Body Rides

‘You will not.’

  Sue’s grin spread. ‘Scared I’ll find out she’s got another fella?’

  ‘Why don’t we just leave Marta out of this?’

  ‘Okay. Juss tryin to help. I mean, I sure don’t want ya to get sick and die, that’s all. If she’s steppin out . . .’

  ‘She’s not stepping out.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I say so. Now look, do you want to use the bracelet and get out of here?’

  She was silent for a little while, apparently thinking it over. Then she said, ‘Nah. I’m doin better. It ain’t so scary . . . isn’t so scary when we’re talkin like this, ya know?’

  ‘It does seem to help,’ Neal admitted.

  ‘So we better keep on talkin, huh?’

  ‘I guess so,’ Neal said.

  ‘Let’s go back to Marta.’

  ‘Well . . . How about if we don’t, and . . .?’

  ‘Do ya use rubbers on her?’

  ‘Sue!’

  She laughed. ‘Sorry! Never mind! All I’m sayin, if ya aren’t a hundred per cent sure about her, ya better take precautions.’

  ‘Fine,’ Neal said. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

  ‘I don’t use ’em myself. Never have.’

  He blushed fiercely, and felt a quick rush of heat in his groin. ‘You should,’ he said.

  ‘Last time I got myself boinked . . .’

  ‘Sue. Jeez.’

  ‘Well, it was six years ago.’

  ‘You were twelve?’

  ‘Yup.’ She put her head down on his chest again. ‘They was five guys in the school John.’

  ‘My God.’

  ‘Don’t reckon they woulda put on rubbers even if I’d asked ’em.’

  ‘Did they hurt you?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure did.’

  Neal’s eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.

  Just a little kid. Innocent and helpless. What sort of bastards could do that to her?

  My poor Sue.

  ‘I’m . . . so sorry,’ he murmured.

  ‘Me, too. Bled like a stuck pig, and couldn’t walk straight for a week. But I come through it okay. Least I didn’t catch some disease or get knocked up.’

  Neal sniffed and took a deep, shuddering breath. He wiped his eyes. ‘What happened to the guys who raped you?’ he asked.

  ‘Huh?’ She lifted her head. ‘Oh! They didn’t rape me. I got ’em to do it. They were my buddies.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sure. Only problem was, it was too many all at once and we were too young. Not to mention we got caught at it. The whole gang of us got expelled.’

  ‘My God,’ Neal muttered.

  Sue laughed. ‘Anyhow, that was my first and last try at gettin laid.’

  ‘Never once . . .?’

  ‘Come close a few times, and there’s always guys wantin to. I’ve even had the urge, myself, a few times. But mostly, the guys I know aren’t much good so I been savin myself.’

  Saving yourself for someone like me?

  Neal didn’t dare ask.

  ‘Also, there’s my problem,’ Sue said.

  ‘Problem?’

  He felt her head nod against his chest. ‘The time when I did it with all them . . . those guys . . . they sorta ruined me.’

  Her words gave Neal a tight, sick feeling.

  Should he ask how they’d ruined her?

  She probably expected him to ask, but he was afraid.

  ‘Put that away and gimme yer hand,’ she said.

  Neal stuffed the bracelet into his pocket. Then Sue took him by the wrist and pulled his hand over to her. Her head and curtain of hanging hair blocked the view, so he couldn’t see what she was doing.

  Her left leg shoved his right leg aside.

  On his hand, he felt smooth, warm skin.

  Then the feathery brush of soft curls against his fingers.

  Sue guided his hand lower. He felt skin on both sides and knew he was between her thighs.

  ‘Here’s what they done to me,’ Sue said. ‘Feel there? Right there?’ She slid his fingertips over soft folds of flesh and in between them, into a split that was hot and slick. ‘See how they left me gashed wide open?’ Sue asked.

  Neal could only answer with a groan.

  Still holding his hand down there, Sue lifted her head and kissed Neal on the mouth. He felt as if his breath were being sucked away. Her tongue pushed between his lips. As he delved deeper into her with his fingers, she released his wrist and caressed the side of his face.

  She groaned and squirmed.

