It is summer, and the fair is in town. Janet, my best friend, her boyfriend and I weave our way through the stalls and rides, until Janet slinks off with her boyfriend for a snog and a fingering on the "Tunnel of Love."
The boyfriend smirks, "Join us!"
But Janet pokes him in the ribs and says, "Meet us at the candy floss stall in twenty minutes." With that, they were gone.
I wouldn't have gone with them anyway; I am more likely to have my head in a book than sit on a boy's lap, not like my slutty friend Janet. But I've known her since we were five, and she's always looked out for me when we were bullied at school.
I notice a small crowd at an exhibit I haven't seen before. I walk closer and see it is a set of medieval stocks, mounted on a platform, flanked on the outer sides by head-high walls, and with a curtain at the back. The carnival guy calls for volunteers. He turns down two or three giggling, probably drunk, people. Then he sees me.
He beckons me to come forward and steps towards me taking my hand.
"Don't be shy, pretty girl! I don't bite!" and he makes a sweeping gesture to the crowd, who laugh and applaud, encouraging me to become involved.
I blush; he knows he has chosen well. He takes my hand and leads me to the rear of the exhibit. We mount the wooden steps, and he pulls the curtain closed behind us. I see that only our upper bodies are visible to the onlookers, hardly more than our heads and shoulders. He bends me into the open stock and places my head and arms in the three holes. He lowers the top half of the prison and folds down a simple latch. There is no way to escape until I am released.
Then he reveals the nature of the game. "Step up! Step up! A pound, a kiss!"
