#14th Station of the Cross

[kechiwrites]

not quite heart-shaped

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: you and simon both have the 14th off, and by god you were going to make the most of it. pt. 4/?

wc: 2.3k

cw: afab + fem!reader, fluff, banter, cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, very light breeding kink, femme pet name (princess), no use of y/n ever.

an: the return of medic reader, special thanks to @weebitofaslag who with a single comment reignited my love for their dynamic. babes all my knowledge of the military comes from romance novels, mw2 campaign and my fleeting contact with the canadian armed forces. so like if i get something wrong…don’t tell me. happy valentines day!

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

"Three." The tense quiet of the bedroom is disrupted by your offer. 

Ghost stands in front of you, and despite his crossed arms his posture is deceptively casual.

He scoffs at your pitch. The standoff is common for the two of you. Basically foreplay at this point. Pretending to be irritated and annoyed with each other until you're basically begging to rip each other's clothes off.

"No way." He grunts, but doesn't provide a number of his own.

You can't keep the disbelief out of your tone.

"Less than three, Simon? You're losing your touch!"

That does get a rise out of him and he stops leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"More than three. Anything less than five is a waste of both of our days off. But you knew that, didn't you, princess?"

"I don't know if I have five in me to give, honestly." You choke out, already tugging off the sweater you wore. 

"If I'm eating you out, I'm spending the day down there." He huffs. 

You're breathless when you finally respond, your cool and collected demeanour crumbling in the wake of his assertion.

"Yeah okay, that's fine, but wanting to fuck me after? I may not even be conscious." When he doesn’t respond, you gasp dramatically, like a soap opera lead discovering a villain’s plot. "Maybe that's what you want! Simon! Who knew you were so depraved?" It’s easy to be silly with him lately, even more so when you’re both free of the oppressive air of the base you’re both stationed at.

"Get on the bed or get out of my house." His shirt’s already off, and it’s oh so hard to stay on the task of mocking him when the cut muscle and little bit of fat on his torso shine under the room’s low light. With the mask still on, and the dark fabric of his pants obscuring his bottom half, he makes quite the sight. The pale, wide expanse of his chest, only broken up by tattoos and healed, pink scars and sandy, blond chest hair makes your mouth water. He steps towards you, hooking the thumb under the mask and pulling it up. It feels as though the cloth is moving in slow motion, your heart beating loud and erratic with anticipation. When he stops so it rests on his nose, you exhale, not quite disappointed, but you sure as hell aren’t relieved. 

“Sex in a bed?” You question facetiously, willing your brain to revert back to being a little shit. You know he can’t stand when you're being a brat, it reminds him of just how easily he’d lost control, just how messily he’d fucked you the first time, but around Simon you just can't seem to stop yourself, “You're spoiling me.” You lay back on the bed as ordered, contorting your arms to shimmy out of your bra, then your bottoms, tugging your underwear along with them. Not a thong this time, a fact that seems to disappoint Simon when he notices your regular boyshort panties entangled in your discarded sweatpants. 

“Yeah, don't get used to it, I'm just tired of the smell of antiseptic.” He mutters, kicking your discarded clothes off to the side.

You snort derisively, spreading your legs so he can lay between them, allowing for him to brush the petal soft skin of his lips against your hip, your thigh, just above your knee. “Ladies and gentlemen, the last true romantic.” You mumble, patting the top of his head, lamenting your inability to card your fingers through his fine blonde hair. 

Your entire body jolts when his tongue comes in contact with your clit, a full body shiver alerting Ghost to just how badly you'd needed this. He hasn't shaved and his stubble scrapes the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing a jolt up your spine, shuddering breaths escaping your lungs as his mouth gets better acquainted with the lips of your cunt. 

He drags his tongue over you in your entirety, taking special interest in the skin just below your entrance, he stays there, skimming, sucking, licking, until you're worried he'll manage to give you a hickey there, on your fucking taint. He has you dripping with his spit and your own slick, and the sound when he returns to your clit is obscene. He brings both hands up towards your abdomen, but neither continues the course to where you want them, on top of your chest, plucking at your nipples, or even around your throat, obstructing your airway. Instead, Simon's left hand pushes down on your abdomen, and his right gently shifts the hood of your clit up so he can abuse it better. 

All the soldiers in all the world and you had to hook up with the one who eats pussy like that?

"Fuck." You wince, and you twitch away from him as best you can, which only makes him suck harder, like he’s giving you ‘two for flinching’. You groan loud and unashamed, assured by the privacy afforded by not fucking on base for once. Your toes curl and relax over and over, the periodic tremble of your hips against his mouth has him holding you down as best he can, determined to pull more sounds from your wide open mouth. Your whole body tenses and you let out a litany of curses only disrupted by stutters of his name, all while you clench around nothing. He’s mumbling into you as you come, but whatever he’s saying ultimately doesn’t fucking matter when the vibrations of his voice make you want to cry or scream or kick Simon in his stupid masked face.

There's barely any hangtime between your orgasm shuttering through you and Simon circling his arms around your thighs before he tongue fucks you mercilessly, letting the tip of the muscle broach your entrance while he drags the edge of his teeth over the still buzzing flesh of your labia. He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you onto his face, until you get with the program and begin rolling your hips, pressing your clit against the bridge and tip of his nose, allowing his tongue to push deeper within you. 

Your body is already dripping its satisfaction all over his chin, and this time with breath barely in your lungs it takes longer for him to get you into a place of desperation again. But by God, does Simon Riley get you there. This time he takes a break from the constant contact between your cunt and his tongue to slip one of his thumbs into your entrance, fucking you with slow and deliberate strokes, like a promise of what he’ll do to you later when he finally fucks you. Long, greedy swipes of his tongue jar your brain like a hit to the head. You try to struggle away, levering up with your arms before he tugs you down again like a fucking ragdoll, like you trying not to lose your fucking mind is a slight inconvenience to him. He lays wet, panting, open mouth kisses over the pulsing heat of your cunt, and when you you raise your head to - fuck you don’t know - curse his entire bloodline, you can see he’s helplessly grinding his hips into the mattress, seeking some sort of friction while he tongues at your folds, while you soak him to the knuckle. It’s hot, hotter than it has any right to be and you flop back down, turning your head into his pillow to muffle your moans. Old habits and all that. Unfortunately, the pillow is steeped in Simon’s scent, and your eyelids drift closed when you inhale deeply. Your breath stalls and you ride out yet another climax on his tongue, this time very grateful for the way he fingers you through it, even if his thumb isn’t nearly big enough. The bed beneath you bears the brunt of your orgasm this time, damp sheets attesting to your fervent enjoyment. 

“What a mess you’ve made.” He speaks, once you stop huffing, voice disturbingly even, like he didn’t just factory reset your body. Which is…incredibly irritating.

“You know technically as a doctor I outrank you.” You snip, nose in the air. 

“So?” He lifts his head, but his eyes are still locked between your legs, not quite able to decide if he wants to move from where he is so clearly comfortable.

“So…” you mock him, squeezing your thighs around his neck, until his stare is redirected to your face. “you should be fucking nice to me, asshole.” He digs his thumbs into the back of your knees, until you release him. Slowly, he drags himself up, over your body until he can lay on his back next to you. 

“You know, I really should have finished inside you that first time. Knocked you up and had you taken off base.” And wouldn’t that have been a fun conversation for you to have with your CO. ‘I’m so sorry ma’am, he wears a mask and has big hands and knows my kinks. I had no choice, ma’am.’

“Stop talking or I’m gonna sit on your dick.” You whisper, shutting your eyes against the harsh beam of the light overhead. Your heart rate is finally starting to settle, and you’re grateful for the moment of reprieve, the few moments he gives for you to stitch your mind back together, to regain purposeful use of the human language. 

Shoulder to shoulder in his bed, and no longer occupied with singing Simon’s praises, your mind begins to harmlessly wander, unhelpfully cataloguing that you aren’t even halfway through what he’s planned for you. You also start to filter through your responsibilities due in the coming days. It’s automatic at this point, a system you developed during school, when papers and projects and your social life all constantly contradicted each other. You’d come, at the hands of yourself or someone else, and your orgasm cleared brain began building a calendar. Nothing today, of course, you’d cleared your schedule and no one had questioned why. Most people wouldn’t question anyone taking off Valentines.

The “holiday” never really stuck out to you in the past, for one reason or another. Work, med school, family stuff, hell sometimes you just didn’t fucking feel like it. But this year, today, you can’t help yourself. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Simon.” You puff, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling, letting your brain make patterns out of the popcorn ceiling.

“Ah,” he vocalizes, voice gruff. “Right.” he shifts in his bed, and you figure you’ve got about 30 seconds before he gives you the dusty combat boot. Your face burns with embarrassment, why the fuck did you say that? When did he ever give you even the slightest inclination he gave a shit about some overblown, capitalistic, aggrandized-

“Here.” A bag of jellybeans is unceremoniously plopped onto your bare chest, right between your tits. 

“Where were you hiding these?” You gawp, struggling to string together a sentence as you examine the bag of colourful candies. It has a bow on it. You finger the pre-tied ribbon, stuck on with an adhesive pad.

“Under the bed.” He grunts, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like he’s fending off a headache, but you think he may just be embarrassed, if the pink tips of his ears are anything to go by. 

“This is sweet.” You choke out, and you have to sink your teeth into your already swollen lower lip to stop from giggling hysterically. “Thank you, Simon.”

“Mng.” He makes the noise in his throat, forgoing the English language for the easy comfort of grunts, watching you tear the bag open and chew on a handful of the brightly coloured beans. All at once, like some kind of animal. The flavours don’t quite go together, strawberry and buttered popcorn and root beer. Others you can’t even begin to pin down. But you're too frazzled to eat them how you usually would, your favourites first, then making combinations with whatever’s left, guided by the suggestions on the back of the bag. And ultimately, it’s not altogether too unpleasant. It works, in a fucked up, saccharine sweet kind of way. Kind of like you and-

“Alright, put it away.” He rasps, turning over to cover you with his weight once more, sliding down to get started on orgasm three. 

He plucks the bag out of your hands and drops it on the nightstand near you, devoid of any knick knacks or photographs, just a beat up 70s style alarm clock that acts as a pedestal for your candy.

“My beans!” You shout, trying in vain to secure the confection for further enjoyment. You give up your fruitless endeavour when Simon sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast on his way back down to your pussy. 

“I didn’t get you anything.” You moan, pressing the cool palms of your hands to your overheated face, soothing the mix of embarrassment and giddiness stirring in your mind.

“I’ll live.” He grouses, bending your knees, holding your thighs up and together with both palms at the back of your knees. You can’t see his face. Have never seen the whole thing, but you’d bet all the jellybeans in the fucking world, that Simon Riley’s cheeks are pink.

the beans were soap’s idea for sure. poor guy’s definitely heard them fucking more than once. support city girls, reblog what u like. happy valentines.

[yoditopascal]

Béet

Attuma x black chubby reader smut

summary: With the alliance between Talokan and Wakanda in full swing, training and tactical drills have become a common occurrence. You were one of Shuri’s best and brightest scientists, so why were you stuck on med bay duty and why was the Talokanil Shark General coming in so often? content warnings: canon-typical violence, smut, p in v, attuma himself is a warning, cussing, begging, no real plot just literal attuma brainrot, you need a big boy, thigh riding, fingering, no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, reader is afab, attuma being an ass, namora okoye and shuri make a cameo

The first time she saw him she was late.

Having missed her first few alarms she was late to work again for the 5th time in a row. Late nights of researching and assisting Shuri with recreating more of the heart shaped herb had finally caught up to her. The dinging of the elevator signaling that she had reached her floor had snapped her out of her thoughts and just as she stepped out onto the lab floor she had to stop herself from damn near walking straight into a huge blue mass. There on the lab floor stood Attuma, one of the generals from Talokan, the nation they had just formed a new alliance with. She had seen him in passing before, mainly when he and the other general Namor came down to run drills with Ayo and Okoye, but never this up close and personal.

God, he was kinda fine.

“Tu'ux le le general?”

He asked, his baritone voice rumbled from his chest as he gave her a once over. The scientist before him was a little thing coming up just under his shoulders but like him was by no means skinny.

She then remembered they didn’t speak the same language as everyone else did, she couldn’t understand him but the word general made it a little easier to figure out what he was there for, he probably had training again.

“Oh you looking for Ayo?”

“Máax ka'ansaje' táan u cargo bejla'e' mina'an ba'ax in k'áaj” his voice came out a little raspier as he stalked closer if that was even possible, and looked down at her from under his lashes.

“Yeeeeah I don’t- I’ll just get Shuri for you” she started cheeks heating up as she felt boxed in. The man was intimidated and he definitely knew it. “I believe Attuma is asking for the General,” an overhead voice interrupted them, “Namora is already on the 14th-floor training with Ayo and Okoye. I’ve taken the liberty of letting them know he’s here.” The young scientist had never been more thankful for the A.I.’s presence.

“Thanks GRIOT.”

“It is my pleasure” Just as she was about to turn her attention back towards Attuma the dinging of the elevator caught her attention as she watched Okoye and Namora enter the lab, both women nodding to her as they entered.

“Llegas chúunk'iin u Attuma” Namora scolded as she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at the man under her breathing mask.

Waving her off he walked past her into the elevator she just came from but not without giving the scientist one last once over.

That was the start of her week on med bay duty. Once she had finally gotten all clocked in and settled at her work station Shuri had stopped her before she could get too invested in what she had on her desk.

That was the start of her week on med bay duty. Once she had finally gotten all clocked in and settled at her work station Shuri had stopped her before she could get too invested in what she had on her desk.

“I’m beginning to worry about you sister, it’s not like you to be late”

“I’m fine Princess-“

Shuri called her name giving her a stern look as she closed the scientist’s laptop forcing her to focus on her.

“I’m just tired is all” she said with a sigh rubbing her forehead trying to ease the beginnings of a headache she felt coming on.

“Maybe you should take a break”

“I can’t afford to take a break, besides you need all the help you can get with this Princess we’re so close to bringing it all back for good.” She pleaded and as Shuri shook her head at her.

“And we will bring it back but not with you at half capacity”

“Shuri-“

“I’m putting you on medical duty. The warriors have been getting roughed up more than usual lately because of the Talokanil soldiers and they could use your help.”

“Are you grounding me?”

“If I have to” “You’re taking a break one way or another.” Shuri chuckled as she pat her on her shoulder and sent her on her way right back out the door she came from.

Shuri wasn’t lying when she said the warriors were getting hurt a lot more than normal lately. Normally the Dora Milaje never had a reason to stop by the medical center on the other side of the building, they could take any and everything that was thrown at them but she suspected that ever since the two generals started sparring with them that it was a little bit more than they could handle, especially from Attuma the man was big damn near the size of M’Baku and she liked that about him.

With her back to the door, the young scientist typed away on her laptop, finishing up her notes from the other night, she didn’t hear the door to the office open until it slammed shut behind the intruder. Startled she jumped in her seat and turned to see Attuma standing furiously as blood seeped from his arm.

“Jesus you scared the shit outta me!”

He didn’t say anything as he stalked over towards her, his dark eyes glaring down at her clearly telling her he didn’t want to be there.

“What happened?” She questioned putting in a pair of gloves and getting out the cotton swabs and cleaning solutions, the cut wasn’t too bad, it was superficial at best, but with him coming and going from the ocean she didn’t want to risk it getting any kind of infection.

Not waiting for him to answer not that she thought he would she gathered her supplies and got to work patching him up.

“You don’t talk very much do you?”

Again he said nothing.

With a sigh, she wrapped up his arm in a waterproof bandage and sent him on his way.

That was just the start of their little meet-ups. Every few days for the last few weeks Attumaor some of his men would come in with a new injury on either his face, his arms or his torso, each one just as bad as the last, courtesy of either Namora or Okoye and each time he visited was just as awkward as the last.

“So what’s the weather like in Talokan?”

“Are you guys only blue on the surface or do you stay blue underwater?”

“Yo, you have gils?! How do they work? “Are they sensitive? Is this kinda like a The Deep kinda situation?”

She tried desperately to make conversation each time she saw the man but each time he just glared at her and went on his way.

By the 5th visit she had resorted to just straight up being an ass to him, she could tell it irritated him but that was usually the only way she could get any kind of conversation out of him.

“Bet Okoye did that to you huh?” She questioned pressing an antibiotic-soaked cotton ball to the cut on his cheek

“She told me she kicked your ass the last time.”

Oh fuck he probably doesn’t understand me she thought as she tried to make conversation. Now that she thought about it she doesn’t know why but she never considered whether he could actually understand her or not, that was probably why he never really answered her.

“Leti' desearía yantalto'on in pateado le!” He growled back with a hiss startling her as the cotton ball in her had pressed to his cut a little harder than she meant, GRIOT translated for her.

“Oh, so he speaks!” She chuckled more to herself. “And you can understand me” She stood going to throw away her gloves, judging by how he had come back without so much as a scratch from his last visit she figured he’d heal by the end of the night and wouldn’t need any bandaging “You just like being stubborn.”

Again he said nothing as he stared her down but this time not with a glare but with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“We’ll congratulations you’ll live,” she said with a smirk. Once more Attuma looked her up and down, his expression unreadable before he turned on his heel and left.

The third time he came in it was different.

When he stormed into the med bay like he normally did she noticed almost immediately his wound was a lot more serious this time as blood was pouring from the cut on his neck pooling under his bone gorget. The young scientist jumped from her seat rushing to get her equipment stumbling as she moved about.

“What happened?!”

There was no time for their normal banter as she tried to figure out how to get him to remove his collar. Reaching out to touch the shark teeth that adorn it she’s stopped in her tracks as he aggressively grabs her wrist, tightly holding it in place.

“I need to treat your wound Attuma,” she reasoned snatching her arm back “it looks bad.”

“Yéetel utsil” he huffed as GRIOT translated going to push past her to grab the bandages “Chéen envuélvelo yéetel túuxta'al in tin beel, ma' táan u humor teechi'”

“Look I know you’re used to throwin’ your weight around and getting what you want but I’m not about that shit ok?” She snapped back pushing him back so that he was leaning against the exam table. She knew he had let her but she liked to think she pushed him purely with her own strength. “You’re gonna sit here and let me clean you up.”

“Táak a in tin wu'uyaj meentik in” he snapped going to brush past her but as he reached for the door he felt her grab his forearm and stopped, turning to look back at her.

“Béet” she pleaded.

“Ba'ax” What? GRIOT translated

“ B-béet that’s how you say please right? I know you know what I’m saying so please just listen for once.”

“Multa.” he sighs through his nose going back to the examination table but sitting himself in her chair in front of it instead, if he was going to let her do this he definitely was going to give her an easy time.

“Are you going to tell me how this happened?” beginning to clean his wound out with a swab she thought she’d make small talk but Atuuma obviously had no intentions, examining his neck further she realized he was just another scrap like he always had but the blood pooling out of it had scared her, a lot more than she’d like to admit.

“We going back to the silent treatment again?” again he did nothing but stare as she worked on him from between his legs leaning over him continued to clean the now-closing injury.

With a sigh, she began to pull away when a hand on her arm stopped her "Ba'axten jach dispuesto a wáantiken?" GRIOT translated for him. His grip was firm but still somewhat soft. “It's my job to help you,” she said pulling away and looking into his eyes, there was that same unreadable look in them again. With a slight roll of the eyes. He released his grip. "Yaan ba'ax ma' táan a wa'alik ti' teen." His voice lowered with a bit of annoyance as the A>I> continued to translate for the pair. ”Like I said I know you're Mr. Big and Bad down on the battlefield but you don’t gotta be tough shit here, let somebody take care of you for once.” she said putting a hand to his cheek. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked into her eyes. His annoyance left as his hand moved onto hers.

Attuma’s eyes briefly flickered up to her lips before going back up meeting her dark eyes again pupils blown wide. He reached up to brush her cheeks with his fingers, thumb tracing over her bottom lip before he leans his masked lips down to hers, trying to kiss her through the material heavy and needy, the force almost knocking her onto her back as she began to kiss him back.

Giving her chest a gentle squeeze his hand slid downward palming at her chest through her shirt drawing out a low moan as his other hand gripped at her thighs and hips practically dragging her into his lap as he worked her pants off.

“Beetej.” he breathed her in as he began to rock her clothed cunt against his knee soaking it in the process.

