Fairground Attraction

by Raven McAllan

  Oh hell. What could he say?

  “Did you mention this to Vairi?” he asked cautiously. Was this her way of trying to find what he did when he wasn’t riding the carousel? He couldn’t believe that, she was too open to find out in such a way. His faith in her was confirmed by Stevie’s next comment.

  “Nope. It was just an idea I had after last night. I know it’s short notice and you might not fancy doing it, but…”

  Raig ran his hand through his hair and twisted his earring, something he often did when he was trying to decide a course of action. This was tricky. He liked Stevie, he’d helped him out of the mess the night before and he’d like to repay the favor. But, and it was a big but, was this the way? Could he do it justice when so much of his life had to be undisclosed? He made up his mind.

  “You need to check Vairi is okay with it, Stevie. We’re still not really back to normal—whatever normal is. If she wants to go ahead, then I’ll do it.” After all he’d been adept about being economical with the truth for a good few years now, surely he could manage for a bit longer? It was the fact it was Vairi he would be lying to that made him hesitate. “I’ll wait for you to get back to me.” They exchanged a few platitudes before Stevie rang off with the promise to let him know whether the interview would go ahead or not. In a strange way, he was optimistic it would. He would have to watch what he said, but then, hadn’t he been doing that since puberty? It would give him time with Vairi as well, which could only be good. Frustrating, but good. Meanwhile, back to the grind. He spent the next two hours doing manual labor, and almost enjoyed the feeling of working muscles not otherwise used. Unfortunately, combined with the muscles he had used the previous night, by the time he finished, he ached all over.

  A very large coffee and a set of stretching exercises went a long way toward helping him feel reasonably agile before he changed for another evening of all the fun of the fair. It was unfortunate all the fun would not include Vairi. As he made a sandwich for a quick snack, his mobile rang. He had entered Stevie’s number, and it came up as the caller. His palms were damp as he took the call. He hadn’t realized how much Vairi accepting him on the show would mean to him. He rubbed his hands on his jeans.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi back.” Now the roof of his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed stuck there. He had to swallow before he could speak.

  “You’re on.”

  It took a few seconds for the simple statement to register. “Vairi okay with that?”

  He could almost see Stevie’s grin. “Yup, said it would be a pleasure to tie you up in knots.”

  That sounded like Vairi. He liked the sound of that statement, although, he thought with regret, she probably didn’t mean it quite the way it sounded. Since when had he been into true bondage anyway? Since never. Now he had a feeling he could be persuaded. There was no way he was going to pass that information to her, especially not via Stevie. Instead he settled for a banal, “Fine, I’ll be there,” ignoring Stevie’s choked-back laugh.

  “Good show. I’ll email you probable questions so you can have a think about them. Let me know if they’re the sort of things you are happy talk about. Then, if all’s fine, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” He finished the call and tapped the phone thoughtfully on one jean-covered thigh. Was he doing the right thing? Oh well, he shrugged inwardly. He’d know that the following night. Before then he had a ride to oversee and an All the Fun of the Fair Family Fun Day to get through on the morrow. Not until after that would he have time to think about how he was going to manage to be so near Vairi again and not jump her.

  The Family Fun Day proved to be so busy he didn’t have time to eat, let alone think. Having mentioned to Phil he wouldn’t be around at close-down, he wondered why Phil came to relieve him from the stall he was covering a good hour before his break.

  “Phone call from Stevie. You haven’t given him the all clear on the probable questions he emailed to you. He needs an answer.”

  “F— Er, darn.” He pulled himself up in time, remembering the age of most of the bodies trying to win a coconut. “I forgot all about it. What’s the time?”

  “Half past four. I told him you’d get back to him as soon as. Now go, eat, drink and email. Don’t come back for at least an hour. The kids’ session will finish soon, and we should get a bit of a lull then.”

