#Mississippi Walking Trail

[clairity-org]

Nicollet Island Silver Railroad Bridge, Minneapolis 7/29/23 by Sharon Mollerus

[lenaluvbot]

First time for everything

warnings!: (smut/degration kink/praise kink/hair pulling kink/choking kink/dom sub underlines/domination kink)

smut underneath the cut

It was strange.

Orm knew he’d have to stay low til people believed her was dead like his brother told him, but that do mean he actually wanted too?

The first green flag he got he practically ran (his new favorite thing to do) his way to the city called the quote “big apple”

He had never gone away from the ocean unless absolutely necessary. Yet here he was walking awkwardly amongst a group of people when he felt a tap on his back.

“Are you okay sir?”

You had to ask! He was walking as if he’d been shot in the ass.

“Yes..Perfectly fine- But i have a question miss..Where’s this self proclaimed big apple?”

You burst out laughing.

“Self proclaimed big apple?”

“Isn’t this the right place? i’ve been here for days yet no big apple.”

Holy shit! he was seriously saying that!

“You know that’s just a saying right? This isn’t an apple?”

“I wouldn’t know, i’m not from here” Shit. God he couldn’t keep anything to himself.

“Oh really? Where you from pretty boy?”

“Out of town, reallyyy far south like really far i doubt you’ll know where”.

“Mississippi?”

“Uh sure something like that.” He smirked, this was the longest he’d talked to a surface dweller. Let alone the fact it was a woman. A hot woman at that. Shit he hadn’t spoke in a good thirty seconds and now she was staring awkwardly.

“I um have to go but here’s my number, incase you want to actually tell me where you’re from.” You gave him your cell number and smiled as you walked away. If it wasn’t for your scheduled dinner you would’ve continued talking to the mysterious man, even though you sub conscious was telling you to run.

Damn you and being attracted to hot guys.

He continued his walk with a satisfied smirk, was it really this easy to attract women on the surface?

He continued his quest to find said apple but grew bored as he checked into a on surface hotel. He eventually dialed your number into his hotel phone (since he didn’t have a actual one yet)

“Hello?”

“It’s me the guy who was trying to find the apple earlier”

“Oh..Hey, call me to finally say where your from?”

“Something of the sorts, you should come over so we can discuss it.” He smirked looking down at the bed.

“Sure, i’ll be over in a few.”

Like you said you arrived at the hotel with a shirt that made your breasts practically pop out the shirt, pushy? yes. sultry? yes. but he had already called you over so it was obviously worth it.

“You loook…Great.” He grinned at you.

“Thank you.” Your were practically begging to climb the guy down.

“Come in come in.” He ushered you in with his arm, his hand on your back and trailing lower..Giving you a gentle squeeze. You sat on the bed with a little distance.

“Come on, i’m not gonna bite.”

“I know i’ve just never done this before, like going to see a guy at a mysterious hotel, if you weren’t hot i truthfully wouldn’t have even came over.”

“In all truthfulness, i haven’t either.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m far from a liar.”

“I doubt a guy like you has never gone to a hotel to meet up with someone.”

“A guy like me hasn’t even been to the surface before”

Surface? What the hell was he talking about?

“Surface? Okay you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Look between you and me, i’m not from around here. I’m from some place a little further south, And i’m here lie down for a little and just learn a few new things..” His hand slid up your thigh “If you’re willing to teach me.”

“Teach you?…Have you never had sex where you from?”

“Something like that.”

“Well i’m down to teach you as long as you finish telling where your from first.” You smirked, a deal for a deal.

“I’m from atlantis. That city in the water? Yeah that’s me. But i kinda got kicked out momentarily.”

“So are you like the king or something?”

“Well kinda-“

“Because that’s really hot.”

Oh.

He had to continue the lie now.

“Yes i’m a king. A king who’s never been with a human, one with your beauty at that.”

He kissed you and slid a hand up your shirt and squeezed your breast, your already hard nipples being squeezed made you practically squeal.

“Oh? Humans can do that?” He grinned and grabbed your other breast making you practically moan so loud even the orca whales could hear you from here.

He grabbed your legs and flipped you over his lap so now you were straddling his lap..then he stopped.

“What’s that for?”

“Well underwater we usually do it differently so-“

“Oh..Well humans do it a little differently, want me to guide you?”

“Please yes.”

You kissed him and pushed him back into the bed, un buttoning his belt as you unzipped his jeans. Precum leaking through the base of his undergarments.

You took out his cock and palmed it, already hard he let out soft whimpering from the feeling. “Keep going.”

“Hm?”

“Please keep going..”

“You going to good just let go..release in my hand come on- no pun intended.”

Almost on command he came in your hand as you slowly let yourself onto him. And god his size truly changed from palming it to now feeling it inside you.

“Now you just have to move you hips and i’ll do the rest-“

He grinded “Alright then…” He moved his hips slowly and started to make you bounce on him, you let out soft moans as you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I get it now.”

He flipped you over onto your back as your ankles were now on his shoulders as you thrusted into you hard.

“You know underwater- The current gives so much movement it’s hard to honestly get a good rhythm but here! God! It’s great! And humans truly are much more flexible-“ He grabbed your leg and pushed it over your head

“Just amazing.” He knew exactly what he was doing. Pushing his luck.

He knew humans weren’t as durable as atlanteans. But god it was fun. Watching his seamen fall out of your cunt.

He chuckled as you reached another orgasm. Calling out his name as you had never felt someone practically break through you before yet here he was. His first time ever feeling the warmth humans had to offer and he was making you throw your head back as another orgasm made way.

“Fuck-k orm please don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, you know what i was planning on? Settling down with you..Maybe making a baby? You want me to fill you up and make a half breed baby? I can imagine it. You just full of my royal seed.”

His own words made him cum (again) as he thrusted into you. His cum leaking out as a trail as he pulled out.

“Thank you,for showing me the way of humans…It’s truly amazing.”

Hopefully plan B still worked when it came too atlantean seed.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 83

Part 1 Part 82

“He doesn’t want me to see,” Steve says. Will’s getting tired all the answers Steve gives that are really just questions. “There’s a spot that I can’t see.”

He’s staring at Dr Owens, has only looked at the man since he’d walked into Steve’s hospital room, and corralled them all out like ducks in a line into an unfamiliar conference room to discuss how a seventeen-year-old boy could possibly know how to stop a monster from a different dimension. 

Chief Hopper had trailed in after them, still attached to an oxygen machine pumping up into his nose by little wires Will remembers the feel of from his own stint in the hospital. He looks tired, but upright and alive. He’d patted Will and Eddie’s backs on his way past – a hard smack that made Will cough out a little laugh, relieved to see him strong and broad backed and alive. 

Steve doesn’t look his way at all. He’s too busy staring at Dr. Owens, blinking that same metronome blink. Will wishes he had a watch so he could confirm that it’s every ten seconds. He’d tried to count in his head, but it’s hard to say it at the right tempo, even with the mississippi’s.

“See what, buddy?” Dr. Owens asks. Buddy now instead of friend. Still, no Harrington, or Steve. Will wonders if there’s something he knows that Will doesn’t. If they’d taken a DNA test with all those scans and found there was nothing of Steve left at all.

Steve blinks, pauses, blinks. He’s one of those dolls like Holly has, where you lean them back and they blink in a pantomime of life that never quite reaches anywhere else. Blink if you’re alive. Blink Blink. Blink.

“I don’t know,” he says, finally. Dispassionately. “But it must be important. Right?”

Uncle Wayne and Mom trade looks Will can’t read. Dr. Owens just keeps smiling. “Of course, young man.” Smile. Blink. Smile. Prove you're alive. “Can you point to the spot on the map?” Like he’s a general in a war movie, Dr. Owens gestures to the map spread across the entirety of the wide-conference table magnanimously. 

Steve blinks down at the map as everyone looks at him with bated breath and bitten off words. He looks and looks, eyes roving, before he raises his hand and points, finger raised and straight. It’s not at the map, but toward the corner of the room. As one, everyone turns to look that way.

Like everywhere else in the lab, the walls are white plaster. The tile of the floor is white and clean. There’s nothing there; no shadows or smoke, or hidden clues. There’s not even a cobweb or a smudge of dirt. 

“Kid,” Chief Hopper sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. It pinches into the wires trailing into his nostrils, and the machine makes a whirring complaint until he drops the hand.

“It’s that way,” Steve says. “The spot I can’t see.”

The scientists are all clamoring, room crescendoing into pandemonium except for Dr. Owens who is still smiling, and Steve who is still blinking. Will reaches out to latch his hand onto Eddie’s wrist. In turn, Eddie takes a step closer to him. Will shivers as the body heat hits him.

The lab’s always so cold.

“How do you know?” He says it in his usual even tone, but Dr. Owens' question cuts through the clamor like a sword through its gut. 

“It’s that way,” Steve repeats. “I can feel it, like with…” he gestures to Chief Hopper, eyes blank as he finally turns away from Dr. Owens to look at the Chief’s face, squinting like he’s trying to pull the name from his mind. 

Dr. Owens is still smiling when he kicks Eddie, Will, and Steve out of the room to wait in the hallway like recalcitrant students outside the principal’s office. Steve went without complaint, but Eddie had started to kick up a fuss. But Wayne had muttered out a tired, “boy,” just threatening enough to make Eddie stop his griping and meet his eyes. Something had passed between them, and then Eddie had huffed out of the room, pulling Will along by the grip he’d yet to drop from Eddie’s wrist.