She moves her hips even quicker, rocking on his thigh, the inside of her own thighs soaked. “Fuck.” She moans, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck to hold him impossibly closer. Eyes closed she could practically feel Attuma staring up at her, his hands roaming her back and chest before coming to rest on her stuttering hips.

Gripping her hips hard he takes over, making her ride his thigh, basking in the soft sounds he was pulling from her. He can feel her cunt clenching against him through her underwear, can feel the wetness pooling on his bare thigh, and he fucking loved it.

“Beetej,” he groaned throwing his head back “Je'el u páajtal a take'”

Slowly, he presses his knee up higher as she grinds down on him adding even more friction. Her eyes fall close and her mouth drops open in a breathy moan as she tries to grip his broad shoulders, hands too small to fully encompass them. She’s unable to kiss him on his lips due to his mask but she still leans forward to press her forehead to his as he continued to work her open.

“Attuma.” She hissed, grasping at his hands as he increased his speed.

“B-bèet…”

“A'al ka'a.” he panted not relenting in his pace as he dragged her down even harder.

“Bèet- fuck please just don’t stop!” Hips bucking wildly she came with a hoarse cry, shaking and riding him as he still rocked her over his thigh.

“Please…” she continued to beg, beginning to feel the twinges of overstimulation. “Please…”

With a loud growl, he ripped her from his thigh and turned her around pressing her chest to the cold steel table below them. The temperature a sharp contrast to her hot skin, as she feels him begins to undress them both.

“Táak in wu'uyikech,” his dark gaze trailed down her back as he tugged her underwear down and tossed them to the side along with her top and bra. His fingers grazed over her clit softly before sinking in curling and scissor around in her spongey walls while his thumb worked at her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Having already been on the end it didn’t take long for her to come again around his finger. Looking back at him as she spasmed on the table she saw hi cock looking painfully hard and dark as it strained against his lower abdomen, leaking at the tip, and looking bigger than she’d imagined

“Jach jodidamente mojado,”Attuma’s voice was rough as he watched her come unraveled beneath him, her arms struggling to hold herself up at she twitched around him uncontrollably on the table.

“A'al ti' teen wa Yaaj in” he said slowly easing his cock into her as he pulled her up and turned her to be on top of him as he set himself back down into her desk chair almost not fitting as he spread his legs.

She cursed, burying her face in the crook of his neck again, her hands roaming his chest and shark tooth scarring on his tummy. She mouthed at his neck kissing at his gils under his apparatus as he began to thrust up into her, already setting a rough pace. They both moaned in unison as she started to bounce, her legs trembling as he split her open on his lap.

“Attuma fuck!”

“Teech jach jodidamente ki'ichpam,”he sighed, Attuma’s voice was hushed as he watched her reaching her peak and tried to kiss her softly through his mask.She felt his hips begin to stutter and began to plead once more.

“Please, I need to feel you”

A strangled sound left Attuma’s mouth, as he roughly slammed up into her hard one final time the loud squelching music to his ears as she continued to bounce softly in his lap while the steady rhythm of his thrusts began to dissolve into a desperate frenzy, moaning huskily as he filled her with his thick hot cum.

As they both came down from their highs she stayed in his lap gently rocking until she came to a full stop. Cum immediately started to seep from between them but before she could stand up to clean up, not that she thought she could at that moment, a blue hand came into her line of vision and pulled her face to his as he kissed her lazily for a moment before pulling away.

It’s then that she noticed that in the heat of it all, he ripped his mask away, drenching them both in seawater and sweat.

“Bèet ìfè mi, again,” she said her voice barely above a whisper as he leaned down to kiss her once more lifting her up to set her back on the examination table.

Translations: Tu'ux le le general? -Where is the general? Máax ka'ansaje' táan u cargo bejla'e' mina'an ba'ax in k'áaj -Whoever’s in charge now I don’t care Llegas chúunk'iin u Attuma -You’re late Attuma Leti' desearía yantalto'on in pateado le! -She wishes she kicked my ass! Yéetel utsil -It’ll be fine Chéen envuélvelo yéetel túuxta'al in tin beel, ma' táan u humor teechi' -Just wrap it and send me on my way I’m in no mood for you Táak a in tin wu'uyaj meentik in -you want me to listen than make me Béet -Please Ba'ax -What? Multa -Fine Ba'axten jach dispuesto a wáantiken -Why are you so willing to help me? Yaan ba'ax ma' táan a wa'alik ti' teen -there's something you're not telling me Beetej -Keep going Je'el u páajtal a take' -you can take it A'al ka'a. -Say it again Táak in wu'uyikech -I want to hear you Jach jodidamente mojado -So fucking wet A'al ti' teen wa Yaaj in -Tell me if it hurts Teech jach jodidamente ki'ichpam -You’re so fucking beautiful ìfè mi -my love (in Yoruba)

@lunamoonbby

[oc-challenges]

WELCOME TO OC VALENTINES CHALLENGE!

Ciao! It's almost that time of year again, when love is in the air and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate are in every gas station, which means it's almost time for the annual oc valentines challenge!

Once again, we begin on the seventh of February and conclude on the 14th. Except from now on the valentines challenges are gonna be a little different: we're going to focus on a certain theme. This year it's tropes, next year it's AUs or prompts. So take a look at the tropes and choose your oc ship it fits to make a graphic, video, web weave, gifset, drabble, aesthetic, playlist, or drawing for!

Rules

DO NOT copy others edits, if you feel someone has stolen your edits, follow these guidelines!

If you are doing crossovers, PLEASE make sure that the creator of the other oc is okay with crossovers.

If you want your post to be reblogged onto this blog, it must contain the hashtag ovc24.

Feel free to ask any questions, as long as your kind about it.

Everything is up to the creators interpretation, although I have tried to include some examples for help!

Have fun!

Day One: First Love

For the first day of the challenge, we've gotta do first love! Make something for your oc and their first love.

Day Two: Second Chance Romance

For day two, we're looking at the one who got away but came back. This is a ship that we're together at one point, broke up for some reason, and then decided to give their relationship another try.

Day Three: No Second Chances in Romances

On the other hand, just because there was love before doesn't mean there will be love after. This is when you realize the one that got away wasn't "the one" after all. Make something for a ship that were together at one point, broke up for some reason, but decided not to give the relationship another try whether that be because of a new love, unrequited feelings, or any other reason.

Day Four: Friends to Lovers

My personal favorite, when they go from friends to lovers. Their enemies know their worst sides, the heroes know their best, but their friends know both and fall in love with them anyways. Show off an oc ship that were friends before lovers.

Day Five: Enemies to Lovers

There's a thin line between love and hate, and sometimes that line gets crossed. For day four, show us one of your oc ships that this happened to.

Day Six: Almost Love

Sometimes loving someone isn't enough. Whether it's because that love is unrequired, the protagonist is torn apart from their love interest in some way, the ship decide their better off as friends, or they can't get past their differences, we're showing off those couples that could've been but never were.

Day Seven: Forbidden Love

Romeo and Juliet, Maria and Tony, even Coriolanus and Lucy Gray-- all star-crossed lovers who took a chance despite their love being forbidden. Today, we sympathize with those lovers that nobody loves (at least in the canon of their stories).

Day Eight: Give Me Love

Give love to other creators by making them a gift with love by signing up for the valentines ocpotluck challenge!

[vintage-london-images]

Police Constable Norwell Roberts aka Norwell Gumbs, on point duty near Charing Cross station, 8th August 1968. Having joined the Met in 1967 Norwell went on to serve as a Detective Sergeant and retired in 1997 with 30 years service.

During his career, he was considered to be the first black police officer in London, although it was later discovered that he had been preceded by Robert Brandford who had ultimately been promoted to Superintendent in Victorian times.

Little is known about Brandford, and no photographs of him exist. It is known that he was accepted as a Constable in London on 24th September 1838, and was posted to Stone's End Police Station, near Borough High Street. He was promoted to Sergeant in 1846, and then inspector in 1851. By 1856 he was recorded as Superintendent of M Division, covering what is now Southwark. He passed away on 14th August 1869 aged 51 years.

[mayhemhq]

here is a fuller explanation of this weekend’s event, september 14th-15th in las vegas, nv!

first things first:

remember: pregnancies and elopements, etc, are allowed but must be approved first. do not use this trip to spring something like this without it being mentioned to us first. we’re generally okay with most things, but we don’t want 20 things happening at once. if you do any of this without approval, you will be removed.

drama is allowed and encouraged somewhat, but don’t make the trip miserable. do not make someone dramatically leave as that’s silly. we’re ALL adults and this is for fun. just be considerate and talk out any drama that can impact a significant number of individuals.

this is not just a trip for friends and lovers; this is a trip for the group and to build community. make sure you’re not staying within your ship and your friends circle this trip. use this as an opportunity to reach out and have fun with everyone.

mayhem on the strip is a charity event featuring a small convention and a game show featuring ALL of our talent competing in field day-esque activities for charity.

there will be a five-hour convention of sorts, featuring booths and photo-ops for not only wrestlers, but all of our original characters, too. then, all talent will take a break - have lunch, gather their teams to begin the games.

the games:

dodge ball: two teams of 8 players each battle it out on a court divided by a central line, with dodgeballs scattered in the middle. the objective is simple yet thrilling eliminate opponents by hitting them with the balls while evading throws from the other team. players must utilize agility, strategic throwing, and dodging skills to stay in the game. caught throws not only eliminate the thrower but also allow a teammate to rejoin the action. the game continues until one team has successfully eliminated all members of the opposing team. (8 people per team)

obstacle course: the course includes a range of exciting stations, such as towering climbing walls, muddy crawls, and precision balance beams. teams will also navigate rope swings, cargo nets, and tunnel crawls. for the final challenge, teams must solve a puzzle to reveal a golden baton, which they then carry to the end of the course. the race concludes with a high-stakes relay, where all team members must cross the finish line together. (8 people per team)

wet sweatpants relay: each player must dunk the sweatpants in a bucket of water, put them on, and take them off to pass to the next player in line. the next player repeats the process. (6 people per team)

egg and spoon race: two members from each team lining up side-by-side. each person balances an egg on a spoon and races to see which team can get all their members across the finish line first. if you drop the egg, you must return to the starting line and try again. the race continues until one team successfully gets all its members to the other side. (6 people per team)

zorb ball relay: one member at a time climbs into the zorb ball and is guided by their teammate through a demanding obstacle course with cones, ramps, and turns. after completing their lap, they tag the next teammate, who then takes their turn in the zorb ball. (6 people, 2 per team per turn which will be 3 tag in turns)

pit pursuit: the game kicks off with teams racing towards a 20ft x 20ft ball pit, just 6 inches deep and brimming with thousands of colorful balls. teams dive into the sea of balls, searching for hidden objects, each carrying a unique point value. with a 15-minute timer counting down, they scramble to collect as many objects as they can. but watch out for the “whammy” objects—they’ll deduct points from your score if you grab them! (6 people per team, each team going in 2 different rounds - not at the same time)

it will be a best out of six games, the winning team not only getting a trophy, but a large donation to their charity of choice. the losing team will also get a donation to their charity as well, as we’re not completely heartless.

** if this event turns out to be a hit and everyone has a great time, we’ll continue with more “mayhem on…” events to keep the rivalry alive and determine who will get to keep the trophy!

about the teams: aew will take all the japan based wrestlers (ddt pro, njpw, etc) while wwe will take all tna wrestlers. all ocs working for those companies as well will be on the team they work for. those of you ocs with no allegiances get to pick the team you’d like to be on out of the two. speak to those team captains!

the “home” hotel will be the venetian, that’s where everyone will have rooms and be staying for safety purposes. you can share or have your own, that’s totally up to you. the convention and also games will be done at a different hotel - the plaza hotel in different spots.

on sunday, it’s a completely free day for you to do whatever your heart’s content. however, sunday night around 8pm est will be a casino masquerade ball on the venetian casino floor to celebrate the ending of the event and a good send off for us all.

you are encouraged to wear elaborate masks, whether they’re classic venetian styles or more modern interpretations. all guests should dress in formal, black-tie attire. think classic tuxedos, stylish suits or dress shirts, and glamorous gowns, complemented with sophisticated accessories such as elegant gloves, glasses, and statement jewelry.

remember: canonically, this event will last two days, but in real time, you’ll be able to post about it for a week with the proper tag #m.event (mayhem on the strip). we will post the cutoff date when the trip starts.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 4

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

Summary: Elvis convinces Becky that this is actually a romantic gesture, and he brings her to Graceland to meet his family and spend some time together as he prepares to have his daughter come to Memphis. A fluffy, smutty nuzzlefest with some foreboding and Jerry shenanigans.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, vaginal sexual penetrative intercourse, cursing, drug use and alcohol, and, because it's Elvis, weird mind games and jealousy. Some historical inaccuracies.

Words: 18.6K EVERYTIME. Every. Goddamn. Time. With every fic. I tell myself, this time, 10 K is enough. And then I write more than i did last time. I think I loose readers every time it gets longer... but .. fuck.. I don't know. It's hard to kill your darlings.

I made a playlist just for this chapter in order of the songs that get sung or played.

I'm so bad at attention to detail, sorry for the typos.

This chapter is part of my on going fic about 1975-era Elvis and a single mom he meets after a concert in Jackson, MS. If you haven’t read it, you can here:

Catch up on Chapter One here

Catch up on Chapter Two here

Catch up on Chapter Three here

Thanks to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and supported this story. If you enjoy it, please, for the love of big daddy, reblog, comment, share. I always like hearing what works and what doesn't, because it gets into my fingers and shapes the way they write. Pretty sure the smut is ridiculous here....

Sunday, June 14th

1 PM, Pop’s Gas Station

Somewhere in Mississippi 

The coffee was hot as it rolled down Jerry’s throat, and he shifted against the raw wooden grain of the bench outside Pop’s Gas Station, somewhere off Highway 61. It was bright in the muggy, midday heat of Mississippi, and Jerry adjusted his sunglasses, intentionally turning his head away from the yellow Cadillac parked askew twenty or so feet to his right. Lush green trees lined the two-lane highway, and Jerry stared at the overgrowth, trying not to focus on Elvis’ laugh bubbling up as it was interrupted by yelps as Becky hit him again and again on his upper arm. Jerry made no visible acknowledgement that he could hear or see everything being said in the car twenty feet away.

"Elvis THIS IS NOT FUNNY! Turn around and take me home… I don’t appreciate being taken against my will…”

“Thought you liked being taken by me, ouch…. last night you said you wished you could co—”

“No, I never said—”

“Yes ya did, ya said,” Elvis’ eyes laughed and his lips pouted while he spoke in a high falsetto, “Oh Elvis you big strong manly stud, I wish I could stay like this forever, naked in your arms…c—”

“No, no, no, now.” Becky flipped her long, dark auburn curls over her shoulder and looked out the window at Jerry, still aloof, disinterested, his eyes focused on an indeterminate point in the distance. “I didn’t say it like that, I was caught up in the moment and I said ‘this is nice, just being here like this, together.. wish it could last forever,’ the kind of stupid thing weak-willed women like me say after making love….I never said I wanted you to go——”

“Well, I saw it in your eyes… and again this morning, when you were trying to play it cool while ya wa warshin’ my clothes for me, ironing ma pants…” His fingers rubbed the side of her arm, stroking up to the top of her shoulder then back down to her elbow, trailing lightly along her thigh. Becky settled a little as Elvis’ voice rumbled into her ears. She stopped punching him and crossed her arms with an exasperated sigh.  Elvis leaned in closer, still a few inches from her ear, murmuring while his hand circled the top of her left knee. “C’mon woman, ya really don’t wanna spend a few more days with me?”

Becky crossing her arms even tighter, and a guttural growl emerged from her throat with a “Humpf… Elvis…. I can't disappear on a whim just to be your fuck buddy for a week…”

“Whoa now, first a all, this ain’t just about screwing around-”

Becky arched an eye brow.

“Maybe for you, ya wanton woman…”

“Ha!”

“No, now a man can only do so much a that… now just come here a second….”

Elvis's hands pulled Becky across the front seat of the car and into his arms.

“Now honey, I like you, we have fun in each other’s company, hmmm?” He kissed the top of her dark curlscand her skin smoldered under the heat of his large hand massaging her shoulder. The bottom of his glasses bumped along the top of her head and she took another deep, protracted breath, uncrossing her arms.

“Mhmmmm… I… it’s not ok to go behind my back just because you want something to happen a certain way…it doesn’t feel good to be tricked into something…”

“Ok, ok… ya right…. See, I … I knew you was too shy to ask your folks… ” Becky jabbed him softly, playfully, moving her elbow up and down along the soft cushion of Elvis’ belly. “Ok, ok, simmer down, I’m sayin’ you are right, honey, I'll never trick you again or do something without asking….promise…I’ll never not consult you again when I’m planning a grand romantic gesture that sweeps you off ya feet…” 

“HA … that what this is? Awfully optimistic of you, thinking anything like this will ever happen again .. I have a mind to make you drive me back to Jackson on principle…”

“OK, well, now, look, we’re only ‘bout on hour from Graceland,  let's head in and if ya still set on leavin’ in the morning,” Elvis winked as he said this.  “I’ll have Jerry drive you back…”

Becky softened and leaned into him, her hand worked its way around Elvis’ waist. “Oh no, no Jerry, no Joe, you’re not gettin’ your friends to do your dirty work for you - you did this to your self, and you need to be the one sufferin’ the six hours driving me to Jackson and back…”

“So what I’m hearing is that you want the maximum time ta cuddle with me … I gotcha, I gotcha… so come an’ get it now, silly woman!”

Elvis’ right hand tightened around the edge of Becky’s shoulder, his thumb gently swiping up her shoulder blade as she scooted into him, releasing all of her resentment about this surprise trip to Memphis. Becky made a mental note to save any indignation that remained for Ida as she snuggled into Elvis chest, giving into it’s warm comfort and burrowing her nose into his breast. Becky smiled as Elvis let out a deep hiss as the tip of her nose traced over his nipple. Her hand moved down to tease him along the crease of his pants where his belly met his thigh. Slowly, her fingers crept further along the ridge of his tummy and onto the top of his legs, just to the point above his crotch, then giggling softly as Elvis gasped and exhaled with a low exclamation.

 “Gawdddddammit… lil gal… gonna loose my foot tryin’ to get us back to Graceland…show you that sound proof….roommmmmm,” his voice purred as Becky’s fingers needled the round flesh at the top of Elvis inner thigh. 

The friction created a heat between them, and Elvis fingers started to rub Becky’s shoulder with a blistering need. He kissed the top of her head, and Becky watched him push against her in the rearview mirror. Her chest filled with warm exhilaration at the sight of Elvis’ lower lip hanging down, his eyes blown wide with earnest, needy lust. She watched his lips smoosh sideways as he kissed her forehead, maintaining a charged eye contact with her through his glasses. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming, it made her heart beat so quick that she heard it in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of Elvis’ left hand rolling down the window to yell out for Jerry to get back in the car, never breaking the bond between his chin and her forehead. 

Elvis blue eyes simmered as they stared her down through the mirror, and Becky couldn’t stop herself from biting her lip. His fierce stare was juxtaposed by the softness of his voice as he whispered into her hair while they drove along the highway.

“He’s sawry if he upset ya baby …” Elvis voice went into a low, intimate babyish tenor, the movements of his thumb became more protracted, and Becky shushed him through his shirt. “Such a sweet baby ta me… baby baaaaby ba da di dooo, ohh… yeuahhhhh…..” His voice lulled into a gospel tune momentarily. “I cain’t wait ta show ya all ‘round ma house… all ‘round ma property… fourteen acres… ever stayed somewhere so big? Think ya… can handle that size?”

Becky chuckled, and Elvis’ face beamed at the soft rose color of her blushing cheeks. 

“Mhmmm… well, I’m not sure… guess I’ll just have ta see what happens….” Becky kissed Elvis chest, softly, murmuring into it. Her right hand snaked around his back, her left feathering over the round swell of his belly. “You know, I was just starting to like you this morning before you played this dirty trick on me …  you’re so funny and sweet …. But I just need to say… one last time, then we’ll put it behind us… I… don’t like plans being made for me…” Becky looked up at Elvis face from where she leaned on his chest. The side of his face loomed large above her, his lips pursed in thought above the bulge of his chin. “I can see how you meant this as a romantic gesture… but I … I don’t like being tricked…”

Elvis’ chin rippled above Becky as he nodded, and he drew her in closer. “Awright honey… from now, s’all ‘bove board… no more tricks… no more surprises, kay? I promise. Won’t ever lie or mislead you or keep something from you.” The softness of his chin pressed into Becky’s forehead as Elvis’ kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder.

