#new hollywood elvis

[thatbanditqueen]

Come Hell or Come Sundown

A Charro! One-Shot

Summary: It is the summer of 1968 and Elvis finds himself in a New Hollywood, no more production code, just a ratings system with the promise of more sex and violence. This is good, because Elvis is in transition too! He is hot off the set of his TV special and ready to make a gritty western he can be proud of. Things are going well, he's making friends on location in Arizona, but then first they cut some of the violence, and now he's not so sure there is going to be any sex scenes in this movie. What's next, are they going to make him sing to his horse?

Inspired by the cut nude bath scene and the notes in Donna Lewis' diary that there were originally sex scenes scripted in Charro!

A response to the writing prompt: "Cowboy Elvis"

Warnings: References to past sexual harassment, minor drug use implied and kissing.

WC: 13.4K

Thanks to my lovely writing support group @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime and to @whositmcwhatsit for alpha-ing most of this. It is been a crazy two months, I won't go into it, but if you are still reading my stuff let me know it.

July 29, 1968

Apacheland Arizona

Ina leaned against the back side of the sound stage listening to the cactus wren sing their sunrise melody for the desert. Off in the brush she saw a lizard scurry away. It was early, but the air was already beginning to heat up and hung there thick with promise. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the light, sweet taste, her heart full of hopeful anticipation for the sweet day ahead. 

She ran her fingers down over her blouse, enjoying the smooth empty feeling underneath where round flesh had been a month ago. 

This picture had been the answer to her prayers, a sign that she could still land a part as the love interest role. It was a role she knew well, one she had been playing for ten years in vehicles designed to showcase male stars: John Wayne, Paul Newman, Jerry Lewis, and now Elvis. Ina rarely got a leading role in a picture focused on a couple or a strong female character, but she accepted it was still a good salary and it kept her busy on and off between modeling gigs.

Lately, however, the on and off had been more off, and her agent, Mickey, had started talking about auditioning for roles as older sisters, aunts, and even, gasp, mothers.

But then she got this and bam! She had knocked over her phone with excitement as Mickey  described this project as a “modern, gritty western.”  She’d even agreed to the nudity, accepting her agent’s advice that this was going to open up even more doors now that the production code was gone and the film industry had a new rating system that allowed for mature content.

The first American western with a sex scene. That’s how Chuck, this director, had pitched his script in their first meeting, while also assuring her it would be tasteful and artistic and mainly shot using her facial expressions. She hadn’t cared, signing anywhere they wanted if it meant staving off cinematic spinsterhood for as long as possible.

And then, after carefully examining every dimple in her bottom that night, Ina had launched into a month-long disciplined regimen of ballet classes, black beauties and one meal a day. Ina took a deep breath and inhaled the earthy, floral aroma of the Arizona desert, letting it fill her with confidence. Her tummy was svelte, her skin glowed with a healthy bronze tan, and she was ready to conquer the shoot ahead. She had a feeling about this picture. A good one. 

Hollywood was buzzing about the TV special Elvis had just finished shooting. Apparently it was raw and gritty and unvarnished, just like the script for this film. And Chuck, her director, was the king of the westerns, who had been promoting Charro! in the trade press as Peckinpah meets Leone with more sex appeal and heart. 

Ina looked out at the orange glow of the desert sky at sunrise one last time as she stomped out her cigarette butt and murmured to herself with hushed excitement.

“What a glorious start to a glorious day.”

She headed back inside and made her way around the back of the set where she bumped into Elvis’ stunt double and friend, Jerry. Ina grinned, she couldn’t help it, Jerry’s serious eyes and rugged shoulders made her heart skip a beat. 

“That was some party last night, huh?” 

Jerry looked down, his low chuckle heavy with the weight of words unspoken as they both reflected on the prior evening. Ina was sure she saw an echo of her own desire in the warmth dancing behind Jerry’s blue eyes.

“You should talk, Sandy Koufax. Charlie’s grateful he can still see.”

Ina gulped, covering her mouth.. “ Oh no! Is he really hurt? I felt so bad, I was aiming for his stomach.” Ina said, twirling her hair. “Although I didn’t feel nearly as bad after watching Elvis go after Alan with the whole bucket, intentionally, over and over. He really took it to the next level.”

“Oh, that’s just how the bossman lets off steam.”

“That’s one way to put it. Say, where is the old steam engine, anyway?”

“He just went out front to get some dirt on his clothes.”

Ina raised her eyebrow. 

“He wants to make sure he has that real cowboy look.”

“Huh, Elvis Strasberg. Who knew?” 

Ina thought of Elvis out rolling around in the dirt and tried not to giggle. This got harder and harder as she looked into Jerry’s eyes, which were also twinkling with amusement.

In a moment of vulnerability Ina decided to let down her guard and step closer, trailing her fingers over Jerry’s upper arm. His muscle flinched slightly under her hand and it made her feel a little flight of butterflies in her tummy. 

“Too bad,” she murmured in what she hoped was a sexy, flirtatious voice.  “I was beginning to hope maybe you’d have to step in for him today.”

Jerry’s eyes widened for a split second, as he ran his hand through his hair. “Uh, well, as far as I know his scenes today aren’t dangerous at all.”

“That’s what you think.” Ina smiled, walking backwards for a few steps to enjoy the slight blush coloring Jerry’s scruffy cheeks.

She couldn’t be sure, but she felt there was a spark between them, and it made her feel young and giddy. Fifteen years of having her body and self worth surveyed and scrutinized and picked apart had left Ina unsure of her seduction abilities. First it had been photographers and advertising executives, then producers and directors had joined the throng out to shatter her confidence. For some women, the brutality of the business helped them create a calloused, impenetrable outer shell and distorted sense of self worth. For Ina, it had done the opposite, and she frowned as she felt the familiar knot of insecurity tighten in her stomach and vowed not let her self doubt stop her from having fun this time. No, before the end of this shoot she’d get Jerry alone and find out if he was as quiet and soft spoken in bed as he was on set.

Twenty minutes later, Ina was still smiling to herself when she slunk into a chair in make-up and pulled her thick, terry cotton robe tighter around her body. 

“Look at you,” Bertie gushed as she toyed with Ina’s long, brown hair. “Excited for the scenes today?”

Ina paused and looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a nervous sigh. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

She awkwardly smiled up at Bertie, and told herself to relax even as her shoulders inadvertently rolled upward and she tugged at the hem of her robe.

“You know five, even three years ago, you would kiss, passionately, then the camera would pan to the bedside table and come back into focus with you smoking. But now, Blow Up, Bonnie & Clyde, the new rating system. It’s a whole new ball game out there. I’m not sure - “

“Oh, you’re gonna be fine.”

Ina looked down and studied the top of her cleavage, she felt strangely ambivalent about the nudity and the sex scenes they were shooting. She was proud that they wanted her to do them, it bolstered her self esteem and made her feel longed for and desired, special. But she couldn’t shake that nagging feeling deep down that she would get on set, bare it all and then have the director and DP exchange hushed whispers before pulling her off and recasting her role. She met her own gaze again in the mirror and tried to squelch her self doubt.

“I know, I know, and it’s all very tasteful. I trust Chuck. Still, I’m the one wearing a see-through robe. All Elvis has to do is take off his cowboy hat before he carries me to the bed. He might be shirtless in the second scene, but for the most part all we’ll see is a little bit of his ear.”

Bertie nodded into big rounds of hair she was smoothing over with oil and pinning into place with bobby pins lodged at the side of her mouth.

“Yeah, well, with most guys I’d be fine just seeing the ear, cuz women’s bodies are just more beautiful. But with Elvis, I kinda wished they’d have him nude too, you know?” She clicked her tongue and winked at Ina in the mirror,

“You should get Betty Friedan on that, it would really be a movement for sex equality. Though I bet he’d give you a private show if you asked him, Bertie. He’s making his way through the crew, two at a time I hear.”

Bertie wiggled her eyebrows into the mirror.

“Yeah, I heard about that, two of the pretty Mexican extras, right? They can have him, I just want to look at him. I don’t think I’d survive if he touched me.” She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and bit her lip. “I don’t know how you are going to make love to him all day.”

“Oh, well, when it’s work, you sort of detach yourself. I mean, yes, Elvis is very handsome, but he doesn’t really send me, you know? You should have seen him last night with his guys. Like a pack of wild animals.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think Jerry is the only one who has ever opened a book, or doesn’t eat with his hands.”

Ina tried not to move as she watched Bertha pin another round hair piece in place. 

“The stunt double? He sure has that silent type thing going for him.” Bertie squinted her eyes at Ina as she stuck a few more pins in. “Ahhhh, let me guess, that’s the type you go for. Over Elvis. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t, you know, play patty cake with Elvis if he made the move? I thought he always dated his leading lady, maybe those extras are just the appetizer before the main dish..”

Ina sat up, admiring the tower of rolled hair Bertie had constructed on top of her head. Satisfied, she leveled Bertie with a friendly but stern look.

“Things can get sticky when you bed your co-star. And giving in just encourages them. You shoulda seen Jerry Lewis trailing me around off set like a creep. like I owed it to him.” 

Ina grimaced, remembering Lewis’ sweaty brow as he had pushed her against the wall of her dressing room and promised that she’d like it, that she didn’t know what she was missing. She shuddered, thinking of him and all the others: the photographers who’d grinded into her as they straddled over her during a photo shoot. The producers who had invited her to an audition and then cornered her alone. She felt sick to her stomach and reached out for the random half drunk bottle of Coke on the vanity in front of her to wash away the bad taste in her mouth.

“You ok, Miss Balin?”

“Please Bertie, call me Ina. After that party last night I think we’re all on a first name basis.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess.” She turned Ina around to finish her make up. “You know, I think you might be the only woman here who doesn’t want to sleep with Elvis.”

“Thank god Elvis seems to be somewhat of a gentleman, because I’m not looking to be another notch on his belt, I’ve worked too hard to stay in this business without a casting couch reputation, and I plan to keep it that way. Plus, with all the bed hopping that happens on location, and then having to run scenes together if things get, you know, weird. Better to keep things professional between us.”

“On the other hand, a lonely stunt man...”

Ina winked, she could feel the giddy excitement bubble up just thinking of Jerry. She tried to stifle it and stay aloof as she spoke.

“A month is a long time, even a lonely stuntman deserves some company.”

A cough interrupted their giggles and the women turned to see Elvis leaning against the doorway, one hand on his belt. He squinted his eyes, looking at them with exaggerated suspicion as he wiped his hand over his forehead leaving a dark streak of dirt above his brow.

“Uh huh, and just what’d I stumble into here, huh? You two look like you are up ta no good, boy, I tell ya what.”

Perfectly lined smoky eyes sat below Elvis’ dirty forehead and more dirt billowed off his trousers as he strode toward the two women, his hands hanging off the top of his corduroy trousers. Bertie shot Ina a cautious glance in the mirror that warned her not to laugh, even as  the sides of her lips seemed to hold back a chuckle.

“I’ve seen that look before Iny Niny.” Elvis said. “Right about the moment ya took aim and fired at poor Charlie Hodge, square the eyes.”

“I really didn’t mean to hurt him! Really.” Something about Elvis’ easy charm made it impossible not to smile broadly. “I - we - we’re not up to anything, you. Just chit chat. I was saying how I almost didn’t recognize you when I got here yesterday. On account of that beard you got, Presley.”

“I almost don’t recognize myself, honey.” He paused and looked in the mirror, taking a step closer as he rubbed the dirt into his forehead more. “That’s probably a good thing, maybe this picture actually has a chance to be something.”

Ina sat up as Bertie dusted her with a last round of hair spray and swiveled her chair around to face him. 

“Oh, now don’t say that, there’s a reason you’re the star here. I love your movies.”

Ina may not have actually seen them all, but she knew of Elvis’ desire to be in more serious dramas. It was a common topic of conversation in Hollywood when his name came up. Ok, well, one of the common topics. Maybe not as common as his reputation for fucking his costars, she mused to herself, but still, as someone who had even less clout to be picky about projects, she sympathized with that ever present double bind of needing the money, not wanting to be seen as difficult, and yet, also yearning for more creative fulfillment.

Their eyes met and he nodded to himself, pursing his lips, as if he were reading her mind,

“Huh, so you're the one.” He grinned and took his cowboy hat off, running his hand through his hair as he tried to fill the awkward silence. “Well, sorry but I can’t issue you a refund, Iner Niner. All I can promise is that this ‘un will be better than some of the stinkers, I reckon.”

Ina smiled big, thinking of the desert sunrise this morning, all the good omens. “I don’t know if I would ever describe an Elvis film as a stinker. But I do have a good feeling about this film.” 

Elvis scratched his beard, a naughty blush lighting up his cheeks as he took in the very sheer negligee peeking out from under her white terry cloth robe. 

“Huh, feeling better and better the more I look- I mean listen to you, INy”

Ina felt a chill up her spine as she looked into Elvis’ dancing eyes, lingering on his face with newfound appreciation. There was something about the way the stubbly beard he had grown out for this role accentuated his jawline and made him seem more rugged, more handsome than he had looked when he played the polished romantic lead in his previous films. She felt a flutter of something unfamiliar stir in her belly; she had never been gaga over Elvis before. 

And you are not now, she told herself, it’s just the characters and the scenes you know you are shooting today. Besides, he flirts with everyone, why he’d been flirting with you and every woman in the bar last night even when he had one or two extras on his lap. 

Elvis arched his eyebrow, and Ina pulled her robe closer with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of me today.” She chuckled. “I was just telling Bertie I remembered when all I had to do to film a sex scene was lead a cowboy into my wigwam, and let the camera cut to smoke coming out of the top. We left the rest to the audience’s imagination.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that one.” Elvis whistled as he plopped into the make-up chair next to her.  “Well, don’t worry, we’re only gotta pretend to make love with an audience of a hundred or so crew members watching, so no pressure.”

They laughed nervously, and then one of the production assistants peered around the door and called to Ina that the DP was ready to work out the lighting for her fully nude bath scene. She stood and gave Elvis a friendly pat, smiling inwardly as she looked over her shoulder to see Bertie trying to wipe the dirt off his forehead. 

“See you out there in the ring, Presley.”

“Ok,” he smiled.

Ina studied him for another beat, wondering if the way his beard framed his lips made them look even bigger and more luscious, but she couldn’t be sure.

Striding from the building with wardrobe and dressings back to the soundstage, Ina considered how Elvis had managed to meet and completely defy her expectations. She had never seen him at awards shows, premieres or parties, nor ran into him around town or at the studio canteens. Indeed,he had a reputation for keeping to himself in Hollywood. All she knew was the second hand information she got from people who had worked with him and the Hollywood rumor mill. There were so many contradictory descriptions of him that no, she had not known what to expect when she arrived in Arizona and discovered an Elvis she barely recognized under the scruffy beard he’d grown.

When Chuck, the director, had brought her over to introduce them, he had been shy and sweet, sheepishly sticking out his hand with an affected deep “Hullo, I’m Elvis Presley.” But then by the end of the rehearsals yesterday they had become more comfortable with each other. Something about kissing Elvis inbetween jokes she knew he was making to make her feel at ease had broken the ice between them. And he had started in with the nicknames almost immediately, helping to bring her into the camaraderie that had been established with the crew before her arrival. 

The run through yesterday had gone well, all jokes aside, and he had shown himself to be respectful and kind, never pushing or trying anything when they were in each other's arms. It’s probably good that he’s sleeping with some of the extras, Ina thought to herself. That way there would be no pent up sexual expectations and she could just focus on being a professional and perhaps even friends with Elvis. 

Yes, she could be friends with him. Ina had only been in Apacheland for a little over 24 hours, but she could tell from Elvis’ warmth that they had established a solid rapport and chemistry for their roles. She felt as safe as she could with him as she readied herself for her first nude role on film.

“Today is going to be a good day,” Ina repeated to herself as she opened the door and entered the sound stage.

Ina was walking along the corridor behind the set when she heard Jerry’s voice on the other side of the plywood and hurried to catch him and flirt a little more. But then he said her name and she stopped, listening, as she realized he was speaking with one of Elvis’ other friends. It sounded like Charlie.

“I saw y’all. Why, she had her hands all over you, ya big stud. You really ain’t gonna try to bury the hatchet in that briar patch?”

“Oh, you know how Crazy can be. All I did was apologize to Alma and Flor for blocking the doorway last night and he ‘bout split in two. I ain’t about to try no funny business with his leading lady.”

“But you heard him call her Groucho, said he could barely stand to kiss her with that mustache above her lip. Said she was so manly, you could almost mistake her for one a the cowboy extras in drag. Like a goddamn drag queen who forgot to shave, is what he said.”

Ina felt the blood drain from her face and she began to tremble, tracing her fingers above her smooth upper lip, the one she diligently waxed every two weeks. They might as well have punched her in the gut with a steel two by four. She could almost taste something metallic at the back of her throat, where a lump formed.Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and it took all her willpower to push them back as she stood there paralyzed while Jerry and Charlie chatted away.

“Aw, well he was off his rocker, she isn’t nearly as bad as that dog from continuity he had in his room at NBC, you know, with the big knockers?”

“Nah, I think In-ahhs pretty cute myself. If she’d been pawing my chest I’d be on that like white on rice, man.”

“Heard you like drag queens, Hodges.”

“Aw naw man, see, now that ain’t fair. Sides, that’s Lamar.”

The busy sound of the crew talking and moving around the sound stage echoed up into the lights with Charlie and Jerry’s laughter, but Ina could hardly hear anything except the pounding of her heart through her whole body. Air. She needed air. Ina hurried out a side door, her mind was racing and there was no way she could stomach the idea of filming a sex scene with Elvis now. Jerry and Charlie’s words had fractured the fragile veneer of confidence she had spent the last month building up. Dieting, ballet classes, early nights, slathering her face in cold cream and plunging it in ice first thing in the morning, staying away from alcohol and ice cream. She had worked so hard to get to a place where she had been able to look in the mirror and tell herself she could do this. Now all her self doubt had returned tenfold. 

Facing the desert, she lit a cigarette and muttered under her breath, her voice cracking as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh god oh god, why did I take this role? Why do I embarrass myself again and again?”

Ina pressed her hand to her throat as she sucked in deeply, willing the nicotine to steady her shaking body. She longed to run off, get in her car, and maybe drive to that bar down the road Bertie had told her about, the one where all the baseball players went. 

The very idea of male attention was like a salve, and it helped her slow her breath as she slumped against the warm, concrete wall of the sound stage and looked out at the desert, focusing on the hills in the distance.

It was like looking out at a completely different view than she had faced that morning. The land was now  desolate and unforgiving in the July heat, and the jagged peaks of Superstition mountain loomed like a giant, dark fiery sentinel in the sky. Her chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale of smoke, her fingers trembled as she tried to quell the turmoil churning inside her. 

Just when she was sure she couldn’t walk back inside, she smelled a hint of sage in the dust, it filled her nostrils with renewed energy. The wind whispered in her ear that she was stronger than she knew, she had trudged harder paths than this.  She could put one foot in front of the other.

The door next to her exploded open and there was the fresh face of the young, blonde PA who had called to her in wardrobe.

“Oh, there you are Miss Balin, we’re ready for you.”

Ina sucked in another drag of her cigarette and took a deep breath. She could do this. Elvis and his entourage were a bunch of childish idiots. Fuck them. 

True to his promise, the director, Chuck, kept the set closed for the nude bath scene Ina was shooting first. It was just him, the cinematographer, his assistant, the boom operator, and three female PAs. One to hold the clap board and two to help Ina in and out of the tub. The scene was blocked so the camera only captured her naked from behind with the side of her breast visible as she donned a sheer blue robe lined with black lace. They would run it from the top, then Chuck would run over and tell her how stunning she was and ask for another take as she shivered. It took eleven takes in all before he and the DP were content they had the footage they needed.  

Ina reclined in her chair, trying to warm up during the short break before the next scene. She was rehearsing the dialogue as people trickled in to shoot her first love scene with Elvis, and she suddenly became paranoid that other crew members had heard Jerry and Charlie’s story about Elvis’ calling her a drag queen. She sat up and looked around. Suddenly every hushed whisper was about her, every glance her way was filled with pity. She gripped the side of her chair and told herself to get it to-fucking-gether. 

The next scene was meant to occur directly after the bath, when her character, Tracy, discovers Elvis’ character, Jess, rummaging around in her bedroom looking for his gun. They would argue, then kiss, then argue more before he carried her to the bed. After that, he would remove her robe and begin to kiss her neck, stop and then put his hat on the bedpost, before the camera moved in for an extreme close up of her face as they made love.

Then they would break the set and set up for the second sex scene that was meant to take place at the end of the film when Jess has been victorious against the band of outlaws and takes her to Mexico with him to start a new life across the border. 

Ina squeezed her hand, using her thumb as a metronome as she said her lines. “I must look new to you - toooo you  - I MUST look NEW to YOU now.” She had these little games she had learned in acting class to vary the rhythm and emphasis over and over until she was comfortable in the dialogue, in the character, and it rolled off her tongue naturally, without having to think about it.

Elvis' voice rang out high above the buzz of the crew and all the words she had ever known fell out of her head. She felt her sphincter clench up tightly instinctively as if on cue at the sound of his chuckle, and a frown formed on her lips. The air was suddenly ripe with the smell of sweaty bodies and stale coffee and cigarette smoke.

Looking over her shoulder, just the sight of him surrounded by his flunkies made Ina’s stomach sour. A spark of defiance bloomed in her belly at his smug face and she longed now to walk up to Elvis and slap him sharply across the face before telling him off for being such a rotten two-faced charming bastard. But instead she popped another black beauty to fight off the hunger she had sensed growing in her belly and steeled herself to give the performance of a lifetime.