  Raig nodded his thanks and swung his long legs over the counter of the stall. If he managed to get to his trailer without being stopped, it would be a miracle. Anyone who had wanted free tickets after the help-night had been given them, and already several people had stopped when they saw him to say thanks. He was berating himself regarding the potential questions Stevie had sent when he caught a glimpse of long dark curls, and his heart jumped.

  Stupid, it’s not Vairi. She’d be at home, not at the fair. He was right. The owner of the ringlets turned. He was taken aback by the stab of disappointment he felt when he saw a total stranger. Man, you’ve got it bad.

  He had it even worse when he looked over the questions. Double entendre, innuendo and plain, pure sex! There was no way these would be asked on the radio. Then he saw the next line.

  I wrote these. Stevie didn’t see them, now his questions are…

  Sneaky. He skimmed the reasonably innocuous questions Stevie proposed and wrote two individual emails, the first to Stevie agreeing the questions. The second to Vairi, he simply wrote—

  To be answered in full on Thursday next week. Meanwhile: 1, yes; 2, no; 3, I will if you will; and 4, 13.

  He pressed send before finding some food.

  Half an hour later, he felt a lot better when he saw an email from Vairi.

  Have we moved to e-mail sex now? Oh goody. I’m well up for it if you are.

  It made him laugh before he replied honestly.

  It’s so hard, but yup, I’m up for it.

  Was he ever! Up, hard and straining his jeans.

  How about you?

  Well, it’s not really dry around here. Looking forward to exchanging views on this later.

  Oh, so was he. Before he had that chance he had to work. At least for a few hours. Willing his cock to behave and calm down, not easy when his body was clamoring for release, he went back to the fairground. To be swamped by people, problems and perversity.

  Arrgh. Give me strength, he thought as for the fourth time he told Tessa Willows—she of the mushroom soup fiasco—that whatever Phil said went. “Nothing to do with me,” he said firmly as she protested at her written warning. He eventually ran out of patience.

  “Tessa, if I was the boss here, you’d have been out without the warning,” he said forcefully.

  She sniffed scornfully, muttering something about problems ahead. Yeah, yeah, no doubt about that. Watching her stalk off to her caravan, its walls covered with endorsements about her prowess and pronouncements, he sighed. Truthfully, he could do with a positive endorsement of his actions. That notwithstanding, he had work to do before he ducked out and headed for the radio station.

  Work proved to be problematic. Not just for him. First of all, he had to try to be polite to a couple who were startled when the music got faster and dropped their chips. They argued that therefore they should get a free pass on the rides. The offer, without prejudice, of a replacement bag of chips, had not been received well. Tough, he was sick of people wanting something for nothing and certainly didn’t envy Phil, having this shit day after day. Meanwhile he had an interview to do. With a wave to Phil, as one of the fairground workers relieved him, he headed back to his trailer to get ready for what might be the most important hour of his life to date, before heading into town.

  He dressed carefully—carefully but casually. Why it mattered he wasn’t sure, but it did. Whatever happened during the rest of the evening, he would look the part. Even if in all honestly he had no idea what the part was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was early. Of course he was. Sweating, shit-scared early. If anyone commented
on it with any variation of ‘oh, you’ve come early’, he might just do that! Or else throw something.

  A nervous young girl approached him. The way her eyes darted over him, encased in his favorite old, faded denims which faithfully followed the line of his body, his black, fitted, V-neck T-shirt and canvas shoes, he knew she was weighing him up. By the roll of her eyes, it seemed he had been found wanting. He hadn’t thought any more about what to wear after his initial ‘casual and comfortable’ decision. When he was enjoying his weeks with the fair, his uniform was jeans and T-shirt, just as a business suit was appropriate wear on other occasions.

  “Er, um, Mr. O’Shea?”

  He wasn’t sure how many other people they were expecting at almost midnight, but nodded politely instead of following his inclination to say, “No, I’m a Womble.” After all, might not a Womble be interviewed after him? “That’s me. And you are?”