Calmed into a tender embrace, Becky and Elvis retreated into their own little enclave in the front seat, where Jerry’s presence was ignored and almost forgotten about amid the sweet nothings Elvis and Becky exchanged along the highway up to Tennessee. 

“Ya know you got the cutest yittle eye lashes I ever seen,” Elvis whispered, and he kissed her forehead again, catching her mouth as Becky tilted up to him to kiss his cheek.

She murmured over his nipple. “You have the kind of chest a girl could get used to leaning on…” she rubbed her hand under the plush groove of his belly.

It was only when they got to the state line that Becky began to feel a slight unease creep up from the bottom of her tummy and take residence at the top of her bosom. An icy chill followed up her spine, she felt anxious as she realized they were entering Tennessee. She was about to experience another layer of Elvis’ home life that she hadn’t had any time to prepare for or even think about. She squirmed out of his tight embrace and sat up straight, looking out the window at the big sign announcing they had entered Tennessee.

Elvis’ left hand remained straight, steady at the wheel while his right palm chased after Becky’s, grasping at her fingers and intertwining his between them at the top of her knee. He turned his head from the road, momentarily, looking at the back of her head as it stared out the window. Elvis’ hand engulfed her’s, squeezing it tight, lifting her palm to his mouth and kissing the top of her hand.

“Hey - ya nervous?” 

Becky’s big brown eyes met his tentatively. Her lips pursed together, then wiggled back and forth as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Mhmm… what is your family gonna think of me… this random girl… coming back to your house with you? What if they… don’t like me…. What about these six girlfriends you told me ‘bout? I…. Anyone gonna be chasing me out the house with a rolling pin?” Becky’s voice stopped abruptly, and her words hung in the air. 

Elvis released Becky’s hand and looked over at her, then turned to look at Jerry briefly for the first time since they had left the gas station. “You watch too many soap opera… Graceland ain’t The Guiding Light… I lay down the law, and there ain’t no drama… no other chicks living there right now, and everyone’s gonna be just as crazy about you as I am, lil girl… but I’ll tell ya right now, my opinion’s the only one that matter’s at Graceland… so’s you jus’ let me know if anyone… anyone… disrespects ya, hmmm? Trust daddy, now, everything is gonna be fine….”

Elvis turned up the radio and rubbed Becky’s knee, and the sound of The Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin Man” filled the car.

**********************************************************

The white mesh gates opened back and Elvis flicked his cigarillo out of the car window and steered the yellow Cadillac up the curved driveway. A wistful smile spreading over his face. Exhaling, he seemed to relax as he paused the car at the little brick guard house behind the gate. Elvis motioned at Becky to roll down the window and yelled at the older man standing watch.

“Why hellloooo der Vestor, stayin’ awake I see?”

The guard nodded, and Elvis chuckled, ignoring Becky’s questioning eyes as he drove the car around to the front of the house. Jerry was out of the car first, waiting as Elvis popped the trunk and squeezed Becky’s knee, turning to give her a soft kiss followed by a second, more vigorous smack. His fingers tousled her curly locks as he comforted her.

“S’gonna be great…” his voice lilted up into a refrain. “Welcome ta my world… Becky Butt” he grinned, giving her a wink as he slapped her thigh and opened his door.

Elvis pulled himself out of the car and strode around to grab Becky’s door just as she was about to pop it open. Taking her hand, he adjusted his sunglasses and smiled wide, tugging her up the portico behind Jerry. Opening the front door, Jerry glanced briefly at Becky, then told Elvis’ he’d run the bag Ida packed upstairs. Elvis stopped them in the front foyer, his arms hugging Becky from behind as he clasped his large hands around her waist and notched his chin into her neck. He nuzzled into her right ear as Becky looked from one side of the entry way to the other. Her eyes took in the scarlet red carpeting that trailed down the grand staircase in front of her and lined all the floors that she could see, punctuated by the occasional white fur rug.

“Welcome to Graceland….” Elvis whispered. Becky’s cheeks began to match the carpet as Elvis hummed “Amazing Grace,” into her neck with a mischievous grin that told Becky he was also thinking about the same intimate moment they had shared two nights ago. The image of Elvis mouth singing this song as he licked her pussy was now indelibly linked to in her mind. 

“So… whatcha think?” Those same lips asked.

Red. That was Becky’s first impression of Graceland’s interior. The color was so overwhelming, it was the only thing she could think of as she looked around. Deep, scarlet velvet drapes lined with golden fringe hung down to meet the carpet at the entrance to every room. The dining room table on her left was enclosed by high-backed candy apple colored chairs covered with rhinestones. To the right was a parlor with a long Victorian settee that was, you guessed it, a deep Burgundy color held up by a white wooden trim. Becky momentarily mused that this might be what Belle Watlings' vagina looked like: an ornate opening lined by red velvet drapery welcoming customers into its cavernous warmth. It was the sort of place a girl would feel comfortable getting an unexpected visit from Aunt Flo. Or the perfect setting for a villain to hold a clandestine meeting with James Bond. Becky kept all of these thoughts to herself, inhaling deeply as she took it all in.

“Wow… it's … so… fancy… like no where I’ve ever been, that’s fa sure…”

Elvis seemed pleased by this response, and kissed Becky’s neck. She murmured at the warmth of his breath on her skin as she continued.

“Gosh… s’not what I expected… S’much bigger than I thought driving up…”

“Mhmmm…. That’s what all the girls say— ouch!”

Becky reached her hand above her to playfully slap Elvis’ face, and he bite his lip and waggled his eyebrows down at her. Elvis’ thumb nestled inside inside Becky’s palm, swiping up and down slowly over her soft skin as he led her excitedly around through the dining room and into the kitchen where they came upon a short, stout Black woman filling the refrigerator with Pepsi bottles.

 Elvis dropped Becky’s hand to make a loud “CLAP,” chuckling as the woman jumped back and shrieked. 

“Oh lawd, Elvis, ya scared me outta of my skin!”

Elvis hugged the woman, speaking through his chuckles. “Jus keepin’ ya on yo toes Miss Mary, I reckon it’s been too quiet round here since I been gone…”

“Hmmm, well your daddy been callin’ over to ask if you back yet, want me to —”

“Nah, let the old bugger stew… he’s pestering me ‘bout that plane, an I don’t care ta hear it.” Elvis rubbed Mary’s shoulder, then turned to look back at Becky. “Mary, I got a lil girl I’m awfully fond of that I want ya ta meet, this here’s — ”

“Why it’s Becky!” 

There was Charlie, a big beaming smile radiating happiness through the kitchen as he walked in from the other side.

“Hmmpf… if it ain’t ol Waterhead ‘im self….” Elvis walked back over to Becky and drew her into him tight, kissing her forehead as his eyes narrowed and Elvis’ left hand grazed the top of his belt. 

Charlie’s expression toward Becky shifted immediately from joyful greeting to a more solemn “Glad to see ya ma’am.”

Mary asked Elvis what time he wanted dinner, exclaiming, “Well, an early dinner, huh,” in response to his 8 pm request.

“Woke up early ta day, Miss Mary… Becky Butt here’s harsh mistress, had me up all hours a the night,” he winked and then smiled deeper as Becky’s face grew red. “Then she had us up at 8 ta drive her baby to summer camp… who knows when her demands will end?”

“Ha, you have some nerve, Elvis Presley…” Becky whispered into Elvis armpit, pinching him under his jacket and causing him to chuckle and kiss her forehead again.

Elvis twirled her out from his side, looking at her as he swung her around. “Ain’t she just got the perfect hourglass figure Mary? Just need to get her some nice clothes, add a lil’ make up, and she shines like the Hope diamond...” 

Becky swung herself back into his armpit with another pinch and reddening cheeks, whispering “Considering everything you put me though today, I look like a movie star…”

“Yeah…ya sure do look like a movie star, honey…like Bette Davis in Baby Jane….” Then Becky’s face fell and Elvis stopped snickering and rubbed her back, his lips on her head. “Oh sweetheart, I didn’t mean it now…” he laughed as she hit him and burrowed into his armpit further.

Jerry’s footsteps announced his entrance into the kitchen behind them and Becky turned to see him nod at Charlie before briefing Elvis on some scheduling and business matters. Becky stole a glance at Charlie and smiled at his shrug and eye roll, half of which Elvis caught and responded to with a sharp look in Charlie’s direction, tightening his grip on Becky’s waist. 

“Huh, well, keep me posted when Dave lands at the airport tomarra with Lisa… alright, enough pleasantries, c’mon lil’ gal, Imma give ya the VIP tour….”  

Becky smiled and called out behind her, “Nice to meet you Mary, good to see you Charlie!” before she felt the clack of the swinging door her backside.

Elvis lugged her into the back hallway to a room with bright green carpeting and wood panelling. The coffee table looked as through it had been sliced out of a tree, and the soft trickle of falling water drew Becky’s attention to the north wall as Elvis sank into a brown fur-lined couch. He pulled her onto his lap, twin sea serpents roaring out of the carved wooden armrests to meet Becky’s hand as she steadied herself to keep from falling off Elvis. To balance, Becky settling her bottom into Elvis’ groin, and he pulled Becky closer, leaning back as his fingers worked their way under Becky’s tee-shirt to caress the softness of her belly, his voice rumbling into her neck.

“This is the den…whaddya think?” 

Becky turned to look at him, his hands shifted her around so she was now straddling him where he sat at the sofa’s edge.

“It’s magical… this is my favorite room so far… right here…” 

Elvis lit up behind his lavender glasses at the wonder in Becky’s upturned eyes; he relished her gasp at the green carpet covering the ceiling above. His right hand massaged the tender hip flesh spilling out of her jeans, while his left hand moved under her shirt to where her shapely bosom jiggled ever so slightly with the delicate thrusts Elvis’  begin to send upward into her, and he leaned in to kiss her clavicle.

“Elvis… you.. havta… I wanna… you’re in the middle of giving me a tour…” Becky whispered, the burn of desire beginning to brush at her base. She grasped his left wrist to stop the jaunty beat his index finger was flicking into her nipple. 

He ignored her, his eyes singularly focused on her bust. “Honey, I don’t know if you are aware of this, but you are not wearing a brassiere….” 

“Mhmm yeah, that was a clothing choice made in a hurry this morning, out of comfort and necessity… it is NOT an invitation…”

Elvis smirked to himself as his fingers relented, only to be replaced by his warm mouth pressing into Becky’s pebbled nip through her tee shirt, mumbling into her breast.

“Well sho seems like an invitation …*suckle* …to this humble wanderer …*suckle* …feel like I been stuck in the desert …*suckle* …seeking sustenance…*suckle*… an now ya’d deny me…” his mouth pressed his teeth through the now damp fabric onto her nipple, “this ripe fruit I’ve found…that I so desperately need ta nourish …*suckle* …ma soul…” 

Becky couldn’t stop the moan escaping from her chest despite her exasperated fatigue and self-conscious awareness. Elvis’ hands moved to fondle her bottom and pull her further onto him, and he squeezed her cheeks as she giggled. Suddenly she wasn't that tired and instinctively surged into Elvis’ lap, before pushing off of his chest and wriggled backwards. She felt his growing erection as she stumbled off him and balanced her self on the ground. Shakng her head, Becky smoothed down her tee shirt and tried to keep a straight face striding backwards along the couch, stopping at the dual staircases at the back of the room.

“Hey now… mister… there are people in the next room over… why don’t we continue the tour …”

Elvis stood, lips parted below a predatory look as if he might leap over the sofa and devour her right there and then. Becky shrieked as he stalked toward her.

“Hmmmm… s’my house honey, and I do what I want.. where I want… so no reason to be worried… this is all part of my hands-on, personal tour…” He caught up with her and pulled her into him.

“Well…” Becky leaned up, her lips faintly hovered below his. “Those hands are… gonna havta catch me… don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I don’t go ‘round making love in public places… or before this tour is finished!”

She giggled again as she rushed down the staircase to the basement, Elvis' loud belly laugh followed her as the sound of his heavy foot steps filled the passage way. Turning back briefly, Becky saw that Elvis’ body  blocked out all the sunshine from the corridor. His ravenous expression sent a thrill up her spine as she tripped down into the darkness of the basement and ran smack! into a doorframe. Elvis caught up to her as she massaged her fingers into the side of her forehead, that's probably gonna cause bump... how sexy.

“Mmhmmmm … look what I caught … think this tour is over… for now…” Elvis kissed her shoulder from behind, his breath trembling out a chuckle between his words. “Oh no, ya not hurt?”

She smiled. “No, I’m fine… just stupid.. runnin’ round a basement in the dark…”

Elvis pulled her in, replacing her fingers with his lips. “Aww, baby, let him kiss it and make it better…” He peppered soft, sweet kisses on her temple and Becky felt the cool sheen of perspiration on his chin from the jaunt down the stairs. The soft, damp sensation of his skin against her was electrifying, and she absorbed him eagerly, her hands went under his jacket till he shouldered it off,  his hands trailing down to her waist. She groaned out as the heft of his body insistently impelled her into the doorframe. 

Becky bit her lip as her hands meandered over Elvis’ back, cherishing the soft, pliable ridges and rolls, then daintily moving up to clasp his neck. He muttered out an “OH baaaaby…” and she responded with a whimper. Elvis grinned wide, stroking Becky’s cheek with his knuckles, down to her mouth, his kisses moving lower along her neck, more  passionate and insistent with each smoosh. 

Elvis grunted and heaved as hee lifted Becky up, carrying her moaning body through the doorframe an onto a dark, velvet, sectional, her head bump all but forgotten. Her eyes sort of noticed her surroundings, yellow and black walls lit by a dim solitary table lamp at a bar. Becky’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and watched Elvis kneel down in front of her and place his glasses back on the coffee table behind him. Looking up, she realized the ceiling in here was made entirely of mirrors.

“So… is this another den?”

“Mhmmmm ….  tvs, movie screen, record player, bar…” He leaned into her, hands on Becky’s thighs. “Got all the entertainment i need right here though...jus wanna look atcha ....  still a second… no moar running …” 

Becky exhaled and sat up, stroking the hair off Elvis’s face as he caught his breath, captivated by the pull of his deep, blue eyes. They were like the middle of the ocean and called her to jump off her life raft and dive right in.

“You are… you are …” she mumbled, running her left fingers through his sideburns, trying to think of the right words to tell him how attractive she found him, how his smile and that impish way his mouth quirked and his eyes danced with desire commanded her to body forward toward him. But all the phrases that came to Becky’s mind seemed inadequate and cliche. Also, she was reluctant to let him know how she felt, insecure and afraid it made her boring, easy, a push over. She had the impression Elvis needed validation, but also enjoyed the pursuit. 

Becky looked down at his thumbs trailing over the ridge of her jeans, his eyes intent on her.

“Hmmm… yeah baby, whatcha trying ta say?”

“You are… not so bad… for an… Elvis Presley…” Becky closed her eyes and held him to her cheek, as he chuckled softly, and started unbuttoning her pants.

“Well I like you too, darlin’… mmhmm…” His eyes were earnest and she inhaled as they narrowed, his hands were needy as her pulled off her jeans and threw them behind him. Becky guffawed watching them fall over a white, porcelain monkey that gleamed in the dark. 

Then he suckled at her nape, and Elvis’ cheeks scrunched up in a smile at Becky’s moans, inhaling as he moved to draw off her panties. She could feel the excitement scorching up her center as he looked into her eyes, tugging her panties off. Becky sucked in her tummy, maybe he won't notice the soft stretch marks at her hips. Stretch marks were the last thing on his mind, and her full, round hips beckoned him to grab on and smother himself within her. Elvis’ eyes looked into Becky's with a fiendish gleam, and he arched his left eyebrow as his hands continued to pull at her underwear without looking down. Becky giggled while he pursed his lips, removing her pink cotton skivvies one leg at a time. Elvis’ baritone voice dipped low as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, his thumbs teasing over her soft, curly fur, then slowly parting her lower lips.

“Hello darlin’ nice ta see ya….….It’s been a long time…” he sang, kissing the hair at the top of her entrance,  once, twice, three times. “…Ya just as lovely as you used to be…”

Becky started chuckling, “I think Conrad Twitty would be horrifi——” her commentary on Elvis’ serenade to her pussy was interrupted by the flick of his tongue on her clit.  She arched her head involuntarily as his chuckles hummed in to her. Opening her eyes, Becky saw Elvis’ body in-between her legs above her in the mirrors. His head bobbed forward and back as his fingers sought out the silkiness within her, prodding her pleasure point. Elvis tongue seared a path along her center, and a warm throbbing began to ache causing Becky to shift her hips forward to meet his mouth, twitching in sync with the glide of his fingers. Moving his index and forefinger up and down into her, Elvis let up from his efforts momentarily to look at her face, beaming at the way her lip hung down and her face convulsed in time with his fingers' movements. His head turned up into the mirrors reveling at the view of himself pleasuring Becky, widening her legs a bit so he could get a better view of his hand inside her. Becky cried out as his index finger made contact with that special spot once more, and he looked her dead in the eyes.

“Enjoy watching you squirm, darlin….”

Becky had trouble forming a sentence, stuttering out “Uhh.. well.. that… you know…” 

Elvis laughed and returned to her cunt like a man who'd been fasting a month, consuming her with firm, generous strokes. Becky felt the tension build, and her eyes went back up at the mirrors when she arched herself into him, watching as Elvis’ devoured her and his strangled breath filled the room. He was knuckles deep inside her, flexing back and forth in tandem as his tongue cleaned her, each round bringing her a step closer to absolution. Her fingers threaded through  Elvis’ dark hair, and in the dim light of the mirrors, Becky would swear she had a wild boar between her legs. A grunting,  dark, wild beast snorting and rooting for treasure in her depths. Her hips thrust up into Elvis’ face with a powerful whack and he grabbed her buttocks, his lips sucking her nub through the waves of heat that broadcast out through her entire body. Thrashing, twitching and cursing like a sailor, she tried to free herself from the overstimulation of Elvis’ soft mouth and hard tongue.

“Fuck fffffff fucking FUCKKKKK ing FFucccKKKKKK cocksucking motherfucking FUCK I can’t believe that……”

She panted hard, shaking her head at the smug, devilish look on Elvis face as he lowered her feet in front of her and wiped himself on her thigh. His fingers did a squeeze inside and a chuckle came out watching Becky twitch and jerk on his hand. She grabbed his shoulder, tightly, a sign to stop. “S’too much … to intense.” He did it one last time chuckling, then relented and glided his fingers out from her, licking them with filthy glee.

“Ha! I've never met anyone… who did that… who cared.. or liked the way women taste … like you do….” Becky exhaled, catching her breath.

“Mhmmm… not all women… but you … you taste amazing… I could eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner…. And still be hongry fa moar…..” 

Becky laughed, sliding forward on the sofa and pulling his head to hers to crush their mouths together. It was like being inside herself. The hands cupping her cheeks, his entire face, it all smelled like her. And him. Sweat and spit and cologne and lavender oil and dirty hair. All melded together. It was intoxicating, and they stayed like this for several minutes, locked in a lover’s embrace, the smacks of their sloppy kisses replacing the sound of  Elvis face slapping against Becky’s thighs. Becky wound her legs around his bottom, and he grabbed her, lifting her up off the couch then thumping her back down as he ambled  over to the bar.

“Pffft… need.. some…water…”

She followed, and Elvis grinned at the sound of Becky’s wet nakedness squelching over the yellow bar stool.

“Thanks for polishin’ the furniture, baby…..” Elvis winked, as she inadvertently squeaked again against the leather.

Becky blushed, and Elvis’ jaw widened with a deep breath. 

“Damn, honey, I’ll never get sick a watchin’ that blush creep up ya widdle cheeks…” He leaned over the bar and squished her cheeks with his right hand, kissing her forehead.  

She stood and backed away as he came around the bar.

“S’not nice to tease a girl… first you offer to give me tour, but then corner me in this here tv room, and now ya making fun of the way all your cavorting makes me squeak and blush——”

He grabbed her to him, pulling her lips back onto his. She giggled and squirmed away.

“Oh no you don’t—”

Elvis stepped toward her again, but Becky squealed and turned, running back into the basement corridor. She didn’t have a plan, and when she remembered she wasn't wearing pants she scurried into the dark room across. Elvis’ body clambered loudly behind her as he growled. “Though we agreed no more runnin.’” 

