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sapphire-writes · 11 months

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Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: Tensions rise and secrets are revealed when Aegon disappears following the news of his father's death.

rating: Mature (detailed warning below the cut)

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 8: Runaway ~ next chapter

warnings: language, mentions of substance use and relapse, mentions of death, kissing, crying

word count: 3.8k

note: hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks for all the love so far!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

A knock at your apartment wakes you from a tumultuous sleep. You blink rapidly, sitting up from the couch. You’d fallen asleep in the living room after most of the night crying with Baela. You often had sleepovers with Baela and Rhaena crashing on the couches of your and Sara’s apartment, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Baela to spend the night.

You’d called Helaena right away after seeing her missed calls. Though she sounded sad over the phone, she seemed to be managing the sudden death of her father rather well.

“We weren’t that close,” she’d said, voice breaking at the end. You could hear Alicent in the background murmuring words of comfort.

You’d spilled the beans to Baela completely about Aegon. About keeping it a secret from Helaena. From Cregan. She’d listened to the entire tale, eyes wide, her mouth set in a tight line.

“This is so fucked up,” you told her, tears streaming down your face.

Baela had looked at you, brows furrowed, taking it all in before answering.

“Look, you fucked up,” she began, “But Helaena needs us. Let's get her through this funeral and then when everything has settled down, you can talk to her.”

You nodded at her words. Baela always had a plan, she was always the level-headed one.

You tried calling Aegon in the middle of the night, returning the call from him you’d missed. It went straight to voicemail. You couldn’t stop the nervousness that curled in your belly.

The cramp in your neck was almost unbearable as you rose from the couch—another knock, more insistent this time. Baela snored happily on the couch across from you. The girl could sleep through the apocalypse.

“Hold on!” you call, as yet another knock comes from the door. You scramble out of the blankets nearly falling on your face. “Shit! I’m coming!”

You hurry toward the door, flinging it open revealing half the hockey team. Your eyes widen as you angle your chin up to meet their eyes. Arryx, Erryx, John, and Reese stand in your doorway, arms crossed, accompanied by another dark-haired man you do not recognize. They’re all dressed in sweats and sweatshirts, except for the mystery man who wears a dark gray three-piece suit. He looks like a member of the secret service or something.

“Um…can I help you?” you ask, rubbing some sleep from your eyes. You hope they don’t look puffy from your night of waterworks.

“Is Aegon here?” Arryx asks, shoving his hands in his pocket. Your eyebrows cinch together and you run your hand over your hair.

“What?” you ask, confused. Maybe you’re still asleep.

“Egg, is he here?” Reese says impatiently, rolling his eyes. He’s always such a dick.

You glance between the players, still confused at what they’re asking you and why.

“No…why would he be here?” you ask them.

“You were the last one who saw him,” John says softly, “Jace said you were with him last night.”

Your cheeks flush at the implication. Not that they’re wrong.

“He was at the house when I left,” you tell them, “Did you check his room?”

The men look around at each other. You roll your eyes.

“You didn’t check his bedroom before coming all the way here?” you ask.

John shrugs. What a bunch of meatheads.

“Uhh I don’t know!” he says, his own cheeks turning red, “I guess we just…oh hey Baela!” You turn around as he says her name. She’s awoken from her slumber, walking toward you while arranging her silver curls in a messy bun atop her head.

“Hey John,” she says sleepily, voice rough from sleep. John’s cheeks darken as she smiles at him.

“Egg’s missing,” Arryx says, filling her in, “We don’t know where he is.”

“And we need to find him, soon,” the dark-haired man speaks for the first time, “Criston Cole. Any idea where he could be?”

“His room maybe?” you ask, stating the obvious yet again, “Let me get changed, I’ll come with you.”

You run to your room to change, throwing on some leggings and a sweatshirt that bears the name of your university. Throwing on your sneakers you meet the team in the living room before heading out to return to the hockey house.

The house is in shambles when you arrive, presumably the aftermath of the party last night. You wrinkle your nose as you enter. The house reeks of weed and liquor, the floor sticky as you walk through the entryway.

“How do you live like this?” you ask and Arryx shrugs.

You make your way up the stairs, past discarded red solo cups and beer funnels, down the hallway towards Aegon’s room.

“Aegon-” you say, opening the door to his room. But it's empty. An unmade bed greets you, and clothes are scattered on the floor.

“Told you,” Reese says from behind you.

“Doesn’t hurt to check,” you tell him, crossing your arms, “There’s no way he could have gone home already?” You glance at the open drawers and the messy clothes.

Criston shakes his head.

“Alicent sent me to bring him home,” he informs you, “She would have called if he’d showed up. And..” he begins to trail off, but notices you raise an eyebrow at him, “Aegon isn’t fond of trips home.”

Arryx sighs loudly, running a hand over his beard.

“C’mon Egg,” he grumbles, “This is fucking bad. He could have relapsed, or some shit. Doesn’t that happen when you’re like stressed?”

“Don’t say that,” John snaps, forehead creasing with worry.

“Egg’s fine. He’s just avoiding. He’s probably with some chick right now passed out in her bed,” Reese adds, walking away from the door to lean against the wall. Your cheeks flush and you don't fail to notice the awkward glances from the rest of the guys.

“What?” you snap, “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” Erryx agrees, sounding unconvinced.

“Totally,” Arryx echoes his twin.

“Where else could he be?” Criston asks, his expression one of complete annoyance. He glances at the hockey players, who do not answer, “He’s your friend!”

The guys nod in agreement and begin thinking quietly. You glance between them.

“Seriously?” you ask, feeling as annoyed as Criston is.

“Okay Miss Know-It-All,” Reese sneers, “Where do you think he is?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, sighing. Suddenly, a thought enters your mind, and you smile slightly. “But I know someone who might.”

You swear, Aemond Targaryen lives in the library. His father dies the previous night and Aemond’s first concern is finishing his lit paper before he catches a flight back home.

That’s how you find him, crouched over his laptop, long fingers typing furiously, round blue-light glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. His violet eye flickers up at you as you approach, his fingers never stopping their typing.

“Y/N,” he says politely. Aemond is nothing if not polite.

“I need your help,” you tell him.

Aemond hums in response, gaze returning to his laptop. You shift from one foot to another, before crossing your arms over your chest. He looks up at you again, ceasing to type once he realizes you’re here to stay. He sighs, hitting save on his document before closing the laptop, and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“What can I help you with?” he asks, eyeing you curiously.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“Hardly a loss,” he tells you and notices you wince at his dismissive tone, “It’s true.”

The Targaryens have a complicated family. You’ve heard some of the family drama from Helaena, though she doesn’t like to talk about it.

“Aegon is missing,” you tell him.

Aemond sighs, a slight laugh escaping him.

“Of course he is,” Aemond mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, and closing his eyes.

“Your mom sent someone to bring him home,” you tell him, “Guess he needs an escort.”

“Always has,” Aemond tells you, “He’s a runner. Mom kept him on a tight leash when he was a little kid. Literally.”

You flick an eyebrow up, but somehow Aegon being a leash kid doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“He’s a runner,” Aemond continues, “Always has been. Probably always will be.”

You shake your head at him.

“He can’t miss his father’s funeral. And your mom, she needs him,” you tell him as he puts away his laptop inside his book bag. Aemond stands, pushing in his chair. You’ve never noticed how tall he is, he’s always crouched over his books when you’ve interacted before. He’s much taller than Aegon.

“I can’t make him go,” Aemond tells you, “But I might know where he is.”

“Where?” you ask, and Aemond smirks slightly.

“You sure you want to know?” he asks, “Aegon’s habits are kind of…depraved when he’s in one of his moods.”

Your stomach drops, but you ignore it. You have to do this. For Aegon. For Helaena. You take a deep breath and nod.

“Tell me.”

Maybe you didn’t want to know after all. But Aemond had been insistent that this was where Aegon would have ended up.

“When Aegon’s feeling down, it’s the first place he goes,” he insisted.

So that’s how you found yourself in your car parked outside Silk Street Gentleman’s Club in the middle of the afternoon. Just a half an hour's drive from campus. The parking lot was empty beside your car. A neon sign bearing the club’s name and the pink silhouette of a woman dancing around a pole was the only clue of what the dreary building held inside. That and the steady hum of music coming from within.

Would Aegon really be here? In the middle of the day? Finds out his father dies and books it to the strip club?

You text the group chat with your update. Arryx insisted you make one to keep tabs on where you were all looking for him. You’d added Sara and Jace as well, who reported not seeing him either.

“He’s a simple man,” Aemond had told you, “Pleasures of the flesh make him forget.”