  “Oh, er, I’m Cathy, the dogsbody.” She grinned, then seemed to hear what she had said and blushed, her face the color of the skirt she was wearing. “Um, I mean…”

  He helped her. “You do everything they need to get the show out.”

  “Oh no.” She sounded horrified. “That’s up to Vairi and Stevie, er, I mean, Ms…”

  He did laugh then. “Vairi and Stevie is fine. They are friends. I’m Raig.” He held out his hand and had it gently shaken. He waited.

  “Oh, right, I need to take you to Stevie. They’re doing the last-minute checks before the show.”

  He followed her along several corridors before she knocked on a door and ushered him in. Through the glass that made up one wall, he could see Vairi. She glanced up, smiled wickedly, and went back to what she was doing.

  Stevie laughed at the look that passed from her to Raig.

  “Not so sure this will work now,” he said, still laughing. “Just as well we have a delay on transmission.”

  “Why live anyway?” It was something Raig had wondered about.

  “So you can answer emails that come in.”

  Ah, he’d forgotten that bit. How many people had she primed to write in? He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Stevie answered him.

  “Doesn’t matter. You can choose not to answer. Hell, if we get a lot you won’t have time to answer them all anyway. Just remember, anything you say will be noted and may be held against you.”

  Yeah, right, now that he could believe.

  “Gee, thanks. All I need. The correctness squad looking over my shoulder.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Stevie clapped him on the shoulder. “Right, let’s go through what you need to do.”

  Five minutes later, Raig wished he’d stayed at home. He was supposed to be taking a break from all this stuff. He said as much to Stevie, who merely laughed and looked confused.

  “Eh?”

  Damn, damn and bloody double damn. Of course Stevie had no idea of his other occupations. “I work as an investment banker,” he said hastily. “When I’m not at the fair. Lots of questions to answer.”

  “Ah. Well I don’t think the punters’ll be asking about hedge funds or stocks and shares. Right. Ready?”

  Raig scowled and knew he looked and felt like a sulky schoolboy. Grow up, Raig. Suck it up, you could have said no and you didn’t. Your decision, your choice, your problem.

  “Right.” There was nothing else he could say. He followed Stevie into the next room, put on the earphones as instructed, and waited.

  “Now, peeps, as I mentioned earlier, tonight we’re having one of our Saturday Spotlight On interviews. Although it’s been pointed out to me that we should call it Sunday Spotlight. Ah well, I’ll take that up with Stevie. So let me introduce you to Raig O’Shea, entrepreneur extraordinaire and fair owner. Welcome, Raig. Glad you were able to come.” Her smile was still wicked. He aimed for the same expression as he spoke mildly.

  “My pleasure, you’re worth coming for.”

  Vairi coughed. Next door Stevie choked with laughter and shook his finger at them both.

  “Oh… So if you have any questions, you know where to send them. First a question from me.” Her smile sent sensual messages to his groin, making his cock harden and his mind wander to what she was—or was not—wearing beneath the sexy sundress she had on, the bright orange and purples searing his retina, imprinting her on his mind.

  “How do you have the stamina to do all you do?”

  The devilment in her eyes was such a challenge. His response was, he hoped, equally so. “I work hard at everything I do. I enjoy hard work, thrive on it, in fact. Everything I come up with, everything I achieve, is what I intend. Practice makes perfect is the credo I use. What about you?”

  “I think that’s a perfect expression. Now, let’s have some music and wait for those emails to come rolling in.” As the music began, they heard Stevie’s call to them.

  “Stop that, you two. Now. No more overt innuendo please. Let’s tone it down, eh?”

  Raig laughed and acknowledged the plea with a shrug. “Please, sir, she started it.” Vairi responded by sticking out her tongue. He growled. “Oh, yes please.”

  “Enough. Here’s the first emails coming in. They’re okay, I think, but up to you.”

  A sheaf of papers was handed to him. He scanned the first couple, gave Stevie a thumbs-up, and passed them to Vairi. All very innocuous. The fourth one made him raise his eyebrows. He grabbed a pencil and scored through it, writing briefly, Tell them to f-off. Nothing comes for free…oops! Vairi read the email and the comment.

