One Size Fits All

by Courtney Cole

  “Has everyone else done it?” I find myself asking.

  Carl grins again. “Yes.”

  I look at Racer for confirmation. Reluctantly, he nods once.

  Danmnit.

  “Ok,” I agree. “I’ll do it.”

  As we walk out of the dorm with everyone following us, Racer takes my elbow and murmurs into my ear.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “What exactly am I doing?” I whisper back.

  “Shouldn’t you have determined that before you agreed?” he hisses. He fingers dig harder into my elbow and I wonder what the heck I’ve gotten myself into.

  I find out a few minutes later as we stand outside something ominously named the Terror Tunnel. I swallow hard, staring at the foreboding sign.

  “The Terror Tunnel?” I try to sound casual and unaffected. My heart is pounding though, because this can’t be good. I’m a chicken, seriously. I still have to sleep with a nightlight back home.

  “The Terror Tunnel,” Creepy Carl nods. “You have to spend the night in there. Alone.”

  My stomach drops as I examine the place. It looks like a rickety abandoned mine. Old mine cars travel in and out, but I’m guessing I won’t be in a car. I ask Carl and he shakes his head.

  “Nope.”

  “What happens if I don’t do it?”

  “Nothing,” Racer rushes to say, but Carl shakes his head.

  “If you don’t, you’ll never be accepted here. Everyone who works here has done it. If you don’t, you’ll be the only one.”

  I look at Racer. “You did it?”

  He nods reluctantly. “Yeah. I had to.. what with being the boss’s kid. But you don’t.”

  He’s wrong though. I do. I can see it on the face of everyone standing around us. They’re judging me right now, and if I don’t perform, I’ll be an outcast in ClownTown.

  “I’ll do it,” I find myself saying.

  “Excellent,” Carl says, looking ever-so-proud. “You can go in now.”

  “Right now?”

  “There’s no time like the present.”

  Damnnit.

  I can’t seem like a coward though. So I climb the steps into the old, dusty ride. I bypass the empty carts, and walk down the tunnel alone. As I go further in, the lights get dimmer and dimmer. My feet straddle a rail in the middle, where the carts are hooked to the ground.

  To my left, there’s a murder scene. A lifelike wax woman lays in a pool of blood, her glassy eyes staring at me. She looks so real that it gives me shivers.

  I walk faster.

  There’s moisture on the ground and the concrete smells like mildew. The quiet alone is eerie, much less combined with the dark and scary surroundings. What the heck have I gotten myself into?

  I take four more steps before my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  I forgot I had my cell phone.

  Puling it out, I see Racer’s name.

  Meet me in the gold mine.

  I answer quickly. The gold mine?

  It’s the back room in the ride. I’m going to stay with you. I’ll leave before they check on you in the morning.

  That’s cheating, I tell him.

  So? You’re not staying here alone.

  Something warm floods my chest region, and I don’t argue again. Stay the night with Racer? My ovaries are saying yes.

  I try not to look to the sides much as I walk, afraid of what I’ll see. There’s blood, gore, grotesque wax statues and cobwebs everywhere. I’m pretty sure the cobwebs are real, which means that there are spiders, too.

  I purposely put them out of my mind as I round another dark corner.

  “Millie?”

  The whisper is more of a hiss.

  “Racer?”

  “Keep coming, you’re almost here.”

  I do as he says because I want to be alone in here about as much as I’d like an ingrown toenail. I’m two steps away from the last tunnel when a hand darts out and grabs me. I tumble into a chest. A muscled chest.

  Racer looks down at me, grinning.

  “Thought you’d never get here.”

  My heart skips a beat because…has he always been so sexy?

  He releases me, and leads me by the hand into the gold mine. Glittering gold paint adorns everything, making it looks like boulders of gold are surrounding us.

  “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what a gold mine looks like,” I point out. He laughs.

  “This isn’t reality in here, Miss Serious.”

  “It’s not?” Is his hand on my back?

  “No. This is fantasy with bad artwork. And we’re here for the night, so settle in.”

  I’m going to stay the night with a boy whose penis I just saw tonight.

  It was a huge penis, and he’s a beautiful boy.

  I somehow feel like it’s going to be a night to remember… even if we are in the Terror Tunnel.

  Chapter Six

  Racer

  “So when you did your time in the Terror Tunnel, did you pee your pants? Maybe get a little jittery that a bat was going to fly in your hair?” Millie asks, snuggling up against one of the gold coated walls.

  “Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

  She gives me a once over, a very slow perusal of my body, sizing me up. With a quirk of her lips, she shrugs her shoulders. “Seems like you might screech to high heaven if a bat came near you. I will give you no peeing of the pants though.”

  “Screech?” I pause, knowing damn well I would run in place while screaming my life away if a bat attacked me. “Maybe a manly grunt.”

  “Oh, please,” she waves me off. “You would one hundred percent screech. You wear makeup for a living, you can’t tell me your testicles are all the way descended.”

  My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline from her bold statement. “This coming from the girl who stuttered her way to her bad after seeing my bulge.”

  From the dim light provided by my cell phone - my battery is going to die quickly – I can see that gorgeous blush takeover her cheeks, the same one which caressed her face only a few hours ago.