Though the thought of Aegon with someone else made your stomach sour, it wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Do you think he’s relapsed?” you ask and Aemond had only shrugged.

You sigh, leave your car, and begin walking toward the building. As you open the heavy door, the music grows louder, the scent of perfume and sweat hanging heavily in the air. You let the door slam behind you and blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkened room, the glowing lights, and the loud music.

“ID please,” a woman says, waving a manicured hand at you.

You wrestle with your wallet, showing her your ID. She looks from your face to the card and nods. You continue in, watching as someone dances on the main stage. You tilt your head, shamelessly impressed by the strength it must be taking for the woman to hold herself horizontally on the pole.

You’d taken a pole dancing class with Sara once; her idea, and a lot fucking harder than it looked. You’d fallen on your ass several times. But this woman looked graceful, her body hypnotically wrapping around the pole. One man watches her dance, the only patron you can see. He sips his drink, eyes never leaving her.

She slides down the pole, long dark hair just dusting the floor of the stage before she flips off the pole and crawls toward her audience. The man holds out a bill and she sits back on her haunches, letting him slide it under the string of her bottoms. The song ends and she exits the stage, throwing on a sheer white cover-up.

You’re still glancing around the club when she walks up to you, a sly smile on her pretty face.

“Hey sweetheart,” she greets, “Can I interest you in a dance?” She reaches out to touch you as she says it, pushing some hair behind your ear. You can’t help but blush at the action, nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Um, no…thank you! No thank you,” you tell her quickly, “I’m actually just looking for someone, maybe you’ve seen him?”

“I see a lot of people,” she answers, looking you up and down.

“He’s hard to miss,” you admit and she chuckles, “Platinum hair, sad eyes, goes by Aegon?”

A glow of recognition ignites the woman’s eyes. She tilts her head to the side.

“I do know him,” she tells you, tapping a manicured finger against her chin, “But he hasn’t been here in forever. Nearly a year now.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised to hear Aegon hasn’t made an appearance.

“Mhmm,” she answers, “You his girlfriend?”

“No,” you tell her, “No, just a friend.”

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“We’re just…looking for him,” you tell her with a sigh, “Can I leave you my number? In case he shows up?”

The woman nods, the glitter on her cheeks reflecting the lights. You give her your phone and she plugs in her number before returning it to you.

“Thanks….Mysaria,” you tell her, glancing down at the name she put. You shoot her a text with your name so she has your number as well.

“No problem,” she tells you, “I hope you find your friend.” She says the word like it's a secret you’ve failed to keep from her.

The drive back to campus is quiet. You can’t find it in yourself to turn on the radio. You’re worried about Aegon, worried about Helaena. Worried about Cregan.

SHIT.

You change course immediately, in the direction of Cregan’s off-campus apartment. You hadn’t spoken to him all day and hadn’t responded to any texts.

You knock on his door and Cregan greets you, a bandage on his nose from the injury he obtained the previous night. A small laugh leaves your mouth and he smirks.

“I know, hilarious right?” he teases, poking at you, before pulling you into a hug, “I missed you, stranger.”

You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. You missed him too, he’s hard not to miss. Cregan’s such a nice guy, and fun to be around. You feel the familiar guilt beginning to curl in your gut.

“Helaena’s dad passed away last night,” you tell him, face still smushed against his large chest.

“Oh shit,” he says, stroking your hair, “I’m so sorry. Is Helaena okay?”

You nod against him. “She went home to see him. She’s there now.”

“Fuck I should call Egg,” Cregan says, causing you to tense in his embrace. He notices, ever observant. “What is it?”

“That’s kind of where I’ve been all day. Just looking for him,” you tell him, “No one knows where he is.”

“Shit,” Cregan says, “God that’s awful. That’s really nice of you, to help look for him.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. This isn’t fair to him. Not in the slightest.

“I have to tell you something,” you murmur, moving out of his arms. Cregan looks at you, brows creased with worry. “I…Aegon and I have gotten close…” Your voice trails off.

“Okay,” Cregan says, still holding your hands. A moment of silence goes by, and he releases your hands. You can’t meet his eyes.

“Cregan..”

“What does that mean?” Cregan asks, “What? Like you want to be with him?

You bite your lip. You don’t know. Don’t know what the future looks like with Aegon, or if that’s even what you want. But you know you can’t keep lying to everyone. Cregan and Helaena most of all.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, “But we’ve…we’ve kissed and we’ve-”

“Don’t,” Cregan holds his hand up to stop you from continuing, “I don’t want to hear anymore.” He sighs deeply, turning away from you. “Okay. So let's end this then.”

You can’t help the tears that form in your eyes, regardless of agreeing with him. You nod.

“So you’ve been into him? Like since the night we met?” he asks, “When you came to the party with him?”

You don’t say anything. But you suppose that’s confirmation enough.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Cregan says, laughing bitterly, “I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

Your heart weighs heavy in your chest.

“I’m really sorry Cregan,” you tell him, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Yeah me too.”

You both stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment more, shifting from one foot to the other. You speak first.

“I should-”

“Yeah good luck with finding him,” Cregan says, still not meeting your eyes.

He closes the door and the tears begin to flow down your cheeks freely. But something inside of you feels a little bit better, coming clean to Cregan. The truth is always better than hiding in secret. But the thought of telling Helaena makes you nauseous.

As you enter your apartment Sara is quietly sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” you greet her while closing the door.

She holds a mug of steaming tea in her hands, tapping her nails against the pink ceramic. The only sound in the apartment is the rain that splashes against the windows. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with purple.

“Hey,” she says softly, “Don’t freak out.”

You freeze all movements as the worst thoughts begin to flood your mind.

“What is it? What happened?” you ask and Sara holds up a hand.

“Your room,” she says calmly, “Just go to your room.”

“He’s here?” you ask, a wave of anger suddenly flooding through you, “He’s been here this whole time? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Y/N-” Sara begins but you’re off down the hallway already flinging open your door.

He’s on your bed, seated with his head hanging and his back facing the door. Your heart races and you walk further into your room.

“Everyone has been worried sick!” you begin, “Aegon what the fuc-” You stop speaking as he turns his face to you. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, streaks of tears running down his cheeks. His lower lip trembles and he’s playing with his hands, tearing at his cuticles.

A fresh river of tears spills from his eyes, down his cheeks. The collar of his shirt is soaked, as though he’s been in this position crying for some time now. Your lips part, eyes widening at the sight.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he says softly, his voice breaking, “I just walked around the city all night so I wouldn’t fucking drink, and then came here.” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, “I just...I know you don’t want to see me….”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You walk over, climb on the bed behind him, and pull him towards you. You press his head against your chest, wrapping your arms around him. You rest your chin on the top of his head. He doesn’t speak for a moment, neither of you do. He just leans into you, silent tears falling from his lavender eyes.

He raises his hand to your forearm which holds him, gently stroking the smooth skin with his thumb. Aegon squeezes his eyes shut as the sobs overtake him, rattling through him as you hold on tight.

You stay like that for a long time, just holding him while he cries, until finally, it seems like Aegon doesn’t have any tears left. You lay side by side in your small bed, curled into his chest, arms looped through his.

“I told Cregan,” you murmur, glancing up at him between your lashes.

Aegon’s lips part as he meets your eyes.

“I don’t…I don’t want this to be a secret,” you tell him.

Aegon sits up then, a small smile forming on his face. He brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek.

“You silly girl,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. They’re salty from his tears and you greedily lick at his lower lip. “I only said that because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You open your eyes, brushing some hair from his face as he hovers above you.

“I don’t want to mess with your friendship with Hel,” he continues, “That’s all.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then back to his violet eyes.

“I want to be with you,” he murmurs, capturing your lips in a kiss once more. You open your mouth, allowing him to kiss you deeper, your tongue playing with the ring that adorns the middle of his.

“I want to be with you too,” you whisper as he pulls away.

“Will you come home with me?” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, “Pretty” a kiss to the side of your neck “pretty” another against your collarbone “please.”

You sigh, happily relieved and content that Aegon is in your bed, limbs tangled in yours. Though you can’t ignore the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. The Targaryens. A funeral. Facing Helaena. But one look into his violet eyes and the answer comes easily.

“Of course, I will.”

note: HOPE YOU ENJOYED MWAH ILYSM

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thatbanditqueen · 9 months

Text

Basic Training Ch 6

Summary: Bess spends a Friday evening with Elvis on base, and gets excited for the party he invited her to the next day. We learn a little more about Bess' family as she gets ready to meet Elvis' friends, however, things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Fingering, dry humping, descriptions of the ever elusive female orgasm (not when Elvis is around....), and discussions of mental illness.