She stumbled back onto a large table as Elvis caught up and lifted her onto the thick barrier of a pool table. Becky’s hands half-heartedly pushed back against his chest as she whined.

“Now Elvis… pretty sure I was promised sound proof walls ….”

Elvis mumbled into her ear, “Hmmm.. that why you got me chasin’ you round, tryin not to excite me???? I’d rather be in the comfort an privacy of that a room too ...  but it is much too far away… two floors too far ta be exact… don't worry, though, this basement is sound proof too … I've tested it ma self…" He winked. "Ain’t no one gonna know …” 

Becky stopped nuzzling back into him, her tone became earnest. “Have you done it lot… down here…? Made love, I mean?” 

Elvis stood up straight and grunted, his hands steadying her precarious position on the edge of the pool table.

“That was probably the wrong thing ta say, hmmmm?”

Becky’s eyes trailed to the dark hall way she had just run through, and told her self to be cool… you knew he has more experience than you… a lot more… what did you expect? Would it matter if you were in his bed? Probably fucked even more women there….

“Nooooooo…I guess I’m a idiot for asking…” she shifted up to look into his dark eyes. 

Elvis wiped his forehead while he pushed himself between Becky’s legs. His hands were rubbing her thighs softly up and down, and he glanced down at her chest before returning his gaze to those big brown eyes. The look there made him regret even conjuring up past sexual escapades. The wholly unfiltered, self-conscious insecurity in her eyes made her all the more alluring. Becky was unvarnished, unaffected, and the way she didn't try to cover up her nervousness in order to impress made him throb with yearning. Acting like a damn teenager, running after women in hallways or corridors, he thought, your gonna feel this in the morning. Who are you kidding. In an hour. Elvis really would have preferred to take Becky the comfort of his bed, but at this precise moment comfort was from from a priority, all he knew was that needed to feel Becky’s skin against his, feel himself inside her, possessing her completely and defusing all her misgivings about him with the warm deluge of his adoration. 

“Nah, not an idiot at all… look, we’re both grown ups… we have histories…” he kissed her neck slowly, tenderly. Her eyes closed with a quiver as his voice dissolved in her inhibitions. “Make you feel better if I tell ya it’s been years since I fooled round down here? Aw honey…. I can't even remember their faces ... don’t want anyone else but you…” 

Will you remember mine in a year? She wondered, but her body didn't care, and it's instincts propelled her back into him. She pulled his neck to her and his lips hit her forehead. He felt his manhood stiffen even more and it made his fingers needier as they trailed up her sides. Elvis’ lower lip hung down with longing and his eye lids drooped with lust. Becky hastily began to unbutton his white dress shirt.

“Ahh, sweet baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful….” Elvis voice made Becky stop mid-button  and she looked up at him, her hands moving up to his cheeks.

“Please don’t lay that charm on too thick… I’m already here… I’m naked…an… I know you like me an…  I can feel you’re attracted—” 

Elvis pulled her hand down to feel the pulsating steel rod bursting along his slacks “ — Ya can, huh? Feel my attraction?” Then he saw the hesitancy in her eyes. “Wuss tha matter sweetheart?”

Becky sighed. “I just….I know I’m not beautiful, not like the super models I’ve seen you with in newspapers and magazines…. I just… if you exaggerate, go too over-the-top… well,  it ruins it for me… I hate false compliments…”

Elvis’ eyes narrowed. “Honey, over-the-top is my middle name… ”

Becky let out an involuntary guffaw. “Say that again… I mean, this whole house... But what I mean is, I wish you would stop givin’ me your pretty movie star lines —”

Elvis shook his head and grabbed Becky by the chin, the look in his eyes an intense warning. “Sometimes you make me think no one has ever told ya you were beautiful…” The way she pushed his hand aside and looked down, uncomfortably told Elvis he had accidentally stumbled on the truth. “Nooo….. never? I don believe it….. no, cuz ya really are… here, I gotta turn the light on jus so’s I can see ya better….” 

He flipped a switch on the wall, and suddenly the pool room was bathed in a warm glow. Becky gasped as the light revealed a cacophony of textured colors along cloth-covered walls. Her eyes followed the fabric up to the ceiling, feeling as though she had slipped under the skirt of a Victorian lady. Colorful pleats lined the walls and gathered into the middle of the room above two hanging Tiffany lamps. Elvis lips on her shoulder as his hands took off her shirt brought Becky back into her body. A breathy giggle worked it’s way out when Elvis’ knuckles stroked Becky’s face. She quit resisting and just held up her hands, watching as he lifted her shirt over her head and gulped, his eyes languidly roving up and down her body. 

“Mhmmm… yessiree… fit right in here with all the other beautiful things I fill this ole house with…ya know… I have an eye for beautiful things —”

“Elvis, please… quit teasin,’”  Becky wiped a lone tear drop from the side of her right eye.

Elvis brought her hands up to his lips, kissing each top as he held her gaze. “Woman, you better stop that… might think you’re questioning my aes -thee- ET-ic taste.” He drawled, clearly amusing himself with his pronunciation of aesthetic. 

Inhaling, Elvis pulled Becky’s face back towards his with a kiss that lingered on her soft lips. Elvis coughed as Becky pulled off his shirt and his tummy jiggled with a wave of laughter. Looking down, she saw him flinch at his own belly and Becky dragged the back of her hand across it slowly, sensuously.

“You are… the most handsome man…” Then she blushed and hid her face in his chest hair, her hands curving up around his neck as she tried to crush herself into him, kissing his sternum and muttering how she was glad she’d met him.

“Why honey… there she is… there’s that sweet girl I like, been hidin’ underneath all that sass…”  Elvis breathed into her ear, his hands moving over her head, tousling her hair, then using his right hand to bring her chin up to his. “Becky, ya like a goddamn Greek goddess … if I say your beaut - TEE - full, then ya are, end of story …. Don’t ever wanna hear you tellin’ me what I can or can na say… ’specially when I’m in the throes of love making,” he chuckled. “Derails my manEUvers …”

Elvis hot breath clucked into Becky’s ear, he kissed her cheek and waggled his eyes. Becky pulled herself to him, and began unlatching his pants. Elvis stopped her, drawing out his pistol and pushing it across the pool table. Becky watched the metal of the gun glisten, the carved handle was elaborately engraved and she caught his grin watching her eyes follow it.

“That thing s’not loaded, is it?”

Elvis laughed. “Course it is, baby, how else arm I s’posed to use it? I’m always ready for action…”

“Hmmm. Speaking of which….” Becky’s hand returned to Elvis’ pants. “Are you aware, Mr. Presley… that you are not wearing any underwear?” She asked, in a high, breathy refrain pulling down his pants and and gripping his cock gently. “Someone might say s’its … almost an invitation…?” Elvis bent his head back as a loud belly laugh escaped his throat. 

“There ya go, using ma own words against——uhhh fuck, baby girl!” Elvis looked down to watch as Becky lowered herself in front of him and kissed the tip of his cock, her eyes all innocence.

“What? Just bein’ friendly… responding to that open invitatioOOM…..” She grinned as she plunged her mouth around him half way through the last word, humming the syllable onto him while her eyes widened and she grasped the rolling handles at his side to hand on to.

Elvis tried to pull her arm back up. “Honey, I don’t wantcha to do that… s’not something I like from women I respect…”

Becky pulled his hand off, her puzzling eyes searching his face. “I did this the first night we met…”

“Well… didn’t think I was ever gonna see ya again… didn’t realize how much I liked ya til I woke up and you were gone…”

“Well, s’too late… I got a taste for this lil fella, and it’s hardly hospitable —” Becky kissed his tip and Elvis shuddered. “To invite me to dinner then not feed me…” she grinned, as he shook his head and put his hands up in defeat, giving in to the irresistible movements of her mouth over, under and on his johnson.

Becky tried to exude a sexy playful confidence, but then gasped and choked as she forced his girthy length to the back of her throat, giggling at Elvis’ bemused expression. His heart swelled with reverence as his cock thrust into the glorious traction of Becky’s mouth. His fingers gently dragged through her hair, and he sucked in his breath while expelling a succession of needy “fucks.” Elvis lifted his head to the heavens in prayer when his tip banged into the softness of her throat, moaning while Becky stubbornly sucked in further, her cheeks hallowed and her mouth coughing down the gag reflex as best she could. Making eye contact, Elvis couldn’t help the way his hips surged back and forth almost of their own volition at a increased pace, spurred on by the determined look in Becky’s watery eyes. 

“Fuck honey… whooo…hey…. ok…I am gonna compromise and say…ya can do this anytime ya want…” 

Becky giggled at that into his cock as she glided forward.

Elvis could feel his orgasm bubbling up, and seized the side of Becky’s head to stop her, “Darlin, I wanna be inside you…. Come up here…” Elvis held out his hand and gently turned her against the pool table with a questioning eyebrow. She nodded and leaned into the wooden ledge of the pool table, sighing out as she felt Elvis kiss her shoulder and tilt her hips to him. She watched his dazzled expression over her shoulder as he pushed in and out of her slowly. He looked into her eyes while lunging in farther and groaning out a “FUck honeeeyyy.” Becky gasped sharply, savoring the tight pinch this position created.

“Damn, baby… you wuddna hardly think I been breaking you in all week..”

Becky giggled, “Elvis, how can you talk about me like that? Ughhh …. I’m not a horse…. Ughhhh….”

“I know, honey, I know… and I wantcha ohhh god damn…. Unnnnhhhhh…. meant no disrespect… but ….I am just always surprised how I wished I had a damn shoe horn with me... every time.” He laughed at her pout, and then moaned. “Now Becky Butt" he hit her bottom as he pulled out with a slight pat, "Don't look at me that -a way, s'its a compliment… should thank me… god DAMN woman….”

Elvis shifted positions to steady himself and smiled when he noticed that Becky sighed out with a crescendoing “oohHHHHhhhhhhhahh” every time he speared her at this new angle. Elvis let out a low chuckle, muttering, “Can ya hear ya self Becks? Like a goddamn accordion, suga… think... I found… ma new favorite instrument… Becky’s squeezebox…”

Becky shook her head, giggling and then moaning out again as she leaned into the hard surface of the pool table. Elvis’ heaved and breathed a little harder as he moved his right hand around Becky’s waist and began to rub her clit, grunting into the pale alabaster skin of her shoulder. 

“Oh my fucking Gawd Elvis… what are you doing to me? I don’t know if I can take any more” She moaned out, looking back at him through messy hair.

He kissed her neck. “Shhhhh…. now... let daddy take… care…UNGHHH… a ya…” then grunted again, burrowing back into her.

Eyes squeezed shut, Becky shuddered with each thrust backwards, her body clapping onto his in a rhythmic tug-a-war chasing the heat churning in her core. It broke loose, galloping over her like a runaway horse, and Becky screamed a long, loud guttural cry that echoed through the basement, up the stairway and through the entire north wing of Graceland. Mary sat at the kitchen counter drinking her coffee and smiling into her newspaper, shaking her head. It had been a long while since the sounds of lovemaking had ricocheted through the halls of Graceland like that.

“Uhhhh, there she goes… good girl…. ” Elvis slowed down, his lips planting a succession of soft pecks along the back of Becky’s shoulder, pushing her hair gently aside, and then moving his hands to tap out a pitter patter along the top ridge of her bottom where he continued to dip in and out of her.

“Oh goodness… ughhh… do you t think they heard me up stairs?”

“Nah, honey…don’t trouble ya self… I promise you, no one knows what we’re up to down here… could be playing billiards... mmHHMMm…unghhhhh… or watchin’ TV… or making a porno for all they know..”

“HA! Unghhhhh” Becky bite her lip, forgetting to be affronted enveloped by the comfort of Elvis' sweaty, warm body.

He leaned further and further into her, the thunder of each thrust reverberate up through Elvis’ tummy onto her, his hips crushing her even harder onto the pool table. Becky rocked back and forth with Elvis’ body in a post-orgasmic high, looking up at the colorful walls through blurry vision. She was inside a kaleidoscope, and she smiled watching the technicolor spectacle dance in front of her eyes. Elvis increased the tempo of his efforts. 

“Honey, I’m bout ta explode…”

His fingernails dug into her sides as he moaned out deeper, his head throttled backwards, hips prodding into her slowly and deliberately, evincing a moan with each thrust until he came with a loud grunt, singing breathlessly as he sputtered into her.

“Aaaaamen….. aaaaamen…. AAAAMEN… amen … ammmmmennnnnn.” 

Then Elvis collapsed head forward into the space between her shoulder blades, wiping sweat and hair onto her back as he whispered, “Thank ya Gawwwd… for bringing this lil gal ta me …. Lord… I feel your spirit.” 

Becky shook her head with a breathy chuckle. “Well, now I feel your spirit all over me…”

Elvis kissed her with a laugh, fondling her hips and pressing back into her deeper as he softened.

“Hmmmm… good… s’holy sacrement…” Elvis said, eyes closed, as he kissed her cheek, rubbing her sides slowly up and down as lil Elvis savored the warm, wet cloister of her cunt.

He almost collapsed over her, muttering goddamns until their breath synchronized. Elvis’ hands stilled on Becky’s hips and he coughed out, grunting, then laughing. She rolled over, gazing at him with amusement as he staggered back for effect and pulled up his pants. Her eyes danced over his wide, glistening body, the chest hair matted down, the belly that heaved forward and distended over his waist, his goofy boyish smile beaming from ear to ear. It was almost regal how he held his hands pushed into his hips, below a belly that jutted out. He took his shirt and bent to gently wipe between, gathered the cloth into his face with a loud, effected sniff before putting it back on. Their eyes met, giddy laughter echoed through the room.

Elvis  zipped up his pants and retrieved his gun, giving Becky a naughty wink as he pushed it back into his waist. His shirt hung open as he turned to move across the passage way walked back to the TV room and collapsed on the sectional. His chest heaved and his breath was ragged.

“Goddammit woman… tha most exercise since ma last concert.” Elvis combed his hand through his damp sweaty locks, looking over as Becky followed him, barefoot in just her her shirt and bending to finding her panties near the couch. Elvis pulled her on to him at the couch, kissing her belly.

“Got me runnin’ round like a 20 year old horn dawg…." Then he slapped her bottom. Again. "Well, don’t just sit here women, do something… help me...go get me a Pepsi, huh baby?”

Glancing into the mirrors above her, Becky’s eyes met Elvis’ smirking reflection.

“Nex time we’ll have ta try it in here… ”

Becky guffawed loudly, and pushed his shoulder with her head, then getting up to grab some drinks from the bar.

“You truly are a lecherous old goat…”

“Aww Becky, love it when ya talk dirty ta me… you have no idea what a dirty old goat I can be…. Jus you wait…” Elvis chortled.

She dropped next to him with the sodas, and watched as he drained half of his in one fell swoop. She leaned her head into the curve of his arm, bouyed up by his chest, she listened to the sound of his heavy exhales as he fiddled with a strange contraption pointed at the TV.

“What’s that?” Becky asked, soothing her hands over his belly.

“This… this is really high tech stuff… s’ a remote control…welcome to the future, Twitch…got all the latest gear ….let me show you how it works.” Elvis sipped his drink and excitedly explained the science behind his gadget , showing Becky how it turned the TVs on and off using blah blah blah radar gizmo whatevers. She vaguely ohed and ahed, happily trying it out as his hand guided over her over the switches and buttons on the device. Just enjoying the feeling of his chest under her head. Becky scootched closer as Elvis’ left hand trailed down her side. She let her head sank down more and more into the top of his tummy, rubbing his belly hair as she watched the three TVs in the wall flicker on. Before she passed out, she wondered how anyone could possibly follow three different news programs at once.

*************************************************************

Becky awoke to the sound of voices behind her, alone on the sofa and uncertain where she was for a moment. She closed her eyes again instinctively. Someone else, an older man perhaps, was speaking in a whispered hush with Elvis in the hallway.

“—— well I wish you had made your damn mind up ‘bout which airplane ya wanted before I gave the other one a down payment. Now I have this new contract with Delta … just don’t know what was wrong with chartering —”

“Aw hell, daddy, s’just money… you think I’m gonna stand by while Killer gets his own plane, an I’m still waitin’ on the runway with my dick in my hand for a charter? No sireee… ya got another thing comin’” 

There was a long silent pause.

“Well… ya tied my hands now anyway… and I’m left cleaning up the mess… Speaking of people who clean up ya mess, where’s Linda?”

“How should I know? In the condo I bought her in LA, or the house I got her round the corner… actin’ like a hurt puppy dog sulking back and forth and hardly sayin a word to me in the last few weeks… refused to come on tour…”

“Well, she isn’t refusing that credit card you gave her, just got the latest American Express bill and let me tell ya, it’s a doozy…”

“Now, I promised that girl I’d take care a her, long as she wants, so don’t bring all that up again… don’t care if she charges $30 or $30,000… still my gal….”

“IS she? Maybe she’d be ‘round more if you didn’t bring floozies like that un home —”

“Now daddy, that lil gal right there is a good, sweet kid, won’t have you disrespectin’ Becky—”

“Uh huh, and what pills is Becky on, hmmm?”

“Nothing… she’s just tired.” Becky could almost hear the smirk in Elvis’s voice as it went lower. “Poor thing ain’t had a lick a sleep in the last three days… but she’s a good girl. Comes from a good family back in Jackson.”

“Mhmmm… well, I never know who I’m gonna find here, some stranger you picked up at the gate? A baseball announcer? The local PE teacher? Or a random super model you’ve decided to buy an apartment for and put on the payroll without telling me… probably just be cheaper to give the local brothel a full retainer…”

“Ok, now, daddy… that’s enough… I don’t wanna think bout all this right now…”

“Son, all I’m saying is, I don’t blame Linda for being sore atcha…”

Elvis voice raised by several decibels. “Well, you get your woman under control and then you can come lecture me… last I heard you’d been kicked out of yourn. And got a new house. Let’s not forget who’s payin’ for it all….”

About thirty seconds of silence passed.

“Well, I ——“

“I’m ‘bout to wake that lil gal up, so we can go dress for supper - SO leave it. Nuff. I don’t wanna squabble no more….you should join us to eat, I know’d the gals be happy to see ya…”

“Hmmmm… any other mouths knockin’ ‘bout?”

“Hardly no one tonight… Jus Charlie, Jerry, Billy and his family… ”

“Yeah. No one, just ten people he says… that’s no one… hmmm….I’ll think about it…” 

Becky waited until she heard the footsteps go up the stairs before opening her eyes to see Elvis hovering over her, his shirt was still unbuttoned and he held her jeans over his left arm.

“You’re a bad faker, Becky….”

“Hmmmm?” Becky said, unable to stop the blush returning to her cheeks. “How’d… how’d ya know I was awake?”

Elvis grinned. “Ya snore… s’cutest itty bitty breathy heavin’…. But I noticed a few minutes ago that ya’d stopped, when daddy quit yapping.” He handed her jeans to her. “Here, don’t want no one seein’ ya half naked… Let’s get you covered up….”

Becky flashed a feeble smile as she pulled her pants on, and crooked into Elvis arm, he kissed the top of her head and slapped her bottom to signal she was to trudge up the stairs in front of him.

*************************************************************

Going through her bag, Becky held up another pink halter top and sighed. Before her shower, she had chewed Ida out on the phone for aiding and abetting Elvis with her the surprise trip to Memphis. And for packing an assort of really tight halter tops, mini skirts and a few dresses, all of which she suspected came from her 22 year-old cousin Harriet’s wardrobe. 

“Ida, these clothes barely cover me….” 

“Oy vey, Rebecca, that’s the point….. Ruth’s at camp, I put Saul back at the store, everything is fine, you go have fun… with Elvis Presley….” she screeched his name.

“Ida, don’t get your hopes up…. this is just a short term affair… I don’t want you to be disappointed when this plays itself out…”

“Becky,” Ida’s voice grew stern. “That is exactly the point, my meshugganah kindela… of all the people who get to have an affair with a rock star, why not you? What I would have given for one night with Rudy Vallee….”

Becky sighed. “Ok, ok…. maybe I’ll thank you one day…. give Saul a kiss for me.”