Now, they stand, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, facing the closed door, listening to the raised voices drifting from the room. They come in and out of legibility, little snippets of a conversation about them that they’re no longer allowed to be a part of. 

“–not going!” his Mom’s voice cuts through, before petering back out. “–my son!” Will wonders if they’re arguing about him or Steve. With his Mom, it could go either way. 

Dr. Owens’ response can’t be heard at all, but Wayne’s cuts through, gruff and commanding and loud. “–go with them.” His voice raises slightly on the end, cutting off the clamor of unnamed scientists trying to cut him off. Will jumps at the unexpected volume. He’s never even heard Wayne raise his voice. It's a shock to the system. “They’re my boys.”

Eddie laughs, and when Will turns to look up at him, his eyes are twinkling, even here, at the end of things.” Old man’s always been a secret softie.”

Something warm and filling sinks into Will’s stomach, like the chicken noodle soup his Mom always makes when he’s sick. Like family. Will smiles. 

It’s too quiet in the room to hear much more than the gentle murmur of voices intermingling. Will isn’t concerned; whatever happens, Uncle Wayne will be there. It’ll be okay. 

The grim faces when the door opens, and everyone comes pouring out shakes that resolve. His Mom crouches down in front of him, taking his shoulders, and looking up into his face.

“You don’t have to go,” she says quietly, talking louder when the closest scientist scoffs. “No matter what anyone says!” She pauses to glare at the man until he huffily looks away.

“Go where?” Will asks when she meets his eyes again.

She’s biting her lip the way she always does when she’s trying to find the best words to use, but Uncle Wayne cuts in before she finds them.

“Going to where he wants us to,” he says, tipping his head toward where Steve’s still standing by Eddie’s side. “You’re going to get the lay o’ the land if he gets sucked back inta his noggin again.”

“If you want to!” his Mom bites out, eyes wide, hands squeezing.

Will looks past both adults to Eddie. He’s looking down at Will with the same resolve Will can feel burning in his own eyes. They’d both follow Steve everywhere. They always have.

“I’m going,” Will says, turning back to catch the way his Mom closes her eyes, pained. Resigned. “He needs me, Mom.”

She grimaces, but still says, “I know, sweetie,” and stands up to join the procession making their way down the hall.

They’re corralled by soldiers, armed and armored in a way no one bothers with any of the civilians in the group. Steve’s still in his basketball shorts. Will and Eddie are in jeans, with his Mom in her house sweatpants. The contrast would be comical if it didn’t leave him itching with vulnerability.

The vans they slide into don’t help matters. They’re reminiscent of the types of vans he’s seen on TV shows, where the army is bunkered in and off to war. Will’s not sure the metaphor holds true, though because the enemy is inside the van with them, looking out the windshield with that same blank expression.

And the enemy has his friend’s eyes, and face, and voice, and hair. It has all of him.

They’re going to get him back.

Even if the driver is currently following Steve’s pointing finger down the road. Toward certain doom.

It makes for a bumpy ride, when the finger turns on a dime, no words used to prompt a left or a right, only to end up right back where they started.

The grass is still flattened on the ground where Steve had writhed. The holes still dug and abandoned.

“Is this some sort of joke?” one of the soldier’s demands, spinning on Steve with his gun half-raised from its former parade rest.

Wayne shoves the gun down, hard until it’s pointing at the floor of the van. It’s this moment that Will notices that Chief Hopper didn’t come with them. There’s no man with a badge and a gun to buffer the situation. No strong and solid back to stand in front.

Steve just keeps pointing until Eddie asks, “we need to go in there?”

He nods, getting up and leading the way. Everyone follows him down into the earth.

Sound moves weirdly underground. Will hadn’t known that before, but he does now because the quiet voices pad against the dirt, get diluted like they’re getting sucked up and out. Their shuffling footsteps are similarly muffled, barely audible as the dirt sucks them dry.

Steve’s voice is loud and clear when he finally speaks. “Straight ahead.” He’s still pointing like he’s forgotten how to stop. The soldiers shuffle past him, guns out, firepower ready.

But Steve’s just stopped, stalled out there in the dirt, bringing all the other members of the party into a standstill with him.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks. The men with their guns continue on, uncaring of the small dramas they leave behind. Will’s glad to watch them go. “Are we not going?”

He lowers his finger, jerky like he’s straining against something Will can’t see. Still, he just looks straight ahead, voice echoing into the caverns of the underground as he says, “I’m sorry.” Will stares at the back of Steve’s head, hair somehow still perfectly coiffed after his time on the ground, in the hospital, outside of himself. “He made me do it.”

Ice sinks into him. It sinks and sinks until it feels like Will’s floating, barely there as his Mom asks, “what, sweetie?”

She doesn’t get it, somehow. Even as Wayne says, “you didn’t,” voice ragged. Even as Eddie sobs, looking past Steve and toward the distant sounds of boots stomping, the even more distant sound of dissonant growls.

“I told you, they upset him,” Steve says. Still quiet. Still echoing.

“Steve, no,” Eddie says, voice breaking as he reaches out, fingers brushing a line of heat against Steve’s forearm.

That gets him to turn around. Eyes dull, gaze distant. Blink. Blink. Blink. “It’s too late. We have to go.”

He starts walking away as the growls grow louder. Eddie stands, staring at the empty mouth of the cave, clutching his hair hard enough to rip a clump out as he pulls. “What did you do?” he whispers. “Shit, shit!”

But he turns and runs, Wayne and his Mom, and Will catching up to Steve, then overpassing him, all heading up and out.

Will trips when Eddie stops, turns. He looks back. Like Orpheus looking for Eurydice, Eddie was always going to look back. Will turns with him.

Steve’s just standing, staring out at them, something almost alive within him. Almost.

“You should go.” He’s scratching at his arms, like he’ll be able to peel away all the bits that aren’t him and reemerge, just Steve. But even as he tries to get them to go, to leave him to die, his eyes are vacant and blinking. Blink. Blink. Blink. Prove you’re alive in there, Steve.

“They’re almost here.”

The growls are reverberating off the dirt walls now, made strange and echoing under all that grave dirt. He wants to run until his legs give out, leave this place behind for good. But Eddie’s still down there. And Steve’s not coming.

Steve. What would Steve do? He’d make the sacrifice play. He’d stand firm and tall in front of any monster and the ones he loved. He always had. But Steve’s slipping away. 

So, he’ll have to do it. He can learn to make his shoulders broad and strong, be the action hero, make the sacrifice play. 

Will takes a step forward, ready to be sword and shield. For Steve. 

Eddie’s begging, pleas for Steve to come, for Steve to stay with them, on ears that can no longer hear him. “Angel, please,” he begs, reaching out to cup Steve’s cheek, even as it reddens and blisters.

Steve doesn’t answer. Death’s knocking at the door in the sounds of bullets plowing into bodies and a mud. Of growls and snarling unlike anything Will’s ever heard before.

It’s not a Demogorgon coming for them, but it sounds just as wrong, and just as hungry.

Mom and Uncle Wayne come back because of course they do. Mom looks frantic, hands flickering with the need to help. Wayne looks steady. Resolved.

“We don’t got time for this,” he says. The betrayal hits quick and hard as Will realizes they’re going to leave Steve down there. Wayne’s going to restrain Eddie, and his Mom’s going to scoop Will up, and they’re going to leave Steve to the wolves.

It's cut short when Wayne scoops Steve up like a stack of potatoes. He struggles, kicking and scratching and screaming until Wayne holds his legs down to stop the kicking.

“Get with it, Eddie,” Wayne growls, pushing his face down into Steve’s hip to hide it from his seeking claws.

Eddie, still weeping, steps up to clutch his wrists together, hard enough that it’d hurt if Steve could feel anything at all.

They hobble up and out, a make-shift rag-tag group of adventurers, not okay, but alive. Will hangs onto that conviction even as the screams kick up a pitch. Even as Wayne and his Mom hogtie Steve with all the seatbelts that can reach, ignoring the red the blisters everywhere they touch. Ignoring their wailing requests to make him stay.

Eddie sobs, loud and openly from the front seat, twisting wires together until they spark, and the engine ignites. Eddie peels out of the parking lot with a whistle that almost drowns out the last dying screams of the soldier’s the thing inside Steve had led to their doom.

They’ll all make it out of this. They have to.

Part 84

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[aheathen-conceivably]

In the first weeks of 1930, a slow passenger train rode through the desert hills of New Mexico. It had begun its journey in the city of New Orleans before heading north alongside the snaking brown waters of the Mississippi River.

From there it had stopped in St. Louis, Missouri before it turned back south, following old pioneer trails as it cut through the American Southwest on the way to its final destination in Los Angeles, California.

In one of the cars, the light, determined click of a woman's heels fell in line with the rhythm of the rails below her feet. The sound had defined her life for weeks, yet she found it just as droning now as the day she had first boarded the train. She made her way from her own cabin, where her niece and brother were spending the final hour of their journey, to the room where her soon to be sister-in-law was readying herself. 

As she approached the door a rail attendant appeared in the car to alert the passengers, “Next stop Strangerville, New Mexico! All passengers ready your luggage! I repeat all passengers ready your luggage!”