WC: 8.4 K i tried and failed to stick to my 5 - 6 k goal

My writing is very much influenced by the other women I write with, my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll give me suggestions, answer my research queries and help me find the will to live and write. Also, thanks to @ab4eva and @lookingforrainbows for their enthusiasm because honestly yes I thrive on engagement with other Elvis fans.

Special shout out to @whositmcwhatsit from whom I have stolen her characterization of Elvis learning what an OC likes as he pleasures her in bed, changing his voice when he is alone with an OC vs. in front of others, using his thumbs to rub OCs backs.... basically I subscribe to the belief that all art is deriative and collaborative and I pinch things unwittingly from everyone who I read regularly so thank you, and sorry, no, I won't ask for permission. I am a bandit queen after all. But if you have read @whositmcwhatsit's stuff you might find some of my characterizations of Elvis familiar and you should probably go read some of her stuff instead. She also alpha'd this for me and gave me lots of feedback and dialogue/plot ideas. But no Jade, I am already too jealous of your talents to give you co-author credit so stop begging me (in my head).

You can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

This is the playlist I made for this chapter. Kewl kids do that.

Chapter 6: Guided Missiles

Friday, April 11, 1958

7:07 p.m. on the grounds of Fort Hood, Killeen, TX

Guided missiles, bound to explode

Destroying my heart is your goal

You have succeeded in making me blue

Now I know the enemy is you

The Cufflinks’ “Guided Missiles” played over the radio as Bess navigated her car along the base road, she had just begun to relax her thigh into Elvis’ leg while enjoying how he crooned along into her hair with the song. Then she felt his hand on her inner thigh and bolted upright with a gasp, trying to wiggle him off as she changed gears.

“You are making it hard for me to drive, Tupelo.”

Elvis snickered under his breath, enjoying the way Bess shivered from the way his hand moved her hem up.

“I’m jus’ being helpful, Moo Moo, this skirt’s so goddamn tight, don’t know how you can change gears.”

Bess shook her head as she pulled into the PX parking lot, sliding his hand out of her legs.

“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

“Zat’s me, baby.” Elvis’ lips were nibbling her ear. “I’d open your door any day.” Somehow his hand was back between her legs and she gasped when it feathered over her panties.

“My door,” she pushed him off and put the car in park, “is just fine where it is, soldier.”

He grinned at her, and the way he looked down, biting his lip, was so naughty it made Bess tense with longing. She instantly regretted coming here with him, blushing when his eyes met hers, his fingers now caressing her elbow. Their soft touch did not feel any more innocent on her arm than they had on her thigh and she coughed nervously.

“Um, uh, alright, fork it over.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?“

“You were the one who wanted candy.”

“Bess, I’m not able to carry my wallet during field exercises, an’ I came to meet’cha straight after.”

Bess rubbed his knee playfully and waggled her lips.

“Hmm, Mr. Chivalrous, indeed. Ok, guess I can spring for some Reese’s -”

“Get a bunch, and a few Pepsi colas?”

Bess couldn’t even summon one sarcastic smart aleck retort, her mind was dulled by the way his cheeks lifted up in a boyish excitement. It made her want to grab his face and cover him with a thousand kisses. Instead, she nodded dumbly and managed to make her way out of the car intact, pulling down her skirt. If she tried focusing really hard she was able to walk upright into the commissary.

Once she was a few feet inside, away from Elvis’ hands, her wits returned and, in a matter of minutes, she was at the soda fountain asking the girl behind the counter to add a few more peanut butter cups to her paper bag.

Walking back out of the shop, Bess folded the top of the bag over itself a few times, enjoying the feel of the sharp crisp edge under her hand. She smiled to herself, thinking of Elvis’ silly grin as he conspiratorially looked around after dinner and whispered in her ear that he was in the mood for something sweet.

Studying Elvis over the last two weeks, Bess found he was not at all what she had expected. He was smart and funny, yet also childlike and sweet and simple. His face greeted her with the same genuine excitement every evening when she met him at the bottom of their dirty, dingy back stairwell. He had asked her to bring the same meal the last three nights in a row, homemade meatloaf on challah bread. And he was content to do the same thing every night: drive around listening to the radio and necking in her car. This trip to PX was the first time they had deviated from their familiar routine and gone anywhere remotely public together.

“So, this is how movie stars indulge in the finer th -”

Bess stopped talking as she sat down and realized Elvis was not in her car. Peering around the parking lot, she saw his side profile a few cars over, sitting between two girls in the back seat of a white Buick. Two giggling girls. Two very pretty, young giggling girls.

Bristling, Bess took a deep breath and calmly placed the candy next to her, then calmly pulled the handle and then calmly but forcefully slammed her door with a bang. She saw one of the girls look over, a blonde, but Elvis remained lost in conversation, laughing at something the brunette had said.

Bess wondered if he was even aware she had returned to the car. Not sure what to do, she settled on acting nonchalant and proceeded to fix her lipstick in the rearview mirror, trying to conceal how hard she was straining to hear what they said.

“Course I do, honey, scout’s honor. Yes, that’s right, 16 cars. Well now, what’s the point of making money if you can’t spend it? Wait a minute, huh, now, actually, it’s 15, I just gave my Messerschmitt to my tailor.”

She couldn’t make out the girls' muffled, breathy voices, just Elvis’, which was, for some reason, deeper and much more pronounced now that he had an audience.

“Oh, well now, most people ain’t heard a it, but it’s a German car, a small ‘un, rides on three wheels and goes real fast, boy, real fast, on account of how light it is. Feel like you’re racing in a bubble.” He whistled a high note. “Whooeee, goes right past all the suckers in their regular cars. But, well, heck, I hardly got to drive it, though, so naw, I don’ miss it. I was away so much, when the guy who makes my suits wouldn’t shut up ‘bout it, I finally told him, I said, ‘Bernie,’ I said, ‘Ya can have my Messer but you have to let me pick out ev’ry thing I want in ya store here. Today’… Yeah, it was a good deal, man, I cleaned him out.”

Bess rolled her eyes and sat there waiting while Elvis chuckled and answered more questions from the girls. Then, ever the chivalrous, attentive gentleman, asked them about themselves, wondering where they went to school, what they did for fun, and whether they had any boyfriends

“Don’ lie now.” She heard his voice get flirty. “I don’t believe it, pretty girls like you? I bet you’re breaking all the guys' hearts here.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one asked him, and Elvis laughed.

“Nah, no one special. See, I'm so busy, and I’m always on the move, it wouldn’t be fair to any gal to for me try and settle down now, ‘specially now I’m off to Germany. I’m just playin’ the field. Why, are you asking me out? Honey, ain’t fair to tease me like that.”

Elvis sat and talked with them for ten more minutes or so, but Bess was only half listening. His words about how he didn’t have a special girl played over again in her mind. Bess started eating the peanut cups impatiently as the idea of how insignificant she was to Elvis snowballed in her mind. She was just a girl he met during basic training, one of the many girls whose car he felt he could just walk up to and sit in. One of, what, hundreds he had probably kissed in dark corridors, movie theaters, recording studios, cars, motel rooms? Completely interchangeable with any other girl. Completely interchangeable with these silly, stupid girls he was flirting with while she waited.

What the fuck was she doing with her life? Baking bread and meatloaf and packing a picnic dinner to schlep on base every night? Curling her hair before bed and waking up early so she could take extra care to look nice? While he treated her like a pathetic doormat he could send off to buy him candy and then keep waiting for what now, twenty minutes? Bess had half a mind to drive off, and the only thing that stopped her was her pride. She would not let him know that he had upset her, she was not going to have a tantrum like a child.

The peanut butter and chocolate had hardly begun to melt when Bess threw another candy in her mouth and told herself she was being silly. Those girls had probably called him over, everyone in Killeen was on Elvis alert, and he was probably just being polite and humoring them. She ate some more of the candy and felt a little better, telling herself it was harmless. And what, she expected him to spill his guts about his love life with two kids? And so what if it was true? She knew he had other girlfriends, she’d seen pictures of him out around town with stars like Natalie Wood, Yvonne Lime, and Anita Wood in the movie magazines. Elvis' playboy lifestyle hadn’t seemed to matter this morning, because she knew they were just having fun. She was having fun, she reminded herself again, and she shouldn’t get worked up.

But it was ten more minutes before Elvis said his goodbyes, and Bess’ ire rose again as he lingered over their car window, making them promise to meet him at the base movie theater next week.

“What about you, Moo Moo, you like Danny Kaye?”

Bess looked at him coolly as he got into her car, then back at the windshield as she shifted the car into reverse.