Now she stood in the master bathroom, hair up in a towel, Becky looked back in her traveling bag. No bras, five pairs of underwear, sandals and a pair of nice pumps. Other than this, she had the jeans, tee and converse sneakers she's worn to drive Ruth to camp. There was also little case with her toothbrush, and a bag with some of Ida’s Avon make up, perfume and matching talcum powder in Avon’s original Sweet Honesty scent. Becky grimaced at the sickly intense floral smell, but did a half spray on her wrist anyway. She coughed as the talc powder wafted into her nose when she spread it under her arms and between her thighs to dry and smooth her skin. She straightened the towel wrapped around her wet hair and looked at her face in Elvis’ bathroom. A line of small red bumps had started to form around her chin. Ughhh, this always happens when you start having sex again… you break out. She inspected them closely to make sure they weren’t white heads, and then rummaged through the Avon bag for foundation and concealer. Keeping her make up simple, Becky applied a light layer of mauve eye shadow to match the flowers on the white floral dress she had picked out, and the pair of light mauve shoes Ida had packed. She shimmied into the dress, smoothing it down, looking at the way the thin white floral pattern stretched over her breasts and then clung to her body's ample curves. The top only had one tied, petal sleeve, her other shoulder was bare and she sighed. This had been the most modest clothing nice option for dinner she had found in the bag.

When she finally emerged into the bedroom, glanced over Elvis’ large, black bed frame and the dark Burgundy bedspread covering it. Shivering in the cool air, she walked over and checked out the assortment of pistols, rifles and hand guns on top of his big dresser.  Elvis footsteps brought her eyes up from the arsenal, and she smiled at the white tailored suit and blue silk shirt ruffled he wore. Her breath hitched in her throat as he straightened his sunglasses, and ran his hand through his long shag hairdo. Then he moved closer and Becky felt the elastic give of her dress ripple when Elvis' fingers snapped the tie holding her lone sleeve up.

(Just imagine this dress but one asymmetical sleeve ^)

“Hmmm, couldn’t you find anything revealing to show off how pretty ya are for my folks, hmmm?” 

Becky’s bottom lip dropped down with her eyes, and she lifted her hands to nervously fix some of the hair pinned on top of her hair in a messy bun, a worried expression on her face. “I thought this was too revealing—”

Elvis smirked, chuckling, “No, I know honey ...  seems like they forget a whole sleeve… not that this sleeve has much to it neither… that little knot is holding on for dear life…” His hand moved under her breasts to jostle them up with a soft swat and eyes watched with delight as her bosom bounced up and down. “Hope you didn’t pay full price for this half a dress…” his eyes lit up when Becky elbowed him. “… Aw, no, I like it…  sexy as hell…”  He whispered in her ear and the warmth of his breath sent a tingle up her spin and through her core. 

Becky’s nether regions shivered, still sensitive from earlier activities, moreso as the soreness settled in from the vigorous pounding Elvis had given her. She had felt a slight burn when she peed, and she made a mental note to drink a lot of water. You don’t want to get a UTI on the first fucking day here. Maybe do some kegels during dinner too.

Elvis’ kissed Becky’s cheek, breaking her train of thought as he led her downstairs. Feeling her shiver, he covered as much of her bare skin as he could by hugging her into his jacket. “Maybe wouldn’t be so cold if ya invested in some long underwear…”

Becky nuzzled into his armpit. “Maybe if you didn’t live in a meat locker people could dress comfortably…” 

The sound of Elvis’ hand walloping Becky’s bottom (AGAIN) rang through the stairway with the rumble of his “Quit ya fussin’, woman, ain’t gonna change the temperature a this house jus' cuz you can’t be bothered to own a bra.”

Dinner was laid out in the kitchen, and Becky retreated further into Elvis’ embrace as he introduced her properly to his younger cousin Billy, who she’d seen from afar at the Jackson concerts, Billy’s wife Jo, their sons Danny and Joey, his father, grandmother Minnie Mae, and Aunt Delta, who was curt, quiet and smelled of a heavy rose perfume with an undertone of vodka. She felt naked when Elvis parted from her to make up a plate of food, spooning out black eyed peas with bacon, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and more from the large serving dishes on the counter. She felt even more awkward as he followed Jerry into the dining room while she looked for options not smothered in some sort of pork, smiling nervously at Mary who filled up the pitcher of sweet tea and then stacked more bacon on top of the salad.

When she entered the dining room, Elvis clapped his hand on the red cushion next to him at the head of the table, then stopped mid-sentence in his conversation with Billy to do a double take at Becky’s plate.

“Just cornbread and potatoes?” he asked in an accusatory tone, looking from the plate to Becky’s eyes. The whole table went silent. “There’s salad in there.”

Becky straightened and looked at Elvis. “I’m good. There’s bacon all up in that salad-”

“Well, use ya head, now Becky Butt, you can jus pick it out  - there  I solved ya damn probl—”

“I like this fine,  Presley, mind ya own business.”

Jo gasped, and Billy put his hand over his wife’s under the table. Billy then coughed uncomfortably and tried to change he subject. “You don’t eat bacon? On account of being a Hebr—” 

Elvis put his hand up to stop Billy “On account of being a doggone vegetarian.” Then he looked Becky squarely in the eye, and spoke with a benevolent humor. “No reason to be a bitch ‘bout it.”

Aunt Delta whispered loudly to Jo, “What Billy say?”

“He asked Becky if she didn’t eat pork cuz she’s a Jew.”

Vernon called down to Becky. “That true?”

But Becky was staring back at Elvis. “Look, I was eating my dinner just fine, you’re the one trying to tell me what ta do… I like mashed potatoes an cornbread… mind ya own business…”

“Everythin’ that happens in this house is my business, oughta box ya jaw, talking’ to a man like that in his own damn house …”

“YOU the one that kidnapped me Presley on account of how fond ya are of me, why, I bet you’d sooner hit ya granny there ‘fore you’d hit me.” She arched her eyebrow with a smirk.

“Oh you better shut that big ole mouth, get ya into trouble.” Elvis pulled Becky on his lap, arms around her waist.

She made a tepid attempt to get out of them, squealing loudly. “I don’t havta, you ain’t my boss.”

Before Elvis could answer, Minnie Mae announced, loudly. “Hesh up, canna eat ma supper.” Becky was shocked to hear such a powerful timbre from the frail, thin woman. 

Elvis squeezed her sides, and kissed her neck, whispering. “You heard Dodger, hesh that big mouth up .”

“You better shut up, you love my big ole mouth….” Becky murmured back into his ears, arms around his neck. Elvis leaned his head back, laughing, and Dodger shot Becky a stern look, as if her grand son’s unseemly behavior was somehow her fault.

The others went back to eating and low polite conversation, but Becky finished her meal in another dimension on Elvis lap. She took a large forkful of mashed potatoes, enthusiastically humming “MMMMhmmm MM!” as she swallowed. Elvis shook his head and let out a belly laugh, chewing his meatloaf in her ear and then giving her a big kiss, during which she feigned disgust. 

“Get that meat off my lips, Presley,” she muttered. 

“Huh, ya love my meat, honey.” He growled under his breath, pushing another big bite in his mouth and pressing his mush against her ear. 

Becky writhed silently in her seat, wiping off the greasy ground beef granules sticking on her lobe. “Didn’t no one ever teach ya any manners?” she hissed back at him.

“Gonna teach you some manners…you and that big mouth…” Elvis grinned like a goofy clown, and Becky couldn’t stop his contagious smile and playful energy from taking over her body. 

She beamed back, still trying to seem irritated, murmuring into his fluffy shagged out hair, “Like to see you try…” 

The thin soft knit fabric of Becky’s dress grazed her skin as Elvis massaged the top of her thigh, his strong fingers pinched the side and rubbed the rolls of her hip together, whispering in her ear. “Jus you wait… …”

They spent the meal thusly, in their own dimension at the head of the table, flirting, whispering, pinching, rubbing and feeding each other food. 

Elvis took some black eyed peas, biting the piece of ham hock off his fork, before feeding them into Becky’s open mouth with a “mhmmm... he thinks she needs some veGEeeables…”

Then Becky broke the edge of her corn bread off, “Better shut you up with something sweet in that mouth... know you like sugar on your tongue... Get any a this? Mhmmm… sweetest corn bread I ever ate…” 

He chuckled, talking with her fingers in his mouth. “Honey, I live on sweet stuff... like this cornbread... s'my house…. course it’s the best….”

They were only roused when Vernon stood to leave, followed by Aunt Delta’s movement helping Minnie Mae to her room. Becky started to help Mary clear the table, but Elvis grabbed her hand, telling her to let the woman do her job, and pulled her to follow the rest of the party into the den.  Mary caught Elvis in the back hall to pass him a note, and he motioned to Jerry after he read it, slapping Becky on her butt, which she realized was code for "hi," "get to it," "bye," "good idea," "uh nuh," and many other expressions as he begged off to make a business call in his office. Becky sat making small talk with Billy, Jo and Charlie for a time, then excused herself to fix her face upstairs, a happy excuse to go settle her nerves for a short spell alone and try to salve the self-conscious anxiety gnawing at her diaphragm. As she rounded the top of the stairs, she saw Jerry come out of the office, and he left paused to make sure he left the door ajar as he saw her.

“Everything ok?” Becky straightened her dress strap.

Jerry looked Becky up and down with an uncertain stare, then nodded. “Mhmmm…he’s just talking to his girlfriend in LA, Mindi.” 

Jerry’s heart dropped when he saw Becky’s ashen response, her lip trembled, just for a split second, before she forced a smile. “Oh, ha, well that’s good, was just about to call my sugar daddy in New York….” She changed the topic after shivering from the second floor’s cold air. “Cold, isn’t it… why is it so cold up here?”

Jerry frowned, and decided to go all in. “It’s the downers... the painkillers… makes you feel like you’re in a warm hug, like you are wrapped in a snug wool blanket… “

“How do you know that?”

“Cuz I’ve taken them, Becky… makes me drink gallons of lemonade, only wanna eat ice cream… never have enough of that cold sensation in your mouth, on your skin….”

“Oh.” Becky looked down. “Why does Elvis take them…” She shifted her feet.

“Back pain, insomnia, night terrors… at first… but it's easy to grow a tolerance and he needs more and more… can make him seem out of it.” Jerry stepped closer, and grabbed her arm. “If you are gonna be here, sleep with him, you need to watch him…if he goes to the bathroom , you go to the bathroom, if he passes out, make sure he is breathing… got it?”

The blood drained from Becky’s face, and she thought of the pills he took after the concerts in Jackson.

“Didn’t seem so bad when he was at my house.”

“Cuz he only had the random pills in his pocket… that was an impulsive trip, we didn’t even pack a tooth brush.”

“Oohhhh, haa…”

Her voice trailed off as Jerry patted her shoulder with a sympathetic wink, banking that she wouldn’t tell Elvis about their conversation. Jerry half regretted his bluntness, but her wounded look reaffirmed his commitment to show Becky as much of Elvis’ selfish nature as he could, as quickly as possible. With any luck, he’d have her hightailing it back to Jackson within the next 48 hours. Content with the work he had done, he excused him self for the night, while Becky stayed in the second floor landing, waiting for the sound of Jerry’s footsteps to end so she could creep closer to Elvis’ office and indulge her morbid curiosity.

“—no, no course, no, don’t even talk bout Rome… cuz I said I would… why honey, of course — why all ya gotta do is ask — no, now who’s name is on the marquee… that’s right darlin - my daddy works for me, not t’other way round…. Of course , s’no problem, how much ya need? Well …. Now, Joe’s out there himself, Jerry’s gonna square the wire first thing tomarra —— well, now, that’s more like it… I miss you too… whatcha you wearin’? Ohhhhhh you little minx, I oughta—” 

Becky felt sick to her stomach. It had only been a few minutes since that warm voice had been murmuring honeyed words into her neck. Her hand shook as she slunk over to the bedroom, and shed a few tears in the bathroom, then slapped herself in the face. 

“Shut up you big baby. You’ve been giddy as a school girl since you got here. You are just here to have fun. If you’re blue, well, that’s what you get for eavesdropping. People just having fun and enjoying free love don’t sneak around eavesdropping. It’s like Ida said, just enjoy the fucking experience… don’t get too deep, don’t take anything on...” She forced a smile. “Shepard’s pie. That’s what Charlie said. You’re comfort food... he doesn’t like one night stands, he likes to fool around for a set period of time. Maybe he’s your shepard’s pie too. Who are you kidding? You might be his comfort food, but Elvis fucking Presley is filet mignon to you, Rebecca Grace Hoffman. No one knows that name. Because you’re a nobody. Are you gonna ruin this trip by nagging him about other women? Or sleeping pills? No. Just. be. fun. Becky.”

The cold marble of the bathroom sink transferred from her hand to her cheek as she slapped her self again. “OK. Fun Becky.”  She nodded at herself and felt a little better after she washed her face and fixed her make-up. Taking a deep breathe, Becky shivered in the chill of Elvis’ bathroom. “Shake it off, baby…” she repeated to herself, rolling her shoulders and wiggling out her arms. As she walked downstairs, she told her self that if she felt uncomfortable, she could get a cab to the Greyhound station tomorrow,  or, worst case scenario, call her sister. This calmed her down, and Becky looked at her reflection one last time in the foyer mirror and smiled, happy with how she looked. Content with her decision to make no decisions and ready to enjoy the rest of the night if it killed her.

She instantly felt better when she peeked into the den and saw Charlie’s friendly face waving her in. The the woodsy decor, low lighting and water fall created a soothing atmosphere. Charlie was strumming a guitar while Billy got up to grab beer from the bar downstairs, an offer which Becky responded to almost too eagerly as she slide into the sofa next to Charlie. She nodded at Jo sitting on the floor against Billy’s chair. The women spoke for a little, Becky asked about the kids playing cards at the back of the room while Charlie played the melody for the Gordon Lightfoot hit “Sundown” on the guitar. Billy came back up with cold bottles for everyone, and the cool sour bubbles refreshed Becky while she struck up a conversation with Charlie. 

“Hey Decatur.” She said, smoothing her lap and crossing her legs. 

Charlie was now strumming chords aimlessly on his  guitar, a shy grin curled at the corner of his mouth. “Hey yerself, Birmingham.”

*************************************************************

The chords from George Jones’ and Tammy Wynette’s hit duet “Something to Brag About” met Elvis’ ears as he thumped downstairs, and he stood at the entry of the den noting the five empty beers on the coffee table. He watched Becky take a sip from her beer bottle as Charlie played guitar and sang the duet’s male part.

But I've got something to brag about 

Something to brag about 

Something to brag about in you

Becky closed her eyes as she sang out Tammy’s verse vigorously to the green carpet above her head, the deep emotion in her voice warmed Elvis entire body and he watched her with the keen eye of a voyeur. He felt the prickle of desire buzz along the back of his neck as he gazed at her sing and bounce on the sofa. The curls on top of her head seemingly had a life of their own, animated by the intensity of her delivery.  He liked power he felt watching her from doorway, knowing she had no idea he was there, knowing she wasn’t responding or performing for him. Just existing in the world as the free spirit that she was.

When you're with the fellas, I know 

You start braggin' 'bout 

My hour glass figure and my big brown eyes

Becky giggled, moving her hands suggestively over her body as she sang.

Then a you tell your girlfriends 'bout my 

Sweet, sweet lov—‘

Just as Charlie started to sing the word lovin’ he looked at the door and gulped, his hands froze while the last chord still reverberated throughout the den’s acoustics. He knew the power of that stare all too well, and the horror on his face showed his recognition.

Becky turned her head upside down, leaning back over the wooden serpent armrest,  that second beer had made her back impervious to the wood carving’s hard ridges. A goofy smile spread across her upside down lips.

“Heyyyyy daddy!”

Elvis stepped forward, towering above her. The waddle under his chin hung down as he tousled Becky’s hair from above, then pulled her dress strap up from her shoulder where it threatened to slip off and release her heaving bust. 

“Mmhmmm … hey baby…don’t let me interrupt y’all…” The edge in his tenor went over Becky’s head as she giggled, a dreamy look on her face as she blew a kiss up at him.

Leaning back as she was, Becky missed Charlie’s nervous glance at Billy, and she pulled herself up, slapping Charlie’s knee. “C’mon Decatur, where were we.”

“Ummm, uh… I uh, forget how it goes on from here…” Charlie coughed out.

Elvis staggered around the sofa behind Charlie, leaning down on his hands at the back of the couch. “Hmmm….. maybe it’s time ta let a professional take over…?”

Becky guffawed, slamming down her beer on the coffee table and raised her hands out for the guitar. “Professional skunk, more like. Don’t let him bully ya that way, Charlie… I can play if you... if you forget how it goes from here….” Charlie shot Becky a weak grin, and leaned over to hand her the guitar as he shakily stood up.

“Thanks darlin, but uhhh, need to use the John anyhow… y’all go on with out me….” Charlie twisted to look over his shoulder as Elvis plopped down in one of the large arm chairs across from the sofa. 

Billy sat in the other large armchair, his face was blank and inscrutable to Becky as he nodded at his cousin, and squeezed Jo’s shoulder below him.

Becky looked down at her hands, finding the chords on the neck of the guitar, then smiling at the others as she strummed lightly. Her voice was solemn and sad as it lifted up into “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Old,” pausing at the chorus to yell out, “C’mon on y’all, sing it with me….” 

The night they drove old Dixie down 

And the bells were ringing 

The night they drove old Dixie down 

And the people were singing 

They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, la"

Jo joined in exuberantly, and elbowed Billy into singing. Elvis grinned, he did not sing during this song, but rather, leaned back and watched Becky intently. After a few minutes, he pulled out a cigarillo and looked expectantly at Billy, who paused his contribution to the next chorus’ “na na nas” in order to hastily jump up and light Elvis’ cigar.

Becky laid the guitar down on the couch next to her when she finished singing and stood slowly, throwing her hips back and forth as she paraded around the coffee table to sit on Elvis’ lap. He looked up at her, blowing his cigar smoke to the side.

“Dontcha know… that’s a man’s song?”

“Hmmm…” Becky purred as Elvis belly bounced into her and she leaned into his face, her fingers edging around Elvis’ cigar to pull it out of his grasp to her own lips. A sly smile emerged on her lips as spoke. “Oh ya know…. I like…” she sucked on the sweet, woodsy smoke from his cigar, exhaling as she finished her thought. “Men’s things….”

Elvis pulled his cigar back from her fingers, his lips hovered below her chin. “Already know that…” 

Becky leaned her forehead down against Elvis’, his left hand jiggled her closer and he chuckled up into her mouth, his eyes danced behind his sunglasses.

“You know, you have a sad melancholy in that voice a yourn….” He murmured just to her, pulling Becky in the warm enclosure of his arms, a world where only the two of them existed and they spoke to each other in hushed, intimate voices as if no one was around. Here there were no external problems, no girlfriends, no downers, no children, no 200 miles stretching out between their houses. The only barriers were the clothes they wore and the space between their bodies. Billy and Jo looked at each other and shrugged awkwardly.  

Becky didn’t notice. 

“You don’t like my voice?” she stammered, her lower lip trembling.

Elvis brushed his lips over her chin, closing his eyes as he tilted his forehead into her nose and growled into her breasts below. “Honey… I don’t like your voice……” he paused for effect, his left hand grabbing the back of her hair, loosening the bobby pins that held it up with the force of his fingers. His jowls vibrated as he intoned, deeply. “I loooove your voice…..”

Charlie coughed as he walked back in, and picked up the guitar to put it back with its stand against the wall. Elvis’ eyes shifted, momentarily brought out of his trance, but he left his head resting against Becky’s chin.

“Hand that over here, son…. nah, give it to Becky … yoar a better gee tar player than I am any how…”

“Liar…you just lazy and wanna smoke that cigar...”

“Shut your mouth and get to playin’,” he blew his cigar smoke in her face.

“You still ain’t the boss a me… ”

His left hand lowered down to slap her side. “Hesh woman… c’mon, what are we singing…”

Becky grinned, and played the opening bars twice as she asked, “You know this one?”

“Ohhhh baby, I had that stuck in my head since the first night I met ya….” Elvis confessed, stubbing out his cigar in the green glass ashtray stand next to his chair.

“Alright, I’ll count us off.. one, two three…”

Their voices roared together in unison as they sang the opening stanza of June and Johnny’s “Jackson…” Elvis’ face lifted up to Becky’s, her breasts bounced as she strummed and his left hand drummed out a fast rhythm on the bottom of the guitar from where it squeezed her waist. Her body rocked back and forth into his belly, relishing the way his low voice took the melody somewhere new for her, and she belted out a “HA!” as he sang this verse.