  “Stevie, why the hell did you decide to pass this one through? Utter crap.”

  Stevie shrugged. “All get passed through, up to Raig if he wants to tell some tosser that he worked his socks off to get where he is, and no, he isn’t going to give a handout to him.” The email had been nothing more than a gimme-something-for-nothing plea.

  “Music stopping, opening the mike,” Vairi warned. “Well, that was Money, Money, Money from the musical Mamma Mia. Now, folks, my guest tonight is Raig O’Shea, and your emails have been rolling in. So first off is from Pat Sinclair, who wants to know which part of your life you prefer.”

  Half an hour later, Raig pulled off his headphones in relief. There had been no more innuendo, no tricky questions, just total admiration for Vairi’s professionalism, as she had seamlessly slipped between music and chat. He’d had to think fast on more than one occasion to answer a question put in such a way as to stretch him.

  He exited the studio and was beckoned into the equivalent of the fair’s Ready Room, where Stevie sat monitoring all that was happening.

  “Lord of all you survey,” Raig commented, taking both the seat and the mineral water offered.

  “Huh, with Vairi? You must be joking. I’m just here for the ride. Oh fuck, no, I’m not.”

  Raig roared with laughter and commented, “No, that’s my role, I think.”

  “Hell, Raig, you’re good for her. I haven’t seen Vairi so animated in ages. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop. Shit and crap. That’s both feet in it now. I’m saying no more. Except she’ll be finished in an hour. Are you going to hang around? I usually run her home, but if you want to try your chance?” He had raised an eyebrow in an interrogative gesture.

  Raig nodded. “My pleasure.”

  It was strange, sitting and watching her as she bantered her way through an hour of chat and music, knowing thousands of other people had her voice with them wherever they were. By the time the program was over, his admiration for her had grown tenfold. He said as much to her as she joined him and Stevie once the program finished.

  She curtseyed mockingly. “Thank you, kind sir. I do my humble best.”

  He leaned into her and spoke into her ear. “Oh, Vairi My Queen, your best is so not humble.” He sneaked a kiss and laughed as she nipped his mouth. “Are you ready for your lift home? I’m your chauffeur this evening. Stevie has a hot date with his wife and a mug of cocoa. In that order.”

  If looks could kill, Raig felt
he would be asking what Stevie’s favorite flowers were. Vairi’s glare was truly frightening. It didn’t faze Stevie, who just laughed. “She’ll be glad to see me home in time to make the cocoa for her.”

  “Hmm. I must say I’ve never heard it called that before.” Her tone of voice was grumpy, but the glint in her eyes belied it. “Fair enough. I’d be pleased to accept you as my chauffeur, Raig. To let Stevie go home and have his, er, cocoa. See you on Wednesday, Stevie. Remind your beloved we have a coffee date tomorrow, and she’s picking me up. No innuendo needed. I’ve heard it all now. Huh, cocoa.” She shook her head, and with a wave, allowed Raig to usher her out of the room and toward the car park entrance.

  “What made you ask me to be here tonight?” he queried as he activated the central locking of the car and held her door open. She settled into the seat.

  “What made you agree to come?” she parried as he joined her in the car.

  “It seems I’ll come for you anywhere, my love.” He started the engine, enjoying the look of pleasure and confusion on her face.

  “You, Rake O’Shea, are just that. Rake by name, rake by nature.”

  “Not anymore. Only for you, Vairi. I’ll be your rake, no one else’s. As and how you want.” They sat in not altogether comfortable silence until the car drew up outside her house. “Am I coming in?’

  “Coming in where? Me? Nope. My house? Nope.”

  “Ah well.” He hadn’t really expected a yes. “I’ll not be coming anywhere or anyhow then. I’ll see you safely to your doorstep.” He walked around the car and opened the passenger door for her before escorting her to her front door and waiting until she was inside.