“Sounds like you’ve already secured companions, one for each side.” She elbowed him off as he leaned to put his arm around her.

“I reckon you’re right.” He attempted to put his hand where it had been before, lightly trailing his fingers over the back of her neck. “Guess I’ll just have to put you on my lap,” he hummed in her ear, grabbing the bag of candy as Bess navigated the car out of the parking lot.

She could tell he was joking around with her, but she scooted away from him nonetheless, sitting up straight and rigid as she drove, the bitter taste of his indifference still fresh on her tongue despite the half dozen chocolates she’d eaten in the last ten minutes.

“What happened to the Reese’s?” Elvis’ voice trailed off as he popped the last one in his mouth, and he took a longer look at Bess’ stiff stance.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in them anymore.”

Elvis sucked on the candy and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the six pack below his feet, opening the cap with a pop.

“You cheesed off ‘bout them girls back there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a free world, you can go around speaking to whomever you like.”

Elvis sipped his Pepsi, looking sideways at Bess.

“Huh, so you hugging that steering wheel like you tryin’ to marry it for no reason, then, huh?”

Bess glanced over, her terse expression breaking. “Well, it doesn’t feel particularly good to be left twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes.”

Taking another swig of his Pepsi, Elvis began to message the base of Bess’ neck.

“Aw, hell, honey, I didn’t even realize I was over there that long.” His fingers massaged the base of her neck. “Time got away from me, now that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Bess grunted as Elvis' thumb rubbed slowly over her shoulder blade, moving to her waist to pull her towards him.

“Hey now.” He kissed the top of her head, and Bess could feel her anger dissipating. “Scoot in here, let me show you how I feel ‘bout you, Moo Moo. Those girls don’ mean nothing.” He squeezed her waist.

“Seemed like something,” Bess whined, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth, she sounded needy and pitiful.

“Aw, Moo Moo, don’t be like that. I spend my days driving ‘round in tanks with forty other men. When those lil gals called me over, almost felt like my old life again. I love my fans, honey, but that’s all they are. Ain’t special to me like you are.”

“Hmmmm.” She could feel herself giving in as his thumb worked its slow, rhythmic magic in circles at her waist. His thumb's movements made all her blood rush to her core, and a throbbing need mingled with the anger in her chest. He sensed her mood shifting and kissed her neck as she drove.

“Always so jealous, Bessie baby, might start to think you like me.”

Bess sighed out as he pulled her towards him tighter.

“You’re wrong, Elvis Presley,” she murmured halfheartedly. “I am just bored, passing time ‘til I get out of this hell hole. You could go off with a car full of girls and it wouldn’t bother me.”

His hand was at the side of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, stroking her hair.

“You’re so pretty when you get all riled up, Moo Moo, your cheeks get so red. It’s how I imagine you’d be -“ He paused, his voice was tender and babyish now, even as he spoke with an impish smirk, giggling at his own innuendo. “ - after chasing me down in that car fulla girls.”

Bess sat up, slapping his hand off her, no longer really mad about the girls, just his teasing. Elvis' arms were around her again in a flash, and he kissed her cheek.

“I’m jus’ teasin’, honey. Now come on, be a good lil girl and find us a nice place to park.”

He turned the radio on, tapping once he found a station playing a song he liked, and waggling his eyebrows at Bess as he began to sing with The Clovers to “Blue Velvet.”

Bess shook her head to herself, enjoying how the night air cooled her warm, red cheeks. She had sworn that once he got back in the car, she would drop him off and not let Elvis charm her into spending the rest of the night with him. But here, now, she knew she was a goner. Her body betrayed her and the need to feel his lips on hers, as soon as possible, overrode any sense of pride or logic. She drove her blue Ford into the first dark alley she found among the armory buildings.

Awkwardly smoothing down her blouse, Bess tried not to seem excited or in a hurry as she sighed nervously and watched Elvis tilt his head toward the back seat. They wordlessly got out, and she stumbled into her open door. It was pitch black, the air was thick with anticipation, and Bess trembled as she edged along the leather. After two weeks, she still got nervous alone in the car with Elvis.

His lip hung down as he moved over and he caught her knee, lightly trailing over it before pulling her legs onto his lap. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved up her leg, sucking in his breath. Each night, without fail, his face would fill with awe when they began to fool around. He always looked like he had never touched a girl before, like she was the first woman he had ever met. Just the slightest caress seemed to light a fire in his eyes, and he slowly, reverently removed her shoes, one by one, swirling his fingers over each ankle.

They had left the radio playing, it was a doo wop program and the slow beat of a bass guitar thrummed in Bess’ ears as Elvis’ index finger begin to roll back and forth at the edge of her skirt. His eyes met hers, looking her up and down as he sighed.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo.” A goofy smile spread under his half-lidded eyes, and he bit his lip, looking as though he had just unearthed a secret. His hand was now on her knee, and a charged tremor flared up the back of her calves. “I’m crazy ‘bout you, honey. I need you to know it.”

The longing in his voice made Bess want to wrap her legs around Elvis’ waist and pull him on top of her. Draw him as close as possible, flip over and crush him into the leather seat, getting as close as she possibly could until the car shook with the sounds of their love making. Instead, Bess took a deep breath and tried to embody an appealing, modest restraint.

“I’m sorry, Elvis, sorry for giving you a hard time. And for eating all the chocolates.”

He leaned over her, and his warm breath hit her ear as he whispered.

“I know baby, s’ok. I forgive you. You gonna be a good lil girl from now on?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She answered in her own babying voice, not questioning where that affect came from or why she suddenly seemed to find their childish repartee so enticing.

Elvis’ lips brushed over her neck, followed by a succession of kisses that started out soft and slow and then gradually became deeper. Bess fell down onto the white leather seat, her breaths loud and shallow as she unbuttoned his work coat, lifting her bottom to help Elvis as he pulled her nylons off. She laughed when they got tangled and he had to turn and look at what he was doing, swearing as he threw them to the ground.

“Damn mosquito netting. Where were we?”

Bess cupped his cheek, bringing him back to her lips.

“Here.” She swallowed into his smug expression while his right hand moved up her thigh, teasing her over her panties before he smiled wider at the way she rolled her hips to welcome his touch. He dragged his knuckles delicately over her center and Bess felt a bulge growing against her knee when Elvis looked down where his hand was.

“Man oh man.”

He raised his eyebrow as his fingers slipped inside her and she responded with an upward thrust, turning her face into his left arm at the sensation. Elvis kissed her check, gliding his fingers further into her, slowly probing her delicately and lingering over her bundle of nerves, repeating the movements that provoked a response.

Bess tried to remember the last time a man had touched her. This was no impatient swiping on the way to quick sex. Ben had made the effort to please her, though he had always seemed preoccupied, like he was making a grocery list while he muddled along with his fingers. She had had to do a lot of work twisting and turning to get the angle right. Elvis was right there, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every clench as she pivoted his fingers toward what she liked. No one had ever touched her like this and it felt so satisfying that Bess couldn’t stop herself from grabbing him as she moaned out. Her hands were on his back, through his hair, in his mouth while he watched with concentration, his lips opening and closing with a gasp as she moved her knee back and forth over his groin.

“You are so soft, Moo Moo.” He brought his fingers out momentarily and Bess’ jaw dropped as she watched him suck on his index and forefinger, covering them in his saliva and grinning as he brought his hand back to slide easily inside her. “Sweet, too, baby, sweetest girl I ever met.”

Bess blushed, deeper, harder, redder than ever, and buried her head into Elvis' forearm. It was almost too much, to feel Elvis’ finger rolling over her slick nub, slow and steady, like he was canoeing them intently down a lazy river, strumming her like a banjo. Each stroke brought her closer to home, and a warm tingling sensation hummed up to her throat and made her moan out a guttural melody just for him. His eyes never left hers, and his chest pushed harder and harder into her with each exhale. It was the most intimate, vulnerable and intense experience Bess had ever had. She felt him grind harder against her knee, breaking their eye contact to drop his forehead on to hers with a loud groan.

Their bodies shifted back and forth together and the car swelled with the sound of their savage breathing. The smell of aftershave, Chanel No. 5 talcum powder, tank grease and sweat filled Bess’ nostrils, and heightened the aching, sparking heat in her chest. She pulled Elvis to her, meeting his lips as he stroked her until the bow broke and waves of electricity vibrated through her body. She cried to heaven above and hell below, drowning out the sound of the music playing on the radio, the sound of the car seat heaving up and down, the sound of Elvis’ chuckles as he held her, looking down at her with wide puppy dog eyes full of satisfaction and appreciation. As if she had been the one pleasing him.