When I breeze into that city 

People gonna stoop and bow (hah) 

All them women gonna make me 

Teach 'em what they don't know how

Charlie looked at the others, his brows raised, and Billy shrugged again, his eyes conveyed a knowing weariness. Neither Becky nor Elvis noticed this exchange, their eyes were otherwise occupied, and Becky leaned her nose down to nuzzle Elvis’s as she breathed out the next verse into his face through simpering amusement. Her warm breath sent a lightening bolt across Elvis’ body, and the thump of her bottom against his tummy and worked to increase the humming of his skin, amplified further when he sang and his lungs expanded swelling up his belly into derriere even more.  Elvis kissed the top of Becky’s shoulder softly as she leaned into him, finishing her stanza.

Yeah, go to Jackson 

You big-talkin' man 

And I'll be waitin' in Jackson 

Behind my Jaypan Fan

Becky purred along as Elvis sang the last chorus, swaying back and forth over his lap, and his arms closed tight around her as they hummed the last few notes together. They stayed in the den for hours singing, long after Billy and Jo found their children and said goodnight, Charlie tottered after them with a farewell. Their voices joined in happy harmony, mingling in the air was they started, stopped, paused, laughed and crooned together the melodies for “I Saw The Light,” “Don’t Think Twice,” “The City of New Orleans,” “Louisiana Women, Mississippi Man,”  Elvis changed the words to Alabama woman in this last one, to which Becky responded with a chuckle, which made him laugh and they giggled into each other’s cuddles on the furry arm chair.

******************************************************

Becky lay back in Elvis’ bed, sniffing under the silk navy pajama top she had borrowed from him to sleep in. His monogrammed initials met her eyeline as she checked how her armpits smelled. After brushing her teeth, she had dusted herself with talc powder again, she was now covered in that old familiar Sweet Honesty scent by Avon. It was starting to grow on her.  The beside clock told her it was 3 a.m. Elvis had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes, what is taking him so long? She thought of what Jerry had told her, what’s so wrong with taking downers to sleep? If he has night terrors and insomnia? Yeah, so far she had watched them knock him out, but he had been fine otherwise. These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something sliding across the tile in the bathroom, and Becky jumped up to check on it, only to be met by a swinging door and revelation of Elvis’ broad, dark silhouette. He swaggered towards her, taking her hands and waltzing her around, then dipping her back into the exposed silk sheets of her side of the bed.

“You ok? Thought maybe you stubbed your toe…” she mumbled up to him, his piercing dark blue stare made her chest ache. Lost in the deference Becky’s brown eyes offered up to him, Elvis hummed, savoring the way she turned her cheek into his knuckles as they roved up her face.

“Mmmm… what Twitchy?” His eyes narrowed, processing her question. “Oh, nah, just me stumblin’ ‘round tryin ta give myself a shot of B 12 … s’apart of my vitamin regimen, ya not the only one tryin’ to be healthy round here, miss veg a ma tarnation ..” Becky’s questioning face followed him as he rolled over on the bed and she cuddled into his chest once he joined her under the covers, half-sitting up pushed into the pillows. He took a ring off his pinky, the design was a wide platinum metal band that tapered off as it bent towards the back, in the center was a flower made of six large, glittering diamonds. Picking up Becky’s right hand from atop his chest, Elvis pushed the ring onto her finger, bending her hand up to watch the jewels catch the light. A gleeful grin bobbed his round, full chin and his eyes gleamed.

“Wannn ya ta have this….” Elvis dropped Becky’s hand, and began rubbing her belly, pushing up the silk button down top warming her skin.  

“Elvis…” Becky shook her head, and started to pull the ring off, readying her diatribe on how she didn’t want gifts.

“Honey don’t… “ Elvis palm glided over her soft, bare belly, pressing into its plush expanse as he trailed from side to side, smiling when he noticed these movements made her bust jiggle. “Now…. Can’t believe ya aint evvvva had sum un tell YOU that ya beautiful….” His speech started to slow as he spoke, each syllable seemed to get caught on the roof of his mouth. “Cuz you arrrre… so beautiful…. And beautiful people deserve beautiful things…. Help ya sparkle…. Help others seeee how beautiful you are…”

Becky could feel tears pooling behind her eyes at this declaration, unsure if she should protest. As if he read her thoughts, Elvis began to preemptively console her.

“Shhhhh…now shhhhh…. Let me do this…. I wanna give you deems … uh..” His eyelids fluttered closed, and a growl worked up his throat as waves of demerol warmed his chest and slowed his heart. “…. uh…” he jerked open his eyes, fighting to stay awake, his lips open and pouting like a baby. “Huh, what was I sayin, now…. oh yeah… it means somethin’ for me to give you deese things on account that you never had ‘em before… means more ta me…. knowing…. that I found you … gonna show the world how beautiful you are…” 

Becky shoved her face into his, and pelting a series of soft kisses across his cheeks as his eye lids began to droop down again, his hand still slowly tracing over her tummy,

“Gaawd, your skin is sooooo soffftt, like a baby’s….. wantcha ta be my baaBY…. I can be your daddy, ….an you can be my mommIEEE ….. and we can beeee each udder’s babies…..” His voice lilted in a higher tone, like a little boy musing about what he wanted to be when he grew up. His eyes completely closed, then struggled open, looking into her face.

“You’re sayin’ you want this to last more than a few days...” Becky thought of the other girlfriends in his life. It was one thing to spend the last week screwing around with a rockstar whose girlfriends, plural, knew or even condoned his polyamorous proclivities. It was another thing to join their sorority. “I’ don’t know if that——”

His jowls rippled as he shushed her, index finger softly held to her lips. “Jus thin ‘bouuutt it…. I know you a stubborn independent woman…. like ta make up your own daaaMN mind…. ya don havta decide now…. In fact, I don want ya ta, mean more if I earrrrn sit…. Stay here for a month, see how much you like me…. I know ya will… be my baaby, my little baby…..”

“Elvis,” Becky whispered. “I cannot stay here for a month…” She looked up from her position snuggling into the silk shirt over his hairy chest, and realized his eyelids had completely dropped down. A low, staggered breath forced out of his mouth. Becky hoped maybe he was so out of it on his sleeping pills that he would forget everything he just proposed. But as she noticed his breath decrease, she pushed in closer to him, her fingers softly skimming the hair across his forehead and rolling down his nose, just as did to put Ruth to bed. 

“Oy gavolt, daddy… what’s in those vitamins, hmm?” she yawned, then frowned, leaned her head on his chest to make sure it was lifting up and down with life, her own fatigue put off by the cold air and lifelessness of Elvis' body. Nuzzling further on to his chest, she thought of what Jerry had told her, and tried to stay awake, monitoring his breathing. Eventually she dozed off listening to the hum of the air conditioner.

*************************************************************

Monday, June 15th

12 p.m. Graceland Master Bedroom

The creak of the door woke Becky up, and she lay on the mattress trying to remember where she was and what she was doing. It must have been five am when she finally fell asleep, but she couldn’t tell what tie it was now because the room was still so dark and cold. The large padded black leather door was ajar, but Becky didn’t see anyone, and as her eyes adjusted to being open, she realized Elvis’ head was on her breasts, and his right hand was cupped over her pubic hair, settled at the apex of her legs between her thighs. I guess he still has some life in there somewhere while he sleeps. She smiled, only to jump up at the sound of a little voice from the side of the bed.

“Who the hell care you?”

Becky shrieked “Fucking cock—mucker...” She threw Elvis’ hand off her and pulled the red, satin bedspread over her legs and panties. Elvis barely stirred, his snores only increasiing as Becky rolled him off her. 

She took in the patch of dirty blonde hair propped up at the edge of the bed, and then sat up further, pushing back against the headboard and smiling at the little girl who stood before her with hands on her hips and a look of disgust on her face.

“Why… hello there. Sorry for yelling… you uh… ya startled me… I’m Becky, who are you?”

The girl looked her up and down with those the same blue eyes and sneered curling her lip as the man sleeping next to hear. She ignored Becky’s question, emphasizing the edge in her voice.

“Where’s Linda? Does she know you’re here…?”

Becky sucked in her breath as she tried to think how she was going to navigate this scenario. This was not what she had in mind when Elvis had invited her to come to Graceland and meet his daughter. She had pictured a sweet, coordinated meeting in a living room or foyer. After having been briefed on Lisa’s likes and dislikes, Elvis would fondly introduce them to each other and handle any of the hard questions about his choice of companionship. As she sat there flummoxed, loud footsteps stopped at the entrance to Elvis’ room and Lisa scurried to hide behind the door just before Aunt Delta’s grimace poked around it. She squinted at Becky, and somehow her frown seemed to deepen into the wrinkles at the side of her mouth.

“You seen that little she-devil?” Delta huffed.

Becky looked over at Lisa Marie behind the door, who was vigorously shaking her head.

“Nope! Why?”

“Ughhh, that little gal needs to come unpack her suitcases… if we don’t do it now, I’s reckon she won’t do it all. That boy just let’s her run wild.”

Becky nodded, although Delta seemed to be talking more to herself, muttering as she turned and pulled the door closed behind her. Becky rolled off the other side of the bed, pulled her jeans off the chair they hung over and stepped into them as she made her way around the bed to Lisa Marie.

“C’mon, she-devil, I’ll help you unpack…”

Lisa Marie crossed her arms. “Chores’ for suckers… Nancy’ll just do it for me when she gets here… you can’t tell me what to do… you’re not my mom… you’re not even Linda…”

Becky chuckled and shook her head, then looked back at Lisa Marie as she opened the famous sound proof double doors that didn’t seem to do anything to keep the rest of Graceland out.

“Thank god I ain’t yer mama…already got one daughter who doesn’t listen to me. Though I find in general I can’t make anyone ‘round here do anything they don’t have a mind to do themselves…” Becky looked over at Elvis’ body on the bed as she said this, then lowered herself on her legs so that she was eye-level with the little toe-haired firecracker. “But I am your guest here at Graceland… so if I like unpacking clothes, you have to let me do it…wouldn’t want to wake up your papa and tell him you aren’t being a good hostess?” She watched Lisa Marie hesitate. “Well, are you the lady of the house or not?”

Lisa Marie uncrossed her arms and sighed up into her bangs. “Sho nuff I am...daddy told me this is my house...an.. I'm... I’m gonna inherit it, have my babies here… s’the Presley legacy… so.. um yeah, I am THE lady of the house…. Ok, well if you wanna be a sucker and unpack my clothes, it's your funeral…”

The slight girl led Becky down the hall towards her bedroom, stopping in front of a glass showcase filled with award trophies below a banner reading “Miss Tennessee 1972.” Lisa Marie paused in front of the shelving and looked at Becky, her eyes rolling up and down Becky’s body in judgement as she announced: 

“These are Linda’s awards, she’s my daddy’s girlfriend… they’re gonna get married one day… she’s a real beauty queen. She’s teaching me ‘bout fashion, how to get into a sorority, which ones are the best ones….”

Becky swallowed, groaning internally. This kid knows exactly what she is doing, she took one look at you and already twigged that you don’t belong here with her daddy. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you, it’s almost sweet. Can’t be easy to be Elvis’ daughter. Breathing deeply, Becky pushed any idea of competition with Linda aside.

“Mhmmm, Linda certainly deserves these doesn’t she, I mean, she’s gorgeous.” She walked beside Lisa. “People always told me I had a nice sense of humor in high school…. You know what means, don’t ya?”

Lisa Marie shook her head. 

“S’nice way of telling me I wasn’t beauty queen material….”

Lisa Marie let out a loud laugh, the tried to hastily suppress her smile as she continued to lead Becky to her bedroom. Becky tried distracted Lisa, asking her what the best sorority was, how to join one, what college she wanted to go, what music she liked. As they talked, Becky soaked in the sheer excess of Lisa Marie’s bed room. There was a round faux fur canopy bed larger than Becky’s bed at home, and it had a stereo and mirrors in the top. There was also a big television, a jewelry case filled “with real diamonds,” Lisa Marie explained, and several large sets of drawers and a big armoire Becky opened the suitcases and started unpacking, pausing to ask for help with every piece of clothing she took out, while asking Lisa Marie about herself. 

“Hey where does this dress go?” Becky asked casually.

Lisa Marie took it with a huff, walking it to the closet, “In here, obviously,” the little girl said as she hung it, and Becky nodded, muttering how silly of her, then folded some tee shirts and skirts into piles.

“So Lisa Marie, what are you into?” Becky asked, handing the little blonde a bunch of rolled socks.

“Lisa… you can just call me Lisa.” Becky nodded at this. “Fast cars, karate, guns and hawwwt music.” Lisa said with a deep affect and an impish smirk

Becky laughed. “Really? Hmmmmmm sounds like someone else in this house… you forgot beauty queens…”

“True… I’m fixing to be a beauty queen ma’self… gonna do karate as my talent at pageants…that or target practice…”

Becky grinned and shook her head, fingers locking the clasps and holding up the empty suitcases with an eye brow arch. “You know, I’ve never even held a gun - you good at shooting?”

 A devilish expression energized Lisa’s face as she turned. “Wanna learn?”

Becky stood, wondering if she should shower and get Charlie or Mary or Jo to take her out to buy a bra and some more modest blouses as she looked at the pajama top over her jeans, mumbling in response. “Learn what, sweet girl?”

“How to shoot a gun a course…” Lisa began walked through a swinging door outside her bedroom, next to a second narrow staircase.

Becky glanced down its dark depths as she ambled behind Lisa, realizing she was being led into Elvis’ dressing room on their way back to the master suite. Becky followed slowly, frowned at the bags under her eyes as they walked through the master bedroom. Dressed, get dressed. Becky struggled, and she took a purple halter top out of her travel bag and slinked it on as Lisa Marie gasped from her position tip toeing over the dresser showcasing Elvis’ arsenal.

“Did you just flash me?” Lisa made a disgusted sound.

“We’re all girls here... sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable honey… I guess maybe I feel a little too comfortable….”

Lisa looked Becky up and down again. “You really are different from his other girlfriends…. Here, any preference ta which one do you like… oh wait, never mind, you already said you don’t know nothing bout guns, better let me do it ... I’m an expert.”

Becky walked over, clipping her dark brown curls in up, her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted in concern. “What does your daddy say about you using his guns?”

“Ta never ever touch ‘em.” Lisa said as she gatheredd two pistols in her hands, the same way that Ruth would glance over and select Barbie dolls to play with. Lisaa tilted her head to the door, and Becky followed with a disturbed expression as Lisa led them out of the room, downstairs and out back to the smokehouse. She wondered if she should be doing this, but then again, several kids in Ruth’s class already had marksmanship awards. What did she know, did she want her first interaction with Elvis's daughter to be a power struggle?

***********************************************************

Becky’s barefoot feet wriggled further into the sawdust, and she inhaled deeply shutting her eyes. The pressure of the exploding bullet from the shaft of the colt 45 revolver caused Becky to jump back with a little scream. She looked up, there were no holes on the target sheet hanging at the end of the room. 

Lisa laughed, and came over. “You havta keep your eyes OPEN for starters.” She took aim with her gun, as Becky stepped back and watched her squint and stay perfectly still shooting a perfect bullseye. Lisa then turned with an elated gleeful smile, blowing over the top of the gun as her eyes met Becky’s.

Becky chuckled. “Wow… impressive… do you have a favorite gunslinger?”

Lisa turned and shot two more rounds, each one hitting the red center of the bullseye. “Dirty Harry.” She answered without skipping a beat, then flipping her hair back over her shoulder.

“Wow…. Have you seen that movie?”

“Only about a thousand times…. it’s one of my favorite movies….”

“Wow, well, what about a girl shooter? Have you seen Annie Get Your Gun?”

“Of course.” Lisa huffed, refilling the cartridge of her gun. “I even used to have a pink cowgirl vest just like Annie Oakley, ‘cept it’s too small for me now.”

“Well, if we had a sewing machine I could make a new one for you.”

Lisa looked up at Becky with an excited expression, and took her hand, dragging her out of the smokehouse. “Dodger has ‘un…. Let’s go find Charlie, we’ll get him to take us shopping…”

Becky’s bare feet stumbled over the grass and pebbles as Lisa’s hand took them towards the long white building at the back of the mansion. “Um, let’s not bother Charlie… he might have other things to do.”

Lisa’s face turned back to Becky as she rapped on the door, announcing with all earnestness. “Are you kidding? Charlie always does everything I say….”

Three hours later, Becky was sitting at a very large, heavy cumbersome metal Singer sewing machine that Charlie had lugged out from Minnie Mae’s room into the adjourning living room. Becky had given him an apologetic grin as he stumbled and told her that it “Really weren’t no trouble.” Her fingers pushed pink suede through the stitcher and she bit her lip in concentration as she controlled the lever with her foot. Lisa hovered over Becky, perched on the sofa attaching rhinestone beads to the fringe on the smaller vest Becky had already cut and sewn together with Lisa’s proportions. 

“You think this is really gonna fit him?” She said with excitement and Becky nodded, grinning at the thought of Elvis wearing a matching pink suede vest. Not as gaudy as those jumpsuits but in the same family, she thought. Lisa turned to grab another bead from the bowl of glimmering silver rhinestone beads.

Lisa jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “It’s SO perfect! They match…”

Jerry walked by and stuck his head in, a middle aged white lady behind him. “Hey honey - I set up the film reels of The Pink Panther for you down in the TV room like ya asked this mornin…”

Lisa’s eyes stayed fixed where she tied another silver bead on her vest fringe, then waving Jerry off. “Thanks Jerry, maybe later…. We’re busy… oh hi Tish…”  Lisa added, seeing the older woman. Jerry looked at Becky, bewildered, but didn’t inquire what they were doing, turning to escort Tish upstairs.

“Whose that?”

“Oh that’s jus daddy’s nurse… he has some back pain and digestible issues… she’ll start coming by to give him his medicine every day now that he’s home… she takes real good —— ok, is it done ?” Her voice trailed off as she watched Becky pull the large pink vest out of the machine.

"Not yet, I gotta slice the fringe and get some of this shiny beads on here…” Becky smacked her lips and squinted at the stitching. 

Lisa nodded, nothing another bead, heat feet dangling over the edge of the couch. “Say, where did you learn to do all this? Ya mama?”

Becky turned to Lisa, grabbing a bead as she worked on Elvis’ vest. A “Ha!” escaped her mouth at Lisa’s question.

“No, my mama  was busy being a lawyer…. Our nanny, Helga, taught me everything I know… and I try to teach it to my little girl, Ruthie…”

“You’re mama was a lawyer?” Lisa’s eyes were wide, and she paused her work.

“Yeah, everyone in my family is a lawyer… ‘cept my sister, she’s actually a judge up here in Memphis… I think she was the third lady judge in this town.. Maybe I'll see her while I’m here…” Not if I can help it, Becky thought.

“And you? You didn’t wanna be a lawyer?

Becky chortled. “No…. Not alll…. “

“Are you a working mom?”

“Oh honey, all moms are working moms…. We’re like CEOs of small businesses. And those businesses are you,” she said, poking her finger into Lisa’s belly and conjuring a playful squeal.

“OK, but do you work work?”

“Sorta … still trying to figure out what I wanna do when I grow up…. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a park ranger in the Great Smokies…. Sounds silly, huh?”

“Noooo…. What happened? Couldn’t you still do that?”

“What happened…. Oh what happened…. Well, I got real lucky, and the universe put baby Ruth in my arms…. Hard to be a park ranger with a baby strapped to my back…”

 “What would you do now if you could do anything? As a working working mom, I mean.”

“Well, I’m already a working working mom, I’ve kinda always had to be... I help my folks with their hardware store…. If I could do anything…. I guess I’d like to own something, a little book store, maybe sell records too, have a juice bar and a kitchen serving up vegetarian food, maybe I run it with a husband, a nice divorced man I meet one day back in Jackson, living out a Brady Bunch fantasy….”

Lisa patted Becky’s shoulder. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Becky. S’what my daddy always says. If you want to find a divorced man to own a juice bar with, I believe in you…. What’s a vegetarian?”

Becky giggled, putting down the vest after tying the last bead on. “Someone who doesn’t eat any meat.”

“Wait, so you really don’t eat any meat?”

“Mhmmm….”

“That’s ridiculous… how can you even have a complete meal?”

“I have my ways…they involve tofu, peanut butter or beans….”

