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thatbanditqueen · 2 years ago

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No One Walks Out Ch 3

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 3: Don't Be Rude

Summary: It's Friday night, and Becky and her family ready their house for an end-of-summer party for Ruth's friends. Little do they know two unexpected visitors are driving down from Memphis for an impromptu visit. This chapter is pretty fluffy... let me know what you think.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, semi-dubious kidnapping. Most of the yiddish words are slang for dick...

Words: 17.9K please send help ... I got carried away.

You know the drill, I'm the worst with the typos! I'm sorry!!!

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

Thanks to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and supported this fic. If you enjoy it, please, for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt.

Friday June 13, 1975, 4:30 p.m. The Geller House, Jackson, MS

The water balloon snapped on your finger as you tied it off, and you smiled, looking out over the sink as Saul set up two big barrels of water in the back yard for the Summer Shabbat gathering tonight at your home. Ida rubbed your shoulder as she joined you in the kitchen and began to cut up a watermelon. Her eyes narrow with a smile as she looked over at you.

“So you’re not even gonna give me a clue about the mystery man you disappeared with for two nights? My only lead is that you must have met him at the concert with Danny.”

You shake your head, stretching another water balloon around the faucet. “Ida…what can I say? that was a momentary lapse in judgement… I feel so ashamed about staying out two nights in a row with no warning—”

Ida stopped chopping to push you, clucking her tongue. “Stop, for this you feel ashamed? You should feel ashamed you don’t get out more often. You have a built in babysitter. Me! I told you that night…. I told you, you’d meet someone at that concert… he can’t have been so bad, if he wanted to see you again the next day? Takes a good man not to make a girl wait by the phone sweating for days before a second date… is it one of Danny’s co-workers?”

“Definitely not.” You chuckle. “And, well, once he knew I had a kid … he was pretty turned off. So it’s a non-starter.” It was a non-starter before it started, for that and oh so many reasons you thought to yourself.

Ida looked at your expectantly, smirking. You blush, a grin followed. “Ok, Rebecca… at least tell me you got some petzl?”

“Oy, girlie, well at least you looked like you had some fun, especially that first morning …you had a big grin plastered on your face.”

“Ida!” You slapped your aunt’s shoulder.

“What, you don’t think I appreciate making whoopee? My generation invented it. Tell me, did he have a big schlong?”

“Ida…”

“So a tootsie roll?” She held up her pinky. “You know Hashem blessed me, let me just say he gave your uncle a big schmeckel.” Ida winked at you.

You shook your head, then turned, looking at her with a smirk as you made an eyeball measurement with your hands. “Like a big, fat swollen kishke… the biggest I’ve ever seen…I…” you both start cracking up… “can’t believe I just told you that…”

Ida chuckled. “Oy gavolt, girlchick, no wonder you went back for more. I’m surprised you ever came home….”

You tilted your head back, giggling uncontrollably and blushing a beet red, Ida chortled even more at your embarrassment.

She patted your back. “So, you had some fun. It’s healthy. You’ll meet someone, I know it, maybe not this Mr. Kishke….. but there are other good men out there. I promise. We should get Harriet to take you out to that go-go club she likes…”

You laugh, filling another balloon. “Ida, I’m not going to troll the disco looking for men…. If it’s meant to happen. I’ll meet someone and it will just…” you snap your fingers. “Click.”

Your aunt nodded. “Do you ever regret, you know, not marrying Teddy?”

You scowl slightly, thinking of Ruth’s father back in Birmingham. The last time you saw him, you were picking Ruth up at Pesach and stayed the night in his guest room. Everyone else in the house was asleep, Ruth, Teddy’s beautiful blonde wife, Jean, and you had thought he was too. But no, he’d cornered you in the garage as you grabbed a beer from the second fridge, pressing himself up against you, pushing you into the garage work counter, whispering “c’mon, for old time’s sake, you know you want to…” into your ear, pulling up your dress as you told him no, and pushed back on him. You had to knee him in the balls to get the message into his head that you weren’t interested in sweaty, shitty casual sex with your ex while your daughter and his wife slept upstairs.

He was drunk, you told yourself, but you still hated him, how cheap he made you feel. The next morning, after he hugged Ruth goodbye and held Jean while waving you off, you swore that you would never be alone with him again. Next time, you would get a motel room. Teddy had always been a duplicitous toad, it just took you a few months and an unexpected pregnancy to realize it. Unbeknownst to you at the time, he’d had a girlfriend back in Tuscaloosa the summer you got pregnant. You hadn’t developed your smarm detector back then, and you had been charmed by his swept aside dirty blonde hair, his college boy humor, his tan body, and most of all, his overt, romantic attention to you in front of everyone at the summer camp where you’d both been counselors. You had been utterly convinced it was true love. Boy, boy oh boy, were you wrong.

“No, Ida, not for a second, I dodged a bullet with that one. Thank God I trusted my gut.” You snapped another water balloon tight with determined finality. “And luckily Ruthie is nothing like him.”

“Well, my pretty girl, you deserve to meet a nice man, who will see you for all you have to offer. You know if you ever want me to——”

“——I know, you have the whole yenta network standing by to set me up with all the eligible single men in Jackson… OK …look, we only have an hour until the other kids get here, I still need to make potato salad, and,” you yelled to the other room where your uncle had plopped down to watch TV. “Saulie needs to get the grill set up.” Pulling down your yellow tee-shirt over your belly, you make a mental note to go change and put on a bra before people arrive.

————————————————

Elvis looked into his rearview mirror, adjusting his sunglasses one last time, then sighing. He wiped the tops of his fringed, rainbow jacket, and straightened his white collar, pulling it up and out over the top of the coat.

“Maybe shoulda called first?” He asked Jerry. He’s friend turned his gaze from the split-level house out the car window, over to Elvis. There were several phone calls Jerry would have liked to make when Elvis had grabbed him by the shoulders five hours ago in the Graceland foyer and spontaneously informed him they were going for a ‘lil ride.’ At first, Jerry attributed Elvis’ insistence they go retrieve some jewelry he’d left in Jackson right away to dexedrine-fueled paranoia. He had dealt with this before, and once he realized Elvis would not be deterred, he went along to ensure his safety. Vernon, Joe, Linda, Sonny, and Priscilla, who was sending Lisa Marie to Memphis on Monday with Dick, these were the other phone calls Jerry had wanted to stop and make as the yellow Caddy flew down I-55 toward Mississippi.

“You work for my daddy or for me, Milk? Quit yer caterwauling, now, c’mon … was a time when you weren’t scared of the open road. Now Myrna’s gotcha all pussy whipped.. man, yer worse than a teenage girl with a curfew. We’ll be there in a few hours, ya ken make as many calls as you want once we get my rings back.” Elvis had snarled at him impatiently, so Jerry coolly smoked the cigarillo handed to him and watched the lush green overgrowth of Mississippi pass them by.

Indeed, Jerry had probably spent more time getting to know Diana, Sheila and Mindi than Elvis had, shuttling them to and from concert gigs in-between and sometimes overlapping with each other or with Linda. In Elvis’ life, women were generally pointed at in the audience, or at a party or on TV and delivered by plane, train, car or bus. Sometimes he met them at a party or event, and would invite them to spend a day, a week, a month even with him. With women, Elvis could be impulsively, spontaneously, and haphazardly interested. How many times had he chartered plane to bring a girl to his house or concert with only a few hours notice? But Jerry had never seen Elvis drive himself to someone’s house, and sit in the car anxiously combing his hair to subdue his nervous energy before trotting up to ring a doorbell.

It was only after he came back out to the car to inform El that there were definitely no forgotten rings or any other jewelry at the hotel that Jerry began to suspect the real reason for their impromptu visit to Jackson. Jerry sat back down in the car, detailing the thorough, hour-long search he had just completed with the hotel security team and the manager as they graciously allowed him to inspect Elvis’ suite, then the separate room they had stored his costumes in, and then all the rooms the other Memphis Mafia members had stayed in. Elvis nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Well, fuck. Ain’t them the breaks, Jack…” Elvis hit the steering wheel a little too emphatically. “Man, fucking loved that star ring. Shit……well, since we’re here, though, might as well drop by and see that lil girl from the other day, right?”

And before he knew it, Jerry was strolling back into the Belhaven Hotel to get a local telephone book and reserve their previous suites for the weekend. He had watched Elvis’ anxiety increase over the ten minutes it took for the Caddy to wind its way through the Belhaven neighborhood to the Geller residence over in the Fondren. Elvis lurched forward in his car seat gripping the steering wheel, shoulders pinched up as he ran his hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on the gear shift, changing the radio station three or four times. And now, as they sat in the car outside of Becky’s house, Jerry couldn’t figure out why, for the life of him, El wasn’t having him go up to the house and bring out the girl for him. In fact, he wasn’t sure why Elvis hadn’t just sent him or one of the other guys down to Jackson to fetch her back to Graceland, as they had all done countless times with the other women Elvis dated.

Elvis’ was nervous for this very reason. He hadn’t called on anyone cold like this in years. Maybe decades. He had considered sending Jerry to get Becky and bring her to him, he’d been thinking about it since she ran out on him three days ago. But, well, frankly, he was afraid she wouldn’t have come and his pride couldn’t stomach a second-hand rejection. In these sort of situations, Elvis’ governing principle was to move on, dose up and forget anyone or anything that made him question whether he was undesirable, old, a fake, a sellout, a has-been, a selfish person or an unlovable egomaniac. But something had happened when he was with Becky, maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or the way being with her just felt effortless. Maybe it had been the sex, just the fact of it, let alone how good it had felt - he hadn’t felt so confident and turned on since who knows when. Maybe it was the sleeping, oh the sleep, holding her through the night, he’d had the best rest in years. Then there was his suspicion that God had brought her to him as some sort of angelic tribute, a reward for all the pain and shit he’d been through since, well, since forever. The last night together, as Becky sat in his lap playing guitar and teaching him Hebrew psalms, Elvis had begun to notice light radiating around her head, like a golden, ethereal halo, and he couldn’t shake the desire to feel the glow of her energy on his skin again. He kept this belief to himself as he looked at Jerry.

Then there was the less than spiritual image of Becky’s big, brown, earnest eyes looking up at him with unabashed, raw desire when she had sucked his cock. He smiled to himself thinking of it. Elvis had found this image coming back too him all week, to the extent that he often found he’d completely tuned out of the conversations happened around Graceland. He would hear the giggle in Becky’s mouth as she laughed at herself and her clumsy mechanics during sex. She was not experienced in the art of fellatio, he could tell she didn’t do it often, but her sweet, eager genuine enthusiasm was more exciting to him than a blow job from the most seasoned whore. The way she didn’t take herself too seriously put Elvis at ease, and he felt like a young man again, enjoying the awkward mumblings of getting to know another person. Naked.