Elvis passed by her chair as she stood, a crooked grin pushing the apples of his cheeks up above his beard. 

“Well, might as well get it over with.”

His despondency made Ina bristle. She was completely incapable of stopping the prickly voice that sprang out from her throat.

“We don’t have to shoot these love scenes.”

Elvis paused in his stride toward the set and looked back at Ina, his brow furrowed for a moment before he grinned again, bigger and wider.

“Huh? Course I want to shoot ‘em, love scenes are my specialty.”

Ina narrowed her eyes at his stupid, smirking expression as he glanced around at his friends as they whistled and chimed in with a chorus of stupid affirmations. 

“Uh huh.”

“That’s right.“

“On and off the set” 

“Well, you seem anxious to, what was it, get this over with?” She said cooly, leveling him with a glare. “So then it must be me. Maybe we could just cut them from the film altogether. CHUUCK?”

Elvis’ face began to scrunch up in a frown as Ina’s voice rang out like a knife, cutting through the chaos of a live shoot. The sound stage had been buzzing with activity as the crew readied the set, but now everyone had stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the two leads.

Elvis’ eyes zoned in on Ina and his face clouded with concern as his hands tightened against his body in clenched fists.

“Now see here - “ then he paused and took a deep breath, smiling big. 

That broad, smooth, movie star beam. 

“Aw, now I think we got are wires crossed someplace.That’s jus my ole stage fright talkin’, honey. Gets me ev’ry time like a sonabitch. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Iny Tiny, come get over here. I feel very honored to work with you. I been sayin’ all week, haven’t I, Chuck? That I couldn’t wait for Ina to get here, class up this joint’?”

Ina looked at where Chuck stood, hands at his hips as he nodded, a terrified grin plastered on his face.

“That’s right, that’s right. Why, that's what we’ve all been saying, Ina, we couldn’t wait for our Tracy to get here.”

Chuck dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it over his big, balding head as he spoke slowly, as if talking to a spooked horse. Ina

“I think I know what’s going on, my dear.”

Chuck looked over at Elvis and then put his arm around Ina, guiding her toward her mark. 

“You’re nervous. We’ve just spent two hours during the bath scene. And this sort of  - um - delicate, shall we say, yes, delicate feminine performance is new to you, isn't it?”

“Well, yes, I suppose, but I - “ 

Chuck put his finger to Ina’s mouth

“Say no more, my dear. It’s natural to feel vulnerable in this situation. But let me assure you, everything is being shot in the most artistic technique possible. And you, well, just look at you, huh?” He spun her around in the center of the set. 

“Ina, you are a dream. My living, breathing Renoir painting. And I want you to know, that was my inspiration for your room here. The colors, the outfits, a Parisian chorus line meets the Old West. The colors, the costumes, they are meant to evoke the Belle Epoch, you know? You are wearing the same outfits Degas’ dancers wore, did you know that?”

“Uh huh, you mean if they wore anything?” Ina added in a clipped tone.

“See, and that’s exactly it! The original work of art is, of course, the beauty of the female form.”

“Cain’t argue with that.” Elvis smirked, but Ina shot him a withering look which threw him off again and once more he was frowning and searching her face.

Chuck noticed none of this and kept talking. 

“And you are an exemplary example of the female form, a perfect specimen of a woman.”

“Well, I assure you I am no drag queen.”

Elvis coughed nervously, his hands clenched in fists at his side. The quick, sharp look he shot Joe did not escape Ina’s notice and she knew then that he had said the things Jerry and Charlie had been laughing about. She narrowed her glare at him, telegraphing her contempt as he stuttered and tried to regain control of the conversation.

“No - ah-uh -er -  siree, honey, you’re the real deal, got more class than the rest of this outfit combined. Why, I reckon I’m more nervous ‘bout this scene than you are.”

Chuck nodded vigorously.

“Yes, we are all nervous shooting something that is, as I said, delicate like this. And your character is unsure in this scene, she loves Jess, but is torn, because she’s worried he is still the bandit she sent away.  Channel your feelings into the scene and let’s make beautiful artwork here today.”

Ina rolled her eyes. “Ok, ok, I’m ok. Like he said, let’s just get it over with already.” 

Elvis grinned as he walked around the set door to his mark. 

“That’s the spirit, Iny Beany.”

Chuck yelled action, directing them through the scene as the cameras rolled.

“You see him rooting through your stuff, and you think of how long it's been, how he left you without a word. You hate him because you love him, but you wish you didn’t and you are trying to keep it all bottled up. Beautiful. Indifferent. That’s it Ina, that cool, icy glare, it’s perfect.”

It was not hard for Ina to muster a cool, icy glare for Elvis as he looked down at her. Every time they started, one of the PAs would come over and spray her body and chest with water for continuity with the bath scene that was just supposed to have occurred in the storyline.

In the third run through, she couldn’t help herself when Elvis’ foot knocked into hers. She thought of that guilty grimace she saw move across his face at the words “drag queen” and she stepped on his foot. Hard. 

“Perfect! Perfect Ina, you’re nailing it!” Chuck called out from where he was watching the monitor.

“Nailing me is more like it,” Elvis said, jumping back, a hurt pout on his face. Then he reached out and stroked the side of her shoulder. 

“Say, you sure you ok? You’re not sore at me for something, are you? It’d be better if we just clear the air. If I said something this morning, or did something in passing, honey, I’m sorry. But you gotta tell me.”

Ina looked in his big blue eyes, searching hers, seeking a connection. She glanced off behind him, at the brocade pink wall paper. The air smelled of bath water, sweat and cheap aftershave. Chuck was right, she thought, this could be a cheap Parisian brothel.

“I assure you, I am fine.” Ina forced her mouth into a tight smile. “Just watch where you’re going and we’ll be fine.”

He squinted his eyes at her, but seemed to decide against whatever it was he originally wanted to say, and stepped back with his arms up in surrender. “Okay. Alright. Whatever you say, Iny,  my mistake. Let’s try again, I bet we’ll get it right somehow.”

They went through the whole scene three times, up until the part where Jess lifts Tracy up and carries her to the bed. Elvis’ eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her, uttering his lines in a stern, serious voice. But when he picked her up and hoisted her in the air, she heard Charlie’s obnoxious laughter in the background and their words from earlier began to play through her head again on a loop.

The shrill sound of his laugh sent a sharp bolt of pain down the center of her head and suddenly she felt as if ginger ale was bubbling up on to the top of her brain. She wasn’t sure if she could hold it together anymore. 

There was the taste of bile again at the back of her throat. She swallowed, running through all of the tools she had learned in the Actor’s Studio such as telling herself she was Tracy and trying to channel her anger into the tension between Tracy and Jess. She was, after all, supposed to be fighting Jess’ advances at first and pushing him off before giving in. But she could barely look at Elvis and instinctively jerked back when he placed her on the bed and began to move his fingers over her sternum. 

Her head throbbed and she could feel more tears welling up. She had to get out of there and take a little break, so she cried out, “CUT!”

Elvis jumped back, a panicked look on his face.

“Did I hurt you, Iny Beany? Wanna do it again, just to practice, from the mark by the bed?”

“No.,” she hissed under her breath, pushing him away. Maybe she didn’t need a break, maybe they could just skip this scene altogether.

“No, no no. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. Chuck, do we really need a full love scene? We’re not making Belle du Jour here.”

Elvis had his hands on his hips, a stricken look on his face while Ina stood, straightening what was left of her dignity and snapping her fingers for the PAs to bring her thicker robe. 

“Ina, darling, we just went through this.” Chuck’s  transatlantic accent was getting thicker and higher-pitched the more he spoke. “And I hate to bring this up, you know I do, my dear, but it's in your contract.”

“Contract or not, I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“My dear, what can I do to make you comfortable?” Chuck pleaded.

“Nothing. I would rather make love to a rattlesnake than to that man.”

Elvis stood taller, his fingers balled up into fists as his leveled, polished voice began to transform into a Southern snarl. 

“Yeah, uh huh, well I had about enough of this bull shit. Rattlesnake, huh? That can be arranged, honey, why, I’ll get it myself.”

“Well, I bet it will be small and limp, just like you.”

He staggered back when she hurled those words at him, flustered and mumbling as he looked around the set to see who had been in earshot and heard her yell out the words ‘small and limp’ at him. The answer, of course, was everybody. Because everybody in the crew was watching.

They had, of course, originally gathered around because Charro! was making film history with today’s shoot. 

All the popular European films being released had sex scenes, James Bond was having sex. Several recent westerns had initially included nude scenes, but studios had cut them at the last minute. 

But 1968 marked the dawning of a new era. The MPAA had a new rating system. Bonnie & Clyde had proven last year that audiences not only had a stomach for violence, but wanted sex. And like Bonnie, they wanted it much more than they got it. And so this picture, and about a dozen others in production, were all racing to give it to them.

Even if the plan was to pan to a hat and then just Ina’s face, Charro! was going to make history. 

Or rather, it would have made history. Instead, the entire crew watched in horror as Ina threw up her hands and stomped off in protest while Elvis coughed loudly, took a deep breath, and then announced to the crowd

“Don’t worry, folks, we’re gonna get Arthur Rankin in here and he’s gonna recreate these scenes with claymation. Make a little Elvis the Rednosed Cowboy.” His voice rang out with forced cheerfulness, followed by a ripple of nervous laughter that spread through the soundstage. 

“Boy, I tell ya what, now that would be a historical milestone, huh Chuck? Bet audiences would pay double ta see a stop motion love scene.”

The director nodded as Elvis patted him on the shoulder with a forced, playful candor and then strode out of the studio followed by his entourage.

Elvis’ motel room was dark, save for the television, an ever present companion, and the table lamp that cast shadows against the wall outlining Alma’s silhouette. The light captured every curve of her body as it lay sideways across the bed next to him. His fingers tapped absentmindedly over her bronze thigh, but his mind was otherwise occupied and failed to register the coquettish look she was giving him as she pouted and ran her hand over his arm.

He was thinking of his first film and the time had asked his co-star, Richard Egan, the secret to good acting.

“You. You already got it kid, in spades. Why do you think they renamed this picture after your song? Just be you, unaffected, unadulterated. You’re a natural.”

But what good had natural ability been without opportunity? He’d had such high hopes back then, hopes to be in real movies about real people, stories with an edge that packed a punch. And for a time, it seemed like he was. Dramas in which the singing was a plausible part of the premise.

But somewhere along the way the edge had been sanded off and his plans had all gone wrong. He’d gotten himself typecast as the type of character he hated, a romantic lead who broke into song during an appointment with the IRS. Those roles were fine for Rock Hudson, but not for him. He knew he could do better. Better than dumb musicals, better than all this. 

He had those same high hopes for this picture when he first read the script.

“Guess I should be happy this western’s actually being filmed in the goddamn desert and not in some California shrub valley,” he mumbled, balling his hands into fists as he spoke.

“What was that, baby?”

Elvis looked up at the woman lying next to him, he had forgotten she was even there. Her warm body next to him had become just another amenity of the room, like the mini fridge or the Gideons Bible. The puzzled look on her young, naive face reminded him how truly alone he was. 

Oblivious to Elvis' existential crisis, Alma decided maybe he needed some prompting after their kisses had dissolved into still silence. She moved her hand to Elvis’ thigh, stopping when he flinched and jumped up almost as if he were trying to escape her touch. She frowned, then flipped her hair as she adjusted and lay prone over the polyester orange bedspread, fashioning a come hither look on her face. She could tell he was rattled by the onset fight and was trying everything in her bag of tricks to laugh it off and redirect him to something better. Her. 

“Ha, small and limp. That bitch has no idea what she’s missing. It took all my self control not to cry out in front of everyone that you have an anaconda in your pants, Elvis.”

A grimace passed over his face, and Elvis started to button up his shirt and mumble to the floor.

“Don’t, baby - just-” He softened his voice at the rejection he saw in her eyes. “Honey, I can’t stand it when women do that.”

“What, what am I doing wrong?” Alma sat, her face falling as she scooted back against the pillows.

Elvis pulled on the red bandana around his neck and paced the other way, looking back at her as he tucked his shirt back into his clean, brown corduroy pants. His shoulders stiffened.

“Insincerity. I can’t, I jus hate it when women go overboard trying to puff up my ego. I’ve had my share of lovers, no one ever complained. That’s not the point.”

“It isn’t?”

“Nah, honey. What that bitch is really saying is she don’t take me serious, I’m not man enough for this fucking role, for her New York high society standards. Fat lot of good any a that did her, thinks I don’t know she’s been in what, five pictures? Jerry Lewis? Try twenty five, sister. Give me a goddamn break. She’s wound so tight, she could start a fight in an empty house, I tell ya what, boy, and that’s the god honest truth.”

He began to pace the room, wringing his hands over as he walked.

“This un’ is gonna be different, Chuck said, more raw, Chuck said, more real.” His voice trilled between a high falsetto and a deep growl. “Then first they cut the violence, and now this bullshit. What’s next? Bet they gonna try and have me sing to my fuckin horse!” 

He punched the wall. “Fucking cowboys don’t fucking sing!” He screamed to the ceiling, then began to pace again, his hands now balled up in fists.

He turned and looked at Alma. “You ever see John Wayne sing? Gary Cooper? ‘Fore they walked over to the OK corral to shoot the bad guy?”

He punched the wall again and then turned and tried to compose himself when he saw Alma flinch.

“Ok ok ok ok.” He took a deep breath. “I  - uh - this picture’s got me all keyed up.”

“Want some grass? Flor has some killer grass, make you forget today even happened.”

“Nah, honey -  now, good lil girls like you should know better than to mess with that stuff.”

Alma pulled her hand through her hair and struck what she thought was a glamorous, come hither pose.

“Want me to give you a blow job? Help you relax?”

Elvis frowned. “Man, like a goddamn cat in heat and twice as willing. Don’t you think of nothing else?” 

Alma sat up and started to put her clothes on, her voice as low as her hopes for the evening.

“You’re the one who invited me up here and had me undress while you watched. I’m just trying to do what I thought you wanted.”

“Well stop tryin’ to think, you’ll wear yourself out.” 

Alma grabbed her shoes and opened the door, finding Joe on the other side with one hand about to knock and another holding up a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh, hey -”

“Hey yourself.” Alma said with a huff and a very aggressive hair flip, her long brown tresses smacking Joe’s cheek.

Elvis shrugged as Joe looked after Alma, whistling to himself. 

“Man o man, EP, you got the prettiest girl here. What’s up her butt?”

“I don’t know - Something up with the chicks on this picture, man, stuck up and crazier than a sack full a possums.”

Elvis looked at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall across from the bed as Joe mumbled about how many crazy women they had met on their journeys, half-listening as he stroked his beard and reassured himself that he looked just as fit as Clint Eastwood. And more handsome. He winked at himself and straightened his belt buckle, then looked over at Joe.

“Now hold on a second, son, jus’ what in high heaven is that?”

Elvis lifted his hands from his left hip and pointed at the cheeseburgers and fries Joe had laid out on the table, fixing him with a dark glare.

“You said dinner, EP, brought you dinner.”

“Tryin’ to get me back in the 200 club like you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you been auditioning for the part of lardass of the group.”

“But last night - I thought you - 

“I thought, I  thought - you ain’t thought shit, and that’s the problem. I’m supposed to be shirtless on film tomorrow and you fixin’ to get me fat as a boarding house cat.”

Joe frowned, furrowing his brow for the split second it took him to plaster a smile back on and nod. Now he understood what was up Alma’s ass, and what was about to be up his too if he didn’t turn this around.

“Right, boss, my mistake, tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

“What I want, what I want. Ain’t nobody cares what I want, and that’s the goddamn problem. Save a whole lotta time and money if you just thought to ask first.” 

Elvis put his hands on his waist and cried out an inaudible growl to the ceiling. 

“Jus… just bring me a caesar salad. A big one.”

Joe hurried out and Elvis went over to cover up the burgers, but the smell was too tempting, so instead he sat down and began to devour them one after another, mumbling to himself in between bites.

“Goddamit, if I look fat tomorrow it’ll be Joe’s goddamn fuckin’ fault.”

There was a knock at the door, and he yelled for whoever it was to come in as he went to wash up.

“Joe told me to come get rid of the - uh - food tray.”

Charlie’s voice trailed off as Elvis emerged from the bathroom and followed Charlie’s eyes to the table and the plates that were empty, save for a handful of cold fries.

“Well, have at it - wait.”

Elvis stepped back and looked around, grabbing one of the guns from the night stand and put it in his belt. He had all this nervous energy running up and down his body, he needed to just get out of this room, out of this motel, get as far as possible to just breathe some fresh air and think. He snapped his fingers at Charlie.

“Grab Gee Gee, we’re going for a drive.”

Charlie’s face softened into a big goofy, excited grin. “Okee dokee artichokee, where we heading?”

“Anywhere that ain’t this goddamn motel, numb nuts.” Elvis started to head down the exterior stairs, running his hand over the warm, wrought iron bannister. He looked back over his shoulder and clapped.

“Bring the cigars, too, then meet me at the car. Chop chop.” 

A renewed sense of purpose guided his steps as Elvis walked down the corridor of motel rooms that lined the pool,and he ran his hands up and down the front of his shirt. He mulled over what he wanted to do that didn’t involve eating more hamburgers. Or eating anything. 

When he looked up, he realized he had stopped outside Ina’s room. There, through the curtain, he could see the back of her through the curtain where she sat on her bed, talking to someone on the phone. 

“No no no, Mickey, of course I understand. Yes, well, I don’t know, I think you have to have been on top to get back on top, but your meaning is not lost on me. I get it. Yes. Opportunity of a lifetime. I know. Elvis Elvis.  Don’t worry. I’m gonna go make it right, right now.”

She looked up at the ceiling and wiped the sides of her eyes, summoning a mask of quiet cheer Elvis recognized well as she clutched the phone tight. 

“Yes, no  - I’ll be a good girl, Mickey. I promise. I know, I know, no bread.”

He was transfixed, enjoying the power he felt watching her unaware, and pressed closer to the glass, careful not to draw attention to himself. A small front section of her long, flowing hair fell out from behind her ears and she absentmindedly began to twist it nervously. She looked like a fragile little girl, like a beautiful flower someone had stepped on. The sight of her anxiously talking away pulled on his heart strings.

He shook his head. What the fuck had happened? Why was she so angry at him?  He'd played the part of the funny, affable host from the minute they met, introducing her to the crew and having Gee Gee get her screwdrivers as they all yukked it up in the bar. He'd about busted his gut when she lobbed a handful of ice at Charlie and knocked him over the back of the couch. 

He stood there watching as her big brown eyes lit up while she told her agent how nice the desert was. He almost believed her. Goddamit, why couldn’t she just be a good girl and get along? She’d been sweet and flirty in make-up and then what, an hour or two later, her claws were out and she’d aimed them at him. 

He whistled and thought about the fickleness of women as he turned to walk the long way around the pool. 

Thirty seconds later he heard the thud of a door opening followed by Ina’s voice calling out for him.

Elvis stopped, his hands moved out as if to balance himself as he swiveled around, slowly, to face her. A sense of dread settling in his stomach. Up above him, he saw Charlie and Gee Gee making their way down the staircase, while to his left a group of crew members were heading for the pool. The smell of chlorine wafted through the open air hallway.

He cautiously trudged back toward the doorway to where Ina stood, each footfall a slow thump of his cowboy boot against the hard concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh good, I’m glad I caught you, Elvis.” She swallowed, there it was again, that cheerful mask settling over her face as she exhaled a nervous laugh. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Elvis straightened up, looking around again before pulling on the red bandana at his throat. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with Ina. She was unpredictable and he couldn’t stand the awkward energy that flickered between them. However, he also didn’t want another public scene and he could already hear their names being whispered by some of the crew at the pool.

So he did what he always did with an audience, he mustered a wide, beaming smile and spoke in a nonchalant, cool voice:

“Hey honey, you ain’t gotta worry bout me, I’m all good. You get your beauty sleep and I’ll see you tamarra onset an - “

Ina’s lip trembled, she looked like she might fall apart at any moment.

Shit he thought, unable to stop himself from walking over to her and stroking her shoulder.

“There there, been a rough day. This desert heat, I tell ya what, baby, does things to ya head. Now go ahead and listen to ol’ Elvis -”

Ina put her hand over his where it squeezed her shoulder.

“Could we just talk - just for a moment?” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Alone. I -  I won’t take much time, I just - I’d like to apologize and clear the air if you’ll let me. Otherwise, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep and then you’ll be making love to a haggard old zombie first thing in the morning.”

Elvis' eyes softened and he looked around once more before nodding. “Ok.” 

As soon as the door closed he was an obedient puppy letting her lead him by the hand to sit on the bed, where he took off his cowboy hat and toyed with it in his lap. 

Ina stepped away, backing toward the dresser where she lifted herself to sit next to the TV, but then changed her mind. She felt like a ship adrift, unmoored and out of her comfort zone. Sitting and swinging her legs about was too casual, she decided, so she stood back up and swept the hair that had fallen out of her high ponytail behind her ears.

Just make it short, sweet, earnest, she reminded herself, you’re no stranger to eating humble pie. Indeed, Ina reflected on the number of times she had apologized unnecessarily just to smooth things over with her mother or sister, a producer, an ad executive. This was one of the first times she felt she actually had behaved badly and now she was lost for words.  If only there was a script for life. 

“I - um - thanks for seeing me - I - I - I.”