Becky and Lisa stayed in the living room talking, as Becky explained some of the reasons she didn’t eat meat, asking Lisa if she would eat a horse or pet dog, and then why a cow or chicken was different. She looked at the large, ornate golden clock over the fireplace and realized it was 3:30. 

“Speaking of food, I’m honnnngry, haven’t had anything to eat all day.. y’all have peanut butter and jelly?”

Lisa smiled and jumped off her perch on the sofa, laying her vest over the larger one and waving for Becky to follow her. “I’ll do you one better, I’ll make you one of my famous peanut butter banana sandwiches.”

Just as she jogged into the foyer, a pair of large hands reached out and grabbed Lisa and lifted her over the shoulder of an Elvis shaped frame, pinching her sides.

“Ya mean my famous peanut butter banana sandwiches….” Elvis voice tumbled out with a chuckle as his daughter squealed in delight. “See ya met my friend here…” he added as he put his daughter down, his face aglow as he looked at Becky. This shifted to a look of displeasure when his eyes saw the dirt on her feet. 

“Honey, what’s with ya feet?” He tisked.

Lisa bumped into Elvis waist, pushing his arm around her shoulder as she giggled. “She’s been running ‘round outside without any shoes on…. And she flashed her big boobies at me getting dressed this morning…. AND she’s teaching me how ta be a vegetarian…”

Elvis left eye brow arched up high, looking from Lisa to Becky. “Oh reeALLLY…. Hmmm…. Looks like y'all been getting to know each other good..." He stepped over to Becky, hand around her waist, and whispered in her ear. "Honey, why don’t ya go wash up and put something nice on, maybe a little make-up?”

Becky frowned. “Think you can snap your fingers and I’ll —” 

Elvis walked her to the staircase, his hand rubbed her bare shoulders, his eyes melting away all the retorts forming in her mind as she took in the track suit he was wearing. His voice was soft but firm, “C’mon, go get presentable... want my daughter to see how beautiful ya are when I introduce ya…. Go on now.” He slapped her butt playfully as Becky turned, unable to stop her body from complying with his directions as her mind spun in a tizzy from the feel of his hands and the way his big blue eyes looked into hers with a mix of lust, admiration and smug bravado. Introduce me to your daughter my ass, I’ve spent the last six hours unpacking clothes, shooting guns, shopping and sewing with her.

But she thrilled with elation as she bounced toward the kitchen twenty minutes later, proud of the way she had done her make up and fixed herself after taking a quick rinse in the shower. Sweet Honesty was now her favorite perfume and she smelled her wrists backing into the kitchen’s swinging door,  gasping with delight at the sight of Lisa and Elvis in matching pink fringed vests. Lisa sat on the counter next to the sink, eating a sandwich, and called out with a full mouth. Her white Mary Jane shoes hit the cabinets below. “Becky! Lewk ift figs!!!” She pointed to her dad, and Elvis turned from the stove, running his hands over his vest.

“Jus what I been needed… a pink shiny vest… ! Gonna hafta keep ya round, I have a list of mending been tryin to get Delta to do for the last year.”

Becky curled her lips. “I won’t be darnin’ your socks, Presley…”

Elvis grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek with “Hesh… now, let me look at ya.” He twirled her around in the middle of the kitchen. “There she is…. now that’s better honey…  look, Goobernickle, the most beautiful girl in the world jus wandered in ta our kitchen, ain’t we lucky.” Lisa kicked him. “Sorry, how silly a me, second most beautiful gal in the world after that lil gal right there.” 

Becky blushed and Elvis kissed her hand, taking her to sit on the orange kitchen stool near the TV. Back at the stove, he flipped what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich out of the pan and onto a plate, cutting it in half and blowing on it as he brought it over.

“Get ready to have the most delicious thing in that mouth of yours since you got to Graceland…. I mean second most delicious…” Elvis stood in front of Becky, taking up a sandwich to feed her, chuckling at her horrified expression. Good, she got my innuendo, he thought, then looked back at Lisa who was obliviously chewing on the second half of her sandwich. “I meant after the corn bread you ate last night, whatcha think I meant? Crazy woman.”

Becky sighed, closing her eyes, her exhale a mix of exasperation and excitement as she opened her mouth to taste the sandwich Elvis guided in as he held her chin. 

She couldn’t help the instinctive reaction her body had to his voice, touch, and the way his eyes danced with impish joy at her unease. But Becky also found herself sickened by how weak she was, how her pussy tingled when she swallowed the salty, sweet goodness of the sandwich. Elvis thumbed along her jawline, much the same way he had when she had sucked his cock the previous day, and her eyes widened as she felt the buzzing energy of his touch caressing her face. She swatted him away and stifled the deep sensuous moan threatening to increase. Lisa Marie seemed unperturbed, jumping off the counter to get some milk from the fridge. Elvis chortled loudly at Becky’s angry stare and pushed another bite in her mouth. She rolled her eyes, then whimpered involuntarily at how the fried, buttery carby goodness hit the back of her throat. Becky had never been with anyone who pushed and pulled and blurred the boundaries between all the different aspects of her personality together at once.

Elvis winked.

“Tastes good, don’t it?”

********************************************************************

Read Chapter 5 Here

Taglist : @whositmcwhatsit @woundmetender @powerofelvis @tacozebra051 @heartbrake-hotel@butlervol6 @ab4eva @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @j-v-9-2 @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley@literally-just-elvis-fics @coolgirl462 @elvisabutler @beeandheroddobsessions

@precious-little-scoundrel @misspresley @austinbutler4life @yanderereader @alqvarde @yynneessmons @kendralavon7 @daffieapple @louisejoy86 @flwrs4aust @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @crash-and-cure @literally-just-elvis-fics

Did I miss you? Or are you new to me and want to be added to the taglist, just let me know.

[y2klostandfound]

Space Channel 5 Part 2 on Dorimaga Magazine Vol.1 (2002-01) (Video game Magazine) (11-25/01/2002)

Translation in English:

(Page 66)

Dorimaga Special Report - DC PS2:

Video Game Consoles : Dreamcast / Playstation 2

Scheduled to be released: February 14th

Completely: 100%

Price:

Dreamcast: 6,120 Yen Dreamcast(Special Edition Pack): 9,900 Yen Playstation 2: 6,800 Yen

Genre - ETC (Musical Action Adventure) Manufacturer:Sega/United Game Artists Players: 1-2 Number of discs: 1 URL: http://www.u-ga.com/ Controllers/Memory Cards PS2: DualShock 2, trance vibrator compatible, memory card 161KB. DC: 5 blocks of memory used (VMU), Purupuru pack support

Online Shop:The DC version is exclusive to D-DIRECT.

Is there something wrong in the galactic universe!?

After seeing this screen, "Mexican Flyer" came to my head! Are you ready to dance? "Space Channel 5 Part 2" scheduled to air on two platforms has finally started! Let's all enjoy the full polygon SHOW together!

Greetings to the 30 million "Channel 5" viewers nationwide, it's finally here! "Space Channel 5 Part 2" from UGA, which has been silent since the Tokyo Game Show in autumn, is finally on air!The memorable day is February 14, 2002, Valentine's Day.and it will be broadcast simultaneously on DC and PS2 as planned! I can't wait to see how Ulala, who has crossed the century, will come back!

Popular characters from the previous show, as well as new characters, will appear one after another! They will make the program even more exciting!

The basic rules seem to be the same, but new elements have been added, such as singing and playing! I have a hunch that it will be fun!

The next enemy is the "Dancing Troupe(Rhythm Rouges)"! ?

The next enemy is the "Dancing Troupe(Rhythm Rouges)" who appeared out of nowhere. Innocent people are made to dance one after another, just like the Morolians last time! Their purpose is completely unknown. Ulala will report on their true identity!

The mysterious dance group "Dancing Troupe (Rhythm Rouges)" has arrived! A person who looks like a captain and robots attack people one after another!

(Page 67)

What happened to the Jaguar! ?

An evil hand approaches Jaguar who has discovered something somewhere in the universe...! ! Meanwhile, the "Space Symphony," a ship cruising around Neo-Pluto, is attacked by a mysterious group! "Space Channel 5" quickly caught the information and sent Ulala to the scene to report the incident. The spirit of Director Fuse enters. "Come on, let's start!!"

I'll charm you, Ulala Seven Changes

This time Ulala will be reporting in even cuter and cooler outfit! There will be a "Ulala's Costume Room," so stay tuned!

ULALA

A reporter for Space Channel 5, she was born on May 30 and her blood type is B. The other day, she tried to save the galaxy  with great energy, but she's still a newcomer and spends her days being yelled at by her boss Fuse. Her goal is to become a galactic reporter.She is the only person who can fight back against the "mysterious dancing group" that has appeared.

Prologue

The time is the 25th century.

The "Morolian" suddenly invaded, causing people to dance one after another with their "Dancing Beam"! The space broadcasting station "Space Channel 5", which caught this catastrophe, dispatched a new reporter "Ulala" who is good at dancing, selected by the director "Fuse", and report the incident. She fully opens her mysterious dancing puff, sometimes fights and cooperates with Channel 42's "Pudding" and the Space Pirate Broadcasting Station's "Jaguar" to uncover the true nature of the evil that hides behind the Morolians' intentions. Thus, this ascension case was resolved.........

In this galaxy where the memory is fresh in our minds, a new evil is rising.......

Although "Ulala" had solved the "Morolians Attack Case" by dancing with her miraculous performance, there was no change in her role as a reporter, and she is cheered on by a director "Fuse" every day.

Such a daily life suddenly changes with a report from "Chief Space Michael ". A "mysterious dancing group" has appeared, making people dance and taking them away one after another!

Now, Ulala's dancing report begins again.

Come on, Let's start!

SPACE CHANNEL 5 Part 2 - First Implession!

A little impression of the sample unveiled at the recent PS Party! The game is very busy with more things to do such as singing and playing, not to mention the increased power of the graphics and presentation. Compared to the previous game, which was a bit monotonous, this one is even more fun. The storyline is also very exciting!

[tamapalace]

World Tamagotchi Tour: T.O.P. Shopping Mall in Hong Kong

From Wednesday, July 17th, 2024 through Wednesday, August 14th, 2024 you can participate in the World Tamagotchi Tour in Hong Kong! Interestingly enough it was not announced as part of the World Tamagotchi Tour, but certainly is! The theme is Hong Kong Station.

image source: sisterpig_ on Instagram

T.O.P. Shopping Mall, which stands for This Is Our Place, is a colorful mall catering to younger shoppers with quirky, independent shops & a global food court.

video source: ztylezlife on Instagram

T.O.P. is hosting the first top of the World Tamagotchi our in Asia! It’s quite an impressive display which features beautiful graphics of Tamagotchi Original, including a Tamagotchi Original wall that you see in the Bandai Namco Cross Official Tamagotchi Shop’s. There is also beautiful wall art of the new Tamagotchi Uni Angel Festival and Tamagotchi Uni Monster Carnival how adorable?

image source: sisterpig_ on Instagram

There’s tons of things on display too! There’s a history display showing Tamagotchi’s dating back to the original in 1996. There’s also displays of the latest offerings including the Tamagotchi Uni Angel Festival, Monster Carnival, and Sanrio!

image source: mimitchi_chi on Instagram

Oh, yea there the Tama Time Travel Tamagotchi Original shell is on display and readily available for sale! Did we mention that there is a display of the giant Tamagotchi plushies too?

image source: mimitchi_chi on Instagram

We were really pleased to also see that plenty of merchandise is available for sale.

image source: sisterpig_ on Instagram

This includes the cute mini Tamagotchi plushies and pouches that we’ve been drooling over lately, and Tamagotchi Original timers! Visitors will also receive a Tamagotchi Uni Angel Festival and Monster Carnival postcards, how incredible are the graphics on these?

image source: sisterpig_ on Instagram

There’s even an opportunity to meet Mametchi and grab some pictures with the beautiful backdrops! Be sure to bring your Tamagotchi Uni updated to version 2.0.0 too because this destination of the World Tamagotchi Tour features exclusive Tama Search character Angel & Devil to meet!

[sollannaart]

The Galician campaign of 1809

Today let me tell you a little bit about the Galician campaign of the Austro-Polish war of 1809, which proved to be a great success for the Duchy of Warsaw.

After the battle of Raszyn there happened the series of small battles, which prevented Austrians from crossing the Vistula, thus leaving the initiative on the right bank of the river firmly with the Poles. So, the Polish forces under Poniatowski’s command moved along Vistula to the South-East, to the lands Austria seized during the latest partition of Poland.

On the 14th of May the Polish Army entered Lublin:

Konstanty Gorski, "Prince Józef Poniatowski enters conquered Lublin in 1809, showered with flowers by ladies"

As Kajetan Koźmian recalls in his memoirs, Poniatowski and his men were greeted with "joy and elation", and in the evening "... the city and the citizens gave a great ball <...> in the house in Korce. Prince Józef honored them with his presence starting the ball."

The next city on the way of the Polish Army was Sandomierz, and after a short siege it was taken on the 18th of May.

Siege of Sandomierz in 1809.

Michał Stachowicz, a scene from the battles in Galicia ("The Capture of Zamość")

Then there was Zamość, where the Polish trooped entered on the 20th of May.

Siege of 1809, M. Adamczewski Entry of Prince Poniatowski to Zamość (postcard)

On the 27th of May the Polish advanced forces even reached the city of Lwów, but prince Józef wasn’t among them.

Meanwhile the Austrians under command Archduke Ferdinand realized the precariousness of their position in the center of Poland, and on the 1st of June left Warsaw for the south.

Poniatowski, for his part, decided not to engage with the Austrian, focusing instead on "liberating” as much Galician land as possible.

Prince Józef Poniatowski seeks information from local peasants in Galicia in 1809, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

On the 3rd June there appeared the third participant of the events - Russian forces crossed the Austrian border to Galicia as well. And though formally they were acting as Napoleon’s ally, as was prescribed in the Tilsit Treaty, their real goal was to prevent the Poles from taking too much of the Austrian-held territories.

So, to outwit the Russians prince Józef was taking Galician cities not in the name of the Duchy of Warsaw, but in the one of emperor of the Frenchmen. Like the proclamations were being made in the name of Napoleon, the eagles on the coats-of-arms replacing the Austrian ones were not Polish and French etc.

Lancers lead Austrian prisoners of war near Kraków in 1809, in front of Prince Józef Poniatowski, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

Then, in the outer theater of war on the 6th of July the French defeated the Austrians at the Battle of Wagram. And according Franco-Austrian truce signed five days later the land division was to take place along the line where the troops were at the time of receiving news of the truce, not at the time its signing.

The Austrian army leaves Wawel, a postcard based on the painting of Wojciech Kossak

And so began the race between Russians and Poles, to advance to as farther as possible.

In the middle of July both armies reached Kraków.

PRINCE JOSEPH'S ENTRY TO KRAKOW. A drawing by Jan Feliks Piwarski.

And there the clash of the interest took place.

Poniatowski approached the city from the side of St. Florian's Gate, but it turned out that the Austrians, wanting more comfortable terms of capitulation, had already let Russian troops into Kraków.

The Russians, namely the Cossacks of General Sievers, wanted to deny Poniatowski passage. But Prince Józef, as Dezydery Chłapowski recalls in his memoirs, "draw his broadsword and with together his staff galloped into the gate through the Cossacks". The Polish infantry followed its commander "in a double step <...> so that the Cossacks were pressed against the walls of the gate." Seeing this, Mariampol's hussar regiment, which was stationed at that time in the market square, make a decision to put up resistance and due to this, the whole Polish army was able to enter the city.

Michał Stachowicz, The entry of Prince Józef Poniatowski into Krakow on July 15, 1809

Then, as Ambroży Grabowski recalled, when prince Józef’s troops reached the market square, “in front of the church of St. Wojciech, the magistrate went out to meet the prince, to give him the keys of the city”.

Józef Poniatowski in the Cathedral after Kraków was taken from the Austrians, an image by Stanisław Tondos and Wojciech Kossak

Most probably prince Józef visited the Wawel cathedral during his sojourn in Kraków that time. (In a small voice: little did he know that in 8 years he’ll be buried there...)

And after exactly a month since the Polish troops entered Kraków, there was a ball arranged in the Cloth-hall, the image depicting it I have already posted here.

[scotianostra]

On December 14th 1896 Glasgow District Underground opened.

Originally built for the Glasgow District Subway Company, the railway first opened in 1896 as a cable-hauled system. Propulsion was provided by stationary steam engines and the railway was hailed as the first of its type in the world.

After five years of construction, and a final bill totalling £1.5 million pounds, Glasgow’s Subway system went live for the first time on this day in 1896, entering the history books as the world’s third municipal underground railway system after the Budapest Metro and London Underground. But it would be a troublesome baptism for the fledgling tube service.

The brainchild of civil engineer Alexander Simpson, it had been built to serve a rapidly-expanding industrial city with a population fast approaching 1 million people.

The first carriage of the new Glasgow District Subway, as it was originally named, departed Govan Cross at 5am. The first cars were cable-hauled and would remain so until electrification was introduced in 1935.

As dawn broke it seemed the whole city was out in force and directors and officials were soon congratulating themselves on the success of their new system. However, any fist-pumping or back-slapping was to prove premature.

At around 3pm a complete breakdown occurred on the outer circle, causing momentary chaos. Stranded passengers were forced to walk along the lines back to the nearest station.

A few hours later, as normal service resumed, one man suffered a horrific foot injury as the huge swell of people forced him between the carriage and platform.

As if that wasn’t bad enough for day one, worse followed at just before 11pm when a stationary carriage awaiting the signal to approach St Enoch Station from Bridge Street was hit by another car running at near full speed.

The two carriages were carrying roughly 50 passengers each at the time of the collision and 18 were reported as seriously injured.

One 14-year-old boy was rendered unconscious and taken to the Royal Infirmary, having suffered a severe cut to his left temple.

The accident made headlines up and down the UK, forcing the closure of the Subway until January the following year.

An enquiry into the collision concluded that defective electrical connections between the signals had been the cause, although private trials in the weeks leading up to the opening had failed to flag up any major issues.

The driver of the approaching car claimed that he had spotted the stationary carriage but had been unable to stop in time to prevent the collision.

Despite the accident, the vibe was mostly positive - one of the main complaints being that the number of cars available on day one had been “hopelessly inadequate”. Subway directors countered this by stating that the extreme “rush of traffic” had exceeded all expectations.

They weren’t wrong - over 9 million passengers travelled on the Glasgow Subway in its first full year of operation.

When the Subway opened, a fixed fare price of one penny allowed passengers to travel around the six and a half mile long subway as many times as they wished. Many passengers had taken full advantage of this on the inaugural day - including the 14-year-old boy who suffered the severe head injury at 11pm, who, it’s said, had been travelling round and round the system for 8 or 9 hours prior to the collision. The fixed rate was soon abolished in favour of a fare stage system to avoid future congestion.

Save a refurbishment in the late 1970s which saw the system nicknamed “the Clockwork Orange” on account of its circular route and bright new Metro-Cammell orange carriages, the Glasgow Subway remains largely unaltered. Expansion of the six and half mile long, fifteen station circuit has been discussed on numerous occasions but has never come to fruition.

Recently Subway bosses gave a sneak peek inside new driverless trains set to be on the tracks next year, get a glimpse of it on the video below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XsV_VVPfwY

[killersfool]

ANATOMY - a snippet of a book I'm writing

a/n: this is literally bridget jones i know!!!!!!!!

I first saw Andrew on Thursday the 14th of October at exactly 8.41am. On the tube. It was one of those busy mornings where time feels like it’s slipping away faster than usual. The train was packed, and I was wedged into a corner, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

I watch him from the opposite seat of the tiny compartment. I watch as his hair curls across his forehead, a dark coat upon his shoulders and engrossed in a tattered copy of Byron. Typical posho, I think to myself, rolling my eyes. I can just imagine him in his teenage years in a private school. I'm betting on Eton. Wearing his pristine uniform waving goodbye to mummy, hanky patting against her tear-stained cheeks.

He sticks out like a sore thumb against the group of fellow tube-takers, opting for an old-fashioned book rather than a phone. My legs are crossed, no phone in my hands because my brain is too fried to have that brightness illuminating my face and my eyes are still glued to this strange man. He flicks the page after a moment and raises an eyebrow in thought. His right hand drifts away from the book and deep into the pocket of his dark brown corduroy trousers and I glance at the belt meticulously strapped through the loops. Out of the pocket emerges a black biro. Then he's annotating in the margins. Or writing some sort of thought that popped into his mind. Maybe he's a writer or a poet himself. Or maybe he just has an adoration for 19th century poetry. In this day and age it seems to be a long-forgotten niche. It's rare to see someone so absorbed in anything beyond their screen. 