Josephine increased her pace and rapped loudly on the door, wanting to ensure that her arrival could be heard above the railway attendant's call in the next car. A small voice told her to enter, barely audible alongside the thundering sound from below.

Josephine entered Zelda and Antoine's suite, which was larger than the one she had shared with Violette during the journey. Half smoked cigarettes and thrice-read books clattered against opulently carved woodwork bolted to the walls. Amidst it all stood Zelda in a white silk wedding dress, preoccupied with her reflection as she pinned a final curl in a perfect curve.

For a moment Josephine forgot the rail’s droning sound or the conductor’s hurried call, “Zelda, you….you look marvelous.”

Zelda turned briefly to acknowledge Jo’s presence, self consciously smoothing down the silk of her dress before she turned back to the mirror to fiddle with the clasp of her pearls, “Do I, truly? I’m afraid it’s quite old fashioned now, isn’t it? I suppose I should have gotten something new rather than just dyeing this old dress…”

Josephine walked over to her, taking the pearls from her shaking hands. As the car rattled on, she couldn’t tell if it was from the constant movement or her friend’s nerves. She spoke to her as she fastened the necklace, “It’s perfect, ma sœur, absolutely perfect. Are you ready? It’s time to put the luggage near the door; we’re the next stop.”

When Zelda didn’t answer Josephine turned her around, softening her face and her voice, “Zelda, you can talk to me, if you need to. Whatever it is. If you aren’t ready I’ll speak with Antoine. Whatever you need.”

Zelda looked at her curiously before an immense happiness overtook her face. She grabbed Josephine’s hands and smiled, “Jo, I’m only nervous because I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. I’ve waited so long; we’ve waiting so long, it simply feels surreal. Like it’s impossible to feel so much happiness all at once without something going wrong.”

Josephine’s heart soared for her, and then sank as she realized that Zelda had learned to expect misfortune so much that she couldn’t even truly give herself over to excitement in that moment. “Zelda, everything will be wonderful, I promise you. You’ve been through enough, okay? Both of you. Today will be perfect.”

(A very special thank you to @simtleman for creating this gorgeous train build and then sharing it with me as well as all the CC creators you used to make it so stunning ♥️)

[bullet-prooflove]

Ruin - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @rubes2323 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @samanthaofanarchy @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros

Chibs hasn’t laid eyes on you since Juice let slip that he’s returning to Ireland at the end of the month. You don’t call, you don’t text, and you don’t show up at his place. Any business you undertake seems to be at your office as opposed to the Clubhouse or Teller Morrow. He figures it’ll work itself out, that you’re just busy but by the time he’s packing the night before his plane journey, he realises that it’s almost been a fortnight and he misses you fiercely. He wants to tell you that he’s going to see Kerrianne, to explain that although he cares about her mother, the two of them can’t be together, that they need to move on with their lives, because they’re running in separate directions.

Fiona thinks it’s for the best, the two of them putting up a united front, she thinks his presence will reinforce the fact that Kerrianne is still a priority despite the fact that when he returns to the US, the two of them will be seeking a divorce. He’s not the only one that needs the freedom. After everything that happened with Jimmy, Fiona doesn’t want to be tied to another man, even if he is absent.

He's the one to break the stalemate. He goes to your place only to find you’re not in. Your car is in the driveway but there’s no sign of life in the house. He decides to take a seat on your porch and wait. He’s about to pull his phone out and text you when the taxi pulls up. He climbs to his feet as you exit, you slip a twenty to the driver and telling him to keep the change before you close the door behind you.

When you turn to face him, he’s so fucking shocked he can’t speak. You look radiant, he feels like he’s staring into the face of God and he wants to get down onto his fucking knees and pray. Your hair is loose, falling over one side of your face before you push it back behind your ear. Those eyes of yours, the ones he’s spent hours staring into, are highlighted with kohl, bringing out the depth and colour. Your skin looks flawless, a healthy glow exuding from your features. Then there’s the lipstick, a bold, vivid red, one that reminds him of the marks you left upon his skin not to long ago, he remembers the morning after, his fingertips tracing over each of the kisses, where you’d claimed him as your own.

It's witchcraft, he thinks as his eyes slip down to the dress that resides underneath the cream-coloured coat. How a dress seems to bring out a completely different side of you.

It’s a black off the shoulder piece that seems to shimmer when you walk because of the thousands of tiny sequins sewn into the fabric. The material clings to your form accentuating every single one of your assets.

You would be the ruin of any man, you’re certainly the ruin of this one. He imagines his fingers trailing along your skin as he unzips it, the fabric slipping away from your skin as his lips trace over the curve of your shoulder.

Wars could be waged over a woman like you. Charming’s very own Helen of Troy.

There’s a fierce sense of pride in his chest because this siren with her intelligence, her ferociousness and her cunning is all his. Out of everyone you’ve chosen him.

“Darlin,” he breathes as he steps towards you. “You look fucking terrific.”

“Gala at City Hall.” You inform him, your fingers searching through the tiny, beaded bag for the key to the front door of your house.

He wants to sweep you up into his arms, to kiss you until your breathless, to trace a thousand little Celtic patterns over your skin until your flushed and desperate underneath him. He wants you to forget all the other men you’ve been around tonight, the ones with the power, the money, the education and he wants to remind you of what its like to be with him, the man that loves you, the man that will always love you.

“I don’t have it in me to be the woman you fuck tonight.” You tell him as you breeze past him, leaving a trail of the dark, sensuous perfume in your wake. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

He recognises this side of you, the cold despondent queen who withdraws into herself. He’s experienced it before, in the very beginning of your relationship, when things were new, and a crow-eater had climbed into his lap during a discussion at the club. The girl had been trying to make point about the calibre of women he preferred when you were running through his affairs. He’d shoved her off so hard she had bounced when she’d hit the floor. Nobody had known about you back then, about the things you did together in the dark. It was the reason he had decided to share the nature of your relationship, he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about his intentions, he was faithful to one woman and one woman only, and she was not the one he had married.

The distance between the two of you makes him feel out of sync, he fumbles for the words, trying to explain his intentions but he can’t seem to find them.

It’s the dress he thinks. That gorgeous, seductive dress, it short circuits something inside of his brain. He sees you shutting down, so he reaches for you, instead you slip through his grasp like smoke, half way through the unlocked front door.

“Ok. I get it.” You tell him, the hurt in your voice so fucking visceral it cuts him. “Good luck with your marriage Filip.”

It’s as you slam the door in his face, he realises what’s happening, why you haven’t been picking up his calls or returning his texts. You think he’s trying to repair his marriage, not dissolve it. That the past year with you has been nothing more than a distraction, until he can get himself back to Ireland and back to the woman, he married all those years ago.

 His fist hammers on the door, he feels the wood practically vibrate under the weight of it of his frustration.

“Come on love.” He yells as he knocks on the sage-coloured panelling. “I just want to talk to ya.”

There’s silence on the opposite side of the door. He runs both of his hands through his hair as he kicks the bottom of it in frustration before opening the letterbox and yelling through it.

“For fuck’s sake darlin, I’m getting a divorce.”

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

He imagines that you’ve moved to the back of the house by now, that you’ve turned on the shower to drown him out, before you step into the heated water stream, cleansing yourself of him and all the shit that he comes with. He doesn’t know what to do, he knows if he keeps this up that your neighbours will call the police and then that will be a whole other headache for the both of you.

So, he makes the decision to leave, to give you space because right now because the last thing you need is another man trying to batter down your door.

It’s as he’s straddling the bike in your driveway, pulling on his leather gloves that he hears the front door click open. He inclines his head towards you, fixing you with his gaze as you stand there, leaning against the frame.

“Did you mean it?” You ask him softly. “You’re really getting a divorce?”

“Yes love.” He says as he climbs off his bike and steps towards you. “Let’s go inside and I can tell you all about it.”

Love Chibs? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[follow-up-news]

It’s hard to miss the overflowing bowl of condoms at the entrance of the gym. Some University of Mississippi students walking past after their workout snicker and point, and the few who step forward to consider grabbing a condom rethink it when their friends catch up, laughter trailing behind them. Almost no one actually reaches in to take one. Though officials say they refill the bowl multiple times a day, and condoms are available at multiple places on campus, Ole Miss students say the disinterest is indicative of changing attitudes. Fewer young people are having sex, but the teens and young adults who are sexually active aren’t using condoms as regularly, if at all. And people ages 15 to 24 made up half of new chlamydia, gonorrhea and syphilis cases in 2022. The downward trend in condom usage is due to a few things: medical advancements like long-term birth control options and drugs that prevent sexually transmitted infections; a fading fear of contracting HIV; and widely varying degrees of sex education in high schools.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 4

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catch up on Chapter One here

Catch up on Chapter Two here

Catch up on Chapter Three here

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

Sunday, June 14th

1 PM, Pop’s Gas Station

Somewhere in Mississippi 

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

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

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

“No, I never said—”

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

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

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

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

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

Becky arched an eye brow.

“Maybe for you, ya wanton woman…”

“Ha!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey - ya nervous?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why it’s Becky!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the den…whaddya think?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… is this another den?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enjoy watching you squirm, darlin….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pffft… need.. some…water…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no you don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That thing s’not loaded, is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey, I’m bout ta explode…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You truly are a lecherous old goat…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a long silent pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About thirty seconds of silence passed.