Bess realized how much she had satisfied him when she noticed a wet, gooey stain on his pants as she lay in Elvis’ arms, nuzzling her forehead against his chest. She palmed her hand over it, smiling up at him.

“Maybe I should keep an extra uniform in my car for you?”

He played with her hair, grinning into her eyes.

“Nah, it’ll dry. Sides, it’s dark, no one will know what we been up to.” He took a deep breath, another chortle escaped his lips. “S’nice a you to offer, though. Guess I know what I have to do to get you to be a nice lil girl for me.”

“Hush.” Bess hit him, but she couldn’t help but sigh affectionately. “Though, gee whiz, Elvis. I never felt like that before.”

“Aw, there she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.” He kissed her head. “Why, she’s the sweetest lil Moo cow in the whole wide world. Gotta take care a my Moo Moo, cuz she takes such good care me.”

All Bess could do was sink into him further, allowing his babyish voice to lull her into a calm, relaxed state. She started playing with the lining of his undershirt, asking him about their plans to be together over the weekend.

In her more reserved moments, Bess stopped herself from prodding Elvis for future plans because she did not want to seem needy or anxious or too invested. She left it to him. She didn’t want to give him the power of knowing how much she liked him. This tryst was temporary, she knew how this worked: he would go on leave back to Memphis, and then, before she knew it he’d be off to Germany.

But when she was with him, in his embrace, all of her worries seemed to dissolve. Bess didn’t think about her mother’s troubles, her father’s expectations, how Ben had broken her heart or anything upsetting. Here, in the cozy afterglow of loving making, she felt completely at ease and her subconscious snuck out, seeking opportunities to be with him as much as possible. Her hand smoothed over his shirt as she looked up at him with a breezy, carefree grin.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Nah, honey, my friend has my new white Caddy, so I’ll be coming’ round to pick you up from now on.”

“What time d’you think you’ll come by?”

“Don know, ‘zactly, but I’ll call you. Reckon it’ll be after 5, most likely.”

“I should write down my number.” She started to sit up, but Elvis held her tight and kissed her nose.

“Nah, Moo Moo, jus’ tell me, I’ll ‘member it.”

Bess squinted up incredulously, but soon he was repeating it back to her, tickling her and telling her to be a good girl and trust him.

“I got it, locked down up here, baby.” He pointed to his head, and Bess shrugged, sitting up and swaying to the sounds of the song “Devil or Angel.”

“Aw, I love this song.”

Elvis followed suit, joining her upright on the bench seat and grinning as he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie as he sang along. Bess smiled inwardly at his silly, melodramatic expression, he was clearly trying to impress her. She grinned wider when she realized that they were on opposite sides of the seat from when they had first moved back there, and she smooshed into him with a light kiss. He returned it, and they started to paw at each other again, tongues meeting and gently exploring each other until Bess pushed off, trying to be sensible and move them out of the car.

“You better go, Tupelo.”

Elvis followed her, kissing the knuckles over her hand as they said their goodnights against her car, hips pushing up against hips.

“Always takin’ such good care a me, Moo Moo. I jus’ know. God sent you to take care of me. Wish I could just stay with you always. I hate to leave.” He murmured, pouting. “I don know how I’m gonna make it through the night without you, baby. Gonna be dreamin’ ‘bout you.” His lip curled up at the left side. “And how sweet ya taste.”

Elvis dodged her had as she tried to hit his arm. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, Moo Moo. Mmhhmmm, better have that sweet lil honey pot all dressed up and ready for a party. Wanna show you off to my friends.”

Bess blushed and waved him away, though she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet from excitement. This last week she had felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of last summer’s devastating heartbreak and all the self destructive behavior that had followed.

Being with Elvis was a restorative tonic, and she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him Saturday. It meant something that he invited her to meet his friends; it was an acknowledgment, a validation, a way of telling her that he didn’t just see her as someone to fool around with in a dark car. It meant that he really liked her. That she really was special to him.

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

9:47 a.m. The Schwartz Residence

The house smelled like spiced ginger. It was one of those days when Mama had risen at dawn and baked enough food to feed the entire base. There were loaves of ginger bread, banana bread, rugelach, oatmeal cookies and some sort of roast was slowly cooking in the oven. Their kitchen had always been the heart of Bess’ family, not only was it where she learned to cook at her mother’s apron strings, but it is also where Mama taught her to draw, read and knit. Papa had taught her and Kay German by only speaking German to them in the house until they were fluent. However, it was at the kitchen table with Mama where Bess perfected her German. This was where Mama had helped her with her German homework and essays. With all of her work, with all of her problems.

Mama’s parents were second generation German Jews, and before she met Papa, Mama had played piano in Zayde’s Brooklyn vaudeville theatre, where all six kids in Mama’s family had eventually gone to work. Papa enjoyed regaling his daughters with the story of how he had met a dark, beautiful woman on the Coney Island midway who had captured his heart when she helped him buy tickets after no one understand his broken English. She had spoken to him in German, and it was the first time he’d felt welcomed and safe in America. Two weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Mama had thrown herself into domestic life after the wedding, and then into factory life during the war, always somehow managing to keep things taped together through military moves back and forth across the country.

Bess often wondered when Papa realized how different Mama was from other women, because most of the time, her mental condition was fairly obtuse and could be understood as harmless whimsy. For Bess, it was a mainstay of her childhood.

Mama had always spoken so casually of the hidden meanings she saw in the world, the faeries and demons that spoke to her, that when Bess was little, she had assumed something was wrong with her and waited impatiently for her own visions. It was not until she was twelve, after Mama had dug up the whole back yard one night and chopped off all their electrical wires to stop the demons from tormenting her, that Papa took her and Kay aside and explained that Mama had to go live at a health farm for the summer and Aunt Rachel would be coming from New York to take care of them.

Thus began a long series of stays at different experimental sanitariums and institutions over the last ten years. The most recent had been in November, a month-long stay at a small resort in Eureka Springs Arkansas, and Mama had returned fatter, calmer and filled with zeal about the wonders of natural hot spring bathing. But Mama was still Mama, and the battle for good and evil was still playing out in front of her eyes through the words and whispers and visions that she alone experienced. Bess was grateful that, for whatever reason, the demons had been staying mostly at bay. The faeries, on the other hand, had been quite vocal.

Mama turned as Bess entered the kitchen, and brought her daughter some coffee while she caressed Bess’ cheek with her hand.

“Oh Bessie, you’ve been looking radiant lately. The faeries have been murmuring.” She trailed her fingers over the large curlers in Bess’ hair. “They tell me you have a new beau.”

Bess blushed, responding sheepishly. “No mama, I’m - I’m - just going out tonight. With friends. Where’s Papa?”

“Oh he went fishing with some of the German studies instructors, they took three barrels of beer and a tent, so they might stay at the lake. “

Mama kissed Bess’ forehead and then sipped her own coffee.

“It is going to be a full moon tonight, Bessie. You are positively glowing, my girl. I think the moon goddess wants to have her way with you, you have to be careful. She is a tricky one, she plays with us mere mortals for amusement.”

Bess blushed, thinking of Elvis and her own hopes and desires for the night. A shiver of anticipation went through her body and she giggled, nervously.

“Hmmm, well, we’ll see, Mama, maybe I can outsmart her.”

Mama stood, following as Bess took her coffee and bread to the secretary’s desk in the hall, and winking at her daughter.

“No one can outsmart the mistress of the moon, Bess, she controls the oceans and with it, the waves within us. The water that drums in our ears and thrashes us forward. The current that pulls at our heart. And her power is strongest at the full moon, beware her riptide.”

Bess watched as her mother turned into the living room with a flourish and then filled the house with Rachmaninoff’s loud, romantic piano music.

Bess couldn’t help going into her evaluative mindset and pondering whether Mama was having a good day, baking and playing the piano, or whether she was hurtling towards a manic episode. She looked at the clock, and decided she would have to wait and see, but she prepared herself to cancel the whole night if need be. Right now, she would go ahead as planned, and called her friend James to beg him for help finalizing her outfit.

“I need a man’s opinion, that’s why.”

“Bess, trust me, whatever dress you wear, Elvis’ only thought is going to be how quickly he can get it off."

“Jameson!” Bess spoke in a hushed murmur as she rocked her chair back against the wall. “I don’t even know what is going to happen, he is an odd duck when it comes to fooling around.” James was silent. “Great, so you’ll be here at 5?”

“Bess, I love you but I am not getting involved. Didn’t you say he’s picking you up at 5?”