Elvis longed to teach Becky what he liked, mold her mouth to him, fuck her sweetly and then ride her raw, tending to her swollen lips with his own as he bent her wild spirit to his will and absorbed the golden light from her smile into his being. He smiled to himself again, thinking of how she’d probably have a few feisty remarks when she opened the door, wondering how many soft caresses on her round hips it would take to melt her and get her to come back his hotel room with him. Then he remembered how she left, angry, hurt, totally misconstruing his generosity.

“Must have some sort of death wish for difficult woman…. huh… s’ a test, is what it is, He is testing me… see if I can perservere…” Elvis muttered to himself, then looked over at Jerry, who had no clue what Elvis was talking about. “Jerry, how many people have I given gifts to… ya know… money, jewelry, cars, fur coats…?”

“Tons, EP, all the time.”

Elvis nodded, reassuring himself. “And has anyone, ever, been insulted and thrown it back in ma face?”

Jerry’s expression dropped as he started to piece together why they were really here. In Jackson. Three hours from home. Five for them, because before they could come do what Elvis had really wanted to do, Jerry had been forced to go through the whole charade with the hotel and the jewelry, because Elvis couldn’t admit he was hung up on a girl. Who may or may not have rejected him. Oh shit, he thought, how did he manage to find the one women not interested in free money? Of course. Of course that is why we’re here. He cannot bear to think there is someone out there who hates him. Scratch that. Someone he is attracted to who hates him. Jerry swallowed his misgivings about the unpredictable and unprecedented scenario about to unfold.

“Nope, boss. Not one that I’ver seen. But you know how women can be on the road…it’s always the first thing in the morning, the fun is over, suddenly they're sensitive and hurt and could feel used… girls always get a little emotional, even if they knew what time it was going wit ya the night before… She was probably just insecure.”

Elvis nodded in agreement. “Yeah, an this one, she’s skittish, completely oblivious to how cute she is, ya know Jerrah?”

Jerry grinned.”Yup, oh man, I almost like ‘em better that way, good and oblivious…"

“…an all mine….” Elvis added. “Yeah, know whatcha mean…. Alright, how’d I look?”

“Sharp. Cool. You look good EP.” Jerry squeezed Elvis’ shoulder. “That lil girl is gonna cream her pants when she sees you.” Jerry hoped, rather than believed, this statement.

Elvis nodded. “Right, ok, hang tight here, and I’ll go get her. Plan is dinner, up in the suite, alone. You got the rooms set up?”

Jerry nodded. Elvis snapped his fingers, and got out of the car, smiling to himself as he walked up the path to your house, picturing your big brown eyes, overjoyed to see him, apologizing for being so rude when he tried to give you that money, your mouth in a shocked smile as you opened the door. To his dismay, your uncle Saul opened the door, wearing a “Kiss the Chef” apron and looking impatient.

“Oh good, you’re finally here, the natives are getting restless, they’re all in the back.” The 65-year old balding Jewish man started to pull Elvis in. “But where’s the ice cream cake, Cheryl said you were stopping at Dairy Cream? And whose in your car?”

Elvis stuttered, looking at Saul with his mouth agape, then back at the car, and adjusted his glasses.

“Um, that’s my employee - uh, oh, I think you might -“

Saul interrupted him. “Oy, well, don’t make him sit out there in this weather, my balls are boiling and I’ve only been standing out here for what, a minute? He’s welcome to come, we have plenty of hot dogs, though no ice cream cake - I’ll let your wife chew you out for that. Come in, come in.”

Elvis called out to Jerry, and let Saul usher them into the house, following him as he led them to the kitchen and began handing the two men trays of watermelon and hot dog buns, trying unsuccessfully to get a word in edgewise while Saul talked at them.

“Ok, ok, the ladies have the punch all set up, so this is the last to go out. The kids have been running around all meshuga for an hour, I think they’ll sleep well tonight.” Saul chuckled, winking as he gave Elvis and Jerry a knowing look.

The men exchanged their own raised eye brows, and followed Saul through a sliding glass door into the back yard, continuing on with all the minute details of the afternoon, everything he’d done to set up, the games they’d been playing and how hard to had been to get the grill going and on and on. Elvis and Jerry found themselves in a group of ten or so mothers standing around, watching a hoard of kids in swim suits chase each other around with water guns and balloons out on the grass.

Elvis started to explain to Saul again that there must be some misunderstanding as he placed the tray of hot dog buns down, but then his attention was completely transfixed by the sight of you running backwards with the kids, egging them on as they pelted you with water balloons while you squirted them with a gun. A grin spread over his face as he watched your long curly hair sway back and forth, your cheeks flushed, bosom bobbing up and down completely unconstrained by a bra, and a look of pure glee on your face as you yelled, “Ha ha, can’t catch me!” You turned to look at the group on the patio and did a double take when you locked eyes with Elvis, not noticing the slippery pool of mud you were running into and tripping backwards as you cried out a “fucking cocksucker!” A swarm of nine year olds overtook you and pelted you with water from a mix of balloons and spray guns, laughing and calling out variations of “Becky said a baaaad word….you’re gonna be too in trouble.” Ruth’s laughter was the loudest, and she ran up and squirted you in the face, then turned to run over to her friends, giggling as you lay there in the grass and mud, groaning, eyes shut, hoping the earth would swallow you whole.

You heard heavy boots thudding toward you slowly, and you groaned again as you watched Elvis’ tall, thick silhouette block out the sky above you. His hair was a bushy circle around his face, and for some reason he was wearing the most ridiculous fringed, rainbow suede jacket in 95 degree June weather. A smirk crested above his round jaw, the paunch of his belly jutted out over his belt, and you could make the ornate American eagle buckle at his waist as he bent down towards you. He was unable to stop himself from flicking one of the hard nipples that protruded through your wet tee-shirt as he muttered, in a low voice.

“They gotcha there, huh Twitch? Gotcha good.”

Elvis extended his hand to help you, the mud squelching beneath you as you let him pull you off the grass, scowling and groaning inwardly as you looked over at the audience composed of every single student of Ruth’s 4th grade Hebrew class, most of their mothers and some of their fathers. Ida was a few steps behind Elvis, a confused expression on her face as she called the kids to come dry off and get ready to eat, then padded over to where you and Elvis stood. His blue eyes danced with mirth as you pulled your shirt down, only to notice that this just made your nipples and areolas even more visible and you gave up, letting the wet yellow cloth cling to your body.

You heard Natalia’s light Russian accent asking someone else on the patio if that was Elvis Presley talking to Becky, at the same time your uncle was asking Jerry if he liked being an accountant in Lew’s firm. You wondered if you had fallen and hit your hard too hard and were having some sort of out-of-body experience, as you rubbed the muddy spot on the back of your hair and speechlessly stared at Elvis.

“What are you doing here?” You managed to squeak out, covering you breasts with your left arm.

Elvis opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by your aunt’s hand on his shoulder, as she was introduced herself and you watched Elvis respond, telling her “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley,” as if he were just a random, unknown stranger, to which Ida responded by immediately blushing and cooed “Oh my, so you are! What a gentleman running out here to help Rebecca up….Becky, where are your manners? Did you thank Mr. Presley?”

“Elvis - please ma’am…”

“Oh, wow, sure, well thank Mr. Elvis… I …my… I mean I…. Elvis I’m so glad you came to our house, you are so welcome, you know, Danny is actually still at the radio station… Becky, dear, why don’t you go change —- maybe you were supposed to meet him there? But it doesn’t matter, let me get you a drink.” Ida’s small frame handily guided Elvis towards the punch as she paused to yell at some of the women’ whispering on the patio.

“My son is a radio DJ, Marjorie, so of course important artistes are always stopping by, so you can quit your jabbering and come say hello if you want…..”

She then returned her attention to Elvis, who was politely waiting for a chance to talk as he looked back over his shoulder at you.

“You see, I didn’t realize you were coming, who tells their mother anything these days? But of course, it’s the last day of summer and we always throw a fun Summer Shabbat party for the families in our niece’s daughter’s Hebrew class, what with the water games and the hot dogs and the ice cream… here, please have some punch, and I’ll go call Danny,” she continued, leaving Elvis at the punch bowl as some of the mother’s began to circle around him and introduce themselves.

You laughed and shook your head, glaring at Elvis, before walking towards the living room sliding door. You could hear Saul’s voice rise above some of the others talking. “Elvis? No, that’s Cheryl’s husband Lew, isn’t it? What? …. well that explains why he didn’t have the ice cream cake.” As you walked through the living room towards the back of your house, you saw Lew let himself into the house, carrying a Dairy Queen cake.

————————————————

After taking the quickest shower in the history of showers, you dried your hair and stood in your closet agonizing over what to wear. You could not suppress the giddy, heated excitement you feel in your chest, even as you tell yourself what a bastard Elvis had been. Don’t look to excited to see him, do not get dressed up. But then there you are, smiling and woozily trying to decide if you liked the lacy, beige underwear you were wearing.

Throwing back your head, you swore at the ceiling. “FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck.” Then you saw it, at the back of your closet, the red kimono mini-dress your best friend Cherie had bought you for your birthday last year. You couldn’t wear a bra with it, the v-neck was too deep. You had laughed, vowing that you could never wear it because of how low it was. In the throes of desperation you settled on this choice, twirling in the mirror, the feel of the silky fabric was soft and exciting. You shiver, then put on a pair of birks and some simple make-up, just a little flourish. Mascara, neutral eye shadow and lip gloss. Taking a deep breath, and a roll on of the only perfume-like item you currently own, a lavender oil mix, you will yourself to walk out to the back yard and join the party.

Walking down the hallway from the bedrooms, you realize people have migrated inside and are milling about the living room as well as the patio. You bump into Jerry, and you grab his arm while you survey the rest of the party. Most of the kids are outside, but Ruth catches your eye and leaves her friends to run inside. Elvis is across the living room, toward the dining table, cornered by three Hebrew school moms.

“What the fuck, Jerry?”

Jerry looks you up-and-down and says “Wow,” then startles away from your at the sound of a loud cough, and he look towards Elvis, whose sunglasses have turned in your direction. Jerry gives you a deer-in-headlights expression, as he starts to mumble something about how they were in town for important business, and how he’s sorry, he didn’t know you had a kid and family or that they’d be crashing a party. You nod, listening, as you watch your cousin Danny run in, his long brown hair swaying behind him as he makes a beeline to his mother, who is drinking some punch that may or may not be spiked and laughing as she talks with some of the other bubbies from shul who may or may not have grandchildren at this party. You watch Danny whisper something to Ida as she starts to try and bring him over to Elvis. Elvis. Elvis. Who, at the same time, has excused himself from the group of blushing giddy moms and is moving in the opposite direction towards you.