All the words left her head when she found Elvis’ dark blue eyes studying her beneath his long lashes. He was rotating his cowboy hat in his lap. The smell of the heavy floral cleaning products the maids had used lingered in the air, stronger now that the air conditioner cycled on with a heaving, mechanic whomp. She swallowed again, and counted to ten, trying to ignore the way the back of her neck seemed to prickle as a chill went down her spine. She steadied herself, forcing her eyes to connect with his. 

“Elvis, I am so very sorry. I mean it. I -  I - I - ’ve never lost it before onset, it is so unprofessional I can barely stand to look at myself.” 

She felt a release of tension as she watched his hands relax. He took a deep breath and stroked his beard.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ina,  I been making two to three pictures a year since 1933. I can roll with the punches, ain’t nothing I can’t handle. ThoughI gotta admit you threw me off back there.” 

The register of his voice changed from rougher to softer as he looked down at the floor and then back up at Ina’s face. 

“Be honest, did I do anything to offend you or make you mad at me?”

His softer side was almost harder to withstand and his eyes seemed to penetrate her very being, seeking out the secrets she kept hidden in her heart. She shook it off with another nervous chuckle,

“No, no, this was 100% me. I’ve been so nervous about these love making shoots. Chuck’s is telling everyone back in Hollywood this is the first the first film with a sex scene - “

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I mean, since the production code, maybe, but they’ve shot plenty of them. It’s just that the studio always pulls out at that last minute -”

Ina covered her mouth and gasped when she watched Elvis’ lip curl up at her words but said nothing. He didn’t need to. The glint in his eye said it all and when he waggled his eyebrows up and down Ina laughed out. She was grateful for the levity, it seemed to crack through Elvis’ cool bravada and made this conversation easier.

“Stop, you know what I mean.” 

She blushed, and looked out her window, watching as the silhouettes of two people walked by. It was getting dark, she needed to wrap it up. 

“But yes, today I was nervous, I haven’t been eating or sleeping much, but I promise you - “ 

Her voice wavered as she turned back to find his steady gaze. 

“ - um - no more fights, no more difficult behavior. I am so grateful for this opportunity to work with you and I just hope you can forgive me for my lapse of judgment.”

Elvis stood up, his fingers were once more busy fiddling with his cowboy hat and he spoke in a low whisper.

“Ok. I forgive you. So long as you really ain’t mad at me.”

The breath hitched in Ina’s throat when Elvis looked up at her, biting his lip in a way that made the top jut out a bit as he searched her face once more, as if she were a puzzle he needed to solve.

She gulped. “I - uh - I - no, I just need some sleep - I “

“Honey I can’t help feeling like you’re holding something back here, and if we’re gonna get along, I need you to be completely honest with me.”

Ina looked away. Damn him, he was like one of those fortune tellers back on Coney Island who she had believed as a kid. As a teenager she had learned the truth: they had no supernatural talents, they were just extremely gifted at reading their marks. Like Elvis was reading her right now.

“Oh, I may have been upset about something but it doesn’t matter, it was silly and stupid, like me. I - I was wrong, and I apologize. I’ll happily apologize to you in front of the whole crew tomorrow if you want. Really. If that is what it will take to make amends with you Mr. Presley.”

Elvis clenched his fists. 

“I don’t give a damn about a public apology or the crew or any of that. But I can’t bear it when a woman is sore at me and won’t say why. Ticks me off to no end.”

Tension hung in the air, and Ina sighed. Recounting the whole ordeal made it seem so juvenile now, though it still stung.

“I - I am, I heard some of your friends talking. They -”

“Which friends?”

“Jerry, Jerry and Charlie. I told you, it’s like high school and I can’t believe I let them upset me.”

“Well now you started, better lay it all out for me. Go on.”

“I - I well, I heard them laughing about how you had said I looked like - like drag queen that needed a shave. And they were calling me Groucho and saying I had big feet.”

Ina let her shoulders drop and forced a smile, but she couldn’t stop her hand from pulling on the necklace at her chest.

“Ha, actually now that I say it is kind of funny, you see I - um - I usually have a great sense of humor. Any of my friends would tell you. Some of them are drag queens, actually. They’d probably feel more slighted being compared to me. Your boys just, they  - they just caught me right before I was filming my first nude scene and well - “ 

Ina’s voice trailed off as she watched Elvis get up and pace towards the bathroom growling. 

“Those fucking nitwits, pulling a stunt like that and gummin up tha works -” he turned and his face fell at the pained look on Ina’s face. “You know I never said nothin’ like that.” 

Ina quickly shook her head, summoning the calm veneer that usually came so easy to her. She immediately regretted telling Elvis, now she felt as raw as she did after she had a full waxing appointment at the salon.

In her heart she knew he was lying, she knew from the way he had grimaced, albeit it briefly, on set when she’d said she wasn’t a drag queen. 

Yet there was something earnest and pleading in his eyes that made her question her own grip on reality. This got worse when he bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling, all vulnerable and apologetic, as if searching for the right thing to say. It made her stomach flip up into her throat. Then looked at her, his eyes wide with a newfound warmth as he sought a connection from across the room, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Ina knew right then that she needed to get him out before anything changed.

“Oh, yeah, sure, I know. And, well  it doesn’t matter anyway, right? I mean it’s none of my business what you think of me - like I said, I knew some knockout drag queens, so it’s a compliment really. Ha so - “

Elvis stode over as she spoke and grabbed her hands, his thumb delicately soothing the top of her knuckles. The spicy smell of his aftershave entered her nostrils as he spoke in a low, soft voice.

“Here’s the thing now, Iny Beany, I just need you to know though that I didn’t say none a that. Ya right, them boys still in high school, and they been playing pranks like we’re still in high school. I guar-an-TEE you they knew the assistant had just called for you, and they set that whole thing up to ruin my first sex scene shoot. Have half a mind to fire 'em. They need to learn some goddamn respect."

Ina found herself transfixed, unable to step away or pull her hands from his. She looked him over. He somehow looked like a cowboy who had let a bunch of drag queens dress him. 

He wore a fresh pair of dark green slacks, a thick leather belt and a long sleeve white linen shirt. Over his hands sat several jewel-encrusted rings matched by the two necklaces that lay underneath his red bandana, tied much like a silk ascot through a cravat. His foundation make-up was impeccable, and his hair was styled in a high quiff perfectly slicked back above his forehead. It made him look cavalier and polished at the same time. 

Then there was the way his smokey eye makeup was now smudged around his waterline made him look even more ruggedly attractive. Sweat glistened underneath his beard, almost like glitter.  There, in the dim light of her motel room he looked like the prettiest cowboy she had ever seen.

“Know what I mean?”

Ina shook her head, realizing she’d gotten caught up staring at his scruffy chin and lost track of what he was saying.

“Um, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

A sly grin tweaked up the corners of his lips.

“I said, you cain’t listen to a word outta those boys' moufs, ‘specially Charlie. His elevator don’t go all the way up, if you take my meaning.” 

Elvis stepped in closer to her, cautiously, waiting to see if she stepped away or flinched.  But it was all Ina could do to just keep breathing, each stroke of Elvis' thumb over her hand now sent a bolt of electricity down her chest.

“How I could I say something like that about you, Iny? Ya so beautiful, I could barely look at you too long before turning into mush.”

Ina rolled her eyes, but she could feel her own resolve waver as his hand moved to her hips and a blush crept over her face.

“Stop, you don’t have to lie to me.”

He shook his head, his nose tickling over hers.

“How can you say that Iny Meany? You have no idea, no idea what you do to me.”

Ina’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his thumb at the indent of her girdle. The air between their bodies seemed to crackle now with heat, and he pulled her closer, nuzzling his nose over hers. A tear rolled down her face and he lifted his finger to catch it.

“Ssshhhh, s’ok baby, s’ok. I got you. And I promise ain’t no one gonna talk like that about you again.”

He pressed his cheek against hers and she pushed back,willfully embracing the harsh scruff of his beard. She could feel herself teetering on the precipice of something dangerous. If she crossed this line with Elvis it would change the dynamic of their work together, it would change her reputation. She had vowed to herself she wouldn’t be susceptible to his charms, him, of all people. He was so obvious, so cliche. And yet here she was, nuzzling her nose back along his.

Emboldened, Elvis gently pressed his lips to her skin, peppering her jaw with light kisses. Ina eagerly moved to give him access to her neck and he instantly took the hint and suckled at her nape, pausing to grin as she moaned out a high, breathy unladylike moan.

Her chest heaved as their lips met and the faint aroma of mustard filled Ina’s nostrils.

“Oh my god, you taste like hamburger.”

Elvis chuckled, unsure of himself for a moment. Ina enjoyed watching him become self conscious.

"I’m sorry baby, you want me to go brush my teeth?”

She shook her head, pulling him closer and speaking between kisses.

 “No - mmmm - it’s amazing — mmm - haven’t had a mmamburger in months.”

Elvis let out a nervous laugh. 

“Ok, ya kook, I’ll be sure and eat hamburger every day.” 

"Ha! I'm gonna hold you to that, Presley."

His fingers brushed over her thighs as he lifted her onto the dresser and Ina trembled.

“You ok? Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

She shook her head, stopping was the last thing on her mind. Though she suddenly thought of crew members at the pool who’d seen her call Elvis into her room to apologize.

“I wonder what everyone outside thinks we’re doing in here.”

“Hmmm, whatever they’re thinking, I guarantee it's not nearly as good as what I’m thinking.”

“Elvis - I - I don’t want to have sex.”

He arched his eyebrow.

“Whoo now, who said anything about sex?”

“I mean, of course I want to have sex with you.”

He stoked her thighs, a faint smile on his face.

"Relax Iny, we’re just having some fun. Don’t overthink it. We ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t wanna do.”

Ina released a nervous giggle. “OK, you see, I um, well, actually the thing is that I sometimes break out when I - I do it.”

“Really? You know that Max Factor stuff will cover anything.”

“Ha! I know - I just think tonight, no matter what I say later, we should just keep it simple.”

“I gotcha Iny girl. Sweet. Simple.”

Ina’s pulse quickened at the way he leaned into her chest, his hands worked up from her thighs. She felt like a giddy teenager as she smiled gleefully into his face, her right hand fiddling with his ear.

“You have a great earlobe, you know that? I can see why you’re a movie star.”

“Huh. That right? Cuz of my earlobe?”

He leaned in and kissed the top of her nose.

“Oh yeah, it's very photogenic. I see why this is the only part of you in frame during the sex scene. I mean the rest could as ugly as Boris Karloff -” Ina waved her other hand in front of Elvis face. “But this lobe, right here, it’s a million dollar lobe.” 

Elvis chuckled. “That right?”

“Uh huh. I hope you have it insured - oh god.” 

Elvis' right hand moved over her breast, flicking her nipple. 

“Hmm, well, maybe I should stop whateva this is and go call the colonel, get him right on that, uh huh.”

He moved as if to leave, smirking at how quickly Ina pulled him back into her arms.

“Don’t go.” 

She squeaked out, voice cracking.

“You sure? You don want me to fetch a rattlesnake to kiss instead? See if you like making love to his earlobe?”

“Stop.” 

Ina swatted him, straightening the line of his bandana. 

“Please don’t repeat what I said earlier, I was tired and nervous and upset and I hate myself for that whole scene. I really am sorry, Presley.”

“I know, baby, I know. I'm just teasing.”

He pressed his lip son hers once more and Ina rocked forward into him, following the slow, tender rhythm of Elvis’ body. She felt like a buoy, still unmoored and adrift in the ocean, but now she didn’t want to come into shore. She wanted to stay like this, swaying back and forth to the ebb of Elvis’ tide,  delighting in the wet smack of Elvis’ lips every time they smashed into hers. Again and again.

Her whole body buzzed when his fingers trailed down to her hem and absentmindedly began to work their way under her dress. He had notched himself between her legs, fitting snugly against her knee caps. She made a small squeak of surrender as she opened her hips to bring him in closer. The taste of onions and pepsi and meat filled her mouth as he took her with the tip of his tongue, slowly owning and consuming her completely. 

Elvis moaned into her and deepened their kiss.

Ina lost herself in the sweet supple cushion of his lips. His hands moved over her bosom,  fanning the spark in her belly into a flame. Then his fingers moved under her skirt and feathered over the warmth of her panties. Ina felt the bulge begin to swell at her thigh and then Elvis jerked back.

Every cell in her body cried out to pull him back into her embrace and then until he was inside her and they were melting into each other. Vows and boundaries be damned. Thank god he had some sense of self control.

“Whooa, whoa whoa.” He muttered slowly, almost painfully.

Ina nodded, licking her lips as she met his eyes.

“You ok?’

“Yeah, you?”

Elvis took a deep breath. “Course, honey, I - I - I just think we better put the breaks on for tonight.”

“Yeah, sure, no. Totally. This was exactly what I wanted.”

He wiped his mouth, shooting her an impish smile, like he knew exactly what she wanted.

“Guess I should clear out, huh?”

“You don’t have to leave, I mean, I enjoy your company. Is what I mean. But if you are looking to get lucky, then yes, I suppose you should find one of those extras you've been playing patty cake with.”

“Huh, okay, well I'll be on my way then. Catch ya later.” 

But he didn't move, just stayed there hovering above her. His forehead leaning into her as he pushed in even closer, pressing the air out of her lungs.

“You do have a reputation to keep up. I understand.”

"Mhmmmm."

Elvis shook his head and went to sit on her bed, up against the head board.

“Look, I'm willing to put my reputation aside, jus for one night. I promise, no funny business. Clothes stay on.” 

He smirked.

“Unless you’d feel more comfortable without your dress on.”

Ina hesitantly moved to perch next to him. She could still taste the mix of Elvis’ salty sweat on her tongue as she wiped her raw lips.

“That’s awfully accommodating of you, Presley.”

“What can I say, Iny Beany, I’m an open minded guy. Always say, if a girl wants to take her own dress off, who am I to say she can’t?’

“Well, if it’s all the same to you I think I’ll keep mine on. For now. There’s still time for you to make an exit.”

“Aw, now shut up with that exit junk already and get in here.”

Elvis pulled Ina down into the curve of his arm, and she sighed, embracing the cozy warmth of his body and rubbing her hand over the trim stretch of his stomach as he spoke to her in a soft, friendly voice.

"Alright now, I want you to tell me everything there is to know about you. How did  the hell you end up in a god forsaken Elvis Presley picture, huh?”

“Hmmm, poor life choices? But Elvis, I thought you liked this film? I thought you were the one who made it happen.”

“Aw, well, sure, the first script was pret-tee fantastic. It was gritty and had guts, ya know, but then these damn producers been wittlin' it away to nothing, man. Chuck cornered me this afternoon once you'd left and started in on nagging me to sing the title song.”

“You don’t want to sing? Just the title? it would be so good.”

“So you like the way I sing, Iny?” 

Elvis’ eyes danced but then he remembered what they were talking about and was solemn once more. 

“Yeah, naw man, that would set it up as another Presley musical, the next they’ll be trying to get me to sing to my horse. No self respecting cowboy sings, you ever heard of a singing cowboy? Never seen John Wayne sing.”

“OK, sure, but what about Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hank Williams was the Driftless Cowboy, right?” Elvis leveled her with his blue eyes and pinched her side. 

“Hmmm - guess you got me there. But it’s 1968, I’d like to see Gene Autry sell a movie in today’s economy. My boy my boy. Today it ain't no joke. Can you see him in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly?”

Ina tilted her head in agreement back onto Elvis' shoulder, she felt the same way she did sinking into a pair of comfy, worn-in slippers, and founding his chest as relaxed and welcoming,

“Trust me, I get it, I’m just grateful I don’t have to do a rape scene in this film.”

He squeezed Ina tighter, kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, me too, honey, real grateful. Boy. Don’t know why anyone want ta see that.”

 “The old west ain’t what it used to be.”

“You can say that again.”

Elvis' arms closed around Ina tighter as they murmured the hours away, comparing diet pills, LA taco huts and favorite movies while their limbs easily intertwined into one another. The closest he got to undressing her was the moment around midnight when he stealthily undid her pony tail and played with her hair while she pretended to be miffed. Then he kissed her forehead and told her he had done her a favor, because it looked better this way, and she should just be a good girl and do as he said. Which got him a light slap and a big “HA!”

They spent the next hour enjoying a playful, cozy respite together in the dim orange glow of Ina’s hotel room. It was well past one in the morning when he gave her a parting kiss that turned into a series of parting kisses before he snuck back up to his suite. 

Shooting began the next day at 7 a.m., and you could have knocked the director, Chuck, over with a long, pink gaudy boa feather as he found Elvis and Ina in good spirits ready to work. They exchanged playful barbs and their onscreen chemistry sizzled when they went through each sequence, pausing between takes for Ina’s chest to be spritzed while another batch of assistants dabbed Elvis’ forehead with dry unused coffee filters. The industry’s secret weapon against perspiration.

Elvis found Ina in her dressing room during a break and their lips met with stifled giggles as they kissed now with away from the ever present surveillance of the crew, laughing and talked into each other’s mouths.

“Oh my god, now you taste like bacon. I swear Elvis, you’re gonna have me off my diet and then I’ll swell up like a balloon and then Charro! will be a very different film about a cowboy and his pregnant saloon madam.”

“Baby, you gotta let yourself have one hamburger now and then, trust me now, I been doing this longer than you. It will help the cravings.”

Ina kept her mouth shut as she calculated that she had been in this business just as long as he had, since she began modelling at 15 in 1955.

“Ok. I give in. I have no willpower around you. I will have one hamburger this week.”

“Tonight, honey. Imma have you for dinner.” He winked. “Over for dinner, I mean.  I’ll have one a my guys come get you and bring you up to my room later. ”

“Ok. Dinner. Tonight. Your room.” She grinned as she chased the taste of bacon on his tongue and the salty scent of his body as it enveloped her until a knock on the door brought them back into their roles on set as Jess and Tracy.

That night Elvis went through his usual routine after a shoot, which began with a shower to wash off the desert and the dust and the sweat of the set off his body. He took extra care in how he dressed, selecting a light blue dress shirt and a white suit, capping off his outfit with a small black porkpie hat. He doused himself in aftershave and the smell of Old Spice smacked Joe in the face when he came in to set up Elvis’ calls to Memphis and LA.

Once Elvis hung up his phone he leaned over and banged on the wall for Joe to come back in.

“You want me to get that sweet little Mexican gal boss? Alma?”

“Did I tell you to do that? That gal ain’t nothing but a big phony, naw man. Wait for me to tell you what to do, son."

Elvis stood up and went to slather more after shave on, exchanging one ring for another at his toiletry bag.

"Go down stairs and invite Ina up to join me for dinner.”

Joe let out a loud cackle. “What, Groucho?”

Elvis paused, taking in the look of disbelief on Joe’s face. His heart sank and he rubbed his hands over one another as he remembered how they all were howling at his jokes about her a few nights ago. 

He hadn’t even really meant it. He’d just said those things after watching Alma and Flor look at Ina with envy during rehearsals. All he had wanted was to put them at ease, make them understand he was attracted to them. Saying what he thought they wanted to hear. But then the boys had chimed in and now they all thought she was a dog. 

Elvis forced a low chuckle and ran his hand through his hair.

“Nah, man, not Ina - I meant Flor. Goddamn it,  this picture messin’ with my head.”  

He swallowed hard, thinking of the way Ina's beautiful big brown eyes looking up at him. They their legs had seemed to fit together, the way conversation had seemed to flow effortlessly. He smiled to himself thinking of the way she had blushed when he snuck into her dressing room. How her breasts had felt beneath as they ran their love scenes. He pushed away the pang of guilt for now and tamped down his desire to hold her once more. Maybe he'd sneak down to her room later if he could get away. But for now he had an image uphold. These guys looked up to him, and his control over them as their boss rested on the how cool they thought he was.

He snapped his finger at Joe. 

“But I don’t wanna hear y’all calling her that no more. Tell the others. Like I said this morning, y’all shitwads talking like that is what got me in trouble in the first place.”

And with that, Elvis spent another night surrounded by people and utterly alone.

I don't really think I did Ina justice here, look at how great they looked together. We were robbed of their sex scenes.....

taglist:

@i-r-i-n-a-a @ab4eva @eliseinmemphis @richardslady121 @artlover8992 @ashtag6887 @karolshungary @j-v-9-2 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @notstefaniepresley @dollette02 @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @velvetelvis @moonchild-daniella @lialocklear @obsessionisthecure @louisejoy86 @arrolyn1114 @literally-just-elvis-fics

i don't really have a taglist for one-shots and I apologize if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and I'll take you off.

[raurquiz]

#HappyBirthday #kurtrussell #actor #ego #GuardiansoftheGalaxyVol2 #whatif #Silkwood #EscapefromNewYork #thething #BigTroubleinLittleChina #elvis #tangoandcash #Tombstone #stargate #SkyHigh #poseidon #deathproof #thehatefuleight #OnceUponaTimeinHollywood #furious7 #f9 #TheChristmasChronicles2 #monarch @streammaxla @marvelstudios @disneyplusla @netflixlat

[oldshowbiz]

Selma and Wilcox in Hollywood: As seen in an Elvis Presley movie versus today.

[ackermental]

love all the elvis girlies crying in the comments about this movie

tumblr police coming after fictional ships, then falling asleep when someone is protecting an actual groomer or pedophile

oh, it was normal back then, having sexual/romantic relationships with teenage girls

no, it fucking wasn't, you americans are just fucked up when it comes to your celebrity gods

movie & real life angel <3

[prattlinpeach]

And the reason we're in Las Vegas...Dum dum da dum...