“He said he would call after 5, and I’ve been thinking, you should pick me up and drop me off, then I’ll get a cab home or something. I don’t want my folks to know about Elvis -”

“Bess, the General probably already -”

“Just be here at 5, James. I’m going to get my nails done and pick up a few things. Wait, better make it 4:30, just in case - ok? Please? You know I never ask for anything.”

Bess looked at the nails on her right hand, turning them over, trying to banish James’ suggestion that her father probably already knew that she was spending time with Elvis Presley. Yes, he trained officers to gather intelligence, but Papa could be quite blind about their home life. She rocked back and forth on the chair, noticing that her mother’s piano serenade in the living room had moved from Russia to Brooklyn. She was playing Gershwin now.

This is good sign, Bess thought, happy, lighthearted Gershwin was one of Mama’s favorites. Then Bess realized after a few bars that it was “The Man I Love,” and she pursed her lips at her mother’s teasing.

“But you always ask. For everything. ‘James, take me to the dance, James, let’s go out dancing in Austin, James deliver me to Elvis Presley’s motel room - ’ ”

“Stop, you know you love it. Otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind, as you refuse to have a love life of your own.”

“That’s what you think, Schwartz. I have a vast, secret love life that I keep from you.”

Bess grinned. “Good, you can tell me all about it when I see you at 4:30. Make that 4. And if you don’t show, I’ll inform the General that you stood me up!”

Smiling wider at her friend’s groans, Bess hopped up with purpose, thinking that it was time to wash off her facial mask and make a list of all the things she needed to do to get ready by four.

“It’s settled then. James, you’re a dream, see you at 4.”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

3:58 p.m. The Schwartz Residence

It was Kay who opened the door when James arrived, smart and debonair in his officer’s uniform with his hair coiffed and parted perfectly. Bess bounced down the stairs, beaming wide at James’ high whistle as she twirled around for him.

“Gee Schwartz, I think you might need to drive tonight. That dress just kicked me in the head.”

Bess did a two step in her cocktail dress, trying not to notice the way her sister rolled her eyes as she shut the front door.

“You don’t have to be nice, Captain, you can tell her she needs to wear something more colorful, more over the top, more like what Elvis wears in civilian life. I’ve been telling her all afternoon.”

James tilted his head towards Kay, “So I’m guessing the kid knows.”

Bess shrugged, “Yeah, oy. But thank god Papa took Colonel Zimmermann and some of the new teachers fishing. Mama’s out back painting, she’s been on one today. Baked up a storm, if you want something sweet.”

James shook his head, letting Bess lead the way upstairs. “Your mom is too smart, Bess. So is your pop. I’m happy to be your beard, but if they don’t already know you are dating Elvis Presley, they are gonna get wise sooner or later.”

Kay laughed, “Mama already knows something is up, Bess has been putting way more attention into her appearance this week and coming home late every night. Just today, she curled her hair, then decided to go to the salon and have her hair set anyway. And she tried on about 100 dresses, just so everything’s perfect.” Kay said, in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not dating Elvis, you guys. I’m just spending time with him. And, Kay, I think you are exaggerating. I was having my nails done at the beauty parlor anyway.”

Bess held out her hands for James’ inspection. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the dark burgundy color, and she had liked it so much she matched her lipstick to it. There was something about a fresh nail lacquer that always made Bess feel more adult, more confident.

“Let me show you the whole get-up with these low heeled pumps on, though I have some other shoe options.” She slipped on her heels, and twirled around again, as James went to sit on her bed next to Kay. “There, now, James, as a man, what do you really think? Too simple? He said to dress up.”

James looked Bess up and down as Kay snickered, prompting a quick kick to her shin.

“No, it’s perfect Bess. With that neckline? And the way it crisscrosses in the middle, and your hair? You look like Ava Gardner. It’s not too simple, it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. But you need a necklace.”

James stood, and went to Bess’ vanity, pulling out her pearl necklace from her jewelry box, and beckoning her over. He fastened it around her neck from behind, then put in the matching earrings, carefully, before stepping back with a whistle to let Bess look at herself in the mirror.

“There now. You're a goddess. I dare him not to whisk you away and ravage you the moment he sees you. It’s wholesome and it’s sexy all at once.”

Bess smiled and took her friend’s hand, whispering a shy, blushing thank you. They sat up there, listening to records as Bess modeled a few other shoe options and asked whether she should wear gloves. Ultimately, all parties involved agreed gloves were too formal for a motel party.

It was 5:15 when they went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen, sampling some of the rugelach as they waited for Elvis’ call.

By 6:15, they had moved to the living room and Papa’s bar, where Bess made Tom Collins for everyone, which now included Mama and Dickey, who had come by to take Kay out to a drive-in movie.

At 7, Mama began to ask if James and Bess wanted dinner, she was slow cooking a roast for Sunday, but could fry up some cold meatloaf sandwiches.

“No thanks, Mama, we’re just waiting to hear from the friends we’re meeting.” Bess stumbled through a sorry excuse for a story about two friends from high school who had to work later than expected. James gave Bess a supportive look, and after her mother left the living room, reassured her that a number of things could have happened with the drill sergeant overseeing Elvis’ dismissal.

“He could be stuck on KP duty, maybe he got held back because the others played a prank on him. You know how unpredictable those battalion sergeants can be. Let’s relax and turn on the boob tube.”

Bess nodded, made another round of Tom Collins, and settled in to watch Art Linkletter's amateur comedy show, trying very hard not to think about how it was almost 8 p.m.

At 9 James began his campaign to convince Bess something must have kept Elvis on base, and that they should get out of the house. Get burgers at Millie’s Diner or go for a drive out to the Waco Wet Dog.

At 9:30, Bess caved, and ran upstairs to take off her pearls and change into a more casual, purple swing dress. While changing, she began to mull over a secondary plan that was forming in her head, and she carried the entire display case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d bought with her to James’ car.

“What’s with the candy?” James looked over his shoulder as he careened his car around towards downtown Killeen.

“It’s sort of a joke, I um, I ate all his peanut butter cups the other night. I- I thought it would be a gas if I showed up with an entire case.”

James looked over at Bess, and rubbed her shoulder. “And what, you think we should eat them instead?”

“Well, what if he couldn’t get to a phone? Or got too caught up with his friends or whatever? He was pretty insistent that he wanted to see me tonight. I was thinking...” Bess looked down with a sigh, then back up at James, her eyes dark with determination. “What about just driving by the Star Motel on the way home. What do you think, as a man, how would you feel if I just showed up?”

James could see Bess’ confidence waver, but he couldn’t bear to talk her down, not after everything he had watched he go through over the last year. So he banished his own misgivings and squeezed her hand. “Honey, any man upset to see you walk in would be crazy. But let’s get some grub first, ok?”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

11:05 p.m. The Star Motel, on the outskirts of Killeen TX towards Waco

The air was cool now, and Bess’ mother had been right, it was a full moon that shone over them, illuminating the farms off in the distance on the road to Waco. The Star Motel was a two-storey building with rooms along the inside and outside that wrapped around a large pool.

Bess sat in the car, stomach churning, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea. They had definitely spotted a new, white Cadillac packed in the back lot with a temporary license plate. Which was both promising and unsettling, because it meant Elvis was probably there but hadn't called her. Bess suddenly wished she hadn't found it, but she was also unable to just slide back and tell James to take her home now that she knew Elvis was probably here.

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and the cocktails had dulled her inhibitions.There was a giddy, bubbly feeling at the top of her head that egged her on and told her that he had invited her, had been adamant about wanting to see her, “show her off,” telling her she was special to him, that he was crazy about her.

Maybe it was the full moon after all. Whatever it was, every cell in Bess’ body compelled her curiosity and her desire. She had to know, and she needed to feel his touch once more; that voice and that face and those hands that took her away from her difficult, tiresome existence.

Taking a deep breath, she felt almost like a force behind herself was propelling her out of the car, and she only hesitated at the sound of James’ voice.

“Bess, come out and let me know, ok? This place is always crawling with creeps, so if you don’t come out here and give me the old heave ho in the next 15 minutes, I’m going to come find you. I won’t care about locked doors.”

Bess nodded back into the car with a bright, broad smile, and then strode over the grass and into the side corridor of the motel, avoiding the office.

Walking past the first set of rooms, she came to a breezeway and paused, leaning against the decorative, concrete screen in the middle to calm and prepare what she would say to Elvis. She was certain they were a few doors down, she could hear a group of male voices jamming and she perked up, clutching her box of chocolates closer to her bosom at the sound of Elvis’ low voice singing no more than twenty feet away.