You cannot look away as he stalks over, his eyes move up and down your frame as a grin spreads across his mouth and he shakes his head. Elvis joins you, slapping Jerry’s shoulder while he orders his friend to go get everyone punch, his gaze never leaving your body. Indeed, his eyes settle on your bust and get stuck there, admiring the work your dress is doing to defy gravity and physics and stay bound by the drawstring at the waist of the mini-dress. The silk fabric of the long, bell sleeves feels light and indulgent as you bring your hand up to run your fingers through your hair. Elvis smacks his lips, and exhales, and you cannot take his intense, indecent glare any longer, you feel as though your ribcage is going to jump out of your chest, or you might combust from the bonfire brewing in your belly, so you narrow your eyes and clear your throat.

“Mr. Presley.” You jut out your chin and cross your arms.

Elvis’ lips spread into a devilish grin. “My daddy’s Mr. Presley, honey, you can call me baby.” He learns forward and whispers in your ear. “I mean, after all, we have seen each other ——“

You try to hold a scowl, fighting the tremor you feel between your legs and the blush forming on your cheeks as his eyes move over you, reminding you he knows exactly what you look like under that red dress. Before he finishes saying the word naked, however, you hear Ida’s unmistakable loud gasp and look over to see that she Danny are still conferring,

“Wait… Elvis IS Mr. Kishke?” Ida’s mouth is agape, and her voice carries through the crowd as she looks over at you, seeming to take in your proximity to Elvis in a new realization.

You are not blushing, no, rather, your entire chest and face have become the same deep red color of your dress and you reflexively cover your face with your hands as you see some of the other adults snort or gulp, and shake their head as they look at you and chuckle.

Elvis leans towards you, a bewildered smile settling on his lips as he looks around the room. “What’s a KISH kah?”

“It’s a big, fat yucky sausage.” You hear Ruth’s voice and lower your hands to see her standing near you both, smiling, completely unaware of the innuendo.

A deep laugh belts out of Elvis’ belly, following by more gasps and whispers and laughs around the room, all eyes are now on you, and you bend your face further into your hands, shaking your head, wondering what you did to deserve this level of public humiliation. Meanwhile Ida’s hand goes to her face as she realizes that all the adults probably have some sense that what this exchange means. She mouths “Sorry bubela,” and then nervously walks over to a group of people asking if anyone needs another drink trying to change the conversation, yet distractedly looking back over in your direction. Danny shirks his shoulders and turns to get some grub.

Ruth’s voice pipes up again, at your elbow. “Why are you turning so red Mama?”

You try to shake off the intense feelings of shame coursing through your entire being, laugh, and give her a hug, pulling her into your side for a moment. “Oh, no reason, baby, Aunt Ida’s just so loud, isn’t she? Makes me a little self conscious.”

Ruth nods her head, then looks up at Elvis, motionless beside you, his eyes sparkling.

“Are you really Elvis Presley?” She asks, as her arm winds around you and her head leans into your bare leg. Elvis bends down in front of her, pushing up his glasses. “Nah, I’m Elton John, people make that mistake all the time though.” His lips part to reveal his gleaming white teeth as he beams, watching Ruth giggle.

“No you’re not. You’re Elvis. I’ve seen you on TV.”

“Oh? You mama let’s you watch that junk on TV?”

Ruth nods, her grip on your leg loosens a but. “Oh, yeah, well she’s probably your biggest—” you put your hand over Ruth’s mouth as you realize what she’s about to say, but it’s too late, Elvis, still on his haunches at Ruth’s eye level, looks up at you and winks, a self-satisfied smirk and a gleam in his eyes.

“Huh…” is all he says. “Well, I’m a pretty big fan of your mama’s.”

You give him the look of death. “Hey now, baby, what do you say—“

Ruth interrupts you, looking at Elvis. “Why would you want to be Mr. Kishke? Is it like being Mr. Clean, from the TV ads?”

He laughs again, “Well, not exactly…”

You pull Ruth’s arm from around your leg, and tell her to go get some food. Elvis stands, steps closer to you.

“Hey… Mr. Kishke, huh?”

You look down, shaking your head, crossing your arms under your breasts, which has the effect of pushing them out a little more in the v-neck. “Stop.”

“What? Think you’d be happier ta see me.”

“Why’s that? If anything, I’m shocked you think I’d want to see you at all. I’m actually at a loss as to why you’re even here?”

Elvis’ index finger traces the edge of your v-neck. “That why you went and got all gussied up? To show me how much you don’t wanna see me?”

You swat his hand away and snort. “We’re having guests over for Shabbat, this is the outfit I planned out this morning, to change into after the water fight…. You must be one of those folks who drive by every beautifully landscaped house thinking, ‘oh, they must be expecting me.’ I wanted to look nice just for me, has nothing to do with you.”

Elvis leans in to whisper in your ear, and you cannot help the gasp that escapes your lips as you feel his warm breath on your neck, and his hand on your waist. “Sure honey… but you should know for next time that I like bright red lipstick, as flashy as I can get it ….woulda suited ya better.”

You step back, thrown off and befuddled and trying to think of a smart retort, but you’re interrupted by a clutch of other moms who join you, and Elvis steps aside to make room, breaking your gaze and your train of thought. You smile at them, flustered and suddenly embarrassed by Elvis’ presence and what these other, happily married, women must be thinking.

“Becky,” Patty says in a high, fake voice, slipping her hand through your arm as if you were the best of friends. Your have spoken maybe three words to this woman. She turns to look at Elvis. “Wontcha introduce us to yer friend?”

The others, Margie and Linda, giggle and bat their eyes at Elvis, who cocks his chin forward and rests his left hand at his hips, extending his right hand to bring each women’s hand to his mouth, introducing himself by his full name to each one, “Why, howdy, miss, I’m Elvis Presley,” as he kisses their hands. His affect is more akin to a stranger at the debutante’s ball, rather than the most famous man in the world crashing your annual Summer Shabbat night.

Inhaling and plastering a placid smile on your face, you spend the next fifteen minutes nodding awkwardly as you get pushed to the back of the crowd that gravitates around Elvis, and you are stuck on the outskirts watching Elvis make small talk with these parents who gather around him, as Summer Shabbat slowly became Elvis Shabbat. Ida brings him a plate of food, inviting him to sit on the couch, and it did not take her much to coax him into telling the group about his recent fundraiser concerts in Jackson for victims of the recent tornado, explaining vaguely how he had come back to finish up some important business for the benefit, and figured he might as well stop by his friend Becky’s house. The way he emphasized the word friend and winked at you as he said it made you want to push through the group and strangle him there and then.

But you smile, clenching your fists as your nails form little half moons on the inside of your palm. His explanation that at first he’d thought you were just another groupie trying to crash the after party, before he realized you were there with your brother (your cousin you mentally corrected him), made you blush and grin even wider with a forced chuckle, as he said how you’d impressed him as the most charming and welcoming person he’d ever met in Jackson. You were going to show him how charming you really were when you kicked his ass out of your house as soon as everyone left.

————————————————

The kids, in an assorted stages of dressed from still damp and in swim trunks to dried off and dressed, began to loose their steam. The giggly running back and forth through the house began to slow, and families began to say good night and make their exit, taking turns as they waited to shake Elvis’ hand and telling him what big fans they were. Now Elvis was standing by the door, saying good night to people with Ida as if he were the co-host as they left. Watching from the kitchen, your mouth full of potato salad, you rolled your eyes as Lew told Elvis how much his music meant to him, tears welling in his eyes, his arm squeezing his wife, and then sighing out with pride as Elvis brought him in for a bear hug and then drew Cheryl in for a long kiss on the lips.

“Ughhh,” you moaned, and went to grab a second beer from the fridge and slipped into the pantry closet to drink it alone. Jolting when the door opened, you whisper “thank god its just you,” to Danny, who reveals a wildly grinning Harriet next to him. You finish your beer, and push past her to grab another.

“So, is Elvis your boyfriend now Becky?” Danny teased, Harriet making “ooowwww” and kissy noises behind you.

Looking through the door, you turn and you relax knowing Ruth is far away in the living room, sitting on your Uncle Saul’s lap helping him with a word search. You saw Jerry emerge from the hallway from the back of the house, where he had spent the last hour or so on the phone. He caught your eye, then looked away, he had obviously been avoiding you since you first tried to confront him, and looked guilty every time he saw your imploring expression. He must have known you had wanted to corner him and ask him what the fuck was going on, and why Elvis would show up at your doorstep, basically announcing to your family that you had slept together. You were grateful that subtext seemed to have gone over the kids' heads, at least so far. But the knowing look from their parents told you it was obvious they knew you were a big ol’ slut who slept with rockstars, and gave said rockstars the impression thought they could just show up at your house unexpectedly for sex anytime they were in town.

Jerry plopped down next to Saul, and it only took one question, “So, are you from Jackson,” before Jerry got drawn into your uncle’s history lecture on the Geller family in Jackson, Jews in the Mississippi, his children’s accomplishments, his opinions on Nixon and Watergate, all interspersed with pauses to give Ruth clues on what word to look for next, before adding in a few old jokes.

“Have you heard the one about the farmer in Minsk?” You hear Saul ask Jerry, his eyes glance over to you in the kitchen doorway and he gives you a sympathetic eyebrow raise. Ida is walking through the living room picking up dishes and muttering to herself. You turn back to Harriet and Danny, who is grabbing his own beer bottle and handing one to his sister, his face glinting with mischief.

“Shut up, Danny!” You order in a hushed growl. “He just fucking showed up, the last time I saw him, I slapped him in the face and stormed off. I never thought I’d see him.”

Harriet brushed her hair back, and took a slip of her beer. “Maybe he’s into that.”

You were about to respond, but notice Natalia, the last mom left, has cornered Elvis at the door. Her youngest daughter, Anna, is fidgeting back and forth next to her. Emboldened by the alcohol, you drain your drink, put the bottle down, and march over to get her out the door so you can dispose of Elvis without an audience. As you walk up, you hear Natalia’s Russian accent speaking to Elvis in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You know, if you are looking for company here in Jackson, I have an 18 year old daughter, Genevieve, just graduated high school. I mean, Becky is sweet, but she’s almost thirty and —— ”

She stops when she feels your hand on her shoulder.

