Travelling Folk Series Pt. 02: All the Fun of the Fair
Copyright 2000 by Paul. All rights reserved. All events and characters are fictitious.
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Part 1
Pat opened her eyes and for a moment almost panicked. This wasn't her room. She looked down at the arm thrown protectively across her breasts then along its length to the tattoo of the heart and crow on its shoulder. Her eyes moved up to the shoulder-length long, untidy hair that could do with a wash and trim. The rather thin face with the thin lines at the corners of the eyes. The twinkling brown eyes that looked into her own.
Something hard and long was pressing against the top of her thigh. She reached down and held it. It felt warm and strangely comforting. She ran her hand up and down its length listening to the change in Crazy Joe's breathing as she did. His arm moved and his fingers cupped first one, then her other breast. As she felt her nipples responding his hand moved down her body, feeling first her stomach then her pubic mound. She shifted in the narrow bed, opening her legs for him. His fingers massaged the lips of her pussy, opening her. His pushed one finger inside then worked in a second. She arched her back lifting her pelvis from the bed. Her own breathing was changing. She was becoming wetter as his fingers continued moving in and out of her. She squeezed his cock tighter and moved her hand faster.
Suddenly he pulled his fingers from her and moved on top of her. He had a serious look on his face as he pushed forward, his cock knocking at her entrance. She held her lips open with the fingers of one hand and guided him inside with the other. He filled her with one thrust, driving the breath from her body. He moved out, then back in again. She bent her knees and lifted her hips to meet him. He quickened, driving the breath from her body again. She started to pant. Something was building inside her. Tightening. She threw her head from side to side as she came. He was still moving. She was building again. She couldn't come again, not twice in a row. This time she cried out as she came. She could feel him jerking inside her. Moving slowly in and out then stopping. She felt his cock slip from her as it shank. She smiled up at him, a look of disbelief on her face.
"I didn't think it could be like that," she said, lifting her face for a kiss.
He looked down on her face, and then her breast's as he sat back on his heels, then her wide-open pussy. She moved to cover herself with her hands but he caught her wrists and held them.
She tensed, then relaxed.
Let him look.
He lifted his eyes to look into hers.
"I'm hungry," he said, releasing her hands and standing up. "Go and see if Mary and Kelly have that van of theirs open yet. I've got to take Killer down by the canal. I'll have an egg and bacon sandwich."
He was already into his jeans and was buttoning his shirt before she moved.
This is a bit cheeky, she thought. I sleep with him, let him have me and now I have to get the breakfast. Though, if it was a choice between getting breakfast and walking that dog.
Pat climbed from the low bed and looked around. She felt strange. She was so used to seeing Chris, her sister. For a moment she felt very alone.
She pulled on her knickers and jeans and slipped on her shoes before putting on her blouse. She could hear voices coming from inside the rifle range tent and, lifting the rear flap, slipped inside. Killer sat three feet from her, hackles raised and teeth bared. She could hear a deep low rumbling from somewhere deep inside him.
"It's all right Killer," she said edging past him, "it's only me. I have the key."
Killer stopped growling and tilted his head to one side. Pat reached out slowly and scratched behind one of his ears. His hackles dropped and he trotted beside her as she walked to where the men were wheeling John's motorbike out of the front of the tent.
"Good morning, John," she said, "I'm going for breakfast, would you like something?"
"No thanks," he replied, straightening himself and running his fingers through his hair. They stuck in some knots.
"I've some things to do and then I've to pick up Chris at ten," he continued.
"Make sure she's back here for six." Joe said, sitting astride the bike and holding the twist grips. "Good machine this."
"What did you ride?" John asked, opening one of the side panniers and taking out a helmet.
"A Suzy-Q 500." Joe replied. Pat could see he was getting lost in his memories for a second.
Yes. She could see him as a member of a biker gang. Riding with his long hair flowing behind him. Getting into trouble. Raising hell. Then she thought of Mean Jim and the others and the romantic image disappeared.
"Will you be long?" She asked as Joe climbed slowly from the machine. "I don't want your food going cold."
"Only ten minutes." He replied, reaching behind the counter for Killer's lead. Killer sat silently, watching intently. "We can both take him for a longer walk later."
He fastened Killer's lead and walked off between the rows of stalls and rides. He waved and nodded to people he passed. He stopped for a few seconds and spoke to a woman with multicoloured hair they both looked towards her then he moved on in response to Killer's tug on his lead. . She watched his back until he disappeared from view.
"I must be going." John said climbing onto his motor bike as she headed towards the burger van. She could smell the frying onions from there. "See you later."
Putting on his crash helmet he switched on his machine kicked up the stand and roared off between the rows of stalls and rides.