  I shouldn’t be doing this, he thought. Shouldn’t be.

  Can’t help it. Feels too good.

  But it was not just the wonderful slippery tight feel of her, it was the knowing that she wanted his fingers there, wanted him there. Trusted him enough. Liked him enough. Loved him?

  A very weird trick to get me there . . .

  ‘See how they left me gashed wide open?’

  Yeah, right.

  She’d told the truth, at least, about her drawers.

  This is so . . . fantastic! Unbelievable!

  What about Marta?

  Marta never has to know, he told himself.

  Sue writhed on his hand, grunted into his mouth, stopped caressing his cheek and ran her hand down his chest and belly. She tugged at his belt buckle.

  He wanted a breast. Her left breast felt good the way it pushed against his chest, but he wanted one in his hand. His right arm was already stretched across her back. Lowering it slightly, he went in beneath her armpit and slipped his hand through the hole where her sleeve had been removed.

  He felt her smooth, bare side. Stretching farther, he touched the side of her breast.

  Tried to reach to the front, but couldn’t.

  Couldn’t get to her nipple.

  Almost, but . . .

  Sue slipped his zipper down. He felt the front of his trousers go loose. The elastic waistband of his shorts went away.

  He groaned when Sue’s hand curled around his erection. He felt huge, hard and heavy, ready to explode.

  Her cool, smooth hand glided slowly down, then up . . .

  With a sudden jerk, the Pony Express lurched forward.

  Neal and Sue both flinched rigid and gasped into each other’s mouths.

  Eyes leaping open, Neal saw the Christmas tree lights brightly aglow along the railing.

  The seat seemed to drop out from under him.

  And down they roared – a train plunging off a cliff.

  Behind them, people screamed and clapped.

  Sue’s hand leaped away from his penis. In her haste to turn forward and brace herself, she trapped his hand between her thighs.

  ‘Hey!’ Neal yelled.

  ‘Ha!’ she squealed, and spread her legs.

  Neal retrieved his hand. He clutched the safety bar and braced himself with his feet as the rollercoaster kept on rocketing downward.

  The warm night air rushed around his erection.

  Great time for the power to come back.

  Look on the bright side – we’re not stranded anymore.

  What am I gonna do?

  At the bottom of the monster slope, the Pony Express sped into a right-hand turn, the tracks rising into a thicket of white beams. Daring to release his panic grip on the safety bar, Neal dropped both hands to his lap and shoved himself back into his undershorts.

  One task at a time, he wiped his slippery left hand dry the best he could on the front of his shorts, shut the zipper of his trousers, buttoned his waist, and fastened his buckle – finishing with five or ten seconds to spare before the rollercoaster stopped at the end of the ride.

  The safety bar automatically moved away from them.

  On shaky legs, Neal stood up and stepped onto the platform. He turned around. Sue, on her feet, looked flushed and unsteady. Meeting his eyes, she hoisted a corner of her mouth. Neal, with a breathless laugh, reached down and gave her a hand onto the platform.

  Side by s
ide, they staggered toward the exit.

  He glanced down at himself. His shirt tail hung out.

  So did Sue’s – but hers was always that way.

  A couple of her buttons had come undone.

  We must look like we’ve been wrestling.

  As they neared the exit gate, a red-haired guy in a cavalry uniform looked them over and said, ‘Sorry about that problem.’

  ‘No problem,’ Neal told him.

  ‘Are you both all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine and dandy,’ Sue told him. ‘Best rollycoaster ride I ever had.’

  It had left them both sticky, though.

  Soon after leaving the ride, they found restrooms. The doors were marked Braves and Squaws.

  ‘S’pose anybody’ll care if we go in the same one?’ Sue asked.

  ‘We’d probably get arrested.’

  ‘Yeah. More than likely.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Ya aren’t gonna disappear on me, are ya?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘I feel so dang fine, seems like it’s gotta end real soon, that’s all.’

  ‘It won’t,’ he said.

  Thirty-Three

  For Neal, matters had been settled at the summit of the Pony Express. Doubts had been removed. He didn’t know what to do about Marta yet, but he knew how he felt about Sue.