May 25, 2024 is our 5th wedding anniversary, and we decided a while back that we wanted to renew our vows every five years, and here it is! And it’s on a Saturday, just like the first time! So…when we decided we would renew our vows, our first thought was…Las Vegas…Elvis, what more could you want! So…we sent out the word to everyone who was there the first time, and added some new friends we’ve…

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔FOREVERDOLLY'S AUSTIN BUTLER MASTERLIST

"𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚. 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙨, 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩. . . "

✶ TATTOOED HEART ONESHOT (BIKER!AUSTIN X READER)

austin is the club president of a local outlaw biker gang- a one percenter. he lies, he kills and he doesn't apologize for it. he was one weakness- you. when he gets a distressed late night call from you he's quick to come to your rescue. the only problem? your own father was in the same motorcycle club that austin now runs, and after his death you cut all contact. when you two see each other again emotions run high and things get. . . a little out of control.

total word count: 12.1k

✶ BABY BUTLER MASTERLIST (DAD! AUSTIN X MOM!READER) COMPLETED

you get pregnant while in australia, your husband still in the process of filming for the elvis biopic. this series follows you and austin as you both navigate being first-time parents whilst in the public eye.

total word count: 8.7k

✶ BABY LOVE ONESHOT (DOM!AUSTIN X SELF CONSCIOUS!READER)

you've gained some “relationship” weight since you and austin first started dating, and you find yourself growing more and more self conscious as time goes on. austin takes his time letting you know just how beautiful he finds you.

total word count: 3.6k

✶ OOPSIE DAISY ONESHOT (AUSTIN X INJURED!READER)

austin tries to protect you from journalists and paparazzi. he get's big time mad when one of them get's a little too close to you.

total word count: 2.4k

✶ ARE YOU MINE ONESHOT (EX'S BEST FRIEND!AUSTIN X READER)

after a bad breakup with your cheating ex, the last thing you’re expecting is for his best friend to side with you. at his insistence, you decide to let him accompany you to the arctic monkey concert in las vegas. what happens in las vegas doesn’t always stay in las vegas.

total word count: 13.1k

✶ FAKE DATING MASTERLIST (BOSS!AUSTIN X EMPLOYEE!READER)

you absolutely can't stand your boss. after one bad run in with him, you decide that he's office enemy number one. so when your mother breaks the news that your ex boyfriend is bringing his new fiancé to your sister's wedding as his plus one, you lie and tell her you'll be bringing your very own boyfriend along with you to greece. the problem? you don't actually have a boyfriend. so when austin butler, your arch nemesis of a boss, offers to be your fake boyfriend, you have to take him up on it. greece is a beautiful place to fall in love, no?

total word count: 21.5k

✶ TEAR YOU APART (BIKER!AUSTIN X READER)

"I want it to hurt" and "quit being such a brat"

total word count: 1.8k

✶ I JUST RIDE MASTERLIST (80's MECHANIC! AUSTIN X BEST FRIEND! READER)

it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

total word count: 8.5k

✶ SHOTGUN WEDDING ONESHOT (AUSTIN!TEX WATSON X KIDNAPPED!READER)

the year is 1969 and you find yourself lucky enough to live up in the hollywood hills, spending your days dancing away to your favorite rock n’ roll vinyls in an old farmhouse and looking after your wild roommates. the only problem? you’ve caught the eye of tex watson. how does he spend his days? making moves towards finally getting everything that he could ever want. you.

total word count: 16.5k

✶ DASHBOARD JESUS ONESHOT (AUSTIN!TEX WATSON X READER)

"I can't. . .please. . . I can't take it anymore." and "good boy."

total word count: 2.5k

wanna be notified any time i post austin butler content? go ahead and like/comment on this post to stay connected !

← go back to the masterlist guide

"𝙖𝙨 𝙞 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙖𝙧 ' 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 '. . . "

[theelvisprincess]

Ride

Warning- Filthy

--

He couldn't help himself. The way you innocently had your hand out, thumb up asking passing cars to hitch a ride- that pretty look on your face once you saw him, he couldn't bring himself to not stop and offer assistance. He was all alone heading back from a quick cool off cruise from getting into a heated argument with Cilla about her getting rid of one of his beloved cars. The fact that she couldn't even calm little Lisa Marie down without the help of some Nanny when she woke from their shouting also got on his nerves. His eyes trail up your freshly shaven legs, your little work dress much too high for you to walk alone in this terrifying town of Hollywood. Swerving his car in front of the sidewalk he gives a soft smile with a hard to catch glint of lust in his eyes- reaching over he opens the door for you to get in. Your eyes lit up as soon as you realize who it is. you knew that he was cute but you didn't know that he was Elvis fucking Presley. Putting your purse in front of you- you timidly get into his obviously expensive Lincoln- sitting on top of the leather seat, gratitude fills your eyes as you look over at him.

All the thoughts of his little wife and daughter at home left his mind as soon as you gave him that shy smile- batting your long false eyelashes towards him.

‘’Where ya heading, honey?’’ .

As you give him your address you watch as his eyes peer down at your exposed thighs. giving you a swift nod- he tears his eyes away and starts to drive with one hand. The other seems to be holding a cigar- tilting the ash out the window. ‘’You live here or jus visiting?’’ He asks, the smell of smoke and woodsy cologne fill your scents as you run your fingers flirtatiously through your hair. ‘’I just moved here about a month ago with my parents.’’ 

Deeply humming at your explanation- he peers back at you. He’s betting money that you’ll be easy to persuade to tend to his needs. If you're comfortable enough wearing that skimpy dress and all that makeup he was almost sure. The way your fingers were swirling in your silky hair was also very telling. ‘’You always ask guys for rides or?’’ He gives a soft chuckle bringing his cigar up to his plump lips. The wind blows his black hair a little as he speeds down the mostly empty street. 

‘’N-no I…I just didn’t have a ride for today. This is new to me, I c-can give you money.’’ Looking down in a flustered manner you begin rummaging through your purse. His hand firmly rests on yours as he shoots you a smirk. ‘’Nah, I don’t need your money.’’

Setting his hand back on the gear, you shoot him a confused look as you zip your purse back up. ‘’You know- you're very nice for giving me a ride. I was standing there for nearly ten minutes.’’ A radiant smile replaces your pout as you look over at him. 

‘’A pretty girl like you? Well that don’t sound right. I’m glad I came along n’ got you before some wacky hippie did.’’ A blush creeps on your cheeks at the compliment as you let out a soft giggle. Your friends are going to flip once they hear about this. 

Your beautiful giggle was enough for Elvis to know there’s no way you’d turn him down. ‘’You're so far, honey. I ain’t gonna bite ya.’’ He teases as he brings his arm up to rest behind you on the top of the seat as he softly grips your arm, pulling your body into his side. His fingers begin grazing your smooth exposed arm. 

‘’Unless ya want me to.’’ He playfully whispers in your ear, giving your cheek a soft kiss. Shivering at his warm breath fanning over your neck- you can’t help but feel dizzy from the attention. Not only were you in the car with one of the most famous men of the twentieth century but he was clearly flirting with you. ‘’That does sounds like a good idea.’’ You flirt back as you bring your little hand to gently rest on his jean covered thigh. 

Smirking, he once again eyes your very much exposed thighs. ‘’Ain’t you cold walking around like that all day?’’

Shaking your head- you turn to face him. You're so close your nose almost bumps his jaw. Looking up at him you can’t help the slick that spills out of your hole- being next to him was intoxicating. His presence alone was enough to make you drool but the smell of his cologne surrounding you and the way his fingers are now pulling the dress strap off your shoulder- you feel completely enthralled by the whole situation. ‘’You’re tv special was so good.’’ You breathe out as he begins to run the pads of his fingertips up and onto your sensitive neck. Watching him speed up the streets of Hollywood- you gently bring your hand closer to his aching clothed length. 

Humming at your compliment- and the way your unchipped polished hand is slowly rising- he gives you a heartfelt grin- giving you an almost bashful blush. ‘’What part did ya like most, honey?’’ 

‘’When you sang ‘One Night’ in that black leather suit, it got me all worked up.’’ Your flirtatious tone sends a jolt straight down to his cock. Biting his lip to stop his coy smile, he squints his eyes to look over your pretty face. Your bright eyes are glazed over with need- a blush covering your kissable cheeks- your plump lips somewhat parted. Bringing the cigar to his lips, he sucks in a long drag. Tearing his eyes away from your gorgeous face he focuses back on the road- blowing the smoke into the car rather than out the window like he's being doing just so you can breathe some of it in. ‘’I outta stop the car, I can’t drive when all m’ thinking about is having your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock, honey.’’ He chuckles as he finds the nearest empty parking lot. 

Blushing at his statement- excitement bubbles up in your lower stomach as you feel the cars rumbling echo throughout the small vacant parking lot. The music from the radio becomes nonexistent to you as your heartbeat starts to pick up as the car comes to a halt. You nervously chew on your lip as you gently squeeze his package- feeling it jump back to graze your palm. You let out a soft moan- looking up through thick eyelashes- you watch as this larger than life man moves down to trial wet kisses on your perfume smelling neck. You moan out his name as you feel his hand that was toying with your strap move to gently squeeze your breast. His other hand moves to run firmly up your thigh stopping just three inches away where you're craving him to be for minutes if not- years. Feeling heat from his cigar that’s still between his fingers on your thigh and his finger from his other hand grazing your nipple- you loudly whimper as you squish your thighs together for some friction. 

‘’Aw what’s the matter, honey?’’ He gives you a soft pout as if teasing you. He then leans in to gently kiss your temple. ‘’I ain’t gettin you all worked up again, am I?’’ You moan as you feel his fingers pinch your nipple through the dress and at his teasing tone that is getting you to come undone before his eyes. 

He has you all prepped- he knows damn well your panties are soaked by now, he just needs to check before forcing his cock down your throat. Trailing his fingers up- he groans at the feel of your lace panties. His length twitches against your palm as you feel his fingers gently rub circles on your panties- your slick coating him through the cloth. ‘’So damn wet- what are ya, a virgin?’’ He jokes as he brings his fingers up to suck on your sweet tasting slick. You whine as you widen your legs to give him more access for when he goes back down.

His other hand stops pinching your nipple and he goes to move his arm from over you to firmly grip onto your chin. Squeezing just enough for your lips to be jutted out like a little fish. He chuckles softly at your lustfully glazed over face and brings his lips hungirly on top of yours. Groaning at the taste of your cherry tasting lipstick- he lets go of your face to wrap his arm around your waist- pulling you on top of his lap. His other hand roughly grabs your butt that is now exposed from your dress being pulled up by him to be bunched around your waist- he pushes you down so your soaked panties meet his aching jean covered bulge. 

Your hands run through his thick hair as you feel his tongue gently graze against yours- the taste of tobacco and mint fill your mouth. Moaning at the taste- you can’t help but grind down on top of him making him groan deeply at the friction. 

‘’You're gonna pay me by swallowing what I give ya. What do ya think about that, honey?’’ He grumbles against your soft lips- moving his hands for one to wrap around your thigh and the other around your arm as he manhandles you so you can be face down in his crotch and ass up in the air next to him.  

He wasn’t usually like this- so straight to the point but there was something about you that he just needed. You exude this sexuality and it’s putting him under a spell. The curve of your perky butt fits his hands perfectly and he can’t get enough of that sweet scent that’s flowing from your little body. The way your rosy cheeks are adorned with freckles and your lust filled eyes are glazed over with tears. You had this certain look to you that just hit the spot for him.

‘’Go for it, pretty girl.’’ He softly purrs as he takes his left hand up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail- mainly so he can see you. You quickly follow his instruction and bring your hand forward- unzipping the jean you don’t expect him to not be wearing underwear- his length pops out grazing your finger. You moan needily at his size- definitely bigger than what the girls at work assumed it was. Wrapping your significantly smaller hand around him, you begin to pepper gentle kisses up and down his length as if you were worshiping it. ‘’You're so big, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to f-fit it all.’’

He drops his head back on the seat letting a groan rumble from deep within his chest as feels you slowly move your tiny hand up and down his length- beads of precum already spilling from the swollen tip. ‘’Sure you can- I’ll help you fit it all don’t worry..’’ Elvis goes to move your hair to the other side of your head so he can firmly grip the back of your neck. Maintaining eye contact he pushes your head to lower towards his crotch. ‘’Open wide like a good little girl.’’

You moan as you taste the singer's precum as he lowers your head for you to take him in your mouth. Your jaw already burns from the stretch as your eyes begin to become completely blurry due to him slowly pushing you down to hit the back of your throat. Growling through gritted teeth- he pulls you back up, sensing your oxygen being cut off. ‘’Breath through your nose.’’ He commands as he uses your mouth once again- doing the same exact thing. Groaning at your tongue grazing the sensitive veins that trail the side of his length- he unexpectedly raises his hips up to grind against the roof of your mouth- causing tears to spill from your smudged liner eyes and for you to choke loudly around him. 

‘’M' sorry- I just can't help myself- your mouth is just taking me so fucking good, baby.’’ He grunts out as he begins to gradually pick up the pace as he watches you struggle against him- only turning him on more. Your little hands grip his thigh for support as you needily arch your back like a bitch in heat. He’s loving this way more than he’d thought- his wife never lets him do this- she’s too prime and proper but you- you're just the stress reliever he’s been needing. You moan loudly around his twitching length as you feel two fingers dip inside of your white panties and slowly slip inside of your tight hole. ‘’Were you gonna do this with any man who picked you up? Did ole daddy yell at you so you decided you were gonna be a slut for the day or what?’’

Feeling so full, you loudly moan around him. His fingers so deep their grazing places you never knew existed- his cock going so deep inside your mouth you feel as though it is in your chest. ‘’Fuck.’’ You hear Elvis grit between clenched teeth as he inserts a third finger into your weeping hole. Precum once again fills your mouth as he eagerly forces himself down your unyielding throat over and over. His fingers start to pick up pace inside of you- his wedding ring grazing your thigh causes you to moan around him. You try and protest as he continues to use your mouth but this only makes him roughly grip your hair pulling you back so his length falls on his jeans and your tear glossed eyes gaze up at him. ‘’C’mon, I know you can take it- if ya wan’ed me ta stop so bad then why the hell are ya clenching around my damn fingers?’’ You embarrassingly close your eyes in shame as you feel yourself clench another time around his fingers as you hear how his southern accent thickened from the last time you heard it. ‘’M’ s-sorry.’’ You whine out as you feel his fingers leave your needy hole.

‘’Quiet baby- jus take it.’’ Clenching around nothing due to the nickname- you obediently nod your head and lean down trying to mimic what he was doing to you moments ago. You feel his thigh tense under your hands as you sink back down on him. ‘’Thas it, keep goin jus’ like that little girl.’’ 

You moan around his twitching length as you feel his hand make its way down your arched back to pull on your panties- ripping them off of you and bringing them towards your face. ‘’You already ruined them- I might as well jus’ keep em.’’ He grunts as he reaches over to throw them inside the glove department. 

You pick up the pace- feeling as though you must prove yourself and show him what a good girl you can be for him- you begin replicating exactly what he was forcing you to do earlier. A throaty whimper escapes from him as he begins to thrust up almost desperately. His right hand makes its way to rub circles onto your swollen clit as he feels himself get closer. His left hand is still on top of your neck- a reminder that if you falter he will take it upon himself to use your mouth hole the way he wants. “Such a fuckin slut- thought ya said ya couldn’t take it.” He mocks as he watches how good you are taking him.

You loudly moan around his length, sending vibrations that shoot straight to his soul. He couldn’t get enough of you- the fact that you were so willing to please him the way he’s been craving is driving him crazy. Taking in you desperately trying to make him reach his climax- he can’t help but let go of your neck and grip onto the top of the dress pulling it down to expose your matching white lace bra. He groans at the sight as he reaches forward and gives your breast a soft squeeze. “Baby- I- I can’t go much longer fuckin s-shit.” He groans as his head drops back onto the headrest. His left hand goes back up, taking a drag of the cigar that is still situated between his fingers. He smirks as he blows the air into your face- watching as it forces you to inhale since your mouth was busy bobbing on his cock. He didn’t expect his Friday night to turn out like this but he couldn’t feel more blessed for how it did- he’s always been a sucker for girls who give great head. “Shit-“ he hisses as he feels you completely take him in your throat. You back up for air- strings of saliva and precum falling from your mouth covering his length completely in mixed slick. He brings his hand away from your needy clit and begins to pump himself- groaning at how easily his hand was slipping up and down his length due to you being completely sloppy.

“Lemme cum on your pretty little face- whatever lands in your mouth you be a good girl n’ swallow, got it?’’ Taking one last drag from his cigar he flicks it out of the window- as he blows the smoke once again in your direction. ’’Get on your knees for me n’ keep that little mouth open.” You eagerly nod as you move your whole body to fit in between his thighs- the steering wheel crushing the pink bow you carefully placed on for work. 

God- Elvis was loving this way too much. You were so damn eager to please him and that made him all the more turned on. Looking down sternly- he takes in your state. Your tears caused streaks of mascara to run down your rosy cheeks, your hair that was once perfectly done up- a complete mess, most of the hair in the front sticking to your forehead and cheeks due to how much effort you were putting in to make his length perfectly coated. Your lips were completely bruised- no sign of lipstick left and your pretty eyes were staring up at him as if he were some God you were about to worship. You were everything he’s been needing for a quick fix and all you did so far was give him amazing head and let his fingers plunge into your incredibly tight hole. Groaning loudly- he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he feels himself get closer. 

‘’Please- please I need it.’’ Watching you plead and open your mouth to stick your eager tongue out did nothing but prove to him how much of a slut you actually were being. Growling pervertedly- he takes his free hand to roughly wrap around your neck to force your tongue onto his leaking tip. Squeezing tightly around your slim neck- you begin to feel lightheaded. ‘’You were made for this weren’t ya? Keep that tongue out so daddy can feed you, huh.’’ 

Clenching around nothing at his words- you desperately start kitten licking the tip as his hands steadily pump his large length up and down. His wedding ring blinding you each time he moves up under your lips due to the street lamp shining brightly from outside the car. Biting hard on his lip- he can’t help the grin that overtakes his mouth. ‘’Open wide, baby..’’ You obediently listen and he can’t help but chuckle lightly as you dumbly comply. He barely fucked your mouth a little and stuck three fingers in- how were you this brainless already? ‘’Such’a good little girl.’’ He teasingly nods at you- groaning as a string of saliva from your tongue drips on top of his length sending shivers throughout his body. 

Your little eyes pleading for air and his seed was enough for him- he loudly moans as he shoots his week long load into your mouth. Ropes of it getting stuck in your eyelashes and splashing on your cheeks but most of it making its way onto your little tongue. His eyes clamp shut as he harshly drops his head back onto the headrest- still pumping himself due to the enormous amount of cum he still has in him. Letting go of his tight grasp on your neck- he brings his other hand to delicately brush the sticky strands of hair out of your face. ‘’Swallow.’’ He sternly demands as he peers down at your tongue that is fully covered in white. You let out a whimper as you follow his instruction- soon moaning at the surprisingly sweet taste of him. ‘’You don’t wanna let none go to waste, do ya?’’ Tauntingly questioning you, he swipes some of the cum that landed on his jeans and brings it to your mouth shooting you his signature crooked grin. His forehead was beaded with sweat- chest heaving up and down as his climax finally comes to a stop. 

Your mouth wraps around his long finger as you sensually bob on it back and forth making sure none was going to waste. ‘’Don do it it like that- your gonna get my cock goin again.’’ You giggle lightly at his playful expression and lean down to lick up the trials of cum that were leaking down his softening length. Hissing at being overstimulated- he watches through half lidded eyes as you clean up the mess you made. Craning his neck forward- he takes hold of the back of your neck and pulls you up to clash his lips onto your slick tasting ones. Groaning onto your mouth he gently cups the side of your face as his soft pillowy lips begin needily kissing your bruised ones. You hum gently at how much of a great kisser he is as you return to be seated on top of his lap. His length rests right underneath your aching hole. ‘’Woah, careful baby.’’ He demands- concern filling his eyes as he lifts you up so you're not directly on top of his length. ‘’You gotta wrap?’’

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s asking. You would think that a man like him would keep a condom in his glove department or even his wallet. You shake your head. ‘’No- I’m sorry… I didn’t think I would be doing anything like this today.’’ You laugh out as you help lift yourself up by placing your hands firmly on his shoulders. He lets out a bashful laugh and bites his lip in deep thought. His eyes twinkling as he peers down into yours. ‘’Me either- I-’’ He pauses looking down at your scrunched up dress. You looked so damn good hovering right above where he wanted you to be wrapped around him most. 

You intently gaze at him. Making eye contact with you once again- he leans forward to give you a passionate kiss. Your lips dance together as his other hand rests firmly on your curved waist. He gently brings your hips down- feeling his semi-hard length twitch against your lace panties makes you softly gasp in his mouth. Pulling abruptly away from the heated kiss- anxiety begins to pool in your stomach. ‘’I- Elvis. I’m sorry but I should really be heading home- my dads going to kill me for how late I am.’’ Lying through your teeth- you couldn’t help but feel subconscious. He has no idea that you are indeed a virgin and with the joke he made earlier, you aren’t sure if he would be into that. 

If only you knew how wrong you’d be.. 

