need even more clean clothes, and if I went out of here in your T-shirt, that would give even more room for talk.”

  It’d give room for a lot more things, but he decided that it was neither the time nor the place to go into that.

  Chapter Twelve

  His oh-so-welcome casual workers had appreciated their food and drink, and an impromptu party had resulted in it being past two a.m. before he got to bed—alone. Unfortunately, something he was used to. Not, he thought as he crawled under the duvet, something I want to stay used to.

  If this were a book, he thought savagely as he plumped his pillows up and tried to settle, I’d pull back the covers and find Vairi waiting for me. Naked, ready and willing. No such luck in real life. Just an alien sock he’d been looking for. How was it every time he washed socks he always ended at least one short? Then found them—sometimes in the most outlandish places? He shrugged philosophically. Life. Get used to it, Raig.

  Finally, he found himself drifting off to sleep. To be woken by his phone telling him he had a text message. He squinted at the clock. Who the hell would be texting him at three-thirty? It was almost too much of an effort to check. Almost, but luckily, not quite.

  Now there was no way he would sleep.

  Got home. Couldn’t sleep. Decided to have a glass of red wine. Thought of you and
your pole. Spilled the wine.

  Before he had time to answer, the next text arrived.

  Got the white wine to put on the red. Had a swig. Wished it was you I was drinking!

  Fuck! Now she tells me, he thought

  Scrubbed the carpet. Nice and clean now.

  Oh good. Why was she telling him that? He found out.

  Clean enough to ‘eat’ off.

  Right! Now she added that. His mind was whirling.

  How do you feel about carpet burns?

  How the hell did he answer that without incriminating himself?

  Try anything once, I say. When and where?

  There was silence from his phone. He waited impatiently.

  I’ll let you know.

  Finally, he slept. The sun shining through the gap along the bottom of the window blind woke him up as it moved across his face. He stirred and felt…his hands grasping his cock, the stickiness there telling him that what he had decided was an amazing dream had been an amazing wet dream… Oh shit! As fast as he could he unglued his hands and grabbed a damp cloth that had mysteriously appeared on the bedside table. A thought struck him. He picked up his phone and scrolled through the messages. Text sex and a half. Would he ever be able to look her in the face? He shot a quick glance at his phone and realized his texts had been answered, and some! He fell back onto the pillows and laughed until his ribs ached, before starting to reread.

  I’ll look forward to it coming.

  He couldn’t remember sending that.

  Oh, so will I. You going to come for me? Or shall I come for you?

  Where am I coming?

  He would be coming soon if he wasn’t careful—his cock was needy, rubbing the duvet as his hands moved on the phone. He scrolled to see her reply.

  Up to you. What are you up for?

  He looked at his impatient cock. At this rate, about three minutes.

  He scrolled to see his answer of the night before.

  You.

  Nice to know. How long are you up for?

  About six inches.

  How long are you around?

  Three and a half.

  Hours?

  He chuckled to himself as he reread that answer from Vairi. Remembered his answer before he read it again.

  Inches.

  Ah.

  There had been several minutes before the next text. He was about to give up and take himself in hand, an unusual occurrence for him—he’d rather go without.

  Are you being a jerk now?

  Sure am. Do you need a hand?

  Don’t think you have one to spare.

  Sure I have. I can work single-handed.

  Are you?

  He had been, and he was again. One hand held his phone, and he used the other to slowly rub up and down his cock, mimicking his actions of earlier.

  Oh, I am. How are you doing?

  Slowly, deeply. It’s very wet here. How is it with you?

  The same as before. He was hot, hard and horny. Ready to come. He looked at the following text.

  Very wet. It’s coming fast.

  As it was now. His hand moved faster, harder, tighter. He groaned as his cock swelled, throbbed and spilled over his hand, his groin, his thighs. He waited until his breathing had regulated before he read on.

  Same here. Very wet, very hot. The change in temperature has come. Amazing how swiftly the change occurred.

  Happened here as well. It’s very hot, wet, and sticky.

  So good to know we both experienced the same thing.

  He agreed with that.

  So, time to stop being a jerk and a handyman and dry off?

  Yup. And you?

  A handy-woman, of course. Done the washing up, so all clean and tidy here. Good night? xx.

  The best. And morning. He read the last text as his hand curled loosely around his resting cock.

  Oh yes. I’m going to follow your example and wash and tidy up. A good handyman never forgets his tools. Good night, sleep tight xx.

  Time to take care of his tools again. He got up and headed into the shower and spent just long enough under the spray as necessary before he switched off the water and toweled himself dry. At this rate his water bill would double, he seemed to spend so much time under the spray. Now he was running late, and although he had told Phil there was no hurry to get together, he had other things to do before they met.