  After coming out of the restrooms, they didn’t talk about returning immediately to the hotel.

  The hotel, and what was sure to happen there, could wait.

  They went on with their exploration of the Fort, walking slowly side by side, holding hands, often laughing at little things. There were strangely long silences, sometimes. And when they were standing still or sitting, they always found themselves staring into each other’s eyes.

  At a game booth, Neal threw darts at balloons, popped three, and won Sue a stuffed pink kitten not much larger than her hand. She named it Dart. At another booth, she sank a basketball and won a small, stuffed green dinosaur. ‘It’s for you,’ she said, presenting it to Neal. ‘What’re ya gonna call it?’

  He gave the matter some consideration, then answered, ‘Spielberg.’

  Sue laughed and hugged him.

  Neal stuffed the prize animals into the deep, loose pockets of his trousers. Putting Dart in his left-hand pocket, he felt the bracelet down there.

  The smooth, warm feel of the gold made him smile.

  Our fabulous bracelet. None of this would’ve happened without it.

  Sue had used it and misused it, invaded his privacy with it, infuriated him. In the process, however, they had stopped being strangers.

  Thank you, Elise. Thank you, thank you. You didn’t just give me the bracelet, you gave me Sue.

  Holding hands, they continued wandering the midway.

  They played a few more games, but didn’t win.

  They rode the Wagon Wheel, a tilt-a-whirl ride that swung them round and round, throwing them against each other.

  They ate cotton candy – flossy pink fluff swirled around paper cones. When they were done, they returned to the restrooms to wash the stickiness off their hands.

  They waited in line for the Crazy Horse Rapids, Sue with her back to Neal, her buttocks pushing against him, Neal with his arms around her belly. During the ride, they sat with four other people on a rubber raft that lurched and twisted and whirled and bounced its way down a flue of churning water. It rushed beneath bridges, passed under waterfalls, and plummeted off small cataracts. By the end of the ride, Neal and Sue were soaked.

  They climbed out of the raft, dripping.

  The water on their skin and clothes seemed to turn the night chilly. They walked bow-legged, laughing, hunched over in their clinging shirts.

  Neal led the way to a nearby souvenir stand. He bought two big, blue sweatshirts. On the front of each sweatshirt was a pair of golden, crossed sabers. The backs read, THE FORT, New Hope, Nevada.

  Standing in shadows to the side of the midway, Neal removed the sweatshirts from the large, plastic sack that they’d come in. He and Sue used them like towels to dry their hair, faces and bare arms. While Sue wiped her legs, Neal took off his clinging shirt and pulled the new sweatshirt down over his head. It was dry and soft on the inside. Sue frowned at him.

  ‘One of the good things about being a guy,’ he said.

  ‘I reckon.’

  ‘If you don’t want to put it on over your shirt, we could head on over to the johns again.’

  ‘Heck with it,’ Sue said. Keeping her wet shirt on, she pulled the sweatshirt down over her head. But her arms stayed out of its sleeves. The crossed sabers bulged and writhed. She looked as if she had a couple of squirrels racing around inside her sweatshirt. Her empty sleeves swung by her sides. Then one of her hands reached down out of the bottom and tucked her wet, blue shirt between her knees. Moments later, her arms slipped into the sweatshirt sleeves.

  But her hands didn’t appear. She flapped her cuffs at Neal, then shoved the bulky sleeves up around her forearms.

  They tossed their sodden shirts into the plastic sack that had come with the sweatshirts. Then Neal tossed in the stuffed animals, Dart and Spielberg.

  ‘Feels so nice ’n cozy,’ Sue said, rubbing herself. ‘Like bein all wrapped up in a big, warm blanket.’ She gave the bottom a tug with both hands, and her black leather skirt vanished under the sweatshirt. ‘Looks like I lost something!’ Laughing, she raised the sweatshirt high enough to show a few inches of her skirt. ‘Oh, there it is!’

  When they moved on, Sue carried the bag. Neal kept his right arm across Sue’s back. By sliding his hand, he could feel her skin through the soft thickness of the sweatshirt.