His eyebrows furrow as he intently looks back at you. A part of him not wanting to let you out of his sight. It was as if you changed his brain chemistry because all he could think about now was you. The way you obediently followed his every word- the way you didn’t try and truly fight back. You gave him just what he’s been looking for…a little doll that he can use however he wants. Sighing softly he comes to terms with what you're saying. ‘’Y-your right. We don even got a…. ya know. Don want another little Presley running around.’’ He hastily agrees as he gently pushes your dress neatly back in place. Your heart skips a beat at his attentiveness and you trial your hands carefully through his black hair. He gives you another gentle kiss on the lips as he rubs circles into your clothed waist. ‘’I needa see ya again.’’ He coos as he brings his other hand up to rub against your cheek. Giggling softly at how sweet he’s being- you feel his length twitch against your thigh. ‘’So does he.’’ Elvis jokes as he brings you in for another kiss. This one however felt slower than any other- as if there was a certain ‘thank you’ hidden behind it. 

Humming into the kiss- you reach your hand down to carefully place his length back into his pants- making him groan into your mouth during the process due to the tightness of his jeans. Pulling away, he peers into your sparkling eyes. Butterflies swirl inside of your tummy as you observe the way he’s looking at you.

‘’Be a good girl one last time n’ give me your number, pretty.’’ 

------- -------------------- -------

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII hope you guys liked it omg- I wrote this one in a couple of hours! Let me know PLEASE if you want a part 2 to this in the comments- and if so please give me ideas, lovelies<3 I appreciate you all n' I hope you enjoyed. Thank you very much for reading, love ya'll !!!!!! Elvis is indeed a naughty guy AHAHAHAHA

tag list: @elviswhore69 @atleastpleasetelephone @lustnhim @jhoneybees @hooked-on-elvis

@eptodaytommorowforever @oldermenlvrgrl @jacksonwayne-blog @iloveelvisss @elvisvideos

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics like the book Red, White & Royal Blue as requested in this ask. The fics all have varying combinations of the main tropes of the book (enemies to friends to lovers, royalty, famous/famous, and/or fake relationship). You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

💙 Queen of Arizella by seducedbycurls

(M, 277k, omegaverse) Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a Queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect Queen -the perfect fake Queen, but only for a few months.

💙 The Greatest Thing by @infinitelymint *

(E, 163k, canon) Harry and Louis haven’t spoken since the band broke up when a dangerous combination of Niall Horan, tequila, and an ordained Elvis impersonator means that the two of them have to embark on their biggest publicity stunt to date - together.

💙 Façade by written_with_no_end / @written-with-no-end

(NR, 133k, famous/famous) An AU where Louis is the lead singer of The Rogues, Harry is the lead singer of White Eskimo and both are sick of being in the closet so kiss one night to fuck with the media.

💙 Lightning Strikes The Heart by @fournipplesau , @justalarryblog

(E, 130k, historical) As expected every year, the Lockhart House hosts the season’s opening ball, and its invitation is the motive of the hustle in town, and every family hopes for the invitation. This year is no different, but this year everyone's attention is focused on the new Duke of Montgomery, His Grace Harry Edward Styles, and whether he will attend it.

💙 Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings / @greenfeelings *

(M, 112k, famous/famous) When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

💙 mirrorball by cherryboys

(NR, 102k, famous/famous) When Harry is asked to fake date Louis Tomlinson, an actor he hates because he bad mouthed one of Harry's songs in the beginning of his career, he is opposed to the idea.

💙 white winged dove by duchessy

(M, 100k, arranged marriage) Pressured to marry in order to save his family from financial and social ruin, Louis finds himself caught between wanting to be selfish and doing what he needs to do for the sake of his sisters, if no one else.

💙 king of my heart by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze *

(E, 83k, adaptation) A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.

💙 A Night in Hollywood by Sax246

(NR, 71k, famous/famous) Louis quickly comes to realise Harry is only enjoyable on the screen and not in-person. When the two get caught in a fight by paparazzi at a celebrity party, the media goes crazy, and they are forced into a PR-relationship against their will.

💙 don't want no other shade of blue by padfootyoudog / @louisisworthit

(E, 58k, omegaverse) it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

💙 Need So Much of You by @lululawrence *

(NR, 46k, canon) the would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

💙 walk my days on a wire by sunshiner *

(E, 38k, famous/famous) when actor Louis Tomlinson used to daydream about dating Harry Styles, this is not what he had in mind.

💙 (we will be) as if chosen by @alivingfire *

(E, 35k, secrets)  Under the watchful eyes of millions, Louis has to figure out how to keep his carefully constructed house of cards from falling, and the first step to accomplishing that is to keep from falling in love with the irritatingly charming Prince Harry, who just won't stop showing up and trying to whisk Louis out of the constraints of his boring life.

💙 Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

(M, 34k, historical) Harry Styles wishes that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

💙 Sail into the Sun by orphan_account

(E, 31k, Prince Louis) Louis needed a way out, Harry needed a husband. It was a mutual agreement. Doesn't mean they have to like each other.

💙 Dancing With Masks by @softfonds *

(E, 18k, famous/famous) With awards season coming up and new films on the way for both of them, Harry and Louis' managers decide it's time for them to date for publicity. 

💙 rapture in the dark by stylinsonsupporter

(T, 13k, hate to love) Harry does the Winter Girlfriend routine with Louis instead.

- Rare Pairs -

💙 Love Like This by @reminiscingintherain *

(E, 32k, Zayn/Louis/Liam) A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. 

💙 Be My King (I'll Be Your Queen) by transteverogers *

(E, 15k, Zayn/Liam) That one where Zayn's a royal bad boy and Liam's his PR agent/Personal Assistant and basically everyone knew they had feelings for each other before they did.

[starryschoolgirl]

Elusive Engagement

a Baby Love snippet - Circa: March, 1968

Summary -> When the news leaks to the press about your upcoming wedding, Elvis holds his own interrogation which wreaks havoc within his entourage. But you're told not to worry your pretty little head about it, however you can't help when you have a hunch that the leak came from your family.

Warnings -> It's only a little angsty, crying, throwing bottles, angry Elvis, misunderstandings, possible manipulation, disapproving mother-in-law, Roy Orbison makes a very short cameo

WC -> 2.5k

Thank you to that lovely anon who suggested making this newspaper thing, you have sparked a snippet you inspiring poet. And many thanks to Jeanie and Willow for helping me with the newspaper, lovely those ones.

The shrill ring of the bedstand's telephone had been an abrupt and unpleasant wake up call to Elvis after a long night of playing piano keys and renting out a bowling alley. To be quite fair it wasn't that this caller was being rude, it was after all digging into the day, 1 or 2PM by Elvis' guess.

He drawled out a deeper than usual, "Mm hello?", rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he did so. The hand extended from his eyes to drag down the skin on his face tiredly, the pull of the skin would only serve to tug an eyelid open. 

A joyous voice had filled Elvis' ear, an old friend's voice,

"Now I knew you had a wedding coming but why didn't you tell me I was invited to your wedding? And why didn't you tell me I was gonna sang too apparently?"

Elvis' eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head in a tired confusion, his lips smacked before he mumbled, "Roy? Man what are you talkin' about..."

He shifted in the bed slightly and turned to your side, warmth was emanating off you, his personal little heater. Elvis pulled the cord of the telephone from the bedside table so that he wouldn't knock over anything on the table as he scooted closer to your sleeping figure.

Roy's laugh filled the line, it was loud and had a bit of a pitch to it in the way Roy's singing voice could have. Elvis pulled the telephone away from his ear as he settled next to you, placing a hand on your stomach for contact as he leaned his back against the bed's headboard.

As he ran his hand down your stomach to your thighs, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the laced hem of your short nightie as he complained into the phone,

"It's too early in the mornin' for ya jokes boy, what's goin' on Orbison?"

The laughing on the other line had subsided as he realized Elvis really didn't know what was going on.

"Elvis, it's all over the papers here, ain't it on the papers in California? Your wedding, it’s been leaked..."

-----

As you awoke from your much needed slumber you reached for your favorite pillow on the bed, Elvis. Only, it seems Elvis wasn't in bed? Maybe if you reached further you’d feel him, he tended to roll around in his sleep.

After the first swipe around the bed your hand turned frantic as it searched for him, you quickly sat up just to see he was gone. You pulled a stray hair out of the corner of your mouth and tried to smooth your mussed up hair back to at least look presentable as you scooted to his side of the bed, the warmth of his body long gone and now just a cold bunch of sheets and blankets.

The pads of your bare feet against the wood floor filled the room as you walked to grab your robe, it was a very chilly March morning, then again every morning was as Elvis had an obsession with keeping the house cold.

You felt very carefree as you wandered through the upstairs hall of the Hollywood home you and Elvis had been residing in, you didn't hear the loud guffaws and crude jokes of Elvis' entourage, dubbed as the Memphis Mafia, so you hoped that meant you could enjoy a sweet domestic morning with Elvis.

Just the thought excited you as you let your robe flutter open while you pranced down the stairs girlishly looking for your fiancé. Just as you rounded the bottom of the stairs and steered yourself into the sunken living room you had seen Elvis in his usual dressy attire, his back was turned to you as he was facing another part of the room that you couldn't quite see yet.

Just as you were about to call his name, your feet finally landing onto the plush white carpet of the sunken room, Elvis’ voice boomed through the room as he yelled, “Speak Goddammit!!” His yell closely followed by a bottle that had flown across the room and shattered against the wall, your guess of it being a bottle had been confirmed as fizzy brown liquid began to drizzle down the wall that had intercepted the bottle. The sound that had filled the air as it shattered had made you jump and squeal from the shock.

Elvis' broad shoulders had turned at the noise of your distress and your eyes shot around the room in a bit of panic, Elvis' friends were here, but instead of being their usual joyous, loud selves they were quietly standing straight with blank faces, like soldiers in trouble with their drill sergeant. 

They were in trouble with Elvis, and if that couldn't be told from the way they all stood with sunken expressions, then the way a few of them remained in a flinched stance from the bottle being hurled just inches from their heads was the giveaway.

You made eye contact with Jerry for a split second before he looked away, when you tried to make eye contact with the others they only looked away as well, then you turned to a fast-approaching Elvis.

He hadn’t yet shaved and his hair looked to still be tussled from sleep. Your wide eyes softened slightly at his facial expression, he looked upset, you could tell by the way his jaw clenched and his nose was just slightly scrunched in a way that only someone who was often close to his resting face could tell.

Your voice was soft and questioning as you reached a shaky hand up to smooth back his hair, “Elvis..?”

You then realized why the others wouldn’t look at you, especially with Elvis in this mood.

Before you could say anything else you watched as his hands found the sides of your robe, pulling the sides together to hide your figure. You’d felt an embarrassed heat spread up your neck as you realized Elvis’ friends had just seen you in your short nightie, and with the cold air of the room, they no doubt saw the two little hardened details of your chest that Elvis liked to admire most.

You let out a breath as he tied the string of your robe especially tight.

“Elvis, what’s the matter?”

Elvis sighed, his hardened expression softening just for your eyes as his back was now turned to the other guys, he shook his head for a moment while staring down at the floor. Now you felt worried, you brought a hesitant hand up to cup his cheek as you murmured softly,

“Can I help in any way?”

He cracked a little smile at the question and placed his hand over yours as he turned his cheek to kiss it. With his unshaved cheek rubbing against your hand you felt the slightest tickle, and any hesitance or fear you might’ve housed for a moment was out the window as you couldn’t help your giggle at the sensation.

The sweet noise only served as a reminder to Elvis that he had a duty as a man to handle it on his own, and not have you worry your pretty little head about anything.

Elvis’ hands rested at your waist and he leaned down to kiss your cheek and murmured against the skin close to your ear, “No little one, why don’tchu you head right on upstairs, be up there in a minute with ya alright? Just talkin’ with the boys”

He pulled back for you to see his little encouraging smile, to which you returned tenfold with your own sweet grin.

As you headed back down the hall that led to the stairs the house was silent and as you had left sight of the room you could hear Elvis saying something quietly but couldn’t quite make it out. You wanted to but at the same time you didn’t see the point, Elvis was handling his business, therefore it was none of yours. As you reached the staircase you noticed paper placed on the first stair.

Of course your eyes glazed over it as you were taking a step up the stairs and just as you had passed it, the headline finally hit you smack dab in the face.

“ELVIS PRESLEY TO BE MARRIED IN JUNE”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly bent down to grab it, taking slow steps up the stairs as you read the contents. 

A close source had revealed the upcoming wedding? Who could that be? Is that why Elvis was so angry downstairs? No one was supposed to know until after.

As you had reached the top of the stairs you had to lean against the wall and think, a million thoughts going through your brain as to why one of the people close to Elvis would reveal it. They’d risk losing more than they’d gain. Elvis didn’t like people who couldn’t keep their trap shut about his personal business.

There were even a few times where Elvis had stepped up to his manager, Mr. Parker, because the man wanted to release some information to the press about you and Elvis to keep his name before the public due to his movie career going down the toilet.

That argument didn’t end well as Elvis had almost gotten the two of them sued by refusing to participate in a project unless Mr. Parker promised not to go to the press for publicity, as Elvis didn’t want your name being dragged in the mud. Those journalists often found a way to make anyone, even someone Elvis deemed as saintly and perfect as you, seem like last month’s garbage.

But a thought that seemed to reoccur in your brain at the moment was the worry that the leak came from your side. After all, your family didn’t approve of this union. Especially your mother.

No, she wouldn’t do that, would she?

Your body remained stiff even though you felt as if you were buzzing all over, this vibration in your stomach, mixing and stirring your stomach acids all around.

This could all be your fault. Those guys could all be paying for your own mother’s actions. It was enough to make you feel a little sick.

You kept a hand on the wall as you wandered down the hall to your and Elvis' shared bedroom, your steps grew faster as you heard a bang and Elvis yelling at one of the guys, as if your growing guilt would tackle you to the floor if you slowed down.

Once you made it to the room you closed the door behind you, and with the newspaper still in hand you sat on Elvis’ side of the bed, turning the rotary dial to your mother’s number.

After a few rings and a shaky breath you heard a familiar voice say “Hello”, it was Rienne, one of the maids.

You tried to remain composed, heeding your mother’s lesson that if you weren’t composed around the help, they wouldn’t respect you.

“R-Rienne, is mother home?”

Your palm felt sweaty as you nervously clenched your free hand into a fist, biting your lip to keep it from enacting its nervous quiver.

“Cosette, is that you? Oh how are you Dearie?”

“Rienne, please is my mother home?”

There was a short pause before Rienne answered with a yes, you spoke as softly as you could without stuttering, asking her to call for your mother. And when your mother finally did come to the phone she answered with a soft, quiet, “Cosette?”

Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke in a soft, quiet voice that almost completely mirrored your mother had it not been for the little crack at the end,

“It wasn’t you was it?”

As you were greeted with silence you brought your other hand up to clench the telephone nervously. Then your mother spoke once more,

“Setty, what ever do you mean?”

You breathed out wetly, allowing for vulnerability as you clenched the telephone as if you would your mother’s hand had she been here, “Th-The wedding, it’s in the papers Mommy”

More silence followed before your mother’s sympathetic voice, “Oh my love, I-”, she paused trying to find the right words, “Well, I-”

With her sudden loss of vocabulary your worry spiked and you questioned quickly, voice not raising in volume, only in distress, “It wasn’t you was it? Tell me it wasn’t please-”

“I told you not to get involved with that man, with men like him these things are bound to happen.”

You felt your eyes begin to burn slightly. You had almost worked yourself into tears from that last sentence. “You mean you didn’t leak-”

“Of course not my dear, why would Mommy do that to you?”

You wished you could see her, not only for the comfort she could offer, but also for the giveaway she could offer as well. You shared many traits with her, one of which being a giveaway for when you lie, and over the phone you really couldn’t tell. You wanted to believe her, you really did.

Suddenly her voice was much colder, as she instigated,

“Is that what that man has you thinking? Is he making you think that your mother and father are these big bad wolves? Figures, a man like him doesn’t have much to offer so he has to make it look like everyone else has even less to make someone stay. You know I warned you-”

The change of tone was abrupt, and the burning of your eyes violently increased from each syllable she spoke. Your eyes would be pools in no time.

“N-No Mommy, no he didn’t say anything, he-”

Your voice had caught in your throat. God you couldn’t do anything right, and now your mother is misunderstanding what a good man Elvis is. When you could finally speak, your nervous panic had left your voice so pathetically quiet that it came out like a choked whisper,

“He’s- No, I, it’s not that, I promise, I,”

Your mother cut in again with a scoff through the line, “It’s an isolation tactic my darling, he’s turning you against us. Goodness, why can’t you see that? I know I didn’t raise a stupid girl”

And just as it always had since you were a little girl, your voice gave out completely as you tried to explain yourself to your mother. The same way your mother’s voice would give out anytime she tried to explain something to your father. 

And as no noise would leave your throat, you would only be able to silently listen to your mother’s quiet voice that somehow even in a crowded room seemed louder and more present than any other person’s voice.

Despite its quiet softness, it could somehow often surpass Elvis’ loud harsh one.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you sat on the bed and listened to her go on about what Elvis was doing to you, what it would be like when you finally married him. She topped it all off with how much someone can change when he goes from man to husband. And that you’ll regret it all in the end.

You bit your lower lip harshly to stop it’s quivering, and as her voice rang through your skull you didn’t even recognize the click of the door, or the sound of Elvis’ shoes striding closer and closer on the wood floor.

It was only when you felt a pull on the telephone did you look up to find someone else, Elvis. He looked at you with worry before mumbling into the line as if your mother were an afterthought, 

“Goodbye Mrs. Chevalier”

That was so fun to write! I had a whole other part written but I figured if it's a snippet, it's best I keep it short eh? Goodness I just love writing for this universe, I'm having so much fun messing around with these two!

Thanks plenty for reading!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

Taglist Lovelies: @fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat, @suraemoon, @geanecore, @pinkpuffycloud, @s0phlabrunette, @that-hotdog

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 14: Never is the Echo of Forever

AN: I am so sorry to anyone who has been waiting for this. It has been a million years and I have no excuses except life. I am back in my happy place now (excessive dysfunctional daydreaming about a lifelong obsession) and I'm pretty sure that will mean more regular updates. Thank you to anyone who still cares. I appreciate you!

Cast your mind back to the distant, ancient days of Chapter 13

Never is the echo of forever- 1956

The house was in a state of muted chaos. Elvis had got home late the night before and, after presenting his mother with his laundry, acting the fool, devouring all the food as fast as they could make it, and declaring himself not at all tired and wanting to go out, he had then crashed flat out and been sleeping ever since. They were tiptoeing around, but it didn’t look like anything short of a car crashing through his bedroom was going to wake him.

“He’s just run himself ragged,” Mrs Presley muttered as Chancy wandered into the kitchen. “You know what he’s like about sleepin’ when he’s home. Lord knows what he gets up to when no one’s watchin’ out for him.” She paused for a moment and put hand on her head like she was holding in her fear and worry.

“He’s got lots of people watching over him. There’s Red, Gene and Junior, and that Colonel is always watching him.”

Chancy couldn’t help the grumbling tone in her voice. That man had infiltrated every aspect of Elvis’ life and his presence could be felt all the time, even when his name was not spoken. Elvis himself reinforced it, reminding them that they wouldn’t have what they had now if it wasn’t for the Colonel.

“I mean someone who knows what he’s like and what he needs. Give him half a moment and he’ll be talking those boys into doing something foolish. And don’t get me started on that Colonel…”

Chancy didn’t like to see Mrs Presley upset, but it was nice to see a little excitement in her. She had been quiet and a little blue like a dull overcast day. When Elvis was gone doing his shows and venturing further and further to places like New York, Las Vegas and Hollywood, it was like all the fire in the house was banked down to barely warm ash. They all just waited for a focus and a purpose again.

As if he could sense the need for him, Elvis appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His head was tilted back, and he squinted through barely opened lids. There was a crease down his cheek from the pillow she had left him buried in. 

“What’s all the fussin’ about?” he mumbled, stumbling over to the counter and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I thought someone was getting killed in here with all this carrying on.”

“Oh hush up, you,” Mrs Presley retorted, giving him a smack across his bare shoulder as he snickered and scooted out of her reach. “What d’you think, Cha-Cha, sounds like someone don’t want breakfast today, huh?”

Elvis pouted at Chancy as he moved across to her and draped himself over her back.

“Yep, that’s what it sounded like to me too,” Chancy agreed, giggling as he moaned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Aw, have a heart!” he whined. “I ain’t had nothing worth eating in weeks!” He started gnawing on Chancy’s shoulder, which was funny until she started to feel teeth through her blouse.

“Ow, quit it!” she cried, pinching him on the side. He grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides and squeezing the breath out of her.

“Elvis, you stop that! You’ll hurt her! She’s only a teeny tiny thing!” Mrs Presley swatted at him and he held out his arms in submission, giving Chancy time to dart out of the kitchen. She swung a left into the living room, but Grandma Minnie was in there and looked up a little alarmed as she came barrelling in. Turning, she lost valuable time and crashed into Elvis’ chest, sending them both into the wood paneled wall of the hallway.

“Aw he- heck,” he groaned, not so hurt that he forgot to fear the wrath of his mother if he cursed. 

“Aw, poor baby,” Chancy murmured. “Let me look, baby, let me look.” 

Pouting, he let her coo over the red mark on his shoulder, only for her to promptly take a sharp nip with her teeth and run off again.

“Daddy, stop her! Get her!” Vernon smiled tightly, but stepped aside as Chancy ducked past him in the dark hallway and headed for the bedroom. Having trapped herself in a corner, she snatched up one of the teddy bears and held it in front of her like a shield. 