“Well, I ——“

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a bad faker, Becky….”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ida, these clothes barely cover me….” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Just imagine this dress but one asymmetical sleeve ^)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon called down to Becky. “That true?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything ok?” Becky straightened her dress strap.

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

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

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

“How do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oohhhh, haa…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I've got something to brag about 

Something to brag about 

Something to brag about in you

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

When you're with the fellas, I know 

You start braggin' 'bout 

My hour glass figure and my big brown eyes

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

Then a you tell your girlfriends 'bout my 

Sweet, sweet lov—‘

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

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

“Heyyyyy daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The night they drove old Dixie down 

And the bells were ringing 

The night they drove old Dixie down 

And the people were singing 

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

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

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

“Dontcha know… that’s a man’s song?”

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

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

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

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

Becky didn’t notice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still ain’t the boss a me… ”

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

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

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

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

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

When I breeze into that city 

People gonna stoop and bow (hah) 

All them women gonna make me 

Teach 'em what they don't know how

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

Yeah, go to Jackson 

You big-talkin' man 

And I'll be waitin' in Jackson 

Behind my Jaypan Fan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, June 15th

12 p.m. Graceland Master Bedroom

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

“Who the hell care you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope! Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa Marie shook her head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow…. Have you seen that movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whose that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Becky chortled. “No…. Not alll…. “

“Are you a working mom?”

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

“OK, but do you work work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmmm….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elvis winked.

“Tastes good, don’t it?”

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

Read Chapter 5 Here

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[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley: Grace under fire

Dave Simpson, The Guardian, 1 May 1998

Singer Jeff Buckley lived in the shadow of his father Tim's death. Dave Simpson remembers meeting the visionary of pain and loss, and hears the demo recordings of Buckley's planned second album

WHEN JEFF Buckley walked fully clothed and singing into a Memphis marina on the Mississippi river last year he closed one of the briefest, brightest chapters in rock. Bernard Butler, the former Suede guitarist, recently said: "If it wasn't for Jeff Buckley I wouldn't be doing any of this. Seeing him restored my faith in music." High praise, matched only by Led Zeppelin's high priest, Jimmy Page: "Jeff Buckley was one of the greatest losses of all."

Buckley left just one completed album, Grace, rightly hailed as a masterpiece. But the demos for what would have been his second, planned to be called My Sweetheart The Drunk, are released by Columbia this month.

Demos, because apparently Buckley was dissatisfied with the sessions (with former Television mainman Tom Verlaine) and planned to burn the recordings and start again, beginning with a rehearsal planned for the very night he died. Sketches contains some of the most stunning and intriguing rock performances ever committed to tape. It's impossible to decide which are the more affecting: the staggering soulful beauty of a song like 'Everybody Wants You', or the references to funerals, cemeteries and suicide that shadow the album; the fragile magnificence of 'Opened Once', or the album's pervasive sense of loneliness.

That Buckley could have even contemplated trashing this music is the mark either of an acute perfectionist or of an extremely disturbed mind. And is it just hindsight that gives lines like 'Witches Rave''s "I'll never make it out alive" such an eerie psychological pull?

Equally bizarrely, Buckley's mysterious demise aged 30 on May 29 1997 (he told a friend he was "going for a swim", although many have speculated it was suicide) appeared a curious twist of destiny. His natural father, sixties singer Tim Buckley, had died tragically (from a drug overdose on June 29 1975) at 28, and his son was forever stalked by the Buckley legend. "Eternal life is on my trail," Jeff once sang, knowing full well that he was carving his own myth.

I first met him in 1994, in the first flush of critical fanfare for Grace. I was sent along to get a handful of quotes for a music paper, and we ended up talking for over an hour. This was typical of Jeff. If he liked you, you were in. It didn't concern him that he had other, more important interviews scheduled and that his press officer was frantically trying to get his attention. Just as in his music, Jeff Buckley knew all the rules but routinely bent them to suit his own purposes. In conversation as on stage, he'd play up to the image he'd created — the moody, magnificent James Dean of rock — and shatter it in an instant. Expecting a tortured artist, I was surprised by his mischievous humour.

He was a bag of contradictions, someone who shaped his surroundings (as we talked, he selected Duke Ellington to play in his portable CD), whilst simultaneously claiming to be ill at ease, both with people and daily situations.

He could be remarkably, even suspiciously eloquent. He said of his voice: "I feel it and I wanna go there. Every feeling has an articulation. It's like when you get drunk or you try Ecstasy for the first time and all your secrets come tumbling out, and you say things you've never said before."

His music, he insisted, was equally natural. "Do you think about what you're doing when you're making love?" he asked, using a favourite metaphor. He was the sort of person who would flirt with a bathchair. His entire arsenal of vocal mannerisms seemed to be filched from Dean's simmering vocabulary. But it became obvious that Jeff Buckley was carrying around a set of troubles for which there were no easy answers.

Buckley's early life around California was fairly blissful, even though he was brought up by his Panamanian mother and two successive stepfathers. He picked up his grandmother's guitar aged six and learned about harmonies by singing along with his mom to the radio as it blared out tunes by Stevie Wonder and Sly Stone. His favourite record was Terry Jacks' premature-death anthem 'Seasons In The Sun'.

When Buckley was 12, his stepfather gave him a copy of Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti (later influences included Nina Simone, Sex Pistols and the Cocteau Twins), and Jeff began writing songs. His first, he remembered, was "something stupid about a break-up." In his teens at college in Los Angeles he penned 'Eternal Life', which included the lines: "Got my red glitter coffin, man, just need one more nail", about the rock-death myth.

Buckley moved to New York, building up a fearsome reputation as a live performer in and around East Village. By the time a reworked 'Eternal Life' and other equally harrowing but strangely beautiful songs such as 'Dream Brother' appeared in his set, many in the audiences (which often included the likes of Nick Cave) would scream in rapture. Others would find the outpourings of naked emotion so disquieting they'd leave the room.

"I'm used to being hated," he told me. "It's something I've had ever since I was a kid. It hurts, but there's nothing I can do. I'm not lying." Neither did he pull his punches. At almost the exact time as he secured a record deal, Jeff managed the potentially career-threatening feat of being seen to "diss" labelmate Bob Dylan.

"I was at A Hole In the Wall in New York, and I'd seen Dylan the night before," he revealed. "So I did an impression of him singing 'I Want You'. I did an impression of him singing 'Grace'. I talked about how he sailed through some songs and was really brilliant on others. People were shouting 'But he's still got it, right?' And I'm going: 'No. This is not Blonde On Blonde. This is him now. You guys are living in the past'."

In the audience were Bob Dylan's manager, his assistant manager, and his best friend. "Man, the next day I was in Tompkins Square Park, staring at the ground with the snow falling, wishing I was never born. My A&R man saying, 'Well, Bob feels dissed.' But I really didn't... I just... loved him so much I sent him up." Buckley wrote a personal apology — and then when Grace came out, critics hailed the "new Bob Dylan".

Around this time people began making the inevitable, if misleading musical comparisons between Jeff and Tim Buckley. Both were singer-songwriters with distinctive voices. Jeff never knew his father (he vaguely remembered their one meeting "on a beach somewhere"). He wouldn't accept that even his smouldering looks came from his father.

"I look like my mother," he insisted. "I have my own choices, and I have my own life. All I know is that the guy's dead. I had a very musical environment growing up, that didn't involve him. Maybe I was imbued with the same things, the same parts. But it ain't his voice, and it ain't my voice, and it wasn't his father's voice or his father's father before. It's just the voice that's passed down. My grandfather sang, apparently. And my grandfather on my mother's side sang! I come from a line of singers. But my choices are my choices."

Buckley's resentment was palpable. Was he angry because his father abandoned him? "It's private," he mumbled, "but I went through, and am still going through a period of trying to figure out... why? The main question you wanna answer is did he love you or not, and if so, why didn't he love you enough to..."

Stick around. He didn't need to finish the sentence. The force driving Jeff Buckley was that he never recovered from the rejection.

He clung on to other people. "All I want to do is love everyone," he sang. There was a scarcely publicised affair with Cocteau Twin Elizabeth Fraser (who once recorded his father's 'Song To The Siren'), even curious rumours concerning Marianne Faithfull. His idealism was mirrored by a profound hatred of everything he deemed false, from colonialism to MTV and supermodels. But his chief obsession was that he would somehow "fail the music".

But what if Jeff wasn't involved in music? His answer came in instalments. "I think... that I... would be... a corpse."

We met again, but the last time I saw him he seemed exhausted by the road, itching to get back into the studio. There were narcotic rumours, but his body was found clean. When the news of his death came through it seemed like a dark joke, the kind of macabre prank Buckley would have dreamt up. It wasn't.

During his life, people talked of "Tim Buckley's son", but from now on it could easily be "Jeff Buckley's father". Jeff would have laughed at that. But his powerful musical legacy will be his final vengeance.

[greenmansgrove]

I’m trying to get back into the habit of evening walks/hikes, and after much deliberation this afternoon, I decided it was time to visit Quarry Island, which is off trail from Big Rivers Regional Trail. I was told it was a good place to find rocks — I’m on the hunt for some nice, round basalt. I found no rocks, since the waters were so high, but the island was gorgeous. You can see it from the overlook (first picture). I had to cross a railroad and wasn’t sure I was allowed out that way, but there was no one to stop me and I’m trying to build confidence anyway. The trail was on the map, so… off I went.