  “That’s erroneous.”

  “Listen, you can’t go busting my balls and not expect something back from me. And just for the record, my nut-sack is fully descended. I will show you if you don’t believe me.” I start to unbuckle my belt when she puts her hand up and squeals.

  “No, no. Keep your pants on.”

  Well, that’s a kick to the coin purse. I was kind of hoping she would beg me to take them off rather than keep them on.

  “You sure know how to make a man feel good,” I tease, not really.

  “Ugh,” she groans. “All men are the same.” In a deep male voice that is terrible on all accounts, she continues, “Look at me-- I’m a man and I have a floppy piece of flesh between my legs. Look at it jiggle.”

  “Well, apparently the Terrible Tunnel has brought out the sass in you. Maybe I should let you be alone, so you can work out your multiple personalities.” I go to get up when she grabs my arm and yanks me back down.

  “Please don’t leave me in here. It’s terrifying.”

  I chuckle. “Not so tough after all.”

  She shakes her head. “Not one bit. It’s all a front. I feel like I need to be on my toes around you.”

  I quirk a rakish eyebrow at her. “Trying to impress me, Millie?”

  “Where would you get that idea from?” Her gaze is no longer fixated on mine, no, it’s staring intently at the clasped hands on her lap.

  “Come on, Millie. Admit it, you like me.”

  She doesn’t say anything so I nudge her with my foot. “Admit it.”

  She shakes her head, still looking down at her hands. Wanting to see those pretty eyes of hers, I place my index finger under her chin and encourage her to look at me.

  Struck by the radiance of her eyes, I’m delighted to see pure lust in them. So glad my attraction isn’t one
-sided.

  “Go on, your secret is safe with me.”

  “Racer,” she sighs. “Your mom told me about the policy and she made it a point to tell me not to fraternize with her son.”

  “So.” I shrug.

  “So?” she asks, the inflection of her voice a little high. “So that means nothing could ever go on between us.”

  “Too bad something has already happened.” I scoot closer to her. “Have you already forgotten about our little encounter in the Clown Shack? I sure as hell haven’t. If memory serves me right, your lips were on mine, your hand distinctively massaging my balls—”

  “My hand was not massaging your balls!” Her flustered outrage is adorable. “I didn’t even stick my hand in your pants.”

  “Ah-ha, so you do remember. Do you remember painting my nipple?”

  “There is something wrong with you,” she huffs and turns her back to me.

  “There’s something wrong with me? Because I like to remember the sweet caress f your nails gliding over my erect areola?”

  “Do guys even have areolas?”

  Do we?

  I lift my shirt up and flash my camera light at my bare chest. From over her shoulder, she peeks at me, her eyes giving her away as she scans my bare torso.

  I tap my nipple and then look up at her with a grin. “Pretty sure that’s an areola, unless it’s some strange birthmark with an inconvenient and rather ugly mole in the center.” With a smirk, I ask, “Want to lick it?”

  “No!” her eyes shoot up, pure shock in her face. “Why would you ask that?”

  Lowering my shirt, I level with her.

  “Mille, I’m going to be frank with you. I like you, a lot. I want to get to know you better on a personal level and see where this crazy connection we have takes us. I could care less about the ‘rules’ my mom has set forth, I just want to get to know you.”

  In a sexy little way, she bites the corner of her lip as she contemplates her options. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble either. I know how to be discreet.”

  “Really?” A get real look is directed my way. “This coming from the guy who flaunted his bulge around in the bathroom.”

  “Flaunted?” I guffaw. “Please, you were the one who knocked me over. How was I supposed to know a little brick-house was going to tip me backwards, causing my towel to fly open at the worst time possible?” And to further defend myself, I add, “And you were the one who couldn’t stop staring at it, so don’t talk to me about being discreet.”

  That catches her off guard. She stumbles for her words. “It was…Why…” She sighs. “You should have been wearing underwear.”

  “I will take that into consideration the next time I shower.” Back to the topic at hand. Let’s see where this attraction takes us.”

  “I’m not just going to have sex with you,” she blurts out.

  In defense, I hold my hands up. “Hey, I wasn’t talking about banging it out against the cheap gold painted rocks in this place. I just want to maybe make out for a bit, let our hands wander.” I wiggle my eyebrows, causing her to laugh and shake her head. “And while we fondle each other, we can ask each other questions.” A brilliant idea comes to fruition and I hold up my finger to let her know. “I got it. Let’s play a game.”

  Arms crossed over her chest, she says, “Let me guess, you want to play spin the bottle.” She places her finger on her chin as she looks to the sky. “Hmm, I wonder who I will end up spinning the bottle at.” Sarcasm is back in her voice and the scared little Millie is no longer around.

  “No, smart ass. I was thinking of something a little more intimate on a personal level. Let’s get to know each other.”

  “Where’s the catch? You were just talking about fondling each other, there has to be some kind of catch to your game.”

  She knows me well already.

  “Well, of course there’s a catch. For every hard question we answer, we get to engage into something intimate with the other.”

  One single eyebrow raises. “What kind of intimate things?”