“Uh uh, he can’t help you now,” Elvis warned, feinting a move to the left that had her skirting the bed and cowering in the corner. He snatched the bear from her hands and launched it across the room with a punch. “Get lost, you SOB, trying to move in on my girl.” 

“I'm not your girl,” she reminded him, “I’m the ‘daughter of a family friend’.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the chin, pulling her forward until their foreheads were pressed hard together and she couldn’t focus without going cross-eyed.

“Honey, if I got mad every time some reporter called me something in the press I wouldn’t have time for nothing else. We just gotta roll with the punches, you know.” 

“They called all of those showgirls in Las Vegas your dates,” she mumbled, trying not to smile as he pursed his lips so that they kissed as she spoke. 

“Hell, just goes to show they don’t know what they’re talking about.” He smirked and she knew he would have an answer for everything. He had clearly prepared, but then, all those evenings at home watching ‘What’s my Line’ and ‘I Love Lucy’ with his folks had given her plenty of time to do the same. 

“You mean when they called that other girl, the rich one, just your friend?” He pulled back with a look of distaste, which she knew meant that he was getting annoyed. 

“Now, you’re just trying to trick me, nagging away ‘til I say something wrong because you got me tied up in knots. You know, you know I hate that, honey, it’ll just end up with us both mad. Can’t you just let me enjoy being home?” 

“Home? Can it be home when you’re hardly ever here?” 

The fury in Elvis’ eyes when he lost his temper was not hot, but bitter cold, creating a thick, impenetrable wall of ice between them. Chancy wanted to hold back her words, but they kept spilling out of her like water, like the stinging tears she had fought against when she saw all the photos in the magazines of Elvis with his arms around showgirls or play fighting with that rich heiress, while she was shut away in this dormant house doing her homework. 

The slam of the bedroom door behind him made her flinch, but otherwise the pervading chill that had begun in his eyes set into her bones too and she was motionless as she stared off into absolutely nothing. 

A little while later, he came back into the room presumably to dress after breakfast. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, aware of him only as a blur against the pink flowery wallpaper. Finally, with a sigh, he dropped onto the bed just behind her and pushed his face against her shoulder. The skin where his mouth was pressed was the hottest part of her, the only part that didn’t feel like a stone statue.

“You know that whole stretch in Vegas was a drag for me. Like playing in a graveyard with all those old bones and jewelry. And just about everybody saying the boy’s crashin’ and burnin’, predicting it’s all going down in flames. S’what they all want, you know, for me to be this gimmick, this flash in the pan that fizzles out. A- a- and maybe I needed some distraction. I had to look like I was having fun, see, like it didn’t bother me none what was happenin’. Those girls out there are wise, they’re working girls- I- I mean, they have careers and everything, and they know it’s good for business to be in the papers. S’all it was, honey, really.” He turned his face, his nose grazing the crook of her neck and he shifted so that he could tuck his face in there, breathing heavily so that she had no choice but to wriggle. 

“But it ain’t nice, what you said,” he mumbled quickly, once she had writhed and was facing him, “about this not being home. This is about all I’m working for, doing right by Mama and Daddy, taking care of everyone, and you. You know that.”

“I didn’t mean this ain’t your home,” she returned mulishly in a low voice. “Of course it is. I just-” She exhaled in frustration. “I just miss you, is all.” 

“Don’t much seem like it,” he sighed, dropping back onto the bed. “You been mean and moody with me since I got back.” She tightened up, drawing up to retaliate with her own accusation, but the truth in his words poked a hole in her inflated self-righteousness. How could she blame him for being away so much when she seemed to be making sure that being at home was as unpleasant as possible?

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, letting it rush out of her before her defensive mind could stop it. 

“Nope, it’s not enough,” he replied in a deep voice. “Show me.” She hesitated, confused, but in tune enough with him that her cheeks started to feel very hot. He lazily grabbed her fingers with his, tugging her forward a little. “Show me how much you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy glanced around at the shady interior of the bedroom. They had to keep the shades down all the time when Elvis was home otherwise the windows became a nightmarish mush of faces pressed up against the glass. Normally, the room was kept immaculate, but Elvis' late night arrival had caused an explosion with the bedroom as ground zero. She stared at his white buck shoe upended on the other single bed, which was otherwise made up, a stark and careless admission that they were not sleeping in separate beds like everyone tried to pretend. 

“I-” Her nervous expression faded into embarrassed annoyance as he snorted and laughed that irrepressible belly laugh, hand covering his face. She felt the blush spread down from her hairline and tried to snatch away from his loose grip, which abruptly tightened. 

“Aw no, come here, c’mon, little baby. Things I gotta do to get a handle on you, I tell ya.” His arms slid around her back and he drew her down onto him, overcoming all her resistance. They kissed lazily, lips brushing and grazing against each other, which felt decadent in the middle of the day with the family just outside the door and probably fans on the other side of the wall. 

It was times like these that she knew that the reports in the magazines and newspapers were not true. They couldn’t be. No one could experience this, be part of this, and risk it. 

Chancy thought about the boys at school, the older college boys and the men from the naval base that some of her friends dated. She couldn’t even imagine feeling the same way with one of them, that hot, intense drag that pulled from her stomach and surely joined some way with him. 

Laying on top of him, smelling his still drying cologne and his hair oil, and marveling at the way the light made his long, fair, natural lashes seem translucent, she felt encased in a hot, airless box of certainty. This was what she was intended for; all her life until now a pathway to this destination. Showgirls be damned. 

“Now, don’t you feel better?” He tapped her lightly on the nose, followed by wiggling and playing her butt like bongos. “Tell you what, why don’t you go put on a little make-up and we’ll go out and see some folks. I wanna visit with Mr Phillips and say hi to ole Dewey… ”

“But I’m… I am wearing make-up,” she said in a small voice. 

“Oh… I guess I just got used to how it is out in Vegas… Boy, those girls were done up all day long.” He whistled. “Some of ‘em looked like movie stars just taking out the garbage.” He cupped his hand around her face and squinted appraisingly. “You’re so pretty that you’d blow ‘em out of the water with a little more war paint, honey, damn the torpedoes.”

Fighting embarrassment, hurt and amusement, she shook her head, which was still being clutched by his fingers. 

“I sometimes think even you don’t know what you’re saying half the time,” she remarked. 

“But you always understand me,” he pointed out smugly, poking out his tongue and raising his eyebrows. 

“I don’t like to think about what that says about me,” she replied airily, getting up and fetching her makeup. 

“It says that you were made for me, baby, only for me. And I was made for you.” He padded across the floor in his socks and watched her as she studied herself in the mirror. “You gotta make your eyes more dramatic. You know, one day I’m gonna take you out there to Las Vegas, it will make you flip your lid, I tell you what for sure. We’ll get all dolled up, get your hair and make up all done up properly-” Chancy flinched slightly, but tried to suppress it. “Watch ‘em fall over their asses then! They won’t be saying… What was it, ‘jug of corn liquor at a champagne party’, sonsofbitches.” Their reflections locked eyes. “Sorry, baby. There now, look at that, got myself my very own glamor girl right here at home.”

__________________________________________________________

Standing in the kitchen, Chancy looked out at the busy street out front and started a little as Alberta came back in from taking drinks out to the guests. Remembering why she was in there in the first place, she grabbed a plate of Mrs Presley’s peanut butter cookies as she had been asked and laughed when she and Alberta had to do a funny little dance to avoid crashing into each other. 

By the time Chancy got out to the patio, Mrs Presley was putting her hand over her eyes as Elvis clambered through the churned mud and piles of earth where there would soon, hopefully, be a pool next to the shell of what was going to be the pool house/garage. Chancy’s little sister Alicia and a couple of Elvis’ younger cousins were gamboling after him like little baby goats and Mrs Presley was worrying that they were all going to fall and hurt themselves. Mr Presley grunted a quiet noise in agreement and put his hands in his pants pockets.

“Cha-Cha, honey, get them to come back now before they break an ankle.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chancy eyed the mud dubiously and then trudged across the flattened lawn in her saddle shoes. She walked past a couple of girls a little younger than her that she didn’t recognise standing off to the side of the patio and glanced at them curiously as she passed.

Elvis’ young cousin Billy had managed to slip and fall onto his back by the time Chancy made it over to the mounds of soil and he was wiggling his arms and legs about like an upturned turtle while Elvis stood at the top of the pile laughing at him.

“What’cha doing, looking over your kingdom?” she called, sliding her hands into the secret pockets she had sewn into her skirt.

“It’s looking pretty good,” he grinned. He reached out a hand. “C’mon, honey, come up and see.”

“But your mama…” She couldn’t resist that mischievous sparkle in his eyes and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her up onto the pile of earth.

It was a strange kind of kingdom, the lawn sloped down so they were still looking slightly up at the people on the patio and the overhanging roof of the one storey house. Over to the left was the expanse of the empty lot next door and to the right was the cluttered space of the carport. Chancy realized there were a couple more girls standing there too.

“Who are those girls?” she asked, as Elvis wrapped his arms around her rib cage a little too tightly, fingers tapping a calypso against her side.

“Huh? Oh, just fans, baby. Don’t worry about them.” He mashed his lips into her cheekbone and gave her a couple of baby bird pecks afterwards. “What d’you think about our new swimming pool?”

“Needs more water,” Chancy pronounced pensively. He laughed his hiccupping giggle and squeezed her even tighter.

“I missed you, funny girl.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck making weird farm animal noises and she made a pretense of trying to fight him off, but they both knew that she didn’t really want that.

“Hey,” he pulled back suddenly and leant down to grab a chunk of earth. “D’you think I’d be able to hit Red in the ass with this from here?”

“I think you’d probably hit my Grandma or a window,” she returned. He looked indignant but he dropped the dirt.

“Where’s your faith, baby? I could make that shot no problem. I- I’m gonna show you. When there’s less people around I’ll show ya and you’ll see. How you gonna make it up to me then, huh?”

Chancy turned from the cluster of people on the brick patio and looked into his face, just inches away from her own. His thick mascaraed lashes were obscuring his eyes as he stared at her mouth and she could feel his breath as little, fast puffs of air against her lips.

“Anyway you like,” she heard herself murmuring. She saw the surprise on his face at the same time as it flashed inside herself. Sometimes it was like that, they had become mirrors of each other. He could tell her what she was feeling even as it was unfurling in her and vice versa.

“Aw, it sounds like my baby missed her guy,” he observed, even as she was thinking the same thing.

“It’s getting hard to miss you,” she returned. “Every time I turn on the radio you’re there. Television, you’re there. Newspaper… Oh, there you are!”

He frowned, pouting a little and pulling back from the waist as he looked down on her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,”

“It’s not, I just prefer the real thing,” she replied softly. He smiled at her gently, his cheeks round like apples.

“You got the real thing, you know that.”

Elvis glanced over suddenly as his mother called to them to come down before they ended up in the hospital. He quickly helped Chancy down the hill with his arm around her shoulder, grabbing up Billy by the front of his shirt as they passed by and tugging him along too.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a swimming pool, Elvis,” Alicia remarked, nudging into Chancy like she couldn’t walk in a straight line. “I don’t know nobody with a swimming pool.”

“Anybody,” Chancy murmured at her under her breath.

Elvis grinned down at Alicia and gave her a wink.

“You gotta promise you’ll come test it out for me and make sure it’s good enough, Lil’un. Maybe we can get your sister into one of those fancy two-piece swimsuits…” He pulled back and ran his eyes up Chancy from the back; she caught it as she looked over her shoulder to see why he’d stopped, and immediately shoved him.

“Ow!” he laughed, tugging her back against him. “Can’t fault a fella for lookin’!”

“Yes, I can,” she returned airily, flipping her hair over her shoulder and elbowing him in the sternum one last time.

“Hey, Elvis?” one of the girls called from over by the carport. It was as if they were doubling in number every time Chancy looked over.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Elvis murmured to Chancy, giving her waist a squeeze before turning and jogging over to the girls. Billy followed, of course, like always.

“I bet they all want to be his girlfriend,” Alicia remarked, looking back at the mound of earth. “But none of ‘em will get to swim in that pool.”

Chancy snorted in spite of herself, dragging her eyes away from where Elvis was tilting his head and smiling winsomely at a girl in three quarter length trousers. Chancy knew that stance of his, that head tilt, and that damn smile. Even looking at it from afar made her tummy flutter.

Grabbing her sister’s wrist, she tugged her back up to the patio where the Presleys, Billy’s parents the Smiths, Grandma Minnie, and Grandma were now sitting at a garden table drinking lemonade. They were talking about the neighbors and how welcoming they had been, though Mrs Presley said that they were a little different to what she was used to.

“Well, as long as they’re good, moral, god-fearing people,” Grandma intoned into the rim of her glass of lemonade.

Chancy could barely stand it, listening to them talk about people from the old neighborhood- who was sick, who had died and whose children had gotten into trouble. It felt as if all she did was sit with the older folks and listen to them talk like she was a little child not allowed to wander far, instead of an almost high school graduate and woman of eighteen. 

With school wrapping up, a lot of the kids had been getting together, having study sessions, dance parties, and picnics over at Riverside. Chancy had been trying to join in, even though she had drifted away from her gang of friends in the past few months. It was hard to stay part of a circle when everyone was paired off and going on group dates, and you were neither single nor paired up. Her friends had been sweet though, inviting her along and leaving her to converse with the odd visiting cousin or an older brother home on leave. It was a compromise, though not a particularly satisfying one. 

Until the night Elvis called from the road in one heck of a bad mood. He was mad at Gene, who had embarrassed him somehow, and he was mad at the hotel people, who couldn’t take a joke, and he was mad at Red for getting into another fight that Elvis had to pay to smooth over, and he was mad at the newspapers for saying such awful things about him. Mainly, however, he was mad at Chancy. 

How was he supposed to focus on his work and deal with everything when he had his mother telling him that Chancy had been going out all times of the day and night? Bad enough he had Mama worrying over him every second of the day, but now she was fretting over Chancy too? 

It wasn’t an argument, because that needed two people and Elvis had clearly been having it out with her in his head for a while before he called. She was just there to hear the denouement. He had decided that the real reason she had wanted to stay in Memphis was not to be with him, but to stay at school and carry on her social life, dating and fooling around with her silly friends, and so she might as well leave straight after graduation and go to live with Grammy, who had stayed on in Mississippi to grieve with Uncle Stan’s wife after he passed following his surgery. 

No matter how hard she tried to plead her case, he was immoveable, his voice that cold, hard machine gun fire that she hated, words short and spat like bullets. 

Yet, now he was home, and her sweet Elvis was back, that cold stranger on the phone a distant memory. Except her cases were packed in the bedroom, ready for her to leave straight after her graduation tomorrow. She had been hoping so desperately for a reprieve, for Elvis to have one of his change of hearts and tell her to stay, that she had not really considered what she was going to do in Mississippi with everyone a stranger apart from her aunt, grandmother and little sister; no school to occupy her time, and her secret boyfriend/close family friend so far away from her in every way. 

“Excuse me,” she murmured, standing quickly and biting down hard to keep a pleasant amiable expression on her face as she stepped back into the house. She made it to the bedroom, but once she sat down on the end of one of the beds, the tears that had been stinging at the back of her eyes in the backyard were stuck back there. She felt too tense to even cry, everything stretched too tight. Maybe her body was just tired of crying, it was such an effort and never seemed to make anything any better. 

There was a gentle tap on the door and Chancy immediately sat up straight and smoothed her skirt over her lap. 

Mrs Presley peeped her head around the door, flashing that smile that changed her naturally somber looking face into something playful, sweet and welcoming. Chancy had always prided herself on her ability to evoke that smile. Maybe not as easily and quickly as Elvis could, but almost. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” she said, waiting for Chancy’s nod of assent before she came right in, even though it was her house. “You came running in here so fast I thought you might be sickening for somethin’.” She tilted her head, her eyes scanning Chancy with a supernatural, almost tangible gaze. 

“I’m fine, I guess the sun was in my eyes and it gave me a little headache, that’s all.” 

“You are sick,” Mrs Presley murmured in concern, putting her hand on Chancy’s forehead like she was a little girl. The tears finally surged. It had been so long since Chancy had felt like anyone’s child. 

“Aw, Cha Cha,” Mrs Presley murmured, lowering her palm from Chancy’s cool forehead to her knotted hands on her lap. She dropped down beside Chancy on the end of the bed, nudging her with her shoulder. Chancy leant against her a little, enjoying the soft warmth at her side. “You’re goin’ to start me off something awful. Then Elvis’ll come in here and find us both carrying on like babies.” She did an uncanny impression of a baby wailing that had Chancy laughing even as mascara-stained tears spilled onto her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed, drawing out one of her hands from beneath Mrs Presley’s to try and staunch the flood from her eyes. 

“Don’t you worry, honey, I’d’ve liked to have cried my heart out when Elvis told us you were going down to visit with your folks. He said I was taking on so much it was as if you were my own.” She squeezed Chancy’s hands in an unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“But I understand what it is to have to take care of your family and have ‘em countin’ on you.” After a pause, she broke out the blinding smile again. “And, Lord, it’s only two weeks. I don’t know why I’m getting all ahead of myself. You’ll call though, to let me know you’re all right?” Chancy was a little slow to respond, trying to digest the words. She puzzled over why Elvis had told his parents that she was only going on a short trip to visit family. Maybe it was easier than telling them the truth. By the time she was down there, he could say that she had decided to stay a little longer, then a little longer, and consequences could unspool without him ever having to be upfront and risk a confrontation. 

“I’ll call all the time,” she nodded, trying to catch up to the conversation. “And please, call me. I don’t know what I’ll be doing with my time down there now that school is done.”

“Well, I know what we’d all like you to be doing,” Mrs Presley remarked, giving her a pointed look, again a hand squeeze substituting all the words she knew she shouldn’t really say. They sat there a few minutes more, quiet and yearning in their own ways for things they felt too guilty to ask for out loud. 

Later, after dinner, Mr Presley drove Grandma and Alicia back to the motel they had splashed out on so they could come and watch Chancy’s graduation. Chancy watched them go, feeling oddly removed, out of step with their happiness at her achievement. How could she celebrate something that brought so much heartache?

“I wanna go for a ride,” Elvis said suddenly as the audience on the tv laughed at the panelist’s story. His mother made a comment about it being late, but Elvis dismissed it flatly, an undercurrent of tension in his body as he shoved his feet into his shoes and went to grab a jacket. 

Chancy gave Mrs Presley a small smile like she could make up for his irritation, but Gladys was already looking away with the same moody pout on her face. There was no interceding between them, for good nor bad. 

Elvis grabbed her hand as they stepped out the back door, pulling her along so that she had to almost jog to keep up. Under the light of the carport, she couldn’t make out if there were any of the knots of girls that were becoming a permanent fixture outside. Even though it was late, sometimes they crept around the yard in the dark, stealing grass from the lawn and tapping on windows like stray kittens turning feral. 

Chancy watched Elvis straddle his motorcycle, his brooding face obscured by his hanging forelock of hair. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away as he leant down to fiddle with the fuel cap, knowing he had to be in the right mood for you to mess with his hair. 

“Couldn’t we take the ca-” she began, before stopping short as he looked at her sharply from beneath his brow. She didn’t want to fight on her last night and leave nothing but a bad aftertaste behind her. Instead, she hurriedly tied her headscarf and climbed up behind him. 

Chancy pressed herself against his solid warmth, tightening her arms around his waist, making out that she was having trouble keeping a grip on his leather jacket. This was the reason that she continually risked her grandma’s ire and willingly caused Mrs Presley to fret by climbing into the motorcycle whenever Elvis asked, for this- the chance to grab hold of him as tightly as she could, knowing he couldn’t slip away or be taken from her. A pang gripped her chest as she considered whether this was the last time she would be able to do it.

Elvis rode around for a while, seemingly aimlessly, but Chancy noted that they passed her old apartment building, places his family had lived while she had known them, Humes, Crown Electric, and Sun. Back and forth, zig zagging, and doubling back until she was almost dizzy with it. 

Finally, he pulled over near the river and, whereas they hadn’t spoken on the motorcycle because of the roar of the engine, now it was because it was impossible to know where to start. 

Elvis climbed off the motorcycle and tugged down the front of his black leather jacket. She watched him scoop a small rock from the ground and weigh it in his palm before he threw it into the dark, a faint plop the only indication that it made it to the water. He had that faraway look in his eye like he was thinking about things too distant from her understanding. That had been happening more and more, and she resented it.

Scuffing her shoes into the scrubby ground, she wrapped her arms around his waist again, pressing her cheek into his spine and inhaling the smell of leather. If she closed her eyes, she could stop time and nothing would change. She wanted to resist when he tugged her arm loose and turned so that she was plastered to his front, but she still melted at the soft, slow drag of his lips against hers. Maybe this was actually the moment she wanted to stretch into infinity. 

Gradually, his warm lips made their way down her jaw and tickled her neck and he squeezed her to him, practically bending her backwards. She had to pull away before she snapped into two.

“I can’t believe that I’m finally graduating tomorrow,” she remarked, her voice stark and out of place in the still hum. “I feel like I was waiting for it for so long, but now that it’s happening…” She tucked a wisp of hair into the scarf she had hurriedly tied under her chin to protect her fresh salon do, a graduation gift from Mr and Mrs Presley. 

“S’natural,” he shrugged, rubbing his palms up and down her hips. “I couldn’t wait to get out of school, but, soon as it happened, God almighty, it scared me to death, trying to figure out what I was gonna do.” 

“Boy, I hope I’m not as unlucky as you turned out to be,” she remarked dryly, shooting him a sideways look. He snorted softly and tugged at the corner of her scarf, making her throw up her hands to keep it intact. 