This area is known as Bdote to Dakota people, which is where the Minnesota and Mississippi rivers meet and lakes have sprung up. It is where many of the Dakota peoples originated, according to their stories. There are many beautiful plaques featuring Dakota (hi)stories and artwork. It was wonderful to read them and hear decolonizing insights about the advancements of the Dakota peoples and their stewardship of the lands before settlers arrived.

[ID: In the past, the Dakota people had no medical facilities or universities. Yet they survived and contributed to the world’s advancement through their own resources and systems of laws, customs, educational systems, and storytelling. The messaging features share Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fires) stories, creation stories commom to all Dakota people, and Hitunkakan Stories, traditional teaching stories that are specific to this landscape, so visitors may learn about Dakota worldviews and experience a gift of cultural knowledge. This project engaged Dakota elders, who are known first language Dakota speakers, and Dakota community members. Stories and lessons were selected with the intention to be appropriate for sharing with a larger audience. However, Dakota people have many versions of these stories, and they are all correct. Hecetu: this is so. This is Dakota Land. End ID]

The first and last couple sentences of this plaque really struck me, not out of surprise, but because it is rhetoric that would immediately shake up common white misconceptions about Indigenous lives and histories. Even as minor and obvious as these insights are, I do think shaking white settlers from complacency with such directness is invaluable. This blog is fervently supportive of Indigenous Land Back efforts, and I remain grateful for the educational work of Dakota peoples in spaces such as these.

As I strode off into the marshlands, redwing blackbirds and bank swallows were flying all around (see video! — ignore the tornado sirens, it’s Weather Awareness Day). Ducks nested in the reeds. Quarry Island itself is covered in mature swamp oaks, with evidence of a healthy mast year in the scattered acorn caps. The rocks made a perfect trail to the highest point in the island, where a large, almost altar-like rock sat (photos 2-4). The top was eroded from rainwater, and I left a snail shell I’d found further down in its hollow, wondering if the snail had made it that high in life. I offered clean drinking water, too. The rain I’d prepared to meet (I brought an umbrella!) was making its way across the lake at me, but I had some time before it arrived.

On the other side of the island was evidence others had been through. There were many buckthorn stumps and piles of branches. Some past visitor had neglected the first rule of rock flipping: put the rock back where you found it. So, I did my best to replace them. I found evidence of fires, too, and they were fairly fresh, based on the smell. At least they were on the rocks and not in the wooded areas.

By the time I made it back to the center of the island that the path bisected, the rain was coming in and the sun was beginning to set, signaling my time to return. I reached the overlook again just in time for sunset and took the first image. The rain was blowing upwards at me from below the bluff, hence the specs in the image. As I turned back towards my car, I saw this rainbow!

This was probably among my top five (if not top three) favorite hikes I’ve taken since I moved to MN. I will have to return to hike the rest of the trails north and south. I suggested the nearby firepits as a ritual site for my grove, too, so maybe we will all hike out to Quarry Island in the future.

[aliypop]

The Girl of My Best Friend: Chapter 2

Word Count: 2,287

Writers Note: This idea came to me from a video and a song

Warning: None

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: July 1956 Biloxi Mississippi Elvis and June invite Cecelia and Red West to a nice summer vacation. Still, things go left when Cecelia can't sleep and Elvis can't stop thinking of Cecelia.

Chapter: 1 Chapter: 2

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July 1956 Biloxi, Mississippi 

"HOW DARE YOU!" Cecelia Rolled her eyes. Cecelia would never, she thought about it, but she adored Red. Red rolled his eyes at her reaction. He knew the truth, and Red wanted her to say it.

 "Okay, so tell me, are you two sleeping together? Or not ?"He asked again as she sighed, "Red, no..." She sighed, looking at him,

 "You're lying..." Red said, narrowing his eyes, 

"Red, I've only slept with you this vacation!" She sighed, "Look, you're not fooling me, Cece," Red groaned, "You and Elvis are doing something..." He glared at her as she grabbed a towel, "Like what..." She glanced at him as he laughed, "I see how he looks at you. And how tonight suddenly you're cold and shivering, and he's got his arms around you. So tell me the truth." Red looked at him, "Are you sleeping with him?"

"I'm not sleeping with him!" She growled, 

"Alright, I believe you..." He smiled, 

"Whatever, I'm going to take a shower..." She mumbled. Walking out, she bumped into Elvis, who was wrapped in a towel, fresh shower water on his skin, "Sorry..." She looked up at him as he laughed, "Naw, I was in the way," He smiled as he winked at her. Cecelia's eyes trailed down his body as he blushed. He watched her bite her lip slowly, but she didn't notice. Elvis's eyes wander down her bathing suit-damped body as she closed the door, "Good night, Mr. Presley..." 

"G-Good night, Ms. Valmos," He smiled, 

"There you are!" June saw him as he kissed her, "Hey sweetheart!" He smiled as he chuckled, 

"Coming to bed?"

"Of course..." 

The next morning, Elvis and Red were out, shooting a rifle as Cecelia and June watched, the two chattering about their nights. Elvis's arm was stretched, pointing to the rifle, and looking down the site, he was concentrating hard. Shooting the bullseye that Red was holding, he could see that both girls were impressed, fixing his hair. He smirked, "See, I told you I know how to handle guns." He said as he handed the rifle to Red, "You looked so good, baby." June smiled as Cecelia looked at Red, 

"Can I try..." Cecelia asked,

"Sure," Red smiled. He handed the rifle to her, "But be safe, okay, keep it pointed down," 

"I'm not sure..."

"I mean, what if you get hurt?" Elvis said. He was worried something would happen, "Then show me how to use it. If you're so worried..." She rolled her eyes. Cecelia knew her way around a gun. But she supposed she'd let Elvis take it away. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Elvis, show her!" June smirked. Cecelia blushed as she felt him close behind her. He took notice that she was blushing a bit, but he was getting the same feelings that she was. "Okay, so hand here and..." She felt his hand on her hip, his other on the rifle. His breath was on her neck, and she was losing concentration. She wanted to press further against him, but she knew not to. 

"I'm ready to shoot,"

"Okay..." He said, watching her aim as she was ready to fire her weapon. He then picked up the Target as he signaled for her to shoot. Cecelia shot in the middle of the target, and June and Red were impressed. 

"That was amazing!" Elvis smiled as she felt him pick her up and twirl her around, "I'm so proud of you!"

"It's not my first time with a gun!" She laughed,

"Oh really?" He chuckled, still holding her as Red cleared his throat, 

"Yes..." 

Red scoffed as Elvis looked over at him, "Yes Red..." Elvis knew that his good friend had a feeling something was going on, "Cece, can we talk..." Elvis couldn't help it, he wanted Cecelia in his arms, even if it meant making his best friend mad. June noticed, but she also knew they were friends and that he loved her entirely. 

"Red what's gotten into you!" Cecelia sighed,

"Nothing," He said, but his tone made it clear, that his suspicions were true, 

"Why are you being so hostile!" 

"I'm not being hostile..." He crossed his arms over his chest,

"Is this about me laughing at Elvis's joke during breakfast..." 

"No, it's not just that..." He sighed,

"Then what is it..." She whispered, "Are you not having a good time baby?" She touched his cheek as he sighed, "Don't worry about it..." He began walking away, Cecelia was perched by a tree alone as Elvis walked towards her. June had gone to run a few errands for dinner with her mother, "I feel stupid..." Cecelia teared up. Taking her face, he wiped her tears away, 

"Why would you say that..." 

"Am I neglecting Red..." 

"A little," 

"I need to make it up to him..." She ran off toward Red. Red had been sitting down as she walked in, "You... me right now..." She said as he gulped, "Cece..." He pulled her close as he kissed down her neck. Her eyes fluttered, and her voice was breathy as she bit her lip, 

"Mhmm~"

"You like that, Cece..."

"Oh, Elvis, yes~" She moaned as she could only think to herself, Oh shit, "I-I mean Red." She tried to clear it up. But the way she let out his name had Red feeling extra insecure, and it only confirmed his worries about her thinking about Elvis. Though he tried to continue kissing her, the thoughts still crept into his head, but he wanted to believe he was enough for her. And that she wasn't picturing Elvis when they were in their most intimate throws. "What's wrong?" She asked, looking up at him. Her round eyes were innocent and sweet. 

"Nothing Cece."

"Red..."

"Look, I just can't help but worry that you're thinking of Elvis instead of me..." 

"Red... No, I, not at all..." She cradled his face as her bra strap was hanging over her shoulder. Red wanted to believe her, but she was making it so hard, not to mention how close he had pressed against her earlier. As he continued, he was hoping the little voice in his head would fall to silence until she said, 

"Don't stop Elvis... I mean Red. I-I need to go..."

Red couldn't help but feel hurt and insecure. She was sitting here longing for his best friend! He wasn't surprised that she was running out. She was probably going to get her fix with Elvis.

 "Sure, I'll be here when you get back..." Red turned from her,

"Red..." She ran to his side, "I love I swear it..."  she kissed him tenderly.

"I love you too, go get what you need..." 

Cecelia took the keys to her rental car and drove til she was plum out of gas. Looking at where she was, she was in Tupelo, Cecelia sat in the car as she cried and screamed and lay awake wondering who she truly loved, in her mind, she always thought she'd end up with Elvis, but then she met Red and they had hit off, but now her feelings weren't so strong for Red, though were they ever from the start?