“SO good to see you Natalia,” you give her a tight hug. “Thanks for coming to Summer Shabbat…. It’s so fun to kick off the summer with y’all… only two more days until camp. Ruthie, baby, come say goodbye to our friends.”

You see Elvis pursing his lips in an amused grin, as he leans past you and tells Natalia “Goodnight honey, get the feeling I’d really like it in Leningrad,” holding that kiss with her for one, two three, four five oh give me a break seconds, while you aggressively open the door.

Elvis chuckles as he watches you shut it tightly, then roll into it, looking at him sideways, your hand ruffling Ruth’s head. “Hey baby, go help Ida clean up, hmmm?”

She looks to you, then at Elvis, then back again, smiling as he winks at her, running to your aunt with a gleeful laugh and a skip. You hear her telling Ida how she can’t believe Elvis Presley is at their house. You lean back against the door, cross your arms, and look around the living room. Saul and Jerry are still deep in a one-sided conversation. You watch your cousins slip outside. Buzzed from the beer, your earlier athletic accomplishments water fighting with the kids, and, if you are honest, Elvis’ proximity, you feel a heightened sense of your own sensuality. Your skin feels alive as you smooth down the thin, silky dress you’re wearing and turn your gaze over at Elvis, leaning against the wall and staring at you with dark eyes through his sunglasses. His lips slightly parted, as if in anticipation.

“Elvis, why are you here?”

He swallows. “I was in town for business.”

You shift, recrossing your arms as you roll your shoulder against the back of the door and turn toward him.

“Mmmhmmm.” You purse your lips, you hate how his knowing smirk makes your core tingle. “But why are you here?” You point at the orange shag carpet below your feet.

“Wanted ta see ya….”

“Did you even wonder if I wanted to see you?”

Elvis inhaled, and looked down, shaking his head.

“Why you always make everythin’ so goddamn difficult? I’m here, you’re home, I can tell you’re happy to see me—”

“Oh, so you can read my mind?”

“Mhmmm” He pouts his lip, raising just his left eyebrow.

“Mmhmm, and what am I thinking?”

Elvis speaks in high falsetto, “Gosh I just wanna kiss that handsome man but I’m embarrassed to in front of all these people?” He laughs at the incredulous expression that spreads over your face, and moves to kiss you. You meet his mouth with your right hand.

“Ha! You are delusional.”

Elvis’ hand moves to rub your shoulder instead. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

You lift your eyebrows, and then push off the door, gathering up some of the glasses on the coffee table. You look back at him, and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen, where you’ll be alone.

“Grab those other glasses and make yourself useful, unless you’ve forgot how to do normal people shit like cleaning up. Clearly forgot how to call people.”

Elvis slaps your bottom with a loud thwap as you load the dishwasher, catching some of your bare butt under your dress. You can sense his wry smirk before you see it, sucking air in through your teeth and slamming the dishwasher shut, then turning to him.

You hit his chest, with a “Not cool, Presley…” and he responds by stepping closer and boxing you in against the kitchen counter. You breath deeply, your cunt clenches involuntarily as you feel a bolt of electricity thrill up your spine.

“So you’re not happy to see me?” There is that lip curl again. Hands on your waist, he shifts his weight forward, you shiver as he crushes you into the counter. “Huh, well, you must really hate me then, if ya spent the week talkin bout lil’ Elvis.” He waggles his eyebrows again.

You blush, “I… umm … I think—”

“Mr. Kishke, though, that’s one I haven’t heard.” He looks down into your bosom, running his right hand along the side of your waist. “You know… I don't show him to every girl I meet?

You roll your eyes. “Ha. Lucky me…” even through the sarcasm, though, you can a feel a flush coming to your cheeks standing at your kitchen sink, talking in whispers with this man about his cock. Specifically, its predilection for you. You feel said cock twitch against you.

“No, really,” he groans, his voice is low and steady. “I know everyone thinks, ‘Oh Elvis Presley, he's some big rock star Casanova….’” He says this last line in high falsetto again. “But really, hand to God,” he smirks as he tells you this, “Lil Elvis, well, he don come out less he feels safe and…. cozy-like….”

You roll your eyes and let out a loud scoff up into his face. “You are unbelievable.”

“S’true, you have to see it to believe it.”

“You should go show it to Ida, pretty sure she wants to see it.”

“She’s definitely been friendlier than you have, think she’d come out ta night with me?”

“I think you’ve definitely got more of a chance with her.” You lean back, and cross your arms to create space between the two of you, breathng deeply. The air catches in your throat for a second as Elvis' right finger tips hit your shoulder, feathering lightly over the top of your arm. He leans into your ear and your eyes close instinctively as you gasp.

“Now, c’mon darlin, don’t be like that. I came all the way down here ta see ya…”

You open your eyes and look up at him, collecting yourself in Elvis’ shadow, his frame is blocking out the kitchen light, and it feels as if you are in your own little world, just the two of you and the kinetic warmth that draws you together. “Thought you said you were already down here for business…?”

Elvis kisses your neck and you exhale through your nose. “Well, yeah… but…I’d be lying,” another kiss to the right side of your neck, left hand rubbing your waist. “If I didn’t tell ya,” he nibbles the top of your ear. “Tha prospect of seeing you again,” his breath cools the wet spot he left at the base of your neck and you shiver. “Didn’t halfway get my motor running t’wards Jackson town….”

You sigh, you are a weak sack of flesh and bones, and the heady mix of Elvis’ soft lips on your neck, the delicate, needy caress of his fingers, the way his baritone voice reverberates through your body..uhhhh.. it all provokes an insistent tremor through you. You see him smile as he feels this, and moves both hands to your waist. You puff up your bosom as you breath again, and try to regain control of this situation. Hands still on his chest, you rub the fabric of his half buttoned white dress shirt, and then push him back a step, looking into up into his eyes, puzzled.

“Ok, but so, what’s changed? You got all weird when you found out I have a kid, like suddenly I was chopped liver, and then you tried to pay me off with money… do you have any idea how…. how cheap it feels to have someone hand you $500 after they just spent the night inside you?” You stutter, whispering angrily under your breath.

Elvis’ eyes search your face, and he traces his right index finger over his lips in a serious posture, left hand now in his back pocket, his weight shifted forward.

Looking around, you realize the fact that no one else has come into the kitchen means everyone probably knows you both are in here talking and they want to give you the space. You push him back further, suddenly very self-conscious.

“Honey you caught me off guard the other morning…you know, half asleep, tired as a mule after performin’ three concerts, THREE, in two days… an I hardly got any sleep on account of your insatiable appetite for kish ie kay or whatever ya Hebrew word for big ol sausage is…”

His serious expression turns into a teasing grin and his eyes light up as you kick his shin and mutter “it’s kishke and technically Yiddish " under your breath with a huff.

“Look … I’m from Tupelo an’ Memphis, women been having babies since they were 13, 14, 15 or 16 all my life. I reckon I’ve been with more women who had babies at home than I even know, considering some of the things we used to get up to on tour in those early days.” Elvis waggles his eye brows and you shake your head again, smoothing and pulling at the edge of your dress.

“And as for the money, s’not like that… wasn’t tryin to treat ya like a … lady of tha night, so ta speak…” he moves closer again, rubbing your waist, speaking softly, almost babyish “That’s jus how I am…. always wantin’ ta give yittle ol gifts ta folks I like… jewelry, cars, mink coats, and, well if he don't have anything nice, I give ‘em my wallet. Why, just yesterday, I gave a Vietnam vet I drove by in downtown Memphis $300. And I can tell you what, he didn't throw it back in my face like some folks, no, he said thank you very much Mr. Presley. God bless you and God bless America.”

“He did not say that…”

Elvis grinned and ran his hand through his hair again, then took off his sunglasses and cleaned them on his shirt. “Well, was the gist of what he said.”

“Ok, well there are two things you need to know. First, I’m not interested in gifts, cash or otherwise, if I’m with someone, it’s because I like them… so … there’s that. Second, this is just more of a public service announcement on behalf of hall women you may ever encounter, it is TOTALLY different to give a veteran on the street money than it is to give a WOMAN money after you spent the night fucking her brains out…”

“You swear like a goddamn sailor … know that? God, first words I ever heard come out of this pretty innocent little mouth were…” Elvis brushed your lips with his thumb. “…. Fucking cocksucker, wasn’t it?” He pushes back into you, being near him has become an ongoing game of tug-a-war you seem to be forever playing. His warm lips on yours and you shake your head, arms snaking their way around his neck.

“I can’t believe,” you talk into his lips, then tear yourself off him. “I can’t believe you just showed up at my house and now here I am kissing you in my kitchen when anyone could walk in here and…” you kiss him again, savoring how his eyes close and a stifled “oh baby…” comes out of his mouth, as you continue talking into his cheek. “An everyone probably knows what we’re doing.” You drop your arms, and push him off you. “Shit, including Ruth… look, I don’t know what the f—”

“Shhh, shhh, s’ok honey,” his hands are back at your sides, tracing up and up. “Look, why don’t you go tuck your baby into bed and we can go get a room somewhere alone, in a ho—“

“Elvis.” You say firmly. “I’m not doing that. I’m so, so embarrassed, I can’t imagine what Saul and Ida are thinking.”

“I think they like me…” his eyes meets yours, where he sees a skittish colt retreating from his charm. “Hey, it’s all good, baby, it’s all good. Les jus hang loose … Jerry an I’ll get out ya hair, head back ta Memphis, less’n you think you’d have dinner with me tomarra…”

You look down, you can’t help smiling. “Maybe… ok…. And…you can stay for a little while longer tonight… Ida’d probably be happy if you played us some music before you go find a hotel…”

You nod, squeezing his shoulder as you move around him, and take his hand, leading him towards the living room and onto the floral velveteen couch across from Jerry and Saul. Your uncle nods but does not pause, he’s now moved on to regaling Jerry with stories about his WWII Naval squadron in the Pacific. Elvis sits down and pulls you onto his lap, but you leap up, seeing Ruth and Ida walking down the hall from the bedrooms. Ruth is in her pajamas, and she runs over to you, as Danny and Harriet stumble in through the patio door in a cloud of dank marijuana smoke, and sit in the big, brown velour couch on the other wall, whispering and giggling with each other as they make eye contact with you. The room is quiet as Ruth stands behind you, peeking around your waist to look at Elvis.

“So you really are Elvis Presley?” She asks again, a shy grin revealing her toothy smile.

Elvis leans in. “Go ahead, pinch my nose…” she does and shrieks when he yells out in mock agony.

Ida laughs, and sits on the other side of the couch.

“Ok, Ruthie, let Mr. Presley be… oy vey, what excitement” Ida exclaims with a sigh.