"He'll catch it if the site manager catches him."
Pat turned and looked up at Mary behind the counter of her burger and hot dog bar.
"Why?" Pat asked.
"Private vehicles are not allowed on site. Something about the health and safety regulations. What can I do for you?"
"Joe would like an egg and bacon sandwich, please." She smiled up at Mary.
"And what would you like?" Mary asked taking two eggs from her fridge and moving some part cooked strips of bacon onto the hottest part of her hotplate. They sizzled.
"I normally have cereals." Pat confessed.
"And orange juice?"
"Well, yes."
"I think we can manage that." She said, opening a cupboard beneath a row of boxed, toy cars and producing a bowl.
"I quite like a bowl of cereals myself some days." She continued, taking an individual box of corn flakes from a cupboard to one side of the serving hatch and, opening it, emptying the contents into the bowl. "Sugar?"
"Just milk please." Pat turned and watched the woman with multicoloured hair approach. "Oh, and two coffees please."
"Two sugars if it's for Joe." The woman with multicoloured hair said.
Was there a sound of bitterness in her voice? Pat thought
"Hallo, Max." Mary said, there was real warmth in her voice.
"Hallo, Mary." Max's tone softened as she replied.
Mary turned Joe's bacon and cracked the eggs onto the hotplate. More sizzling.
"This is Joe's friend, Chris." Mary said, taking two slices of bread and spreading some yellow from a tub onto them.
"I'm, Pat." Pat said, holding out her hand. "Chris is my twin."
"I'm Max." Came the abrupt reply.
Pat had the feeling she'd upset Max in some way. She couldn't think how.
"You don't come from around here?" Pat realised it was more a statement than a question.
"Max is from Quebec, in Canada." Mary said, turning the eggs with a slice.
"That's nice." Pat said.
This Max was very difficult to talk to.
"What can I get for you, Max?" Mary asked.
"Just a coffee, please Mary." Max said, handing up a battered tin mug she'd been carrying.
Mary filled the mug and handed it down. Max took it with muttered thanks and, ignoring Pat, turned and walked back towards her stall.
"Hey Max. Come around and party tonight."
Pat turned her head to where the voice had come from.
There stood that horrible Mean Jim with his equally horrible henchman Harry and that even more horrible Lucy. They had two other, younger, men with them. If they were with them they must be horrible as well.
"Five burgers and five coffees, Mary." Jim ordered.
He placed one of his arms around Pat's waist and squeezed, tight.
"Hallo again, darling." He leered into her face.
There was a smell of stale beer on his breath.
"What do you want?" Pat snapped at him.
He almost took a step backwards in response to her reaction. He did release Pat's waist.
"Are you coming to party?"
"Get lost."
"Come on. Loosen up. Be friendly."
"She won't want us if she's fucking Joe." There was a hint of something in Lucy's voice that Pat couldn't catch.
"I wonder if John's fucked her sister yet?" Lucy continued, scratching the lips of her fanny through her jeans. All the men looked.
"Keep your language clean." Mary admonished from her caravan. "You, Jim, are getting nothing else until you've cleared your slate."
"Pay her Harry." Jim said stepping closer to Pat. "We're going to get better acquainted one day miss high and mighty."
"Here's your tray, dear." Mary said, reaching down an old metal tray with Joe's sandwich, Pat's bowl of cereals, two mugs of coffee and a glass of orange juice.
"Where's my breakfast?"
An Irish voice called from behind the caravan. The rear door opened and a thin faced man of average height and slim build climbed inside. A hand rolled cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.
"I told you I'd bring it across when it's ready." Mary replied, writing in a book and placing the money Harry and given her into a pocket of her apron. "I've got customers to serve."
He placed his arms around Mary's waist and gave her a squeeze then he slipped a hand into the pocket of the apron and removed a twenty pounds note.
"Just some beer money." He said, quickly stuffing it into his pocket before Mary could snatch it back. "Now, where's my breakfast, woman."
Pat felt she had had enough for one morning and turned away with a thanks to Mary and walked back to Joe's stall. She was conscious of the eyes of the men, and for all she knew, Lucy, on her ass cheeks as she did. It was a relief to slip under the tent flap away from their sight and place the tray on the front counter.
The air inside the tent suddenly smelt warm and stale. She unhooked the front flaps and folded them back to allow some fresh air to circulate then, sipping at her orange juice, watched as the fair ground around her slowly woke to the new day. People were starting to move about, the lights on stalls were being switched on despite the bright sunshine. Generators were being fired into life to allow for the maintenance of rides. People cleaning, deliveries being made. A man walked by with a heavy bag over one shoulder selling newspapers to the stallholders. She called to him and bought a 'Sun'.