June had heard when Cecelia had taken off, she then saw Elvis walk in from his late walk, something he did to try to get himself somewhat tired, "I think your friend left... is she okay?" She asked as Elvis looked up like a deer in headlights. Something wasn't right, usually, she'd tell him about these things, and the fact she didn't made him feel hurt about the whole thing. "Did she say anything?" Elvis asked as June shrugged, "I heard her screamin a bit and then she said something about clearin' her head." June sighed looking at him, "If you need to find her. I understand." June took his hands and kissed them, "She's your friend and you love her dearly, like a sister." He did love her, but not like that.

"Yeah, you're right," He peppered kisses over her face as he grabbed his keys, 

"I'm gonna go look for her."

"Be safe baby." She kissed his cheek When Elvis left, his mind began to race. He had thought about what he would say to her and how he would try to make her understand that what she did was horrifying. As he turned on the radio he heard wind that a pink Ford landed in Tupelo and that was how he knew that Cecelia was there. As Elvis drove into town, a sense of dread started to creep into his mind. The fact that Cecelia drove four hours and landed in his hometown wasn't ironic it was on purpose. Though Tupelo was an unfamiliar place for one to come to clear their head, then he realized that she was here hoping he'd find her. When Cecelia saw his pink Cadillac she turned her back away from him, 

"Elvis... I don't need you to save me...I-I'm fine!" Hiding her tears from him. He recognized her voice, and the fact that she was trying to hide from him broke him. When he got out of the car and walked behind her, he gently put his hand on her shoulder, "Sweetheart... Tell me what's wrong." He leaned closer toward her hoping she'd open up,

"Don't call me sweetheart..." 

Elvis was hit hard by her response, the way she said it was like she didn't want him near her. He'd called her sweetheart in the past, but he knew something was off, and something serious between them was off, 

"Okay... Fine I won't call you that," He sighed, "But can you tell me what's wrong?"

" I MOANED OUT YOUR NAME INSTEAD OF RED'S AND HE HATES ME!" Cecelia teared up again as Elvis sighed, he was shocked that she did that, but it made him wonder if they were friends or did she have feelings for him, 

"So Red's upset 'cause you said my name?"

"Yes..."

"And now you're torn between him and me?" He asked,

"I needed to clear my head okay..." Elvis laughed knowing she was avoiding the question, "Yeah, I know, but you drove to Tupelo, and you called out my name so..."

"I know... I know..." She hugged him, soaking his shirt with her tears. He held her close to his body wondering if he should hold her close and kiss her forehead, to tell her that he loved her and everything would be alright, but then there was Red, he'd be devastated, but he had to know if she felt the same. 

"Look, I know we're four hours away from Biloxi... I'm conflicted and confused, and I-I know we're best friends, and you love June, you should she's a great girl, I love Red, and I feel like I'm lying when I say it..." She sighed. At first, Elvis felt some relief as she was talking to him and hoping she was going to say she was choosing Him over Red, but then she continued and he felt his heart sink as he heard her say that she was conflicted, "And you what..." 

"Nothing Elvis..." She tried to walk away,

"No Cece, there's something you're not telling me..." He pulled her close to him, their mere breath colliding together. 

"LIKE WHAT... When you kiss June or hold her I wish it were me! Or when I try makin' love to Red I wish it were you." She laughed, "ELVIS YOU! YOU'RE A DISEASE YOU- YOU FLOOD MY SENSES... And you drive me crazy... like no one else can do..." She grabbed his face as he pulled her tighter. He didn't know how to respond, but he knew he was overjoyed,

 "So do you feel that way about me?" 

"Elvis Aaron Presley..."

"Yeah..."

"You drive me up a wall..." 

"And you drive me through the roof..." He smiled, Pulling her closer as he smiled, "Do you want me..." He asked as she was playing with his cowlick, "Every day..." She giggled, 

"So let's stop denying, and stop pretending we don't have a thing for each other..." 

"What about June and Red..." Cecelia sighed. Elvis had to admit he had to think about that one, "Well... We can figure that out tomorrow but in the meantime, tonight is about us." He kissed her hand, 

"Wanna show me around your hometown... In your snazzy little Cadillac..." She asked, Cecelia had been to Tupelo as a friend, but never had she visited as a lover. 

"Sure, and maybe there's a special tour." He smirked as she laughed, ran to the car he got in, and opened her door, Cecelia had then snuggled up to him in his car, the radio playing soft and sweet melodies as she looked up at him, his hand was on her thigh as she smiled softly at him, 

"That's the library right... I know you loved that place."

"Yeah, I used to go and read as many books as I wanted," He laughed, "It was like my haven, that and church." He chuckled as Cecelia smiled, "Amen to that," She grinned as he kept driving around, he had pointed about and showed her a few more places as she listened to him, "That movie theatre... I must've gotten kicked out a million times as a kid..."

"Whys that..."

"Crossin the segregation line..." 

"Seems you're still crossin' 'em." She winked as he ruffled up her hair playfully, "Yeah, I guess so, music breaks so many barriers and..." He smiled, "It speaks when words can't." He said as She nodded, 

 "Such a poet..."

"Thanks, honey, say can I show a place that's real dear to me..."

"Of course..."

"Promise not to judge it?"

"I promise."

Chapter 3?

[canuckgirltravels]

Discover the charm of the Mill of Kintail! Just a short drive from Ottawa, this enchanting conservation area in Mississippi Mills offers a perfect blend of history, nature, and serenity.

Walk through scenic trails, along the Mississippi River, visit the historic mill museum, and find peaceful spots to relax.

[clairity-org]

Mississippi Walking Trail, Minneapolis 7/29/23 by Sharon Mollerus

[grxngyalt]

hey im gonna try to write for the fandom again, mary/sippi fic under the cut!

picture-perfect proposal <3

(inspired by something @uriahcantdraw wrote for me!!)

Maryland sat at the edge of the ocean, the sparkling, cool waves crashing up on her feet. The wind was blowing lightly, and the sun was just beginning to set. The air was warm and humid, and the sky was a bit cloudy, the colors of ruby and spessartine stretched across the evening sky as the sun’s warmth began to fall.

Mississippi was laying beside his girlfriend, admiring her glowing beauty in the gradient sky. Though he seemed.. nervous? Mary noticed his anxious body language and concern washed over her mind.

“Hey, sugar, you okay..?” She asked quietly, as to not raise his nervousness.

“Oh- uh- yeah. I’m good.” He replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

“You sure, hon? You seem anxious…” She said in a tone of concern weaved with worry.

“Mhm! Yeah, I’m just a little tired, ya know?” He responded, his tone growing more nervous as he fidgeted with something in his pocket.

“Oh. We can go home, if you’d like. It’s gonna be getting dark soon anyway.” Mary said, having no idea about his plans.

Sippi panicked a little, this was his only chance to ask her the question he’d been dying to ask since the day he first saw her in her smile. the awkward, weird little smile that he found endearing.

“We don’t have to leave yet- we could at least walk the boardwalk first!” He suggested in a slightly desperate tone

“You sure? If you’re tired we can leave-“ She got cut off by her boyfriend, who seemed to be growing more panicked.

“No! It’s fine, really! I just- I wanna wait for the sun to set. I wanna walk the boardwalk with you… you look really pretty in the sunset.” He said, giving her a soft smile.

“Aww. I’m flattered, sugar. We can go walk if you want.” She responded, returning a smile back at him.

He jumped up excitedley and helped her off her beach towel, holding her hand and giggling as they aaproached the boardwalk. He was so excited to hopefully make Mary, the girl he held so close to his heart, his wife.

“What’s got you all excited?” Mary asked teasingly.

“Mm, I just can’t believe I get to be here with you right now… the perfect girl…” Sippi replied, admiring the way her eyes shined in the glowing sunlight.

“Aww, stop it. I’m not all that great.” She said, her face flushing a light pink-ish color.

“… God, I could kiss you right now.” He teased, lightly smirking as her face grew more red.

“Oh- well. I- uhm. If you want to, you can…” She responded, her voice sounding more high pitched and flustered in tone.

“…Actually, I think I have a better idea. Just keep walkin’.” He said, holding her hand tighter as he started fidgeting with his pockets again.

As they reached the end of the boardwalk, Sippi just looked closely at Mary. Admiring all her cute little features. Her vitiligo covered skin, the dark freckles on her face that trailed down to her shoulders, the scars along her gentle, silky arms, the unique little tooth gap that showed when she smiled, the dark, crimson color of her eyes that glowed in the ever stretching sunset… God, he loved every little detail. He looked into her eyes and smiled, not his usual, anxious little smile, but a soft, genuine smile… the part of him that only she could fully understand, the part of him that only she could bring out in him. He felt safe and at peace when he was alone with her. He remembers the way his heart fluttered and his eyes sparked when he saw her for the first time. He remembered how gentle friendly and patient she was with him, even at his lower moments.

“God, you’re beautiful…” He whispered in a sweet, loving tone.

“Thanks, sugar… though I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.. you seem rather excited for this just being a usual date.” She mentioned. Though she adored his unusual energy, she knew something bigger was happening.

“I mean, I don’t have anything to tell you… but I do have something to ask, if that’s alright.” He replied as a warm, fuzzy feeling washed through his veins, as if the feeling of love was pumping to his heart in replacement of blood.

“Go ahead… I’m ready.” She said in a tone of reassurance, giving him a warm smile.