“Careful, I don’t know if it’s set properly.”   

“It’s set plenty,” he replied coolly, nostrils flaring. “Might as well use it to hammer in nails. Why’d you go and let ‘em cut off so much anyway?” 

Chancy nodded wryly to herself, having known this was coming ever since his lukewarm appraisal of her hair when he arrived home. She didn’t let herself get too hurt. It often felt like he wanted to be able to put them all in a closet somewhere while he was gone and then take them back out safe and unchanged when he returned. 

“Your mama took me to get it done,” she reminded him. “And it's not that short, it’s just the curl.” He grunted and took to scuffing his feet at the ground near his motorcycle. “Everyone else said they liked it.”

“I bet they did. Anyone in particular or you casting the net wide these days?” He muttered through his pout, churlishly tossing another rock that bounced off the dirt nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You tell me what it’s s’posed to mean, Chancy. I- I don’t have none of the answers, I- I- I don’t know where you been when I been callin’ and what the hell you been doing. Or who you been doing…”

It was nothing new, this old well worn routine, the same bitter accusations they had been tossing back and forth for the past few months. Weak reasons they fumbled for to explain the unsettling distance that they felt between them, stretching and deepening relentlessly.

This time though, something in Chancy snapped; she almost heard the plink as if the last fraying thread twisted and tore apart. She could feel her face screwing up as she turned and shoved him with all her might. He managed to catch himself before he stumbled back into his bike and landed in a heap of bones, steel and leather, but in that moment, she was almost sorry about it. 

“That’s a damn rotten thing to say!” she cried, balling her fists to stop herself from snatching up the nearest rock. “You’ve no right to be so nasty!” She stumbled, trying to hold herself still, but the fuse had been lit and she had no way of containing all the fiery rage and hurt that was spitting and hissing from her now. She started stalking off down the side of the road.

Elvis had been momentarily stunned by her reaction, but he snapped back into himself as she marched off and, to her utter fury, sounded almost amused as he called: “And where the hell d’you think you're going?!”

“Away from you!” she bellowed back, yanking off her head scarf and throwing it onto the ground. It landed with as much force as a feather landing on cotton candy, which infuriated her. She wanted to stamp her feet and thrash around, to scream at the top of her voice and make the buildings shake. 

For so long, Chancy had worked hard to be good and defy the blood inside her; to shed the whispers and condemnation that had plagued her as a child because of her parents. Grandma had taught her all about salvation, being saved and reborn, and she had willingly submitted to the water, to the cleansing, to be reborn as her grandmother’s child. And with Elvis, she had walked that tightrope being the good girl he could bring home to Mother and the good time girl he could have fun with. It was starting to feel like she was being stretched so tight at all corners that she was beginning to tear.

“C’mon now, honey, don’t get all up on your high horse.” He grabbed her arm to turn her, which was a shock since the blood was thundering so loudly in her ears that she hadn’t heard him approach.. 

“No!” She wrenched herself free, hurting more than helping herself. “Leave me alone!” 

“What you got yourself so worked up for, huh? You’re gonna spoil that damn hair you love so much if you keep carrying on like that.” 

Heated by his mocking tone and his smirk, Chancy shoved him again, freezing at the icy fury that sparked in his eyes as he whacked his elbow on the wall. 

“Son of a bitch! Get on the goddamn motorcycle!” he yelled, gripping his arm.

“I ain’t going anywhere with you!” she roared back, the words echoing back to her from empty lots, brick walls, and stark, resilient trees. “I ain’t going anywhere… with you.” She echoed her own words softly, hearing them, understanding them, tasting them like bitter medicine. 

“You’ve about lost your damn mind,” he snarled. “What the hell are you going to do out here on your own, huh?”

Through blurred, tearfilled eyes, she watched the moonlight gleam off his jacket as he strode away, trying to match her heat and energy but falling short. Like a flame vying against lava. She could hear him muttering fast to himself, though she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care anyway. Let him say what he liked, let him badmouth her hair, call her crazy, accuse her of all kinds of nasty things, because she was done. Done! It was over. Everything was over!

Gradually, her speed and purpose began to fade as the rage curdled into sadness and the fuel soured into sorrow. There was a brutal, logical sense to everything ending at once. School had been the background to their romance, where she had spent her time daydreaming about them being together, about marriage and children, about being part of a whole, real family. Those dreams had been growing fainter and sliding further into the distance than even her imaginary eyes could make out as she had progressed through her senior year.  

Chancy shivered despite the mild air and glanced around at the black, sightless windows of the buildings around them. No matter what else he had said, Elvis had been right about one thing, she had no business hanging around here by herself. She looked over to where he was straddling his bike, his face creased in that deep sulking pout that usually had her scrambling to make amends and earn back his smile and love. This time there was no scrambling.

Silently, she walked towards him, gathering up her skirt in front and straddling the seat. He didn’t speak either, tilting his head slightly towards her, before starting the engine with a little more force than necessary.   

The motorcycle sped through the dark streets, the lights blurry and refracted in Chancy’s tear-filled eyes. She squeezed his jacket in her fists and closed her eyes as the breeze whipped her hair into her face. 

As they rolled down the wide suburban street, Chancy glanced up at the first floor window of one of the neighbours, seeing the teenage daughter standing silhouetted in the yellow light. They had never spoken, despite seeing one another every day. She wondered what the girl saw as she looked out at them. 

The lights were out in the house, Mr and Mrs Presley having gone to bed, but they had left on the light in the carport and it burnt Chancy’s eyes as she climbed off the bike and scraped the loose tendrils of her hair from her lips and eyelashes. Her cheeks were tight and tearstained and she wiped the loose drops under chin as she turned towards the back door. 

At the last minute, Elvis caught her hand, gently this time, and drew her back towards him. She didn’t fight, she had none left in her, and as soon as she made contact with his chest, she started to cry again. His arms squeezed her and he made shushing noises; she felt him stroking her hair so softly. 

“Shh, baby, shhh. S’posed to be a big girl now, all graduated and everything.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and tilted her face upwards, sighing indulgently as he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Look at this little baby’s face. Where those pretty brown eyes gone, huh, all puffed up like that.” 

“I never-” Her words were washed away by the unshed tears in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she had never stepped out on him, in spite of what he had heard. That she had always been true, even deep down in her heart. But what did it matter anyway? She was leaving tomorrow, suitcases packed and a cot made up for her in a bedroom she was going to have to share with her ten year old sister. He frowned slightly, waiting for her to finish, probably expecting her to beg him, prostrate herself and weep away what little self-respect she had left. She couldn’t do that. Not even for Elvis Presley.  

Instead, she let out an ironic laugh and shook her head, rubbing those swollen eyes he had teased her about. 

“I’ll just pull my hair in front of my face,” she joked. “See, not so short after all.” She tugged on her limp bangs, pulling them down over her brow. He looked at her for a long time, his full, pouty lips parted like he was about to speak.  

Before Elvis could spit out what he was thinking, there was a muffled giggle and some whispering. They both squinted towards the street, but it was difficult to make out anything in the dark from beneath the pool of light they were standing in.

Inside, the house was quiet and this stillness felt impenetrable as they walked through the wood paneled hallway towards the bedroom. Nothing felt real, Chancy was numb and swollen with tears and the heaviness of acceptance. Almost like carrying a heavy weight and then finally putting it down, the load still dragged at her like a phantom. She was not going to marry Elvis. She was not waiting for him. She didn’t have to hide and monitor what she said and where she went. She didn’t have to worry that her picture would show up in some magazine somewhere. She didn’t have to read about how many girls were after him and how he was eager to try them all. She didn’t have to do anything. She didn’t have to love him. Once she put down all of that, what was left?

Wearily, she wandered into the bedroom and, kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the spare bed and curled up. She expected Elvis to go into the den and cool off; leave her to ‘stew in her own juices’ as she had once heard him joke when she had gone to bed after one of his friends brought a carload of girls to sit around and watch them play pool. 

Instead, the mattress on the other bed creaked as he sat down to undress. She listened to material rustling and the soft sound of him sighing as he pulled off his shoes. It went still and quiet. 

Minutes later, she was jostled as he climbed into bed behind her, his warm body spooning hers. She thought of pulling away, jabbing with sharp elbows into soft places, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was incapable of anything as she felt his hot breath against the arc of her neck and his lips pressing against the thumping of her pulse. 

Was she trembling or was it his hand as he spread it flat against her collar bone and smoothed it down her front, his luscious mouth nipping and pecking at her jaw as she tried to breathe, tried to think. She thought she heard him whispering, soothing her like a frightened animal as he stroked her sides, his thumbs circling her breasts, long fingers gripping her hips. 

The realisation sank into her mind, the way that the scant light in the darkened room gradually seeped into her eyes, what was happening. If it was over, if it was really over, then there was no more need to wait. She was never going to be his bride in white. She forced herself to keep breathing through the pang that gripped her chest at this thought. There would be time for grieving later. After. 

Blindly, she turned in his arms, kissing him back hard and angrily. Not angry with him, not anymore, but angry that there was no one to be angry with. He met and returned her intensity, tugging up her skirt as they kissed with bruising force, their noses bumping, breath heavy, and hearts aching. 

The weight of him, crushing her ribs and heating her core felt right, like an inevitability, and all her worries about being a good girl, about saving herself, about the future, evaporated as she felt his fingers pulling at the buttons on her blouse. He was shaking, but so was she, though not just with nerves. She helped him unfasten the last few buttons and writhed so that he could pull off the blouse, before pulling him down again, against her, into her, so tight and so heavy that she could not think or breathe. 

Her fingers tingled as she ran them down his shoulders, his sides and around his hips, his skin like velvet and desecration. He jerked and she felt it like a jolt of electricity between her thighs, a current that intensified and demanded more. She shivered, goosebumps rippling up her body as he tugged her skirt up, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.  

Elvis paused, eyes hooded in shadow, though she could almost feel them studying her intently. 

“Are you-” He cleared his throat, but still whispered, “Are you sure, honey?” She nodded, her face pressed into his shoulder, trying to pull him back down, wanting that suffocating, numbing weight and warmth against her. 

Chancy was burning so hot that she thought any tears she had left would evaporate from her skin. She trembled as she watched him climb awkwardly off the bed and hurry over to the bedroom door, turning the lock with a click. She was amazed he could think straight enough to remember, she certainly hadn’t. 

Back beside the bed, he whipped off his pants like it was a race and then threw himself back into bed, making her bounce on the mattress, and covered her body with his own. In the half darkness, he pulled back and she could see that little smile on his face, the one he got when he was embarrassed or out of his depth. It made her feel better that they were both on the same page. She clasped the sides of his face and pulled him down, only knowing that she always felt stronger, more whole, indestructible, when she was kissing him. 

Below her skirt, he trailed a bitten fingernail up the inside of her thigh, making a giggle against his lips and writhe in a way that seemed to please him. Beneath him, Chancy felt unable to suck enough air into her lungs as he thrust against her, still separated by her underwear. He kissed the side of her face as his fingers hooked into the legs of her panties and started to slide them down. He kissed her harder, almost as if he was trying to distract her from what was happening below the covers, as if she wasn’t completely covered in goosebumps. As if her skin wasn’t burning. As if her pulse wasn’t throbbing between her legs. 

At the first pinch, Chancy tried not to flinch.The girls had all whispered and worried about how painful it was supposed to be the first time. Some had heard horror stories from older sisters and cousins, and they had fretted and marvelled over it. One of the girls said her sister started bleeding so bad that she had to go to the emergency room and her parents had found out and sent her to relatives in Arkansas. She exhaled slowly, her fists clenched and pressed into his Elvis’ sides, trying to relax herself and let herself stretch to accommodate him, to make herself the perfect fit for him. To be perfect for him. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. She realised she had her eyes squeezed shut and she blinked them open, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. “It’s okay, baby.” He nuzzled her nose gently with his own, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her lips. 

The burning ache subsided as he drew back, she let out a gasp of relief that she immediately regretted, but he seemed to misinterpret it, reassuring her, petting her as if she had been upset over the loss of him, telling her she was his pretty baby, and that they had plenty of time. It was only then that she realised that he hadn’t finished. 

Chancy wanted to ask him why, why he had stopped, why she wasn’t as desirable and irresistible to him as the other girls that he was enjoying, why he couldn’t have just given her this last thing before he cast her aside. Instead, when she opened her mouth, something completely different came out. 

“Elvis, I don’t want to go.” He stopped fussing over her, sliding so that he was lying on his side in the narrow bed and she was tucked up against him. She could still feel him pressing insistently into her hip.

“I know, baby, I don’t want you to go neither.” 

“But why-” 

“”I- I can’t help but feeling that things’ve been getting tough for you these past few months,” he murmured into her hair, making goosebumps break out across her scalp. “I’m working so much, ain’t hardly home, and- and it’s only natural that you have been… castin’ an eye on what you’ve been missin’.”

“No, that’s not-”

“I-it’s natural- normal for a young girl to wanna… see what’s what before- before she settles on a fellow,” he continued, sliding his palm down her ribs and rubbing her stomach, as if she hadn’t spoken. “She’s gotta make sure she’s not making a mistake, see if the grass is greener.” 

Chancy turned and studied his profile, trying to understand what he was saying to her, wondering why the three years between them somehow seemed so stretched and endless. He flashed her a small smile, his eyes darting up just for a minute to meet hers, to let her join in this scene that he was creating. 

“I don’t blame you, honey, really. I- I understand. You need this, a little time to experience the world and make sure that this is really what you want. That I’m really what you want.”

“I don’t have any doubts, Elvis, I don’t. I want to be with you.” It came out as a croak, because she knew that he had already made up his mind. 

“I know you do, honey, I know, but we need to take this time, you see that, don’t you? It’ll make us stronger in the long run, wipe out all those doubts and questions in that sweet little noggin of yours.” He kissed her hairline, letting his lips slide down to her temple, pressing dry, sweet kisses into her tearstained skin as he rubbed himself against her hip.

“Just a little while and then little ole us will be back in each other’s arms where we belong. I knew you were still my sweet little baby.” He pressed down as his palm grazed over her pubic bone and the heat built between them. “Still my perfect little baby, just for me, huh, ain’t you.” She threw her arms around his neck, murmuring sounds of pleasure as he pressed tighter and harder against her flank, the pain no longer so low down, but in her chest as her heart cracked and fissured into pieces. 

Two days later, the newspaper had a few columns about Elvis’ impromptu visit to Ellis Auditorium to wish good luck to all the High School graduates. They said he was accompanied by his mother and father to show his appreciation for his hometown, and entertain all the young men and girls who were excited to be starting their lives in the presence of their idol. “When pressed by our reporter,” the newspaper stated, “Presley said that he was too busy with his career to focus on dating, but it was clear that many of the girls present wished that they could be the one to change that.”

A week later, the same newspaper carried photos of “a certain dark haired beauty from Las Vegas” who was visiting as a guest at Elvis’ home and being escorted about the city as a “delightfully sinful ornament” on the back of his favourite Harley Davidson motorcycle. 

Sorry, my taglist is probably so out of date! Please let me know if you need an add or delete:

@richardslady121 , @dkayfixates , @fallinlovewithurlove , @notstefaniepresley , @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith , @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation , @lettersfromvenus, @littlehoneyposts , @joshuntildawn13 , @i-r-i-n-a-a , @from-memphis-with-love , @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @amix1982

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

Ann-Margret (Bye Bye Birdie, Viva Las Vegas)—While she started as a singer, the lovely and talented Ann-Margret also left her mark as an actress in Hollywood. She won a Golden Globe for her first role in Pocketful of Miracles and was nominated again for Bye Bye Birdie, and very nearly stole the show from Elvis Presley himself in Viva Las Vegas.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

Ann-Margret:

She can sing! She can dance! She had excellent chemistry with Elvis! She reportedly survived a 22 foot fall off of a stage! The movies and old and problematic but I love her 1000%

[lupoteodoro]

My Ron Livingston Watchlist Guide

Must-Watch

Office Space (1999)

Band of Brothers (2001)

Ron Livingston's Complete Bootcamp Video Diary (2001)

Keyboard Cat Redux (2009)

Highly Recommended

Swingers (1996) – Goofy.

A Rumor of Angels (2000) – Beautiful movie, and this role led him to get Nix.

Holly (2006)

Music Within (2007)

Defying Gravity (2009) – could have been an iconic space drama.

Parkland (2013) – I love his performance in this one.

Loudermilk (2017-2020)

Worth Watching

The Low Life (1995) – Story of a Yale grad.

Townies (1996) -- licked by a golden retriever puppy

Campfire Tales (1997) – full back nudity.

Body Shots (1999) -- yeah, that one

Beat (2000) – Super cute nerdy gay boy.

44 Minutes: The North Hollywood Shoot-Out (2003)

Sex and the City (1998-2004) – Enough is enough: Berger is my pretty baby boy.

House (2006) – He looks so good.

Relative Strangers (2006) – Fun to watch.

Standoff (2006-2007) – Obviously.

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: From the Stories of Stephen King (2006)

Leave (2011) – A BoB cast reunion.

Drinking Buddies (2013)

Boardwalk Empire (2013-2014)

Saints & Strangers (2015)

Shangri-La Suite (2016) – Fat Elvis.

Welcome to America (2016)

Daddy Vibes

The Conjuring (2013) – Haunted dad.

Fort Bliss (2014) – Military spouse dad.

The 5th Wave (2016) – Post-apocalyptic gorgeous dad.

Lucky (2017) – Because his look here is what I imagine for Stanhope.

Tully (2018) – Gentle omega dad.

The Long Dumb Road (2018) – Violent Alpha Dad.

The Romanoffs (2018) – Reasonable dad.

A Million Little Things (2018-2023) – Why does he die right away and leave a mess behind? This show annoys me. But he's so good in it.

The Flash (2023) – The Flash’s dad.

Sitting in Bars with Cake (2023) – Adorable sad dad.

His Pretty Face >> plot

JAG (1997) – POW baby.

Timecop (1997) – A 1920s New York cop.

Two Ninas (1999)

The Practice (1999) – I think his character was bullied, but he still looked very great.

Buying the Cow (2002)

The Cooler (2003)

Little Black Book (2004)

10 Years (2011)

Love Him Even as a Villain/Tragic

Adaptation (2002)

King of the Ants (2003)

American Crude (2008)

Dinner for Schmucks (2010)

The Odd Life of Timothy Green (2012)

The Professor (2018)

Search Party (2016-2022)

Doesn’t Fit Anywhere but You Could Watch

The Time Traveler's Wife (2009)

Game Change (2012)

[bluewinnerangel]

FITF Tour exit songs

- NA LEG - Uncasville: Tina Turner - The Best

Gilford: The Smiths - This Charming Man

Laval: Petula Clark - Downtown

Toronto: Bryan Adams - Summer Of '69

Cuyahoga Falls: The Verve - Bitter Sweet Symphony

Sterling Heights: Shed Seven - Chasing Rainbows

Cincinnati: The Killers - All These Things That I've Done

Columbus: R.E.M. - The One I Love

Indianapolis: Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart

Maryland Heights (St. Louis): Chuck Berry - Johnny B. Goode

Kansas City: Van Morrison - Moondance

Milwaukee: Johnny Nash - I Can See Clearly Now

Chicago: Earth, Wind & Fire - September

Minneapolis: Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U

Council Bluffs: Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)

Sioux Falls: Don McLean - American Pie

Seattle: The Smiths - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Vancouver: The Police - King Of Pain

Troutdale: Elvis Presley - Always On My Mind

Berkeley: INXS - Never Tear Us Apart

Los Angeles: 2Pac - California Love

Las Vegas: The Killers - Human

Phoenix: Spear Of Destiny - Liberator

Irving: The Doors - Hello, I Love You

Austin: Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

Houston The Woodlands: The Police - Walking On The Moon

St. Augustine: The Police - Every Breath You Take

Hollywood: Elton John - Your Song

Tampa: Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Atlanta: The Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want

Nashville: Duran Duran - Hold Back The Rain

Charlotte: Lou Reed - Perfect Day

Raleigh: Van Morrison - Moondance

Columbia: Commodores - Easy

Boston 1: Boston - More Than A Feeling

Boston 2: Pixies - Here Comes Your Man

Philadelphia: Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U

Asbury Park: Bruce Springsteen - Dancing In The Dark

New York: Queen - We Are The Champions (dj elf asked a fan to pick between this one and David Bowie - Heroes)

- EU & UK LEG - Hamburg: Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart

Copenhagen: Queen & David Bowie - Under Pressure

Oslo: Green Day - Wake Me Up When September Ends

Stockholm: The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army

Helsinki: Elvis Presley - Always On My Mind

Tallinn: Smash Mouth - All Star

Riga: AC/DC - Thunderstruck

Kaunas: Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling in Love

Krakow: Iggy Pop - Lust For Life

Łódź: Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop

Vienna: Oasis - Supersonic

Ljubljana: The Killers - Smile Like You Mean It

Budapest: Bloc Party - Helicopter

Bucharest: Foo Fighters - My Hero

Sofia: Rage Against The Machine - Bombtrack

Bilbao: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Lisbon: White Lies - Farewell to the Fairground

Madrid: Editors - Munich

Barcelona: At the Drive-In - One Armed Scissor

Turin: Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way

Bologna: Bloc Party - Helicopter

Luxembourg: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Antwerp: Queens Of The Stone Age - My God Is The Sun

Paris: Biffy Clyro - Bubbles

Amsterdam: Blur - Song 2

Cologne: The Libertines - Can't Stand Me Now

Prague: Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

Berlin: The Cure - Friday I'm in Love

Munich: Fatboy Slim - Praise You

Zurich: The Strokes - Last Nite

Dublin: Inhaler - These Are The Days

Sheffield: The Killers - Mr. Brightside

Manchester: The Smiths - This Charming Man

Glasgow: The Snuts - Gloria

Brighton: Ramones - I Wanna Be Sedated

Cardiff: T. Rex - 20th Century Boy

London: The Libertines - Can't Stand Me Now

Birmingham: Boyz II Men - End Of The Road

- ASIA & AUS LEG - Jakarta: Iggy Pop - Lust For Life

Melbourne: Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

Brisbane: The Temper Trap - Fader

Sydney: Oasis - Rock 'N' Roll Star

- LATAM LEG - Panama: Hard-Fi - Living for the Weekend

San Juan: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Rio de Janeiro: Nirvana - Heart-Shaped Box

Like last time the plan is to keep editing this post as tour goes on - 2022 LTWT here

Apple music playlist here

[ckret2]

Conspiracy theories are an important part of the series' identity, what's wrong with them? Some have nasty implications if you really overthink it, but they're generally fun

I didn't say I'm not gonna include conspiracy theories in the story altogether. I said I'm not validating any REAL WORLD conspiracy theories, and I'm not talking about antisemitic & racist conspiracy theories. I'm happy to crack jokes debunking or mocking real world conspiracy theories. I'm happy to create new conspiracy theories for the fic that are totally divorced from any existing conspiracy theories.