  The next ride they came to was the Stagecoach Ferris wheel, a mammoth affair with its individual cars designed to look like Wells Fargo stagecoaches.

  Neal and Sue got into line. She stood in front of him, leaning back slightly against him like before. He wrapped his arms around her. The position was more snuggly this time because of the sweatshirts. Sue caressed his wrists. They both watched passengers disembark from the Ferris wheel, new passengers climb aboard.

  After each new set of passengers climbed in, the door of their coach thumped shut and the enormous wheel turned a bit, swinging them up and forward while lowering the next coach to the platform.

  Neal and Sue watched the wheel turn and stop. Turn and stop. Each time it stopped, all the coaches teetered wildly back and forth. And then, instead of stopping, it began to spin fast, hoisting the coaches high into the night, dropping them.

  ‘Judas Q. Priest,’ Sue muttered.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She turned around and looked up at him. ‘How ’bout we go on somethin else, okay? I mean, I’ll do it if ya really wanta, only . . . I got me the squeamin jimmies on the rollycoaster, and I just don’t think . . . this-here Ferris wheel’s high.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s high.’

  ‘You’re sure you won’t mind missing it?’

  ‘How ’bout you?’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Then let’s not, and say we did.’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Neal said, and led her out of the line. Once they were back on the midway, he shoved up his sleeve and checked his wristwatch. ‘The park’s going to close in about half an hour. Maybe we should start heading back.’

  ‘I think we done most of it, anyhow.’

  ‘We’ve done most of it,’ Neal said.

  ‘We’ve done. We. Have. Done.’

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘I don’t reckon I’ll ever get the hang of it.’

  ‘You’re doing fine. Would you like some ice cream or popcorn or something?’

  ‘We haven’t got a lotta time.’

  ‘Half an hour.’

  ‘How ’bout we go in there?’ she suggested, and elbowed him gently in the ribs. ‘Custer’s Spookhouse.’

  The entire facade of the funhouse was a mural depicting cavalry soldiers a
nd Indians sprawled dead on a grassy hillside, ghosts rising like gray smoke from their torn and bloody corpses.

  ‘Talk about tacky,’ Neal muttered.

  ‘Ya don’t wanta?’

  He grinned. ‘I didn’t say that. The tackier, the better. Let’s go.’

  As they approached the entrance, however, he felt compelled to explain, ‘The Battle of the Little Big Horn didn’t even happen in Nevada, you know. That was Montana. Probably a thousand miles from here.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Sue told him.

  ‘I guess I don’t either, actually. It’s just funny, that’s all. But Nevada did have the Pony Express.’

  ‘Best rollycoaster in the world.’

  Neal gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Sure was the best time I’ve ever had on one.’

  Then they entered Custer’s Spookhouse.

  As they walked through its maze of dark corridors, displays of mayhem suddenly appeared with noise and red lights. The first few times, Neal felt Sue flinch a little. Then she seemed to take the displays in her stride.

  They mostly consisted of mannequins that weren’t realistic enough to fool anyone: an Indian brave hanging from a noose, his tongue protruding; a cavalry soldier on his back, half a dozen arrows jutting from his chest, his hair getting lifted by a leering, painted warrior crouched over his head; a frontier woman in a torn dress, tied to a stake, kindling piled around her feet; a brave, still on his feet in front of a saber-wielding soldier, his head split down the middle; a gory cadaver, ribcage and guts exposed, with a couple of turkey vultures pecking at it.

  ‘Look,’ Sue whispered. ‘That one’s got his eye.’

  Neal saw one of the corpse’s eyeballs clamped in a buzzard’s beak. ‘Cool,’ he said.

  Sue elbowed him and laughed.

  They walked on. After they’d gone a few steps, the red lights of the display went out, leaving them again in darkness.

  There seemed to be a thick carpet or pad under their feet, silencing their shoes.

  ‘It don’t get much darker than this,’ Sue whispered.

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  ‘Doesn’t.’ She squeezed his hand. Then she came to a halt. ‘It’s quiet, too.’

  They both went silent, and listened.

  Neal heard laughter, giggles and shrieks. Though they sounded muffled and far away, they seemed to come from somewhere inside the spookhouse.