She looks up at you, searching your face for any signal of what’s next, you imagine she’s contemplating what the proper etiquette is for entertaining rock stars who drop by unexpectedly when you’re hosting an end-of-the-school-year party for nine year-olds. You smile warmly, shrugging, and pivot around, patting Ruth on the bottom to go sit on Ida’s lap.

You pace to the edge of the room, announcing, “We’ve all been entertaining the great Elvis Presley, maybe we can persuade him to entertain us?”

He smiles, and shakes his head, but you grin, and go grab your guitar from your closet. Walking back in, you can hear Danny asking Elvis about his recent tour, wondering how long he was in town and mentioning how cool it would be if he’d come do an interview with him at the radio station. Saul and Ida pipe in tell Elvis how great Danny is as a DJ.

“C’mon you guys.” You shoot them a stern look as you put the guitar in Elvis lap, and sit down near him on the couch, scooching a little away toward Ruth, who slips off Idas lap and between your legs on the ground, looking up at Elvis in curious awe. “Please ignore them, they seem to have forgotten that you are our guest, not a circus monkey they can parade around town.”

Elvis looked at the guitar in his lap, as his low, playful baritone voice sending fire crackers up your center. “Says tha women who jus order me ta sing?”

“Ha, well, we took you,” you turn your head towards Jerry, “and your entourage in, unexpectedly, by the way, and welcomed you an fed y’all…”

“So you want me to sing for my supper?”

Ruth let out a laugh, and Elvis winked at her. You smooth Ruth’s dark, straight hair, steadying yourself as you return Elvis’ challenging gaze.

“Becky, if the man doesn’t want to, don’t push him,” Ida chimes in, apologetically, rubbing your shoulder. “He’s had a long drive and all his business to attend to, why it’s just nice to have him over.. and it doesn’t matter if his visit was unexpected, because you’re always welcome here, Mr. Presley, any friend of Becky’s is a friend of ours.”

Elvis grins, and picks up the guitar. “Why, that’s mighty hospitable of you ma’am, you make me feel right at home… an please…please call me Elvis,” and he winks at Ida, and you grimace as a feminine peal of laughter rings out through the room. You hear Saul whisper to Jerry that he might be jealous of his boss over there, “my Ida’s quite the looker after all these years.”

Ruth looks back over at Elvis. “Oh please, play us a song…”

“Alright baby, but what do ya think, should we get your mama to help me?” You shake your head, as Ruth laughs, leaning back into you and looking up at your face.

“Yes! No one sings like mom, she knows the Robin Hood sing, and all the summer camp songs, and Puff the Magic Dragon…”

Elvis strums the guitar, tuning a few strings, then looking over at you. “Hmm, well, I don’t know the Robin Hood song, maybe you oughta sing that one for us first, huh Becky Butt?”

You blush, as you hear your cousins try to muffle chuckles.

Ruth cracks up, and looks back up at you. “Becky Butt? Becky Butt! Ha! Yeah…. you gotta sing that for us, Becky Butt.”

Glowering, you shoot Elvis one of many looks of death you're doling out tonight , as he hands you the guitar with the most detestable smug look. You mumble how the sound track for Robin Hood has been playing non-stop in rotation with some other favorites in this house since Ruth got a book and LP set for Chanukkah a few years ago. You sigh, looking around as you start to strum, then down at Ruth as you begin to sing.

[Song link here]

Love,

It seems like only yesterday

You were just a child at play

Now you're all grown up inside of me

Oh, how fast those moments flee

Once we watched a lazy world go by

Now the days seem to fly

Life is brief, but when it's gone

Love goes on and on

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love will live

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love will last

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love goes on and on and on

Once we watched a lazy world go by

Now the days seem to fly

Life is brief, but when it's gone

Love goes on and on…..

Finishing, you playfully rub the bottom of your guitar over Ruth’s head. Jerry is looking at you with something like attentive awe in his eyes, before he catches Elvis’ glare, and straightens up. You feel Elvis rub your knee, his lips parted in wonder and you blush again, and look down at Ruth, whose hands hit the top of your feet as she looks over at Elvis.

“Yeah, Becky Butt here is a real whiz at music,”

“Ruth! Don’t call your mama that….” Ida calls out with a swift bop to Ruth’s head, but then adds. “But it’s true, of course, Rebecca was always the family musician.”

“Huh, yeah, I kin tell,” Elvis drawls, nodding at Ruth. “Can’t expect me to follow that, s’in my contract, I only perform after acts that make me look good…ain’t that right Jerry?” He looks over at his friend, then at Ruth. Jerry stutters, but before he can answer, you bump Elvis’ chest with the guitar as you hand it back to him

“Oh no you don’t…You’re not getting off the hook with a wink and some charm here, Presley… if you review your contract, I believe you’ll find a clause requiring Puff the Magic Dragon.” You look down at Ruth. “Then its bed time, baby… k? it’s past nine….”

“Oh but Becky Butt—” Ruth whines, giggling, but cannot help the yawn that sneaks out.

Elvis takes your mind off how much you want to kill him for calling you Becky Butt in front of everyone, and starts plucking chords, letting you all know, “this isn’t on my regular set, s’only reserved for more VIP programs for my my most demanding fan, ma lil girl, Lisa Marie… she’s about yer age, darlin, give or take a decade… seven goin’ on sassy…”

He chuckles, then begins to sing, in a sweet, high voice, the words to Puff the Magic Dragon. You almost cannot believe this is happening, watching Elvis close his eyes and go into himself as he softly sings Puff the Magic Dragon in an earnest high voice. This may be one of the most surreal experiences you have ever had. In his rich voice, the words have more depth, the sound is more full, and is like a completely different bluesy, country song. Elvis opens his eyes after the second line, bends his chin forward and earnestly sings to Ruth, then you, and then turns to sing to the others in the room. You feel your heart rise up to the top of your chest and your pulse quickens, while heat radiates down through your tummy and up through your throat and you rub your neck, hoping no one can tell how affected you are by the melody rumbling out over the couch and through the living room. The vibe is comfy and cozy, and you notice Ida is swaying back and forth, then rubbing the back of your neck and squeezing Ruth’s shoulder. Saul gives you a perplexed, amused look. After the first chorus, Elvis continues the chords for an extra stanza, and nods towards over in your direction.

“Think I need some help, this is a harmony, ain’t it?” You shake your head, but Ruth hits your shin, smiling up at Elvis. “C’mon now honey, don’t leave a man hangin’…”

You sigh, breathing, before you raise your voice and sing the alto harmony as Elvis’ brings his voice down to a lower, baritone melody. After the second verse, you bring Ruth up to your lap, and sing into her shoulder, pinching her side as she giggles, until she joins in, and Elvis looks around the room, calling out “Alright, now everybody.” A round of applause and a few whoops from Harriet come after the last Honah Lee. You swear you see Jerry quickly wipe his eyes, and you kiss Ruth, unprepared as she turns to Elvis and asks him if he is your boyfriend.

“Ok, time for bed!”

“Wait mom, but is he?”

Harriet bursts out a very stoned guffaw, and you shoot her a warning look, which is followed by a push from Danny.

Elvis’ smiles wide, then bites his lips, raising his eye brows at you, a wistful look taking over as he watches you stutter your response, lifting Ruth up in front of you as you stand up.

“No, baby, we only just met—“

“But then why is he here?” She asks, then turns to Elvis. “Are you staying for a sleep over?”

You gasp, and shake your head. “No, Ruth, Mr. Presley lives up in Memphis and —“

“But it’s past 9, you aren’t driving back to Memphis tonight?” Ida gasps, scooting closer to Elvis now that you have stood up and are walking Ruth towards the hallway.

“Well, ma’am, actually” he looks you squarely in the eye, and you think of his invitation for tomorrow. “I reckon Jerry and I will go find a hotel—“

“At this hour? Without a reservation - why they’ll gauge your eyes out! No, you must stay here.” Your jaw drops as you watch Ida offer the basement guest room, Danny’s old room. Jerry begins to chime in and is about to explain that he already made a reservation but before he can, Elvis coughs loudly and tells your aunt if she is sure, thow very much obliged he is to stay the night. A mix of shock and horror overwhelm your face, you almost cannot respond as your cousins get up and make their farewells for the night, and you vaguely hear Elvis offer to do an interview at the radio station tomorrow afternoon. You go through the motions of hugging Danny and Harriet, while Ruth bounces around and takes Elvis by the hand, telling him that if he wants her to do his nails during the sleep over she knows how.

You look at Jerry, crossing your arms.

“So, will you be bunking with Elvis in the basement.” You notice him pause, and look past you, to see Elvis do a slit neck motion under his chin.

“Uhh, um, actually, I’ll be good on the couch, or the floor.” Jerry offers, standing up and looking around.

“No, a man can’t sleep on the floor.” Saul chimes in.

You shake your head. “I really think you guys would be more comfortable at a hotel, with your own space. I know you can afford it.”

Ida walks over and hits you, giving you a knowing look. Oh god, is your aunt trying to get you laid. In her house? You cannot help but assume this is the case, with the way she pinches you expectantly and loudly intones. “Rebecca Grace Hoffman, don’t be rude!”

Elvis’ face lights up with a smirk, and you can almost feel the sympathy emanating from Jerry’s eyes.

“Fine, Jerry can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep with Ruth.”

You see Jerry’s eyes flit over to Elvis, who purses his lips and gives the most subtle, almost still, head jerk. Jerry knows Elvis’ possessive nature enough to know this would be out of the question. In the sheets of one of his women? Free to look around her underwear draws? Jerry would never do this, but it would probably be the first thing his boss thinks of because it would be the first he would do. He also knows Elvis wants to be in your bed, but he is not sure if you will be bold enough to do this. You watch these men exchange looks, and then sigh, exasperatedly.

“Ok, well, I’ll go put Ruth to sleep in my bed, and she can sleep with me, and Jerry can sleep in her bed.”

Ruth lets go of Elvis' hand and runs over to Jerry, pulling him down the hall and telling him, “My bed is way better than the couch, its pink, and I have, gosh, twenty stuffies to keep you company.”

Elvis chuckles, walking over to slap Jerry on the back before Ruth leads him to the back of the house. “Good, you’ll feel right at home, just like his room back in Memphis.”

Saul pats you on the shoulder, as he shakes Elvis’ hand and says good night. Ida goes to get Elvis and Jerry clean towels, and you take the moment alone to hit Elvis in the chest.

“This is unbelievable… why did you agree too stay here ? I’m gonna go get Ruth into bed, and then I have half a mind to run you out of this house…”

“Now, Rebecca Becky Butt Grace Hoffman, don’t be rude!” Elvis says, swatting your behind as you turn to walk back to the bedrooms.