That was when she heard heels clicking down the breezeway, and turned to find a small, petite blonde in a pink dress walking towards her with an exaggerated flounce in her hips and an ice bucket resting at her waist. Bess' chest tightened when she recognized Anita Wood from the movie magazine photos. Magazine photos of Anita Wood out on dates around Memphis with her boyfriend Elvis Presley.

Anita flashed Bess a dazzling grin that displayed the whitest, straightest teeth Bess had ever seen. “I swear, I walked all over creation looking for that dag gum ice machine, and you know where it is? Where these rocket scientists thought to themselves, why this is the best place to put it? Up behind the cigarette machine, on the back of it. Completely outta sight. Can you believe that?”

“Um yeah, I mean no, ugh. Idiots, I bet it was cheaper to wire it back there, or something.”

Bess wiped the sides of her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not to linger on how this proved that she was just another girl to Elvis, and definitely not preferable to the gorgeous beauty queen in front of her. Anita’s face fell as she looked up at Bess.

“Oh honey, are you ok? Why, you know you’d just feel better if you just let it all out.” Anita pulled a pink handkerchief with lace trim from her bust, replete with a monogrammed A.W. “Here, now, you can cry with me here, ain’t no one but us chickens.”

“Is it that obvious I'm upset?” Bess tried to chuckle, watching Anita’s face change to a confused frown as she noticed the box of Reese’s.

“Hey - what’s with the candy? Are you meeting someone here?”

Bess shifted, working against those cocktails to think on her feet and also play dumb about the suspicion she saw in Anita’s eyes. “Oh, ha, no. These are for me. I, um, I live here in town with my folks, and I just checked in here because, well, I needed to get away for the night and drown my sorrows in chocolate, if you know what I mean. Just learned my fiancee married another girl he met in Germany. Men, huh? What are they good for?”

Anita stepped forward and rubbed Bess’ shoulder as more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Well, God made men for a reason, sometimes I think it was to test our womanly resolve. Oh honey, I cannot imagine what that would feel like, to have a man wrong you so. Ain’t no dirtier dog than a man who breaks that sacred promise. But I tell you what.” She took the box of Reese’s from Bess' arm. “You cannot sacrifice your figure over a man. Nu huh. No way, Jose. Why, that won’t do nothing to get back at him, it’ll only hurt you and your future prospects. My heart is telling me that I cannot stand by and let you go eat all this candy and feel sorry for yourself, honey. That is the devil whispering in your ear.”

Anita trotted over to the trash can and Bess groaned inwardly as she watched a woman dispose of Elvis’ chocolates for the second time that week. Though she conceded that Anita was right, she didn’t really want to go home and eat them all. Well, she did. But she knew she would regret it.

What could she do, offer them knowingly to Anita to take to her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, which Anita, of course, assumed was a reaction to her kind, Christian gesture. Still holding her ice bucket, Anita patted Bess on her shoulder.

“See, I can tell you’re feeling better already now that the temptation has been removed. We women have to stick together. You should take a nice long bath, it will do wonders, much more healing than candy. Whenever I get upset, I have a good cry, get it all out, then take a nice hot shower.” She winked at Bess, and Bess wondered if Anita did the same things in the shower that Bess did to make herself feel better. Maybe that was why God made showers?

Anita smiled wider as Bess wiped her eyes, and mustered a feeble grin, which encouraged her to continue dispensing advice.

“Yessirree, you’ll feel better once you wash that man right out of your hair and start over again. Pretty girl like you, why, if you lost five pounds, you’d have your pick of the litter.” Bess flinched when Anita pinched her waist playfully, and was lost for words as her heart jumped into her throat with embarrassment at how much thicker she was than the petite blonde. Insecurity clouded her head and she was almost unable to hear the rest of what Anita said.

“Just stay away from big boxes of candy, and other temptations Satan might throw at you. Then, I bet you dollars to doughnuts, that boy will regret his decision. The best revenge is to find someone better and shove it in his face. Make sure to take out a big ole wedding announcement in the paper That'll make you feel much better.”

Anita left Bess with a wink and a parting squeeze to her arm, as Bess murmured a low thank you. She wiped her eyes and gathered her wits, then, when she was sure Anita was gone, she dug the box of chocolate out of the trashcan and tucked the rescued candy under her arm.

Straightening her dress as she sat down in James' car, Bess popped a Reese’s in her mouth and decided on how she would respond to her friend's questions.

“I ran into one of his girlfriends in the hallway.”

“Oh Bess, no, he didn’t! I’ve half a mind to go back and beat that hillbilly senseless.”

Bess shook her head, extending her arm out of the window and dropping Anita’s pink, embroidered handkerchief into a puddle of mud on the side of the road as they drove back to her house.

“Don’t, Elvis did me a favor. He reminded me why I don’t date soldiers.”

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

taglist:

@eliseinmemphis @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @ashtag6887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlbossdyke @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl-blog @louisejoy86 @notstefaniepresley

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #army elvis #fort hood #1958 elvis #basic training #banditqueenwrites

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luminnara · 5 months

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Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires Ch. 17 | Poly!Lost Boys x OC (18+ ONLY)

Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who’s never stuck in one place for very long…until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she’s there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk’s nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie *MULTI PART SERIES*

MASTERLIST

CH16 | CH 17 | CH 18

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh @siennanoelle01 @iloveslasher @sylum @reese-bowie @hornyondwayne @bdudette @yunho-leeknow @ahahanofanks @goth-cowgirl-03

Michael Emerson was tucked safely in bed in his new room that night. Sure, he was a little pissed off about that girl…okay, he was downright agitated. He felt desperate to meet someone, anyone in Santa Carla, and he had his heart set on the cute brunette from the boardwalk. The image of her face was seared into his mind, her smile beaming at him whenever he closed his eyes. He needed to know who she was, and he didn’t care if the guys she hung out with were criminals or low lives or gang bangers. In the morning, he’d go out and look for a job, and in the evening, he’d head to the boardwalk without his annoying little brother so that he might actually have a chance to find his mystery girl and have a real conversation with her.

Yeah, he had it all planned out. He had noticed how the bikers dressed, with their leather jackets and dangly earrings. There was bound to be a spot in town where he could find himself a jacket and some cooler sunglasses than the ones he already owned. If that girl liked bad boys, then he could make himself look the part, couldn’t he? Sam would probably give him shit for it, but he didn’t know anything. He paraded around in oversized designer shirts all day and stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere he went. At least Michael was making an attempt to fit in.

As he tried and failed to get to sleep, he wondered who that girl was. Santa Carla was a weird place full of weird people, but she looked so…nice. So normal. She didn’t look like she should be hanging around guys like that. And what was the deal with her grumpy friend? Michael thought she was hot, too, but more in a way that made him feel like she might cut his balls off, and he wasn’t so sure he was into that…and besides, she had totally made out with the Twisted Sister reject, hadn’t she? And that guy had glared daggers at Michael, so it was probably a better idea not to go after girls with boyfriends.

His eyes suddenly shot open.

Did the brunette have a boyfriend?

She hadn’t seemed all that thrilled to climb on the back of Billy Idol’s bike, but the guy hadn’t forced her. She went willingly, away from Michael and straight towards him, but there wasn’t any kissing or groping or even words exchanged. So were they together? Did things like that even matter in Santa Carla? Michael was the new guy in town, and that gang had all been watching him like they wanted to kick his ass just for being there. Backing off would be the smart thing to do, the thing least likely to get him beat up. He knew he should probably just cut his losses and accept that he wasn’t cool enough for a girl who hung out with guys like that, and he knew that he probably didn’t want to get involved with whatever wild shit that gang got into. But was he gonna give up? Was he gonna do the smart thing?

Hell no.

He rolled over, trying to get comfortable. Yeah, tomorrow he’d go work on his new look, and he’d totally win that girl over. At the very least, maybe if he looked the part, the guys she hung around might respect him. He already had a bike, even if it wasn’t as cool as theirs, and a new city meant that he could leave his old self behind and make something new. The thought was a comfort, and he finally drifted off to sleep, safe and sound, oblivious to the horrors that so often plagued Santa Carla at night.

-0-

Those horrors had names, of course.

“Marko! Hurry it up!” David snapped from the cave entrance.

“I’m coming, Christ!” Marko rolled his eyes, letting the pigeon he held in his hand go to fly up to its roost.

“You pay more attention to those damn birds than you do me,” David sneered as Marko approached.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize I was neglecting you, dear…”

David wrinkled his nose as Marko put a hand on his chest and leaned in, batting his eyelashes. “You’re obnoxious.”

“I’ll be sure to have dinner on the table by four, honey, please forgive me—“

“Hey, uh, what about my dinner?” Paul asked impatiently. “You’re holdin’ us up, David said he had somethin’ exciting planned—“

“Can’t you tell I’m smoothing things over with my loving husband?” Marko snapped at him, dropping the atomic housewife act entirely.