The Magnolia state looked deep into her eyes one last time, before pulling a small, velvet box out of his pocket. Mary covered her mouth in shock as he dropped to one knee and took a deep breath.

“…Mary, my sweetheart, I may not be your first pick, hell, may as well be your last… but you’ll always be first in my heart. You brought out a part of me that I didn’t know even existed… you made me feel loved, and happy. You’re the sweetest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and ever will meet, and I wanna make sure that you’re ready to share a beautiful chapter of my life with me.”

Mary’s eyes widened as warm, joyful tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Sippi let out a soft sigh as he flipped open the velvet box to reveal a golden ring with a small, glowing ruby in the center, the same ruby shade that flowed across the evening sky.

“So, with that being said,” he took another deep breath before continuing, his eyes full of love as he asked the question he’d been dying to ask, “Maryland, light of my life, would you do the honor of making me the the luckiest guy in the world and be the one to marry me?”

“Yes- yes- Oh my God yes!” The Old Line state exclaimed as the scorching tears fell down her cheeks. She was so overwhelmed by the burst of joy that ran through her mind. The Hospitality state giggled as he gently slid the perfectly sized ring onto her smooth, gentle hand.

“I love you- I love you so much-“ Mary sobbed out as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I love you too, mon ange.” He said, hugging her close to his chest.

The bright, glowing rays from the sun began to fade as the glowy cresent moon made way into the starry night sky. The cool, wispy wind blew against the two, as the sky was overtaken by a deep purple.

“Well, should we go home and cuddle now..?” Mary suggested, her tone quiet and gentle.

“Yeah… I can’t wait to go to sleep with my fiancè.” He teased, kissing her forehead softly.

“…God, you’re gonna break me one day.” She teased back as they walked back to the car.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna break me with how pretty you’ll be in your wedding dress.” He responed with a playful smirk.

“…Get in the damn car before I regret my desicion.” She said sarcastically.

“Okay- damn, I’ll let you cool off.” He said, returning the playfully rude tone.

They drove back to their small little house near the woods, both keeping the pink blushy layer on their faces. As soon as they got home, they jumped onto their bed, giggling and smiling warmly as their legs got tangled together. Mary buried her face into the Catfish state’s cushiony chest as she closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Sippi whispered, kissing her forehead before he pulled the blanket over the two of them and dozing off with his soon to be wife.

[lonelinessmademecrazy]

Where did you meet Shaun?

Funnily enough, we met at a park. He was sat on a bench, reading and I had passed by him on my wail to a trail. I commented about how hot it was and he said it was new to him. I stopped walking and asked him where he’s from and that’s when he told me he was from Colorado. We chatted for a while about the differences between Mississippi and Colorado and eventually he asked for my phone number.

We started texting, mostly about the heat. Eventually we arranged to meet up at the library and the conversation shifted to how weird the locals were. I commented about the possibility of a cult and he immediately replied that he believes me and thinks that his brother is in a cult.

After a bit of convincing, he told me all about his brother and the issues he brought to the family. I shared with him my family struggles and it seemed for a while like we were polar opposites in terms of how we were raised.

Then he confessed he’s a total nerd about manga and we started bonding over our mutual love for shonen jump mangas.

Sorry, I got kinda ramble-y there…

[bullet-prooflove]

Grief!Series Part One: There - Bishop Losa x Reader

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @lyly00 @oureternalbond @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u

You aren’t at the community centre when Bishop turns up to work on the children’s library and that surprises him. It’s painting day and they need to get a couple of coats of white on the walls before Creeper can start drawing up the forest motif that the two of you have been working on together. It’s a massive room so he’s recruited a couple of the guys to help as well as the Prospects. It shouldn’t take too long to turn around.

“She out sick or something?” He asks Riz as he watches Bottles and Nestor open the windows in order to air the room out while they paint.

Riz shakes his head, his mouth setting in a grim line before he sighs.

“They found her sister last night; they’ve asked her to go and identify the body this morning.” Riz tells him.

It feels like a blow to the chest because he didn’t even realise you had a sister. He thinks over the conversations you’ve had over the past few months, searching for clues and it occurs to him you have never once mentioned your family. He wonders how he didn’t notice that. He tasks Riz with overseeing the paint job before getting back on his bike.

He’s dropped you off a couple of times, so he knows where you live. He’s even walked you to the door. As much as he wants to kiss you, he’s always a gentleman. He can’t stand the idea of fucking this up, he values you and the place you hold in his life too much. When he raps on your door, he doesn’t expect you to answer, it’s just past nine and he think you’re probably on route to mortuary. You’re punctual like that. He has the full intention of waiting but then he hears the shifting of locks.

When you open the door, he isn’t sure what to expect. He knows grief, his own and other people’s, he’s seen where it leads and how it presents. You stand before him in one of your blazers, it’s the pretty sage green one that reminds him of spring. You’re dressed neatly, in a black v-neck, jeans and ballet flats. The usual shit that you wear in your day to day but your face...

He has never seen something so heart-breaking. Your eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed, your pallor ruddy. Your gaze comes to rest on him, and you sigh.

“Obispo, it’s not really a good time…”

You don’t get the words out because already his arms are wrapping around you and he’s drawing you into the shelter of his chest. His palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck, thumb caressing the hollow behind your ear as you bury your face into his kutte, inhaling the scent of leather, intermingled with rich undertones of honey, tobacco, and lightly spiced bourbon. He hasn’t had a drink in weeks, but the warm smoky aroma still clings to his skin.

“I can’t do it.” You whisper as his fingertips trail through your hair. “I can’t seem to make myself leave, because if I do it means that she’s really gone and…”

You choke because that feeling, the intense burden of grief it rises up in your chest stifling your words. The noise you make sounds violent and animalistic, you can’t seem to stop the sensation as it pours out of your thorax and into the confines of Bishop’s chest.

Bishop closes his eyes as he presses his lips to the top of your head. He knows this feeling, the helplessness, the inadequacy, the wavering. He’s endured it so many times in the past eight years, it feels like an old friend.

“I’ll go with you.” He promises as he cradles you close. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[weirdestbooks]

Parental Rage (Wattpad | Ao3)

Companion Oneshot to The Time Spent In A Gilded Cage

James could feel America’s worry as they walked to the room where the treaty would be signed and where America would finally be able to reunite with his son.

“America, I know you’re worried. I am, too, but we have to remain calm. If Britain finds out how to get under our skin again…” James muttered, trailing off.

“How can I not worry after everything?” America murmured. It was rare that America was present when he wasn’t in control of the body, as America tended to just not be there when he wasn't in control. It seemed he was making an effort to be present without having to be in control.

“I know, I know. I don’t like him either, but we can’t let him get an advantage.” James said, thinking back to the decades of traumatic memories he was kept away from everyone else, memories of abuse and manipulation. If Michigan even went through a fraction of what they did, there was little that would stop James from tearing Britain apart.

“You can’t let the war restart. We are just getting my brother back, and I can’t lose him again!” Illinois protested, his voice painfully young. James sighed.

“Don’t worry, Noi Boy. I won’t ruin our chances of getting Michigan back,” James said before entering the room, wincing at the pain in his arm, the still-fresh burns being stretched by the action.

Michigan was standing next to Britain, pressed into his side, traces of fear on his face. But he quickly pulled away as they entered, back straightening.

“If that bastard hurt my son, I’ll—” America began before he was cut off.

“Do nothing unless you want to restart the war,” Indiana said lightly, fear in her voice.

James took a moment to drink in the sight of his nephew. Michigan was taller and older, no longer looking seven or eight but instead thirteen or fourteen. His wings, covered in fluffy down feathers the last time James saw him, now had all the feathers fully grown in.

It was a welcome sight but also a sight that made James far too aware of the time that had passed.

“Britain,” James said, his voice cold.

“United Colo—I mean States of America. How is independence working for you?” Britain asked. 

“James, let me take control. I need to have words with Britain,” America said, his voice filled with an anger James had never heard from him as James tried to keep his facial expression from changing. 

“Papa! You can’t. We can’t risk Michi now. Look how scared he is!” Missouri said, and James felt America back off. But something seemed off about what Missouri said. While he was right, and Michigan looked scared, that fear was directed at them, not Britain. 

A sick feeling began in James’ stomach as he tried not to throw up at the thought. He had a sinking feeling that it was not Britain Michigan was afraid of. But since he had nothing to prove it and didn’t want to send America into another rant, James kept it to himself.

“It could be better if you respected it for once,” James said. Britain laughed.

“I am giving you all the respect you deserve. How are your burns? And that delightful little bayonet wound that my dearest Lower Canada gave you? I know they were terrible injuries, and I wonder why you are resting. Do you perhaps have something to prove?” Britain asked. This time, James’ expression broke as his anger, and that of almost every other person present flooded through his body.

“We wouldn’t let injuries keep us away from finally getting Michigan back,” Mississippi spat.

“And we have nothing to prove to you! Why can’t you just get out of my life forever!” America yelled, voice teary, the exact reason why James was in charge and not America, despite the fact that America usually handled the political situations.

“I’m here for Michigan. I’m not here to prove anything to you. I don’t care about your opinion. I care about Michigan,” James said, summing up Mississippi and America’s points as he stalked forward until he and Britain were nose to nose. Britain smirked.