You turn around, fists clenched, and walk back up to him, pointing your finger up in his face.

“Now, get this straight. I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but I will not be having sex with you tonight. In this house. Where I live. Where my family can hear us.” Elvis’ lip curls up as your talk, and he looks out toward his car through the front window, and then around at the back patio. “Not in the house, not in your car, not nowhere. Get this, mister?” Elvis tries to jokingly bite your wagging finger as it gets close to his mouth, and you grimace. “Ughhh…actually, I’m never having sex with you again. OK?”

His simpering smirk is too much, and his eyes are a dazzling blue dancing with mirth as Elvis pushes down his sunglasses and whispers in your ear. “Ya know, for someone so sure they don’t wanna get lucky, ya talk about it a lot.”

You squeal, clench your fist, and turn around again, taking several big breaths as you ignore the sound of Elvis Presley’s distinct chuckles echoing down the long hall way to the back of the house. Ida finds you at the back of the hall, carrying towels she is taking to Elvis.

“Becky, that man clearly drove down here from Memphis just to see you. He likes you. The way he looks at you… ooh girlchik, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. So whatever went down, don’t be too hard on him… all men can be idiots, they can’t help it, especially men like that… ”

You sigh, and Ida pats your shoulder again, while you go pull Ruth away from introducing Jerry to all her stuffies, asking if he needs anything before pushing her into the bathroom to brush her teeth, then tucking her into your bed. You have been reading The Hobbit together, but its 10:15 pm, and Ruth’s eyes are now half closed as you rub her back, so you turn the overhead light off and talk softly with her, as she asks you again why Elvis came to visit and whether you can take him and Jerry for ice cream tomorrow.

“Time to sleep, my little kindela…” You whisper, as you sit next to Ruth on the bed. You had just spent all of fourth grade bribing her with an extra allowance and treats to get through the night in her own bed, trying to train her out of the habit of sneaking into bed with you in the middle of the night. Then Elvis Presley walks into your house, and all the rules get thrown out the window.

“Mom, if Elvis isn’t your boyfriend, then what is he?” Ruth yawned. “You know he said he has a whole room of stuffies at his house, and alot of Disney movies on film.” Her brown eyes squeezed shut with another yawn, it was contagious and you follow suit. … “Thet he shows on a projector in his basement….” Her eyelids closed, and you smoothed her back.

“Hmmm… that does sound pretty nifty… Elvis is just a… friend… I promise I’ll answer all your questions tomorrow, ok? We’ll get you packed up for summer camp and maybe go get ice cream, just us, how does that sound?”

You think about her question, whether Elvis is your boyfriend, and you have no idea how to explain the nuances of casual adult relationships. With rock stars. Ruth was three when you moved in with Mark for a few years, the most serious boyfriend you have had. Ruth remembers him pretty well, considering she was five when you split, and is still pretty friendly with him whenever you run into him at temple or around town with his wife and their two kids. Then there was Bruce, who Ruth vigorously disliked and made sure both you, and he, were aware of her disapproval. That relationship lasted six months, and you know it had a lot to do with the fact that Bruce was stiff around kids, almost the exact opposite of Mark, who wanted to make a home together have three or four more kids, and play out your days like a hipper, groovier Ozzie and Harriet. The home life Mark had grown to desire had taken you by surprise, considering you had bonded over your love of folk music, counter culture and progressive politics. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but you were pretty sure it involved some sort of livelihood of your own, and you still felt like you weren’t a grown up yet sometimes because you hadn’t figured out what you were supposed to be doing with your life. Elvis clearly had never grown up, and you could see why Ruth liked him, he was playful, funny and had no problem making fun of you, which was often your daughter’s social role.

“Sounds goooo” Eyes closed, Ruth’s voice trails off, and you continued to sooth her back, singing softly one of your favorite Disney songs from Dumbo, “Baby Mine,” which, if had Ruth been fully awake and alert, she would have told you she was too old for this song. However, in her twilight state, she smiles and her eyes droop completely, and you rolled your thumb down the middle of her nose, an old trick that kept her shutting her eyes if she tried to open them.

————————————————

Unbeknownst to you, Elvis had wondered down the dim, brown corridor after Ida had handed him a stack of towels and said good night with a friendly, knowing smile. Now he stood at the corner of the hallway watching you. Pulling his hand through his hair, he shifted and guiltily looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was behind him. He felt like a voyeur viewing an intimate moment between you and your daughter, but he couldn’t look away. Your breasts had been bulging out of the v-neck of your dress all night singing a silent siren song to him and he had wanted to be as close to them as possible. The sight of them resting over the top of the guitar, heaving up and down while you sang had completely done him in, and he was fairly certain you were the only person in the room that night unaware of how radiant and sexy you looked. Elvis found your aloof and self conscious demeanor captivating, he felt completely at ease when he was near you, and the sour or terse words that came out of your mouth didn’t matter, because you couldn’t conceal the affectionate gleam dancing behind your large, brown eyes that beckoned him forward.

Elvis had fought the urge to pull you on to his lap and kiss you to kingdom come in front of your whole family after you sang that silly Robin Hood song. Jerry, he realized he should say good night to Jerry, and so he pulled himself away from his view of you tucking Ruth into bed, and knocked on the door to Ruth’s bedroom. Bare feet hanging over the edge of a pink twin bed, with a quilted cover, Elvis couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Jerry trying to get comfortable in Ruth’s bed as he checked in, ignoring Jerry’s exasperated look as he mumbled that he had prepaid $500 for two large hotel rooms where they could have been instead.

You were closing the door to your bedroom as softly and quietly as you could when you felt Elvis’ warm hand cupping the roundness of your bottom through your dress, then moving lower, to go under the cloth and rub your butt through your underwear. Jerking forward, you shake your head, seeing him, towels bunched under his jacket, your snarky retort silenced by his index finger over your lips.

“Shhhh… hey, can you come tuck me in?” He whispers, eyes dancing.

You grab the towels out of his arm pit, and carry them in front of your chest, leading him to the basement stairs at the back of the kitchen, whispering back. “Mhmm, a good knock to your head should do the trick… ”

“Sounds fun.” Elvis slaps you butt again, grinning like an idiot as you quicken your pace ahead of him.

You hear him close the door at the top of the stairs, the room is lit by a few soft table lamps around the finished basement. Your bare feet hit the puce green shag carpet, it was soft between your toes and you got your bearing. Dropping the towels on the dresser, you turn to Elvis, arms crossed.

Elvis took off his jacket, hanging it over the edge of the desk chair, before plopping down on the plaid couch against the side wall and spreading his arms across the back of the sofa, patting his knee for you to come sit with him. You shake your head, watching his eye brows go up in a question, seemingly surprised you were not running over to be with him.

“So how did you even find me?”

“Just followed the direction of ma pecker honey,” Elvis looked down at his crotch and then back at you with a goofy smile. “Somehow he just know’d where you’d be.”

“Ugh, my god, how do you ever get dates with lines like that?”

Elvis inhaled, deeply, and stood, striding toward you. “Most women find me charming.”

“I’m beginning to suspect most women are just hanging around waiting for you to empty your wallet,” you say, unable to stop your self from walking backwards into the laundry machine across from the couch as Elvis strode toward you.

Elvis’ hands on are on you, softly rolling his knuckles over the sides of your upper arms, leaning into your ear.

“You're right, baby, I ain’t ever had any skills seducing women…” his breath was on your neck, his hand following slowly, caressing the base of your neck, his mouth over your forehead, taking in the shallow sound of your inhale. “Like when I do this,” his other hand was at your waist. “Or this,” he kissed your forehead, “or this… “ his lips worked their way down along the side of your left eye toward your cheek, as he turned your chin up to meet his mouth. “I’m told it jus leaves em cold…” just before he kisses your mouth, you open your eyes and look up at him with serious, concerned eyes.

“I…. I… don’t … I’m not one of those women who expects money or diamonds or other gifts…that’s not my bag…”

“Ok, baby, I got it… no nice things…just sex…” he lifts you by the waist and sits you on top of the laundry machine, pushing his largesse between your legs.

“Elvis, I’m serious…and, I am NOT having sex with you tonight…”

“S’ok honey, I hate sex, it’d make me feel cheap and easy to have you take advantage of me like this….”

“Listen, I’m serious…”

“Me too …” his kisses on your neck become more fervent and insistent, while his right hand seems to have found its home fondling your left breast. You didn’t even realize your hands had moved up around his neck, gripping the back of his collar. You pull back.

“You have a girlfriend, though right?”

“You didn’t seem to care about the other night…”

“Yeah, well, that was a stupid, rash impulsive decision… with a planned expiration date… I didn’t think I’d see you again, or that you’d be coming here to my house, meeting my kid, going to my cousin’s work….”

Elvis paused, and took a deep breath, holding your eyes with his. “Listen, lil girl, there are probably ‘bout five or six chicks out there at any given time who would claim to be my girlfriend… but they know how it is…”

“And how is it?”

“I gotta be free to have fun….” An impish grin grew as he side this, as if bragging, and you couldn’t help but scowl playfully. “But, look … I’m having fun with you… an I want to keep havin’ fun wit ya… if I’m with a girl, she knows I’m not a one-woman guy…. And they’re ok with that… my intentions are honorable, and they know I’ll take care of 'em…. In my line of work, I’m gonna travel a lot, and they know I’m gonna meet people on the road…”

“Is that what I am? Some easy road gal?”

“Honey,” Elvis kissed the other side of your neck. “Ain’t nothin’ bout you easy… trust me…”

You push his chest out. “Ok, but what is this then?” Elvis’ hands move to rub up and down the top of your thighs and round over your knees, as your legs hanging off the top of the laundry machine on either side of his waist.

“Look, I like you, I can tell you like me… so let’s just have fun…” You gasp as his hands work their way under your dress to the elastic band of your underwear, his right hand palming the warm moisture wicking its way through the cotton cloth.

You moan out and bolt forward as his fingers probe further under the center strip of your panties, working their way under the fabric.

“Elvis, I can’t…” you moan out again as his forefinger slips over the pubic hair feathering your lower lips. “I don’t want anyone to hear us having sex, to know that I did this down here…”

“S’ok, honey, we’ll just be real quiet… no one will know…”

You bite your lip and grip his shoulder blade as you jerk forward when his index finger finds your clit, stifling a louder moan.

Elvis smiles on your nose, his forehead bending to meet yours, his breath is stilted. “Ya know, my bed room in Graceland is fully sound proofed…” his fingers move out to the top of your under wear, and pull them.