But when I'm talking about the ones I'm not playing with, I ain't talking about "Elvis is still alive" conspiracies here. With a lot of the most oft-referenced goofy-sounding high profile conspiracy theories, they're not nasty "if you really overthink it." These theories are, in their very origins, vehicles for hatred toward minority groups. Browse for a while. Notice how many of the conspiracies that have ridiculous traits that make them seem fun on the surface are past the antisemitic point of no return.

Secret reptilian overlords disguised as humans? A deliberate effort to disguise centuries-old antisemitic conspiracies. "Jews secretly control the world," "Jews help others of their bloodline gain & maintain power," "Jews drink the blood of Christian children"—blood libel is a thing that real people believe and have believed for centuries and has historically been used to justify killing whole Jewish communities—and the exact rhetoric used in these obviously antisemitic claims was reskinned for the "reptilian overlords" conspiracy. And which real people do you think believers in the conspiracy disproportionately accuse of secretly being cold-blooded inhuman monsters trying to disguise themselves amongst normal humans? Reptilian overlords is a popular one to make jokes about because "the president's a lizard in disguise" sounds funny when stripped of context—and typically the people making jokes either don't know where it came from or don't care.

Hell, the entire "a cabal of Jewish people sorry we meant 'global elites' secretly rules the world" is one of the oldest, most versatile, and most popular of antisemetic conspiracy theories.

And check out some of the more ridiculous-sounding ones that pop culture likes making jokes about.

Hollow Earth? That one's "inside the earth is a paradise populated by Vikings (the manliest white people!) and Nazis. Yay Nazis!" A whole bunch of secret continent/secret moon colony/hidden geography conspiracies are very "yay Nazis". The Illuminati secretly control everything? For approximately a century, "Jews + Freemasons + Illuminati control the world" has been an extremely prominent conspiracy theory that's branched off into countless other conspiracy theories still believed today (it fed into the reptilian overlord conspiracy, for instance). Adrenochrome? Hollywood (and other "global elites") are trafficking children to harvest a chemical from their blood that they can inject? This is literally just blood libel again. Satanic Panic, the idea that there are real Satanic cults sacrificing children left and right, and the goofy things resulting from the panic like Chick Tracts claiming D&D will damn you? Innocent people were sent to jail for murder because they were gothy enough to be accused of Satanism. People (including the right's favorite targets: immigrants and queer people!) spent decades in jail over accusations that they were ritualistically sexually abusing children—crimes that never even happened. Even less directly harmful shit like "aliens built the pyramids" is only possible if you begin from a position of assuming it's more likely ALIENS built the pyramids than that ancient African people were capable of doing it and then ignore the fact that we do know how the damn things were built.

I don't think it's entertaining for a fictional story to go "hey, you know this conspiracy that was created to promote prejudice against minorities and has been used to hurt and kill people? Wouldn't it be sooo silly if there were a world where it's actually TRUE?? Wouldn't it be so funny if the antisemites and racists and homophobes and fascists were right about everything?"

So no. I'm not gonna use a fictional setting to validate any real world conspiracies; and I'm not gonna bring a whiff of antisemitic & racist conspiracies into a goofy comedy setting.

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren’t what they seem. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, TENSION!!!

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to my new fic! Very excited to share this with you all. 1969 was quite a year for Elvis and just needed to write what he was doing that summer🤭 Enjoy!

If you'd like to read any of my other fics, start here or Ao3! Hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

June 15, 1969

You grumble sitting here, trying to figure out if you both would get by this month. It’s always been a little tough, that’s just how it’s been lately. But the last few months have been exceptionally rough. You were waitressing at the local diner seven days a week. Before that, you’d usually be out auditioning for any film or TV show. You practically lived on a movie set since you were so busy with different projects. It was your dream you’ve chased your whole life and felt you had what it took to be in Hollywood. 

You moved here when you were twenty-four, hoping to get attention for a new movie in the works. It was a lot of hard work, but you did get roles. You got a few lead roles or even things like background work.

Things changed when you married John. He was once so loving and supportive about your dreams, but drastically changed once you two married and moved in together. He was much more distant and borderline cold when he talked to you. You were always so excited when you got a new audition or had a really good day on set. Your mood would instantly get deflated when he talked about how he thought a certain movie was silly or how he thought you could spend your time doing more useful things. 

It always felt like a punch in the gut when he said those kinds of things to you. You pushed yourself to ignore such negative thoughts though. Nothing was going to stop you. 

You met John because he was friends with Elvis in the 50’s. You and Elvis were friends before John ever came around. But things changed between you and Elvis and you didn’t know exactly what happened that caused such a riff.

You were surprised being in Hollywood at the same time Elvis was, you never ran into each other. There was a part of you that missed your old friend. He was always so much fun to hang out with and you were sure he was the same way as he was years ago. There was always this hope when you booked something on the MGM lot that you would run into Elvis and you would catch up like no time has gone by. But your naive way of thinking only made you more disappointed as the years went on.

When you saw articles about Elvis in the paper or saw his picture in a magazine, it made you miss him more than anything. It would be nice to have a friend when times get tough but he never reached out. 

Your family knew the Presleys and had a similar upbringing in Memphis. You would have dinners together sometimes and got along with Elvis since you were the same age. He was exceptionally handsome and all the girls loved him. You saw he had beauty inside and out though. He was more than just a pretty face. You didn’t pursue anything romantic with him. It was easier to just be friends. You thought of him fondly and wanted the best for him, that’s all you could do. 

As the years have gone on, you found yourself unhappier than ever. With the financial strain looming over your head, you weren’t going out for as many auditions as you used to and your life felt so empty without art. John was out all day searching for new jobs lately, straining your relationship further. But you understood he was trying to make more money and pick up any job he could find. You tried to take as many shifts at the diner to help him out and not make him feel like the financial responsibility was all on him.

It was time to do something about the current situation you’re in, you just weren’t exactly sure what to do. You go to turn on the radio, trying to drown out the incessant worried voices that were ringing in your head. You turn the volume knob up and one of Elvis’ songs came on. That voice always put you in a good mood and the idea popped into your head; maybe Elvis could help him find a new job or hire him personally?

“When was the last time you talked to Elvis?” You ask over the music. 

“A few weeks ago, why?” 

“You should call him, see if he has any recommendations for jobs for you,” you say nonchalantly. 

“I don’t know… I don’t want to overstep,” John says shortly. 

“You’re one of his oldest friends, I don’t think he’d be upset,” you try to reassure. John sighs and goes into the other room to make the phone call, closing the door behind him. 

It was true, they had known each other since they were teenagers and kept in touch quite often. It made you a little sad he never asked about you or made an effort to talk to you. So many things changed when he got drafted. You lost contact with him and when he came back to the States, he was trying to be a big Hollywood star. He didn’t have time for you anymore. It stung, but you knew he’d be just fine without you. 

John came back into the room quietly, looking uncomfortable. 

“He said yes,” he says surprised. 

You look at him a little shocked, “he said yes to what?” You ask. 

“He said I could go and work for him,” he says a bit relieved. 

“Oh my gosh, that’s great!” You say. 

“I start tomorrow. He wants us there at his Hillcrest house in the afternoon,” he explains. You were so happy this was happening. 

You were relieved Elvis was doing this for him! This could change so much! Depending on what Elvis could pay him, your lives might be much different! Maybe you both wouldn’t have to struggle and worry so much about finances. Perhaps you can start acting again… there were so many possibilities with this new turn of events. Your life might get a lot better because of all of this. 

*

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were so nervous to see Elvis again but you were. A part of you felt like you did something wrong and that’s why he stopped talking to you. You knew that was all in your head but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You must have changed your dress a dozen times thinking the color didn’t suit you or it wasn’t the right thing to wear, but you were running late and had to settle for this dress you were wearing. It was a simple, black and white sundress with cherry blossoms scattered on the lower half. John was waiting in the car for you, impatient as always.

You lived about twenty minutes away from Elvis’ Hillcrest home. You had never been to this house before but heard it’s really beautiful. It was up in the hills and was in a relatively quiet neighborhood, perfect for a rock and roll singer to be left alone.

You pull up to the iron gates with a red brick driveway and wait for someone to open the gate for you both. The car stops and you pop out of the car quickly. You felt like a child with this unwavering curiosity. The front had a beautiful entrance and so much lush greenery and flowers surrounding the long driveway. You felt like you could be in the countryside rather than in the heart of Los Angeles with all this vegetation. The smell of jasmine and pine filled your nose the longer you stood out here and never knew more of a heavenly scent. The house was pretty modern and very clean from the outside. 

“Do you wanna come inside or are you just going to stand there?” John says. 

You snap out of it and cordially smile at him even though his tone ticked you off. You walk quickly to the front door with him and John opens the door, letting you step in first. 

The foyer was spacious with gold picture frames of Elvis and his parents in black and white. You missed them, they were always so sweet to you. The white marble floors shone brightly and the sound of your clicking heels echoed through the front entrance. The dining room was on the left with a large black table with matching chairs around it. 

You peek around the corner and see suede-white couches in the living room with a large mirror above them. This place felt warm and inviting, like a home. It reminded you of Graceland in a way, how the second you walked through the door, you felt 

safe and cared for. 

“Hey EP,” John says gleefully. 

You quickly turn around and see Elvis walking into the dining room. You have to hold your breath as he walks in because you barely recognize him. Or you forgot how good-looking he was. 

He walks in confidently wearing a yellow, silk button-up that was unbuttoned to the middle of his tan chest and black slacks. A black leather belt was fastened at his waist and his leather boots echoed in the halls. He let his hair grow out longer than you’ve ever seen and it looked quite nice on him.  Elvis reaches his hand out to shake John’s hand and smiles as he greets him. 

You stand there frozen, unable to move any closer to him. They start to exchange words and hug each other. As Elvis pulls John in for a hug, he makes eye contact with you. His gleeful grin turns into a wide-eyed stare in your direction and his smile fades. Your heart thumps wildly, not sure what to do or say after an expression like that. Elvis pats John’s back and continues to look at you with a blank expression. 

“Hey y/n,” Elvis says low. 

Jesus that voice, it did something incomprehensible to you. It was so sultry without even trying. 

“H-hi Elvis,” you say timidly. 

The longer you stare at him, the more you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen him last. He no longer has that baby face but he somehow still has that boyish innocence strewed across his face when he looks at you. He looks so much taller now even though you’re sure he hasn’t grown that much taller over the last ten years. Elvis had this newfound confidence in him that you had never seen before. It was like he glowed from the inside out. There was a magnetism to him that you’ve never encountered by just looking at a man. His entire presence was overwhelming and had you awestruck. 

Elvis turns back to John and puts the smile back on his face before facing him. 

“It’s so great to have you here man. You should have called sooner. Why don’t you go outside and meet the rest of the guys? I don’t think you’ve met everyone yet. They’ll explain more of what to do, I’ll be there in a sec,” he says positively. 

John makes his way back to the front door and nods his head at you. The door closes gently and you slowly turn your attention back to Elvis. He still has that same look on his face. He walks cautiously over to you, inspecting you carefully. The closer he gets to you, the more details you can see on his face. His eyes looked so blue and mesmerizing. His gaze was so intense you had to look away or you might find yourself blushing. He stops a few feet away from you, keeping a comfortable distance between you two. 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” He asks you. You meet his eyes and haven’t been this close to him in ages. You feel like you’re eighteen again and completely tongue-tied. You smile sweetly at him. 

“It has. Over ten years since I’ve seen you,” you say.  You can’t help but sound a bit sour when you say that. Puts into perspective how much has changed over the years. 

He hums softly to himself, his eyebrows furrowing, “you’re right… I haven’t seen you since that night,” he says a bit smugly. 

You freeze, you hated how he put so much emphasis on that sentence. You brush that off and try not to show that his words got to you. 

“Yeah, at your going away party. That was the last night I saw you before you went off to Germany,” you throw back. “And I somehow haven’t seen you since.”

He stared blankly at you, clearly affected by your calloused words. You turn away from him, walking over to the living room to look at the different decorations but to also hide the smug smile that formed on your face. 

“I’ve been busy,” he mumbles behind you. 

"Mhmm," you hum.

You look at the side tables that had a couple of different pictures of Elvis with friends and family. There was a particular one that caught your eye. It was one with Elvis and a girl who had her arms around his neck. She was pretty with big eyes and long blonde hair. 

You suddenly get this weird shiver down your spine. You remember you only feel that way when Elvis is behind you. His presence was suffocating and everyone knew when he walked into a room. Call it a blessing or a curse, but he just had this indescribable thing about him. You had to be in the same room as him to understand. 

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s behind you when you talk, “Who’s this?” You ask pointing to the picture frame. 

“Uhh, that’s uhh- that’s Dianne,” he says a bit shyly. 

“Mmm… your girlfriend I assume?” You say smartly. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says flatly. 

You finally turn around to face him, confused by his tone. 

“What do you mean ‘you guess’?”

You can tell he’s slightly agitated by the question. He stares at the picture for a moment and looks back at you. 

“We have… an agreement of sorts. We go out together any time we know there’s going to be cameras. It helps my image you know?” He says shortly. 

“No, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I thought you either have a girlfriend or you don’t,” you say a bit smartly. 

“Well, when you’re me, and you’re thirty-four, it’s not a great look to be a bachelor anymore. At least it looks like I’m happy to the public and with a woman I could possibly marry in the future.” He says it like he rehearsed it a thousand times. 

“Oh. I didn’t know… I’m sorry you have to force something like that,” you say gently. “Do you like her though?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I can enjoy her company sometimes. But deep down, I couldn’t care less if she’s here,” he admits. 

You were taken aback by his comments. You once thought of him as a romantic but it seems something deep inside him changed…

You don’t know what else to say about that and as you look into his eyes, you see the hurt that resides there. There’s some voice telling you in the back of your head to comfort him. To just reach out your hand and place it on his chest. He was your friend after all. You hated to see anyone hurt especially one that was Elvis. But you turn to sit on the couch and to get some space from him, knowing you might be here for a while with John doing whatever he’s doing outside. 

“And how’s married life for you?” He asks a bit sarcastically. 

You look up at him almost shocked at his tone. You were married to one of his closest friends after all. 

“It’s fine,” you say shortly. 

“Just fine?” He asks. “You’re not living your fairytale life?” He quips. You didn’t like anyone poking fun at you and especially your personal life. 

“Why do you care Elvis? Things are fine and that’s all you need to know,” you snap. 

“I was just curious since he called me in a panic,” he says nonchalantly, leaning back onto the couch with his arms stretched out along the back of it. He stretches out his long legs and your eyes trail up and down them. Jesus, he was so distracting....

“And he said things were rocky between you two,” he tells you. 

You were shocked at this admission! What do you mean things were rocky? Well, you understood how it might be seen like that. You both were the most distant you’ve ever been since getting married. You just blamed it on working so much that you didn’t make time for each other and the overall financial strain. 

“That’s really none of your business! What happens between me and my husband is none of your concern. We’re doing our best,” you say with your voice wavering slightly. 

He nods his head as he looks at you with a softness in his eyes. 

“Then tell me, how are you really? Are you okay?” He asks. 

The way he looked at you was so tender, so sweet, but you didn’t like how he talked about your relationship. His words got under your skin so easily. It was like he was waiting to laugh at John and everything your life had turned out to be. You couldn’t let it go, it bugged you too much, and knew you were fighting fire with fire if you kept going. 

“You’d know how I was doing if you picked up your damn phone or read the letters I wrote to you. Did you even receive them?” You snap. 

He stares at you like he wants to snap too but he holds it together. 

“Yeah… I got them…” he says coldly. 

Your heart sinks a bit, hurt that your suspicions were right all along. He received all the letters you wrote to him while he was off in Germany, worried about how lonely he’d be by himself there. Even after he came back to the States, you continued to write to him but with no avail, you never got a letter back. John got his phone number when he was back at Graceland and you tried to call him to see if he’d at least talk to you but he would never take your call. He was always ‘busy’ or wasn’t there at the house. After a while, you gave up. You got the message he didn’t want to talk to you. And now, the message is extremely clear. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

“You got them and you didn’t bother to write me back?! Even just one phone call telling me you don’t have time to talk would have been better than hearing radio silence from you all these years!” You say agrivated, raising your voice slightly. He stays silent, looking at you with a straight face and a heated gaze. 

You stand up quickly, anger taking over your better judgment. “Are you going to answer me?! Or are you just going to sit there and not respond like you always have?” You spat. He continues to not say a word. The silence was deafening in here and you wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You don’t have any more patience for him. 

You start to walk out of the living room and can’t help but have the last word. 

“You know I was dumb enough to want to be in a movie with you? I was this close to being in one with you a few years ago. It was between me and this other girl. The producers loved me. They said I had it. Then last minute, I was told they were going in a different direction. I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have to deal with your piss poor attitude,” you tell him. 

His expression stayed stark and his gaze didn’t waiver. “Yes, I know about that. I’m glad something was done about it. It would have been an unenjoyable experience for both of us,” he snarls back. 

You were taken aback by these hideous words. You couldn’t believe he said such things to you. It was mean and uncalled for. How did he even know you were up for a movie with him? Who told him?

There was no time to ask these questions because your patience had run dry with him. 

“You’re unbelievable. I can’t believe I thought I missed you after all these years,” you say as you start to walk away. 

You only make it a few steps before you feel him grab your wrist and still you. You grunt in surprise and quickly turn back to face him. He was so close to you. Being this close and looking up into those luring eyes was intoxicating. You could feel your breathing hitch in your throat as you stood there unable to speak. 

“What,” you squeak out weakly. 

“What could you possibly miss about me hmm?”

You can’t speak, he’s looking at you like he could devour you. 

“What parts of me do you miss?” He says low. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks and the heat coming off of him makes you feel lightheaded. You can’t breathe the way he keeps looking at you. 

This was low for him. How dare he bring up such things. Especially things that were so far in the past. 

“Fuck you. How dare you-,” You seethe in his face but he cuts you off, taking another step closer. 

“Tell me. What do you miss? My lips? My hands?” He challenges. He gently lifts his other hand and uses the back of it to caress your face. He barely touches your skin but when he does, it’s like an electric shock running through you. It’s the most calming and electrifying feeling. You can’t help but lean into his touch. 

“Elvis,” you warn, looking defiantly into his eyes. 

He takes another step closer, chests almost touching. He turns to the side of your face, his lips inches away from your ear. 

“You probably still think of my hands when you touch yourself, don’t you,” he breathed. 

You feel your mouth go dry and your heart shudders in your chest. You have nothing to say, nothing to refute that with. You slowly pull your head away from his and look into his eyes again. They were serious and commanding. They made you want to crumble right there at his feet. 

You don’t notice it right away, but both of your chests are heaving slightly as you’re standing there. You didn’t realize your hand was squeezing his bicep tightly. His arm felt toned underneath his shirt and you inadvertently squeezed it tighter. 

Nope. You can’t do this. That ship has sailed a long time ago. 

His bedroom eyes drift down to your parted lips. Neither of you move, it’s too tense to say anything but you can feel the way he wants to keep you in this moment with him for as long as possible. He bites his lip sensually and you hear his breathing hitch. He was so distracting, how he was drawing attention to his plump lips. You remember all too well how those lips felt when they crashed into yours…

“Hey EP where are ya?” A man’s voice belts from the front door. 

You quickly take a step back from Elvis, desperately needing space from him. You heave for breath and brush your hair off of your face. You can’t believe you got so flustered by him. It was cruel what he did. 

Looking back at Elvis, he had a smug smile on his face. Oh, it made you so angry. Was this all a game to him? You hadn’t been here for more than ten minutes and he was trying to dig his way under your skin. 

“I’m comin’ hold on,” Elvis yells out. He smirks at you as he lets go of your arm. His eyes trail over your body once more and sighs softly.

"I'll see you around, honey," he murmurs.

You hold your breath once more. That word he just used made you feel weak and indefensible.

Honey...

Lord, he hadn't called you that name since...oh... yeah, you remember the last time he called you that. That night seemed like a lifetime ago but now that Elvis brought it up, it was in the forefront of your mind. You remember everything so clearly and catch yourself thinking about his hands...his lips... uh oh.

This isn't good.

*

*

*

Tagging:

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