  The first was another text.

  Sleep well?

  He didn’t have to wait long for his answer.

  And you? Not too stiff?

  Not anymore. All in hand and taken care of.

  LOL. So glad. Gotta go. It’s wet here again, and I need to get things dry. C U sometime soon?

  Thursday. 7pm. I’ll pick you up. It’s important.

  Oh, OK.

  There were no more texts. It was time to get to work on emails from Kenny. Raig had a lot to do before their meeting on Monday. Also, with only two more days before his time with the fair was over for another year, there was a great amount to discuss with Phil. First and foremost was Phil’s salary increase, and he was worth every penny of it. Then there were loose ends to tie up and arrangements to be made to confirm the new rides being bought for the following season. All things he had input in.

  Phil was faintly green and nursing a large cup of black coffee. He glared at Raig as he entered the Ready Room and closed the door quietly behind him, grinning at the morose man behind the desk.

  “Sore head? Something to do with spinning the bottle?” He referred to the drinking game that had been played the previous evening. Phil had seemed to be on the receiving end rather a lot.

  Phil grunted. “How the hell did it never stop at you?”

  “I cheated,” Raig said complacently. “I knew where I stood, gravity worked for me and not the bottle.”

  “Bastard.” Phil took two painkillers from a blister pack and swallowed them with a gulp of coffee. “My mouth is a parrot’s cage. Yuck.”

  “Poor Phil. And we need to talk business as well.” Raig poured himself coffee and sat on a chair by the desk. He glanced down at his newly washed jeans and managed not to blush or swell inside them. Stonewashed denim would never be the same again. “Are you up for it?” Oops, wrong choice of words. Luckily Phil had no idea and just nodded.

  “Yeah. Self-inflicted misery is no excuse for not working. By the way, we can open the food stalls tonight. And Tessa has been given a written and final warning. Thought I’d be a little bit lenient. Think she got a real scare.”

  Raig nodded and felt his phone vibrate. He excused himself and took it out of his pocket. To his disappointment, it wasn’t from Vairi. However, it gave him almost as much pleasure. An email from Stevie, her producer, who had been one of the helpers the previous night. It was short and to the point.

  Saturday. Studio 3. Eleven fifty, for twelve thirty. Saturday Spotlight On. You game? Let me know. P.S. tell Phil he is awesome at Twister.

  He raised his eyebrow as he looked at Phil. “Twister?”

  “Oh, sheesh.” Phil groaned, albeit with a faint smile on his lips. “Before you appeared, I beat Stevie hollow. Probably why he got his own back with spin the bottle. Er, where were you, or don’t I ask?”

  “You can ask. Whether you believe what I tell you is up to you. Vairi spilled water over me and I had to change.”

  “New name for it.” Phil’s lips twitched. “Doubt the others knew how long you’d been. I, however, know how long it takes to lock the carousel up.”

  “Good. And you will keep it to yourself.”

  Phil laughed and groaned. “No fair, no laughing. Okay, let’s work, anything to stop me feeling sorry for myself. Or remembering the legs on that redhead.” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Oh, my head.”

  Redhead? He didn’t remember any redhead. But then, he’d only had eyes for Vairi. The whole casts of The Vagina Monologues and Calendar Girls could have walked past naked and it wouldn’t have registered on his radar. They set to work.r />
  By the time they had argued, compromised and agreed it was mid-afternoon, and Raig was hungry. When Raig suggested they ring for an Indian meal, Phil agreed with a heartfelt “oh yeah”. It wasn’t long before they were sniffing the air like the Bisto Kids as several containers were delivered. Raig remembered the text from Stevie. The opportunity sounded interesting. He fished his phone out as Phil served up the curries. Sent a brief text—Elucidate—and began to eat while he waited for an answer. It wasn’t long in coming. But not by text. He had just cleared his plate when his phone rang.

  “I need to take this, Phil, sorry.”

  “No problem.” Phil gathered up the empty cartons. “I need to do the walkabout anyway. I’ll leave you to it.” He swept the cartons into the rubbish bin and, with a wave, left the trailer, closing the door very carefully.

  “O’Shea.” In case it wasn’t Stevie. It was.

  “Oh shit, must I really introduce myself as Runciman? It’s Stevie here. Er, Runciman.”

  Raig laughed. “Yeah, sorry, Stevie, I forgot to add you to my address list. What’s this Saturday Spotlight On thing?”

  “A new concept for the show. Not new exactly, but we haven’t run it for about a year. A fifteen-minute spot where Vairi chats to someone live about their life, and people can email their questions in for the guest to answer—or not. I thought the fair would be a good thing to talk about. How you spend time working with it, and what you do when you are not there.”