“I don’t know if I can let you do this here…”

“Now..” Elvis lowers himself on his haunches as he pulls your panties all the way off your feet. “Don’t be rude,” he kisses your inner thigh, first on the left side, “Rebecca,” then your right side, “Grace….” Then he flips the edge of your skirt up to reveal your bare waist, pulling your thighs forward so you’re sitting right at the edge of the laundry machine and he’s right at eye level with your pussy. He leans in to kiss the furry folds in front of him, and you throw your head back and a fervent desire takes over, all your concerns about where you are, what you are doing, what anyone might think, they all fade away, all that you care about is Elvis’ hands on your thighs, and the needy ache building up in your core. You gasp loudly, leaning on to your hands as they steady themselves against the cool, enamel of the laundry machine.

“There she is…” he whispers in awe, his fingers slowly parting your sheath, beginning to hum the melody of Amazing Grace “ how sweet the taste… that saved a wretch…” he leaned closer to lick the seam of your cunt, “like me….” He spread you further, sucking his thumb, eyes never leaving your quim, as he brings his slick thumb to rub your button, “ I once was lost…” Elvis moves his thumb to suck your clit with a pop, “but now am found…” and his thumb trails down to the silky, slick space right at your entrance, as his tongue takes over flicking your nub slowly, firmly, insistently, and you feel his humming start again intermittently as he lavs at your clit.

You cover your face as Elvis hums’ reverberate up into your belly. “I can't believe,” you moan into your palm ‘I’m doing this… I told myself I wouldn’t…” You shudder as a another lick tingles your core. “Do this….”

Elvis stops using his tongue on you, and you feel the vibrations of his voice resounding into you, “Now, sshhhh, shhh, what was that?” He brings his thumb over your clit, moving in a rhythmic circle as if coaxing a response, as he turns his ear to your vagina. You laugh and shiver at the sensation of his warm breath on your skin.

“What's that now?” He looks up at you as you run your hand through his black hair, a look of gleeful mischief on his face as he nods, as if listening to your pussy talk to him. “Ya been ignored the last few days?” His voice is now affecting an almost patronizing, babyish tenor. “‘Most days? Ooh uh huh…. don'tcha worry none, Daddy's here, he always takes care a his yittle girl…..”

You slap the side of his head playfully. “Oh my god…. quit playin…’”

He laughs, and returns his attention to your cunt, with a “There now, you heard her, no more playin’ round…time to get down to business…”

Each flutter of his tongue over your nub is more dastardly than the last, inducing a mantra of “oh gods” from you as you feel a burning ache spread through your lower body. Elvis inserts his fingers inside you, and his left hand holds you steady as you squirm with the intense shock waves of the pleasure coiling behind your belly button. Steadying yourself on the back control panel, you laugh when you accidentally hit the start button on the dryer and the machine starts to vibrate and heat up, and you use your hand on Elvis’ head to try and stop his machinations while you jostle to turn it off.

He looks up at you, wiping the mix of his salvia and slick off his mouth with a winsome, happy grin, “Is it me or am I makin’ the earth move?”

“Ha! It’s definitely you!” chuckling, you cup your hands around his face and draw him up to you, tasting your tangy flavor on his lips as you kiss him, giggling, nudging his nose with yours and relishing the sound of him releasing his belt, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop down. You cannot help but smile at the feeling of his warm, girthy length hitting your thigh. Elvis' hand goes to lead himself inside you, pausing to look at you.

“Goddammit Becky, yer so goddamn beautiful…” you nod and grunt out softly as he pushes inside of you, the breath hitching in your throat as you watch his pupils widen and his mouth contort into the shape of a diamond.

You begin to unbutton his shirt, shaking your head.

“Ahhh… I still can’t believe… I’m doing this… ugHH… I told myself… I would never see you again, and then tonight… I definitely promised myself…HAhhhh… this wouldn’t happen….” You toss his shirt of the floor, and he rolls your dress up, looking down to watch as he enters you again, keeping an easy pace, then looking you in the eyes.

“Oh god.. looOOrrrd … want me to stop?

“Nope,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around as much of his waist as you can manage, your hands are on his shoulders and you undulate your hips forward to meet his gentle, sensual thrusts.”Don’t you dare… it feels… uhhh.. even better…ffffuckkk ….than I remember..”

Elvis mouth tightens in an O and his eyes narrow with intensity. “Uhh… honey… I know.. oh God, Becky… I’ve been thinking of your snug lil mitten since ya slapped my goddamn face the other morning…an AHHHhhh … an ran out on me…”

His cock hits you an angle that sends a charged bolt of electricity through you every. Fucking. Time. And you shudder, gliding forward and holding back your moans as best you can, savoring the sensation with Every. Fucking. Thrust.

“Oh God… don't remind me I did that…” huff, “ though you did talk to me…” you grab him by the back of hs neck, “like a whore…ahhhh… and..” You huff “I wasn’t exactly overjoyed when I first saw you today…”

Elvis kissed your forehead, increasing his pace slightly, but still rocking back and forth casually into you as he spoke and groaned and huffed and moaned. “Yeah, and the way….uhhhh…. you ran off an ….ahhh oh baby…. an threw on this slutty lil dress…” he pulled your dress over your head with a smile and a wink, throwing it over his shoulder. “Ya…unnhhhh… ya really showed me how unwelcome I was….”

You both giggle as you look into each other’s eyes, now fully naked. You pull him closer into you, arms around him, hungrily seeking the warm flesh of his body smushed into yours. Your skin heats up, and your hips sync into a familiar, desperate tempo, and you’ve lost the composure to speak in full sentences. Instead, you communicate via the staccato sound of each other’s panting breath and groans. Elvis bellows out a loud grunt, looking at you with a intense desperation, his pace surging forward. The light is dim, and in the shadow of his body all you can see is the need in his eyes.

“Oh God, Becky, you feel so ga -ga -ga-goood…. So goddamn good….” Elvis pulls pack, and you unclasp your hands from his neck to lean back on your wrists for support, while he bends to suckle at your breast, his hands gripping your back, pushing your areola farther into his mouth. You spasm forward as his teeth grate your nipple, burying your face in his hairy shoulder to muffle your cries as you chase your climax and writhe around his cock when the tremors of your orgasm overwhelm you. Elvis' hands are cupping your face, clearing the damp hair from your forehead as you pant, his lips are now on your neck and he rolls his hips into you, riding you through it and swallowing your moans with his mouth.

“S’ok… you ok?”

“Mhmmm… oh my fucking god… ooh my god…”

Elvis laughs at that. “There’s that Twitch I was lookin’ for….uhhh” his breath hitches as his rhythm slows, but his thrusts become more powerful. “Uh…I just want to be inside of you forever honey… Baby I gotta have this always…” Now you chuckle, and then bite your lip as you flick his nipples and he shoots you a fierce look, raising his eyebrows as he pumps into you harder, while you whisper in his ear to give you everything he’s got and slap his ass. Twice.

“Huh, you sure you can take it? ” He grins, and you nod, thrusting up to meet his hips and his movements become erratic and he holds your chin. “Ok, I’ll give it ya…. Oh baby… Imma give you everything… fuck…Here he goes… Ohhhhh lord almighty FUCKKKKK” you feel his cock throbbing up into you as he pulls your hips down on to him several time, then stops, twitching. Elvis stills completely and he pulls you as close into him as he possible can, kissing your shoulder. Sweat trickles down his brow and nose, and you wipe his face with your hand, then he kisses the top of your head and rests his chin there.

“Fucking hallelujah and amen….” Elvis mutters, his fingers circling your back, and you lean onto his chest, turning your ear toward the swift beating of his heart, gripping your arms around him as tight as possible. You stay intertwined in each other like this for a another minute, then he shifts his head off of you and you feel him pull out followed by the release of cum that trickles down your thigh. Elvis steps out of his pants, looks at you sheepishly, and then grabs you by your buttocks and lifts you giggling and kissing his face over to the bed.

"Jus so you know, yittle Elvis must really like you… he doesn’t never finish inside just anyone… that’s how much he trusts you… that’s how much…” Elvis kisses your lips as he throws you on the bed with a laugh. “How much he respects ya….”

“Hmm… ooh to be filled with his spunk…what an honor indeed…” you giggle.

“Oh, ya think this is some sort of joke, huh? I’m naked, bearing you ma soul, an ya laugh?” Elvis grins, hovering over you and tickling you as you giggle more, until you swat him several times and eck out that you do not want to wake the household.

He stops, pulling up the covers. “Probably too late for that honey, you were moanin’ up a storm…. Les just hope they think another tornado was passing through….”

Covers pulled back, you lay in an naked embrace, murmuring to each other as your fingers haphazardly trail over his chest and down his stomach. You nuzzle into his armpit and he kisses your head. You hum some of that song from Robin Hood while he strokes your belly.

“I’m crazy about you, kid. Come back ta Memphis with me tomarra, you can bring ya baby, ain’t no thing, Lisa Marie is coming next week, they can run each other ragged round the place… we can run each ragged round the place…” he grinned.

“I can’t, Elvis… I’m dropping Ruth off at summer camp Sunday… she’ll be gone for three weeks….”

“Well, thas perfect, Jerry an I can take y’all, then you come back to Graceland and I’ll show you what its like to make love with sound proof walls…” he smirked, finality in his voice.

“Mhmmm… I can’t leave the store, it wouldn’t be fair.. to Harriet… to my aunt and uncle…”

Elvis grunted. “Hmmm…. Well, don’t make up yer mind right this second… think on it …” he cooed, rubbing your shoulder, then jumped up and walked to his jacket, you see him rummage around in his pocket, and pull out some loose junk, then pick out a few pills, swallowing them down dry. You raise your eye brow, but say nothing, as he walks back, trundles onto the bed, and you fall asleep there in his arms, completely naked.

It’s 6 a.m. when you wake with a jolt to feel his embrace tight around you, his snores warm the top of your hair, and you smile, wanting to stay like this as long as you can, but you think of Ruth waking up alone and seeing you come out of the basement in your dress from the night before. So you move his arm, sneak up the stairs, and shower, before dressing for the day, and sitting at your vanity to make a list of everything you have to do that day to get Ruth ready for summer camp. There is no way you’re letting Elvis drive you to drop her off, no way you are going to Memphis. But you smile, thinking of the previous night’s activities.

————————————————

When Elvis stumbles up the basement stairs, it’s noon, and he finds Jerry in the breakfast nook next to the kitchen talking to Ida, a fresh pot of coffee brewed. Jerry jumps up to get Elvis a cup, but Ida waves him off, and moves Elvis to another chair, before proceeding to mother the two men as if they were her children. You walk into the kitchen to find Elvis smiling while Ida brings a second plate of freshly fried challah French toast, regaling him and Jerry with embarrassing stories about you as a teenager.