“Of course. You care about him so much that you left him to fend for himself, and when he was surrendered, you did nothing to stop it. Yes, you clearly care about him a lot, don’t you?” Britain asked. James scowled as cries of outrage echoed in his skull. 

“I didn’t know, you damn bastard. If I had my way, Michigan would have spent the war safe in my head,” America said.

“Let’s sign this damn treaty unless you want to continue the war,” James said, eyes narrowed as he snatched the pen off the table, quickly signing America’s name. 

Britain sighed but picked up the pen and sighed his own name.

“Now, I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but please don’t hurt Michigan. The poor lad’s been through enough,” Britain said, pushing Michigan towards James. 

“HOW DARE HE?” America yelled so loudly that James almost couldn’t suppress his wince, “I’m not like him! I would never lay a finger on any of my babies.”

Michigan shot one more look at Britain, fear still present in his eyes as he walked over to James.

“Ironic, coming from you,” James commented, his voice full of venom before he put a hand on Michigan’s shoulder, squeezing it as he did so, trying to provide some comfort. 

Instead, Michigan froze, and the sick feeling in James’ stomach only grew. 

Britain had hurt Michigan. There was no doubt about it. 

Michigan then relaxed some, probably realizing that James wouldn’t hurt him. Still, James needed to get Michigan out of there and, after two long years of stress and pain, bring the young boy home.

“Let’s go home, Michigan,” James murmured before guiding Michigan out of the room. Michigan shot a look at Britain as they left but didn’t say anything. In fact, Michigan walked silently, something eerily different from how he had been before. Michigan always used to be so loud and curious, not silent and scared.

“Something bad happened to him, Uncle James, didn’t it?” Illinois asked tearfully. James didn’t answer, as he was more focused on getting Michigan home safely. 

“Are you ready to go home?” James asked. Michigan nodded, and in an instant, the two of them were in America’s room, where America’s cat lay on the bed. 

Michigan remained quiet, and his face remained blank. It was scary.

“Michigan, are you alright?” James asked, releasing his grip on Michigan’s shoulder so he could walk forward and look Michigan in the eyes. Michigan nodded silently. James frowned, “If you’re scared to talk to America, don’t worry. It’s James. America’s here, but I’m in charge.”

America laughed, “Why would he be afraid of me, James? I’m his father. I raised him.”

Michigan looked away and remained silent, and James knew his worst fears had to be true.

“Did he hurt you, Michigan?” James asked again. Michigan still remained silent, “Michigan.”

James’s fear leaked into his voice, and he could tell the others were equally afraid of the answer to the question. None of them wanted it to be true, but…

“Grandfather didn’t hurt me,” Michigan said quietly.

It seemed like everyone froze at that as horror ran through James.

“Grandfather?” America exclaimed, his tone strangled.

“Britain’s not our grandfather, Michi! What are you talking about? What did he do?” Missouri exclaimed, sounding like he was crying.

“Grandfather?” James asked, horror in his voice before his face twitched as America tried to seize control. James knew that it would only end badly if America tried to talk to Michigan now without figuring out the whole story. Michigan nodded as he shrunk in on himself, looking terrified. 

“James, please. I need to talk to my son. Please!” America begged, and James relented, sinking back into the world that existed inside their mind.

“Michigan,” America began, his voice soft and gentle. Michigan froze, and America’s worry only grew. He wanted to pull his son into a hug and protect him from all the dangers in the world.

“Michigan, are you okay? Did Britain hurt you to get you to call him that?” America asked. Michigan’s face suddenly changed to one of pure rage.

“What?” Mississippi gasped as the expression was so unlike Michigan.

“NO! My grandfather taught me where I belong, and he taught me not to fall for your tricks! He never hurt me! Grandfather loved me more than you ever did! Why did you have to take me away from him? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Michigan yelled, stomping his foot and flaring out his wings. 

Before America could even begin to comprehend the hateful words, the words that sounded so much like his former father, his eyes were drawn to Michigan’s wings, and his jaw dropped in shock and horror.

“What happened to his wings!?” Illinois yelled, horror in his voice.

For you see, Michigan’s wings had been clipped, the flight feathers cut in a way that would prevent Michigan from flying. Not forever, just until they grew back, but still, it was a twisted thing to do. America had never felt such rage before. 

“Careful,” James whispered, “he’s scared.” 

Britain took away his son’s ability to fly. He stole it from him. Why? For control? To scare Michigan into obeying him?

“Michigan…what happened to your wings?” America asked, his voice thinly veiled with horror. He tried to keep his face calm and the rage he felt for Britain under control.

Michigan smiled, and America’s horror grew.

“Grandfather clipped them!” Michigan said proudly, crossing his arms. America wanted to vomit as he began to feel unsteady on his feet, the horror overwhelming him, “To help me show my loyalty to his empire. To show that I will never be an American but a loyal citizen of the crown.” 

“Lord have mercy, what did Britain do to him?” James said in a horrific whisper.

“Daddy, does that mean Michigan hates us?” Illinois asked, sounding like he was crying.

“Dad, we need to go beat up Britain for this!” Indiana said.

Tears appeared in the corners of America’s eyes, and America was on the verge of sobbing. Michigan just smiled, like he didn’t understand the horrific consequences of what he was saying.

“Oh, son, what did he do to you?” America asked, hoping to figure out what Britain had done so he could fix it and get his child back.

“I’m not your son!” Michigan yelled, “I’m not American! He didn’t do anything to me! Just leave me alone, you traitor!” 

And before America could do anything, Michigan rushed out of the room. 

“Oh, he did hurt the poor boy,” James murmured, and America knew the man was probably doing his best to comfort the children.

“I can’t—well, I can believe Britain would do this. But it’s only been two years. To hurt him this badly…” America didn’t even want to think of what Britain had done to turn…turn his son into that.

“Martial law?” James suggested. 

“I—he wouldn’t,” America said.

“He did it to you. Why wouldn’t he do it to Michigan? Especially if Michigan fought,” James pointed out.

“If Michigan fought and Father put him under martial law, it was to protect him,” Rebecca said, joining the conversation.

“By taking away his free will?” Missouri protested.

“At least with martial law, Father wouldn’t have to hurt him to teach him how the world works and Michigan’s place in it. Michigan knows his place now! This is good! When Father takes us back—” Rebecca began before Indiana cut her off.

“He won’t. We’re independent.” Indiana said firmly.

“And we’re going to stay that way. We’re never going back to that man.” America said.

“Just call him your father, Colonies. You know you want to.” Rebecca murmured, the cadence of her voice reminding America so much of Britain.

“Shut up, Rebecca. I don’t. Britain’s not going to…he’s not as all-powerful as you think, Becca. You have to see that eventually.” America said.

“Maybe not all-powerful, but definitely did something to get into Michigan’s head,” America heard Vermont say as the country-turned-state approached them.

“What do you mean?” America asked.

“Michigan ran into me. He…he thinks you’re gonna hurt him, Papa. And he…and he thinks of Père–Lower Canada is his only father. Apparently, he was adopted by Lower Canada,” Vermont said, sadness in his voice. America froze the words cutting through him. Michigan…Michigan…

Tears pricked at America’s eyes, and it only took a few seconds before he was crying as America did his best to wipe away the tears and compose himself.

“Johnathan, you can cry,” James said, using America’s human name, just like he always did when he was trying to comfort America.

“I need to go speak to him,” America began, marching forward before Vermont stopped him.

“You can’t!” He said.

“Like hell, I can’t! My son’s been hurt, and you want me to do nothing!?” America asked, his voice incredulous. Was Vermont perhaps still hiding some hidden love for Lower Canada and Britain?

“He’s thinking about Michigan, I think,” Mississippi said.

“He’s scared of you, Papa! Do you really think that barging in there and demanding for him to be the person you lost will help? You’ll only further drive in whatever that bastard said to make him so afraid!” Vermont snapped.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” America said, an edge to his voice.

“Then don’t act like I’m wrong,” Vermont said sharply, crossing his arms, refusing to let America pass.

“He’s right. We need to be careful. You can’t let emotions blind you to—” James began.

“How can I not be emotional? That’s my son! I know firsthand what Britain is like—”

“And that’s why you know you have to take it slow. You came around. Michigan will do. You just have to let him come in his own time. Michigan will see Britain was wrong, and he’ll return to normal.” Vermont said, sighing, “I don’t wanna wait either, but unless we want to make Michigan willingly walk back into that hellhole…”

“We have to be patient,” America sighed, “But I…we can’t…we want to make sure he’s okay, we want to see him. We’re all worried.”

“He’ll come to you when he’s ready. I can keep you updated, but right now, he thinks my room is the only place where you won’t hurt him. Papa he needs time to understand. The best way to help is by…just being everything Britain said you weren’t. I’ll try to convince Michigan to come out and see you interacting with our siblings and remind him of your kindness. But I can’t make it like you again.” Vermont said.

“I know you can’t. I just…I wish that I had been there. This is my fault.” America murmured.

“Daddy, you weren’t there. You didn’t even realize something was up until Michigan was gone. You didn’t want this,” Indiana said.

“But I should of—”

“Thinking about what could have happened won’t help. We need a plan for now, not a plan for two years ago,” Vermont said, cutting off America’s train of thought.

“Yeah…I…yeah. When did you get so wise?” America asked, smiling at his son. Vermont smiled back.

“I’ve always been wise,” he said teasingly. “Now come on. Let’s help my little brother learn to love his family again.”