The train jolts. We arrive in Westminster. I thought this would be where Mr-Byron-reader would stop. But no. Alas! We continue along. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed my very obvious staring. He seems oblivious to the entire world around him. Even the child who has just sat next to him who keeps screaming at her mother. He hasn't budged a bit, only pressed the briefcase on the ground a little closer to the seat. The briefcase leads me to the suspicion that he is a lawyer. He looks like one alright. Clean-shaven, black shiny shoes, a furrowed brow.

But then, suddenly, he looks up—at me.

We make eye contact for a moment. He raises the furrowed brow and looks at me with confusion. Then he stands up and leaves. Temple is his final destination. The tube station closest to the Courts of Justice. 

The next time I see him is the week after, give or take. Friday the 22nd of October at the same time. About two minutes after. This time we're both stood up. His hand is clinging to the overhead handrail, mine to the one by the door. He's unable to read this time because both of his hands are occupied so he instead looks up at the ceiling, brown eyes focused intently. He looks tired this time. A little bit scruffy. His tie hasn't been done up properly and his hair is mussed up like he's just pulled himself out of bed. He has grey trousers on this time and a blazer to match. I wonder what his name is. He looks like a Tom or a William. One of those classic english names that everyone seems to have.

Part of me wants him to look at me again. I found the perplexion dancing across his features quite amusing the previous time we were in the same compartment. As the train reaches Temple, he stops looking at the ceiling. Once again, our eyes meet. I smile. He doesn't. He's serious. Then he's gone and I'm rooted in place, resisting the growing urge to follow him.

My stop is covent garden. Each morning I walk down to the lab, and look at cancer cells. I started working for a research agency three years ago after finishing university. I always wanted to make a change. This would get me in the centre of the action. My life consists of staring through light microscopes and drawing what I had discovered. I like my job. I like the study of disease and I hope one day I will discover something that will change the course of cancer treatments. But this time, as I stain the sample and turn the course focus knob, my mind falls back to the man on the tube. His clicky footfalls and rugged confidence that beckoned for me to look at him.

Next week, I will speak to him, I assure myself. Next week.

The 31st of October comes around quickly and I enter the tube with a sneaking suspicion that after all of this preparing, he won't even be in there. However, he is. Halloween luck. Countless people are dressed up already, although morning has hardly even broken. The compartment is completely stuffed with people and I have to suck in my breath to fit into the tiny corner I have lodged myself in. I spot Mr.Lawyer in mere seconds. He is sat down once again, briefcase on his lap and this time he has reading glasses on as he glances through yet another poetry book. It's not Byron this time, it's Keats. My whole plan splits into a million pieces and we reach Temple before I can even attempt to push through and murmur a word.

Instead, I have the bright idea of following him. Very much stalker-like. I move past the crowd and leave the compartment at the last moment, milliseconds before the door decides to crush me. I walk down the platform, already spotting his tall, brooding frame walking at a jaguar's pace towards the exit. I follow him up the stairs and then we're on the pavement. Loud London roads catch me off guard and I almost lose sight of him as I'm overwhelmed by the noise and business. I finally catch sight of him again. I make him my target. He stops at a traffic light. T

This is my chance.

I stop beside him. Glance at him. Step a little closer. "In a rush?" I ask, trying to catch his attention

He looks to the side then down at me in the most arrogant manner one can possibly do. He looks at his watch then scoffs. "They expect me to be there bang on 9." He sighs, I'm struck by a thick Scottish accent. "But they can all fuck themselves."

I bite back a laugh. So much for the composed, elegant lawyer I’d imagined. He is irritated, stressed—human.

"Who's they?" I wonder, curiosity bubbling over.

"The idiots who plan out the court hearings but can't seem to give us a feasible time table," he grumbles. "Once, they booked me for three at the same bloody time."

I laugh this time, unable to help it. The traffic lights turn green. I expect him to dash ahead and leave me to walk on my own. Instead, we fall into step together, his pace matching mine. His long strides gradually slow down to allow me to keep pace. I'm not sure what to say but know I should make some kind of conversation.

"Do you always run late? Or is today special?" I ask, glancing up at him. His eyes flicker down to meet mine, and for a second, I think I may have overstepped.

But then he smirks, just a little. "Today's a disaster. Forgot my laptop at home. Can't find my notes. And I've been awake since five dealing with some idiot client who thinks she can ignore court orders."

"Sounds rough," I reply, surprised he's opening up so easily. "Is that what being a lawyer is like? Constant chaos?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You think I'm a lawyer?"

I falter. "Aren't you? I mean... the briefcase, the suit..."

He laughs, a low sound that sends a shiver through me. "Close. Barrister, actually."

"Oh," I say, feeling a bit embarrassed for not knowing the difference. I didn't expect him to correct me so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

We continue in silence for a few moments, the sound of the city filling the gaps between us. I keep sneaking glances at him—he had this intense, brooding energy, but now that he's started talking, he seemsalmost relaxed. 

 “Do you always follow strangers off the tube?” he questions suddenly, his tone half-teasing, half-curious.

My face goes red. “I—uh… No, I just… You seemed interesting. I see you on the train a lot.”

 “Interesting, huh?” He shoots me a sideways glance, his lips curling into a smile. It's the first time he’s really smiled, and it makes me feel both exposed and intrigued. “

I mean, not in a weird way,” I backpedal, laughing awkwardly. “You’re just… you’re always reading something, and I guess I wondered what kind of person still reads Byron on the tube.”

 He chuckles again, shaking his head. “You should’ve just asked.”

 “Would you have answered?”

 “Probably not,” he admits , amusement still playing on his face. 

“I don’t usually talk to people on the tube.”

 “Neither do I,” I confess. “But here we are.” 

 “Here we are.” He stops walking, and I realise we are standing in front of a grand stone building. The Royal Courts of Justice loom above us, its gothic architecture sharp and imposing. I hadn’t even noticed where we were headed. 

 “This is me,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I’m already late.”

I want to say something, anything, to keep him there for just a bit longer. There is still so much I don't know about him. “Wait—what’s your name?”

He looks at me for a moment, considering whether to answer. Then he smiles, that brief flicker of amusement returning. “Andrew.”

Andrew. Of course, he is an Andrew. It suits him—serious, stoic, a bit old-fashioned, just like the poetry he carries with him. 

“I’m Mila,” I offer, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. 

“Mila.” He repeats my name like he is testing it out. “I’ll see you on the tube, then.”

And just like that, he turns and walks toward the towering doors of the courthouse. I watch him go, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and disappointment. He spoke to me. He has a name. But it isn't enough.

[todaysdocument]

Description of Operation Cornflakes, a WWII OSS project to deliver anti-Nazi propaganda through the German mail system. Declassified on 12/19/2007. 

Record Group 226: Records of the Office of Strategic Services

Series: Field Station Files

File Unit: Folder 842: CASERTA-MO-OP-15: Production MTO: Cornflakes

Transcription:

"CORNFLAKES" PROJECT PLAN 

[stamp] DECLASSIFIED Authority NND 853154 By ST/HRM NARA, Date 12/19/02[end stamp] 

[left column] 

SITUATION 

In spring of 1945, disintegrating Nazi administrative functions presented MO/Rome with unrivalled chance to infiltrate MO printed material, through exploitation of tottering German Postal System. 

OBJECTIVE 

(1) To weaken further the will of Wehrmacht and civilians to continue losing fight. (2) Add more confusion to already chaotic communications and transport services. (3) Convince German people through dissemination of MO printed material of existence of Anti-Nazi group within Germany, especially strong in business and banking circles. 

IMPLEMENTATION Counterfeit letters packed into faked German mailbags carried by 14th Fighter Squadron. 

[between columns] [stamp] CASERTA [end stamp] -MO.OP.15 

[right column] 

EXECUTION 

[stamp] OSS ARCHIVES [end stamp] 

OPERATION From February 4, '45 to April 15, '45, the 14th Fighter Squadron of the 15th Airforce, on 20 sorties carried 320 "German mailbags" stuffed into 7inch smoke shell bombs - each bag carrying 300 letters, and filled with copies of Das Neue Deutschland, MO leaflets, etc. R.R. stations and marshalling yards the targets where mailbags were dropped on strafing missions. By special device, bags dropped free of bombs, thus removing tell-tale white source of drops. 

EQUIPMENT Paper stocks, counterfeiting plates, MO printed material. 

PERSONNEL 

ROME: 3 Officers; 5 EM; 5 Civilians 

BARI: 2 Officers; 4 EM; 2 Civilians 

[crossed out] SECRET

[soupbabe]

Oc Introduction: Graham Alden ✣

Name: Graham Alden

Age: 21

Birthdate: February 14th, 1956 Aquarius 🏺

Gender: Non-binary, They/Them

Orientation: Achillean (Attraction to non-women, meaning: men loving men, non-women loving non-women, and non-women loving men)

Species: Poltergeist

Appearance

Height: 6'0"

Eye Color: Full golden yellow scalera, no iris or pupil

Hair: Wears hair naturally with 3c curls, hair is to their shoulders, has bangs that cover their eyes, hair is a blue-grey

Race: African-American

Body description: Rectanglular, lean and broad with thinly defined muscles along the arms, pretty flat everywhere

Body extras: Upon waking up as a spirit, their skin turned into a luminescent baby blue that changes color depending on their emotions (yellow=happy, bashful/flustered=pink, etc.), Has permanent bruising and cuts around their neck from their death, has a gap in their front teeth

Style: Classic and bright 70s, open and sharp collars and flared pants, prefers to wear warm colors, loves patterns and showing off their legs, wears a peachy ascot around their neck to cover up the old scars, loves wearing novelty shades like ones shaped like stars, hearts, etc

Personality

Optimistic, Pretty Mischievous (they love to tease others and get under their skin), Emotional, Protective of loved ones, Carefree but usually prepares for worst case scenerios

Occupation: Works as a general aid and audio technician for CRPT 64.7 Radio Station. They help prepare others for their broadcasts and makes sure all the audio runs smoothly

Backstory:

- Their death date is February 14, 1977, their 21st birthday

- They got hit by a drunk driver and broke their neck

- Graham never liked how quick their life ended, their anger and refusal to cross over transformed them into a poltergeist

- Owner of CRPT Radio Station, Johnny Greyson found Graham haunting the studio, distorting their audio with their own laughter and mockery, and quickly took them in

- They lived under one of those "work to stay" agreements, but they grew to adore their job and they have a close bond with Johnny

Fun Facts:

- When they were alive they used to help run a record store, and by night they would DJ for a lot of underground parties

- Their favorite band is Redbone

- They constantly wear a fannypack with all sorts of items they found

- From thread and bandaids to rocks and shiny pennies, Graham has built a little collection of trinkets they carry with them

Johnny belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood ♡ thank you for helping me develop Graham!

Tagging: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (August 18)

Not much is known about Saint Helena but it is probable that she was born in the middle of the third century in Asia Minor.

She worked as a stable maid as a young woman, according to Saint Anselm.

Helena later married a young Roman official, Constantius Chlorus, who took her as wife despite their difference in social status.

In around the year 270, she gave birth to their first son, Constantine.

Constantius quickly rose in the ranks of the Roman military. Due to political reasons, he was forced to repudiate Helena and marry another.

Helena remained at a distance as she watched her son rise in the court of Diocletian.

In 305, Constantius, now Augustus, and Constantine went to Britain to fight against the Picts.

Constantine became emperor when his father died unexpectedly at York. As the new emperor, his first action was to recall his mother Helena.

Shortly after her son’s accession, Helena converted to Christianity.

Her faith moved her to care for the poor by providing for their needs through generous almsgiving.

She also worked to liberate prisoners and those sent to the mines or into exile.

Constantine’s reign took a downward turn when he ordered the death of his son and that of his second wife.

The family tragedy pushed Helena to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 326.

There, she ordered the construction of the Basilicas of the Nativity in Bethlehem and of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives.

The work was overseen by Helena whose faith was rewarded when the True Cross was discovered.

The identity of the Cross was confirmed when a dead man was laid on the wood and was miraculously restored to life.

The three nails from the Crucifixion were given by Helena to Constantine.

The date of this discovery and miracle, according to tradition, was 3 May 326 A.D.

St. Helena had a church built on the original site of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial and resurrection, known as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

Her son Constantine dedicated this church on September 13-14 in the year 335 A.D.

Even today, the Stations of the Cross in Jerusalem — the “Via Dolorosa” — end at this very spot.

Helena died in an unknown location in 329. Constantine had her body brought back to Rome.

—

TIMELINE OF EVENTS

326 A.D. St. Helena discovers the True Cross in Jerusalem on May 3rd.

335 A.D. Constantine dedicates the Church of the Holy Sepulcher on September 14th.

614 A.D. Jerusalem is invaded by the Persians who steal the True Cross.

629 A.D. The True Cross is recovered and brought back to Jerusalem on September 14th.

[unofficial-aragon]

The 'sustainable' megaproject of Aragon: 4.3 km of cable car in a mountain valley on its way to protection

A great sustainable project for some. An environmental disaster and investment destined for failure for others. The already old desire for Aragon to have the biggest skiable domain in Spain, and one of the biggest in the world, entails the construction of a cable car of 4.3 km (2.6 miles) through a mountain valley on its way to being a protected natural space. That, alongside the non-stop warnings on the progressive reduction in the amount of snowfall, awakens many environmental doubts around the project.

The obstacles, however, don't stop the determination of the government (centre-left and right wing), who are clinging to the hope of internationalizing snow tourism in Aragon and compete with the big alpine stations. They also base this on the fact that this sector makes up 7% of Aragon's GDP and employs arounds 14000 people.

On this basis, on the 25th of January, the Aragonese Consejo de Gobierno gave the green light to the colaboration agreement ratified by the autonomic executive, the Diputación Provincial de Huesca (DPH), Aramón (group collectively owned by the Aragonese Government and Ibercaja by 50% each, and who controls most of the ski stations in the region), Formigal, and the Valle de Astún ski station. The final agreement will be signed on the 14th of February, and the DPH will be the one to develop the investment.

Podemos and Chunta Aragonesista (who form part of the 4 governing parties of Aragon, alongside PSOE and Partido Aragonés- PAR) have shown opposition to this agreement.

More than 26 million euros of the European funds to build the biggest skiable domain in Spain

The project consists of the union between the Tena and Aragón valleys, which entails, on one side, the union between the Astún and Formigal ski stations, and on the other, the union between Astún and Candanchú. In total, around 300 km of snow, the total amount of the current capacity, since in theory, they assure that no new ski stations will be built. It would become the 10th biggest skiable domain in the world and would lead the ranking in Spain

It's not a novel objective. In 2013, with PP ["Popular Party", the right-wing party] and PAR in the government coalition, the administrative process for the Declaración de Interés General [General Interest Declaration] project was started.

After years of slumber, it's now under way thanks to the concession of 33.7 millions of euros to the Aragonese government for the development of five Sustainable Touristic Plans. They are wholly financed by the Next Generation EU funds of the Plan for Recovery, Transformation and Resilience. The help requisites require that the project be finished by 2025.

From the total amount, the biggest cut will be given to this union of ski stations (26.4 million euros). And it's calculated that 8 million more will be given from the autonimical government's pockets.

The protection of Canal Roya

Certainly, the biggest controversy around the project is the 4.3 km cable car which will cross the Canal Roya valley to join Astún and Formigal. It will take 14 minutes to cross and it will transport 2400 people each hour.

The controversy arose because in 2006 (with PSOE [socialist centre-left] and PAR in the government) decreed the start of the approval procedure for a Natural Resources Order Plan in the Aragon and Tena valleys, which would entail, among others, Canal Roya.

This planning [...] textually states: "During the processing of this plan, no acts that supose an appreciable transformation of the biological and physical reality will be allowed to be carried out, that could make it impossible or significantly hinder the achievements of its objectives."

Furthermore, it adds that "until the final approval of the Natural Resources Order Plan, no authorizations, licenses or concessions will be able to be carried out, without a favorable report from the Environmental Department"

The development of the Natural Resources Order Plan requires the creation of a consultive council. And that was what happened. In that same legislature and the next (2007-2011, with PSOE and PAR once again), the project (slowly) continued, with public involvement.

[...]

Ecologist groups think that the Government will have to return the funds and will ask Brussels for help accelerating its protection.

The five national ecologist organizations (Amigos de la Tierra, Ecologistas en Acción, Greenpeace, SEO/BirdLife and WWF) have positioned themselves completely against the station union. In the coming months they will try to put pressure in Brussels so the development of the Natural Resources Order Plan is sped up, and that way avoid that the creation of this skiable domain.

[...]

They uphold that "it's disguised as sustainable tourism, but it doesn't comply with the principle of 'Do No Significant Harm'. This is a condition established by the EU for European fund allocation, that makes people justify that the financed projects won't negatively impact any of the six environmental objectives defined by the EU"

Is there anything left for the snow business?

Apart from the six already mentioned, which includes the creation of the bigger skiable domain, Aragon will manage a few other Sustainable Tourism Plans from 2021. In total, around ten touristic projects which entail over 63 million euros. Of those, 53 million (over 84%) will go to snow tourism.

A complete bet on this sector, which seems to clash with the scientific warnings of the increasing snow scarcity.

[...]

This is what ecologist organizations are clinging to. In the statement already mentioned they also state that the union of stations "should not be carried out due to its negative environmental impact. But also because it would continue an unsustainable development model. A bet that doesn't generate quality work positions and that is destined to dissapear due to meteorological conditions caused by climate change"

In this same line, Paco Iturbe, representative of the Plataforma en Defensa de las Montañas de Aragón [Platform for the Defense of the Mountains of Aragon], explains that the Pyreenean valley of Canal Roya is "a sanctuary" because of its flora and fauna: "It's onoe of the only places in the Pyrenees which is unspoiled. Destroying it is like losing one of the identity marks of Aragon. On top of that, for nothing, just for an activity which will be unsustainable in 10 or 20 years tops.

[...]

Please consider signing the petition to oppose the construction.

[darkhorse-javert]

A forgotten letter (forgotten by me not the Characters)

When you're looking at a prvious fic and realise a few paragraphs are missing, which built the foundation for the bit you're writing now (because of clumsy copyingh.

I present Sam's missign letter of 14th Nov 1942- which I will in sert into the fic, but wanted to get out there)

Wednesday 18th November

Dear Andrew,

Yours of 14th gladly received yesterday, and probably crossed with mine I wrote the same day, albeit later on. I'm not even going to ask what you were doing up at 'Far too early' as you put it

You needn't worry I'll be quiet about your Timpson in Lyminster, and the village know well enough that they won't get him into trouble- I would also hope that my Father would be understanding if he does get word of it, he's not too bad really, on that sort of thing, he does understand young men unwinding after a hard time. I certainly do. At least you said they seemed to like Timpson when he, quite literally, dropped in- which should count in his favour.

I haven't been out fishing yet, but I'm assisting your Dad in cooking them when they come in and we're managing well enough. I don't know why you whine about your father's cooking, it's quite decent, even with the War circumstances.

I will pass your regards on to those at the station, as you ask. I'm not sure what Mr Rivers is doing now, but the marriage went off well in the summer and poor Jack has since answered the drum as you have, and so many must

I met the 'mad Czech' yesterday, in the Town when I was walking back, he'd got turned around in the Twitterns heading for the Cinema. He's a lovely man, his name is apparently Divisek- which I hope I am spelling correctly, apparently the others in the Squadron call him 'Divey' or 'Diver'- we both laughed at that, as I was not the least surprised, given what we known. I asked how he had got on, back at base. He said the CO had “barked much, & bitten not very much” when he got home, but was alright about it, and that the other pilots had given him wide eyes, then carried on. I told him he had even made you nervous watching him, but that you thought he had flown very well in the exhibition. I did pass on our thanks and regards, and asked him to pass the same to Turner. He said he would.

I think you and he would get on very well together, although I fear for my nerves and your old WingCo's too if you were ever to fly together, it doesn't even bear thinking what you would get up to. Don't try and deny it, I know your character Andrew Foyle.

Still with all my love and prayers

Your loving, Sam