  “Don’t get all salty on me. Just something simple, like a kiss…or a nipple tweak.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “There is no way in hell you’re tweaking my nipple, but if that’s something you’re into, I don’t mind finally giving you that purple-nurple you were talking about earlier.”

  “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I really would.” Her smile is so big, I just might let her do it.

  “How about this, when we answer a question, we ask for permission before we maul the other person. Knowing you and your bulge staring tendencies you’ll have my balls in your mouth in no time.”

  “Oh my god!” she laughs some more and pushes my chest. “That will never happen.”

  “Never say never, sweetheart.”

  “Never, Racer…ever.”

  Well, that’s a crying shame.

  “Something we can touch upon later.” I wink and then rub my hands together. “Do you want to ask the question first?”

  “Nice try, you ask me first.”

  “All right, but you’re going to have to scoot closer.” Without even giving her a chance to adjust her seat, I link our hands together and pull her up against my side. Immediately I warm up from her intimate proximity. Yup, it’s going to be a good night. “Much better. Okay, so a question for you. Hmm…When did you get your first period?”

  “What?” She backs up from me and I can’t help it, I bust out in laughter. “What kind of sick question is that? Why would you want to know that?”

  “Calm down.” I pull her back next to me. “I’m only kidding. I definitely don’t want to know that. It’s just fun to tease you. So, let the tension out of our body, you act like you’re under some kind of rigor mortis spell.”

  “No more weird teasing questions or this game is over,” she threatens.

  “Fair enough,” I chuckle. “Okay, my real question is… what’s your favorite meal?”

  Visibly she relaxes from my “can of corn” question.

  “That’s simple, my mom’s chicken and dumplings. They’re so good, I could eat the entire platter by myself.”

  “Chicken and dumplings, hmm, I’ve never had them.”

  “Really?”

  I think about it for a second. “Well, does Campbell’s Chicken and Dumpling soup count?”

  “No,” she giggles.

  “Then no, I’ve never had them.”

  “Such a shame.” Looking me up and down, she asks, “So now I get to do something to you.”

  “Something intimate,” I clarify, not looking for a kick to the nuts-ack.

  “Okay, umm, maybe I can sit on your lap.” Her shy tendencies kick in and I can’t help but find them to be adorable.

  “Have at it.”

  Facing me, she sits on my lap, her knees propping her up from the ground. This was a good move on her part because what I have planned for her will be much easier with her on my lap.

  “My turn for a question?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. Tell me, what’s your favorite movie.”

  “Easy, Tommy Boy. Chris Farley and David Spade are the perfect comedic duo.”

  “I’ve never seen it,” she answers honestly.

  “What?” I’m so shocked, I almost knock her of my lap. “How could you never have seen Tommy Boy? It’s a classic.”

  “My parents weren’t much for the comedic movies, they liked action. It kind of surprises me you didn’t say something like Braveheart. That’s my favorite.”

  “Pretty sure you’re the first girl I’ve ever met who likes Braveheart.”

  “Guess that makes me special, then.”

  “Well, I already knew that.” She rolls her eyes but I don’t care, it’s true. “Now for my intimate move. Can I place my hands on your hips?”

  “Real
ly that’s it?”

  I laugh. “Catch you off guard? Just working my way up to the good stuff.”

  She nods and I carefully place my hands on her hips, letting my ability to move slowly work her up.

  “Question time for me. Tell me, Millie, have you ever danced to a One Direction song?”

  Her brow creases. “You ask the weirdest questions.”

  “Answer it.”

  “Of course. I’m not a barbarian. If you tell me you haven’t danced to a One Direction song I will know you’re lying.”

  “I would never do such a thing. Those are my boys. They have some catchy tunes.”

  “Hmm, I’m going to have to kiss you to make sure you’re not gay.”

  “Kiss away, I don’t mind proving that to you.”

  As if time stands still, she lowers her head to mine and slowly presses her lips to mine. There is no rush in her movements, there is no urgency, just slow, methodic movements that drive me to the brink of insanity. And just as I’m getting comfortable, she pulls away, leaving me feeling empty and needy.

  “Um, you don’t have to stop,” I tease.

  “I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  “Eh, I’m done with the game.” I wave her off and try to bring her closer to me again.

  “Uh-uh, we are not done. My question is, what was your best Halloween costume? Were you the tooth fairy once? Maybe an Oreo cookie?”

  “Your question is really killing the mood, you know what?”

  “Just answer it.”

  “Fine,” I succumb. “Best Halloween costume probably was when I dressed up as a Power Ranger.”

  “The pink one?”

  “No! The red one.”

  “That was your best costume?” Her nose crinkles as if she’s not impressed.

  “It was either that or a clown.”

  “Oh that’s embarrassing.” She’s laughing, so I take advantage of it and flip her on her back so I’m hovering over her.

  Our bodies are touching, our chests pressed together, and I can feel every inch of her.

  The minute my face is inches from hers, the laughing ceases and there is a palpable energy that starts to billow between us.

  “What, things aren’t funny anymore?”

  The press of her lungs against my chest tell me she’s feeling breathless, that she can almost taste the electricity between us.