“Oh, well Rebecca was definitely the only creative one in a family of left brain types, you know, she always loved being outside, she was a counselor at Camp Jacobs, all the kids were, actually… but Becky, oy, she’s such a talented artist - music, drawing, sewing, she made those dungarees she’s wearing, you know. Her talents are really wasted managing the shop.”

“I like working at your hardware store just fine, tante…”

Elvis raises an eyebrow your way, taking in your flower-patterned overalls as he learns that your mother, father, and older siblings are all lawyers.

“Except Deborah, she’s a judge now, up in Memphis actually.” Ida adds.

You change the subject, asking the men what their plans are, as Ida does the dishes. Jerry and Elvis look at each other. Elvis had promised he would do an interview with Danny at his radio station that afternoon, and Ida interrupts to see if they plan to stay another night, inviting them to have dinner with just the family if they want to. Elvis catches your eye, as he stutters, thinking of his invitation to go out. Just as he starts to say that maybe he and Becky might go somewhere, Ruth runs into the kitchen, excited to hear that Elvis is staying and asking where he’s talking you all that night.

“Ok, I’m gonna cook dinner here,” you announce, “and then maybe we can go out for ice cream? I don’t know, though, I feel like if we go anywhere with you, you’ll get mobbed and then—”

“How will we get our ice cream?” Ruth adds earnestly.

“Well, Jerrah here is an expert at scouting out good ice cream parlors, maybe he can find one for use to go to?” Elvis grins, looking over at Jerry.

Ruth does a little dance as she says, “Yay!” then hops from leg to leg. “So, I have a joke…. Where does a fish keep his money?”

Elvis cracks a smile as he looks over at where you stand, leaning in the door frame between the kitchen and the breakfast nook. “I don’t know, kid, where?”

You turn to finish putting the last few things in Ruth’s suitcase, her voice squealing out “In the river BANK!” behind you, and you hear laughs echoing through the house. You chuckle to yourself as you hear Ruth continue to recite corny jokes to the boys.

Prepping your specialty, Southern fried tofu while you listen to Danny’s interview with Elvis at 5 p.m., you watch the men exchange shrewd expressions when they return from the station and Ruth explains to them that you’re a vegetarian, and all the reasons why, before cajoling them to come hula hoop with her.

Elvis pushes Jerry to go with her, with a promise to join in a second, then he is behind you as you sauté collard greens, leaning into your neck whispering, “Hmm… vegetarian, huh? Seemed to have no problem putting ma meat in your mouth the other day…” and you roll you eyes with a soft “Ha ha ha…” unable to resist the warm comfort of his body, and you wiggle your butt into him, turning your head to kiss his cheek, as he stays there, pushing his mouth into your neck while you cook.

You don’t notice, but Ida comes by the kitchen, and stops for a moment to watch the two of you sway and mumble to each other in an embrace over the stove, walking away with a radiant smile to go check on Saul, who’s been doing some work on the front yard.

Elvis, Ruth and Jerry go out back and pick flowers for you while you put the finishing touches on dinner, and you light up with delight when Ruth brings them over, announcing “these are for you Becky Butt.” You scowl at Elvis every time she uses that nick name, and you hit him with a laugh when he pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone to tell you how much he liked dinner before you and Ida start clearing the table.

“Really? You liked the fried tofu?”

He holds you on his knee, eyes alight. “Baby, that was the best damn appetizer I ever had. Ready for the main course.” He wiggled his eye brows at Ruth. “You’re not full, are ya lil britches?”

Ruth’s mouth turns into a wide, enthusiastic smile, “Can we have ice cream as the main course?”

“The country fried tofu and greens was the main course, baby, don’t listen to this man…I’m not sure he earned his dessert… only good lil boys who have good lil manners get ice cream.” You pull his arm off you and finish clearing the table.

Saul is at the sink, doing the dishes, and Ida pushes you out of the kitchen, telling “You kids go out and get your ice cream already.” You go kiss her cheek, scoffing that Elvis and Jerry are far from kids.

The air inside the empty Baskin Robbins is a cool salve to the hot Jackson night. You don’t know how, money you assume, but Jerry arranged for the shop to stay open past their 7 pm closing time. The four of you are the only customers, and you pinch Elvis’ shoulder as you get up to go use the bathroom, telling them to order you a scoop of butter pecan. Ruth announces that she can’t decide, so Elvis looks at Jerry, and, winking at Ruth, instructs the server to bring the table a scoop of every flavor, on one big plate. Ruth’s eyes get huge and she bangs the table.

“My mom is gonna flip her lid when she sees what you ordered!”

Elvis slaps the table. “Oh no, ya think so? Quick, call that girl back here so we kin cancel our order…” and he chuckles as Ruth shakes her head no. “Ok, then, don’t you worry bout your mama… now Ruth, what’s the story with your daddy?” Elvis starts tapping his fingers along the top of the table.

Now it’s Ruth’s turn to wiggle her eye brows, and she folds her arms on the table. “Oh him? My daddy is a lawyer, he lives in Birmingham with his wife Jean, and according to my mom, ‘he’s a bastard and I don’t know why I ever liked him,’… at least that’s what she says when she doesn’t know I’m listening…”

Jerry looks down, shaking his head, as Elvis belts out another belly laugh. Jerry was starting to like Becky and he shuddered as he realized the different permutations this relationship could take as he watched Elvis use Ruth to get the skinny on her mom’s love life, asking whether Becky had boyfriends, and learning about her past serious relationships. He hopes that when they leave tomorrow, Elvis would get back to Memphis and Becky would be out of his system. Otherwise, knowing how his boss could get fixated on a woman impulsively, he saw a tumultuous month or so of Elvis having him drive them back and forth between Memphis and Jackson. Maybe even trying to get Becky a house in Memphis, or buying her a house in Jackson so he can control how the relationship worked out. He didn’t see Becky going for that, and hoped she might tell Elvis to take a hike. But as Jerry watched her stroll back to the table, an irrepressible look of delight and happiness in her eyes, he realized it was unlikely, and worried how she would try to make what ever fling this was going to turn out to be work long distance through tours and other girl friends, as Elvis dragged Becky and her kid and her sweet normal family into his chaos. It was then, as Becky cried out with shocked surprise when the server put down four bowls with 31 scoops of ice cream, that Jerry started thinking of ways to get Elvis to dump her.

————————————————

It is 8 a.m., but the Mississippi sun was up early, and the frame of Elvis yellow Cadillac is already hot to the touch as you open the back door, only to have Elvis slap the white leather of the front seat and cluck for you to get your butt next to him. You look at Jerry with pity as he lugs Ruth’s suitcase to the trunk, and Ida and Saul are giving your daughter a succession of tight hugs, then walking her out to the back seat.

“Have a safe drive,” Ida’s hand rubs your arm over the window frame. Elvis jumps out of the driver’s seat, and walks around to give your aunt and uncle a big hug, and you notice that Ida whispers something in his ear.

You lecture Elvis on how the drop off will go at Camp Jacobs, instructing him not to get out of the car, not to take off his sunglasses or start making a spectacle of himself for the staff or other families dropping their children off, you know a lot of these people, you and your family grew up going to this camp every summer, and you are only letting him do this so you can spend an extra few hours together, before he drops you in Jackson and heads back to Memphis. Ruth asks the guys what their favorite cartoons are, what their favorite television shows and movies are, and whether they plan to see Jaws, she thinks it looks scary, but she’s not a fraidy cat. You make a withering face just to Elvis as she says this, and you notice that Ruth is completely unperturbed by the fact that Elvis has his arm around you while he hums along to the songs on the radio, then explains to Ruth how the problem with cartoons are that they are on Saturday mornings, and he wishes there were more Saturday night cartoons, so he could watch them with his daughter.

“That’s why I just get copies of all the cartoon films I can … y’all will have ta come up to Graceland sometime, we can watch Robin Hood, Peter Pan, Lady and the Tramp, I got ‘em all…” you jab Elvis in the ribs as he says this, a warning shot, because it is so uncool to make plans with Ruth for the future, when you haven’t even discussed the next step with him yourself.

The sign over the wrought iron arches of Camp Jacobs greets you as Elvis pulls up, and the staff at the gate squint at him with a furrowed brow and puzzled recognition as you lean across his lap and give them Ruth’s name and cabin group. Your breasts graze the top of Elvis’ thighs, and you feel him push his legs up into them with an innocent look on his face as you settle back in your side of the front seat. At Ruth’s cabin, Elvis, to no one’s surprise, does not keep a low profile. He jumps out, swaggers to the trunk, gets Ruth’s suit case, as he introduces himself to every counselor and parent in sight, before a sizable throng have gathered around, and you hear Ruth telling people that Elvis is her mom’s boyfriend. You steady yourself as you bend to kiss her and hug her and kiss her again, Jerry gives her a high five, and Elvis bends down, gives her a hug, and then tells her to have a good summer.

“Give em hell, lil’ britches.” He kisses Ruth on the cheek, and she giggles, kissing him back, whispering a shy thanks in his ear for all the ice cream and reminding him that she still can’t decide which flavor is her favorite, so they might have to order all 31 scoops again next time. He laughs loudly, and you have to pull him away from the campers after a good 30 minutes posing for photos with anyone in her cabin and the adjourning one who had a camera handy loaded with film.

————————————————

Cat Stevens voice sings at you from the Cadillac’s speakers as you drive back to the highway, Elvis' hand is on you again in the car, it's just Jerry in the back seat now, and so E makes no attempt to hide the intimate way his fingers caress your inner thigh. Relaxed, tired and in a daze from another late night showing lil’ Elvis your version of Southern hospitality, and also, the whirlwind of the weekend, you lean into Elvis arm as it crosses in front of your breasts, and lay your head on his shoulder. You wake up, rubbing your eyes, realizing you dozed off, and then sitting straight up with a jolt when you see the signs for the US-61.

“Elvis!” You shout, “Elvis, this is not the way back to Jackson.”

He hums softly. “I know honey, s’cuz we ain’t goin’ back to Jacktown.”

“Elvis, turn around, turn around, I can’t go with you to Memphis. My aunt and uncle will worry.”

Elvis rubs your shoulder. “Honey, they’re the ones who packed your bag…I’m sorry Twitch, you done been kidnapped.”

You shriek up to the roof of the car, and slap his arm, hard, which only works to provoke more chuckles as you rant. “Of all the arrogant, bullshit, fucking entitled, rock star, fucking cocksucking mother fucking unbelievable stunts——"

READ CHAPTER FOUR HERE

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