“Yeah, well I’m hungry!” Paul hissed.

A moment later they were lunging at each other, and Vera was cackling in delight from her perch on Dwayne’s back. David still hadn’t told any of them who he was planning on hunting, but now that they were all back together again and all the sad talk seemed to be behind them, she was just glad to be going out to feed in the first place. She could really go for a bite after such a weird evening.

Laddie and Star were in bed already, the former asleep while the latter stayed up to read a book and fantasize about the boy she had met on the boardwalk. By the time Vera and David had gotten back from visiting Max, Star had already tucked herself away behind the silks and lace, and they had more pressing matters to attend to than bothering her.

Like corralling Paul and Marko and encouraging them to at least make their way outside while they fought.

“Where are we going?” Dwayne asked as he stepped around Marko’s flailing arms, very narrowly avoiding his claws.

“Back towards town,” David smirked.

“Who do you wanna go after?” Vera asked, resting her chin on Dwayne’s shoulder as he carried her.

David’s smirk turned into a grin. “Greg and Shelly.”

Dwayne paused in surprise, and then his lips spread into a grin of his own. A dangerous growl started up in the back of his throat, a low, guttural sound that Vera could feel in her very bones. He was already breathing hard in anticipation, the dark brown of his irises melting into that striking, predatory gold that signified shifting. His grip on her legs tightened and she felt claws piercing her flesh, and when she looked at the others, she saw that they were faring similarly. Paul and Marko were back on their feet already, Paul trembling with excitement while Marko gnawed at his thumb, both staring at David with wild eyes.

He just laughed that cruel laugh and took to the sky.

Vera could have let go of Dwayne to fly on her own, but he was still holding onto her as he leapt after David. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing at his eagerness to tear Greg limb from limb, and as they flew along the bay, the boys kept filling her head with images of what they wanted to do to their victims.

Paul was hoping to rip Shelly’s throat out, plain and simple. He’d been waiting forever to finally eat her, and he wasn’t going to waste any time if he got to her first. Marko was planning on gutting Greg like a pig, taking extra pleasure in imagining how his guts would spill out of him and the look on his face when he realized what was happening. David just wanted to tear them both apart, go for a major artery—whichever he found first—and let the blood spray out as their terrified hearts pumped it out for him.

And Dwayne wanted to pull Greg’s spine out, clean and fast and simple.

Vera felt a shiver run through her. She didn’t know whose thoughts to focus on, the four of them all too excited to quiet down. This was more chaotic than when they had hunted Vernon down, and they were more vicious this time around. She could tell how much they absolutely loathed Greg, and Shelly was just an unfortunate girl who was into the wrong slimeball.

What’s the deal with these two, anyway? She asked, trying to send her thoughts cutting through the barrage of gore they were all thinking up. She’d encountered the humans before, sure, and they were less than chill, but she got the feeling they had a lot more history than she had seen.

Greg’s a grade A piece of shit, Paul answered.

He loves to hate us, Marko added. Thinks he’s real hot shit ‘cause he’s in a surf gang. They tear up our town like they own the place.

He’s an obnoxious piece of shit who thinks he runs the boardwalk, David drawled. Been on my shit list since the day we met him months ago. It’s finally time to give him a piece of my mind.

Why now? Vera asked.

Because it’s time we put our foot down. David growled. This is our boardwalk. It’s time we started acting like it again. Things are changin’ and I’m not sittin’ by anymore.

Yeah! Paul agreed. I’ve been waitin’ for this one for so long…

I know, David grinned, laughing darkly. Now let’s fucking go.

They erupted in a series of shouts that sounded more like howls, too excited to give a shit about being quiet. If anyone down on the ground heard them, they might inclined to think Santa Carla was haunted by some sort of ghouls or banshees…but more than likely, any humans who were still out at such a late hour were too fucked up or too tired to put much stock into the unearthly cries up in the clouds. They were most likely ignored, written off as just another one of those weird Santa Carla things that tended to just happen, and as Vera clung to Dwayne’s back, she found herself glad to be living (un-living?) in a place where vampires seemed able to be themselves.

“There they are,” she heard Paul growl.

She looked down and saw that they had reached a scruffy stretch of beach, and Vera recognized it as the sort of place young couples drove out to in order to spend some quality time together. The bright lights of the boardwalk were still shining across the water, the roller coaster looking especially beautiful from so far away. Why hadn’t she and the boys ever wandered out that way to relax? It was the perfect spot to bring some beers and have a private party. It seemed like Greg and Shelly might be onto something, if Paul’s nose was right and they were there.

Sure enough, at the very top of the hill, parked all alone and looking particularly vulnerable, was a tan car…and Vera could see it rocking slightly.

“Oh, gross,” Marko bared his teeth in an eager grin.

Dwayne shrugged Vera off of his back and she reluctantly let go of him, hovering in the air as she watched him roll his shoulders. He returned Marko’s grin and then looked at Paul, whose eyes were yellow and wild and full of that crazed hunger they were all feeling, and together, the two of them dove for the car.

“Quit!” Vera heard Shelly’s laugh from the backseat.

“C’mon,” Greg said between playful growls, his voice muffled. “Let’s have some fun–”

Marko landed next to the car and gave it a light shove, grinning as he heard Shelly’s heartbeat suddenly speed up.

“What was that?” she hissed.

“What was what?” Greg asked.

“I thought I heard something…”

And then all hell broke loose, as usual.

“What is that?” Shelly shrieked as the roof of the car was torn off, Paul and Dwayne each holding a side.

The air was alive with the scent of terror, Greg and Shelly screaming so loudly that Vera thought their throats might start bleeding. It didn’t matter if they did or not, though–their time had come to an end, and when David landed on the hood of the car and they twisted to look at him, they ran out of things to scream about.

“C’mon, baby, what’s the matter?” Paul cackled, lunging towards Shelly. “Bat got your tongue?”

Because he did.

He did have her tongue, clamped between his teeth, bloody and floppy and horrifying as he tore it out of her mouth. She was silent, staring at her attacker with wide eyes, raising a shaky hand to her chin. Blood gushed out, painting her teeth and lips, but she didn’t scream, because she was so far beyond terror that she couldn’t do anything.

And then Paul and David dove in, and Shelly was history.

Greg was trying to shout, thrashing in Marko’s grip as he was lifted into the sky. Buckets of blood rained down, Dwayne tearing him open with dark red claws that could never really be scrubbed clean after something like this. Scraps of shredded clothing fluttered down through the air, and by the time Greg’s body was allowed to hit the ground again, it was little more than an unrecognizable chunk of meat.

Vera, whose very teeth were aching with hunger at this point, followed it down. Her boys were extremely messy eaters, and not particularly good at getting as much out of their meals as possible. When she descended on Greg’s mangled, barely-alive body, there was plenty of blood left for her to enjoy…so she shredded him the rest of the way and had a little fun with it.

It wasn’t long before they were all satisfied, faces and hands caked in blood, appetites satiated for the moment. The boys were still wild, chests heaving from the rush and the excitement even as they pushed the car into the sea and tossed the corpses in with it. They splashed around in the shallows, shoving each other, wrestling and fighting in the sand. Vera found herself dragged into the middle of it all, crushed beneath Paul as he was thrown down on top of her and hoisted onto Dwayne’s shoulders as he ran from Marko.

It was as if they hadn’t just murdered and eaten two humans, as if they were just normal people having fun on a summer night. The ocean air was invigorating, filling up lungs that didn’t always need to be filled, egging on monsters that didn’t need encouragement; they were having fun, and they were free, and in that moment, it seemed like there was nothing in the entire world that could change that.

-0-

“This is the life, huh?” David ginned, arm around Vera’s shoulders.

She glanced up at him. In the dark of the cave, his eyes seemed even brighter than they usually were, a piercing, unnatural yellow that shone even when there was no light to reflect off of them.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarked, leaning down to pull her boots off.

“Been wantin’ to get rid of those two for a while now,” he said, stepping away to kick his own boots off. “One less annoyance to deal with.”

“Still plenty of others left, though.”

His expression soured. “Don’t remind me.”

“Didn’t think I had to.”

Vera watched as David huffed and then ascended to the rafters in a flash, gripping a beam with clawed feet and immediately crossing his arms over his chest as if he were already asleep. She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior and followed, shoving against his side until he relented another huff and slid an arm around her.

“Tomorrow, Star’ll find that guy again and that’ll finally be over with.” David grumbled.

“What makes you so sure she’ll kill him right away?” Vera asked.

“You don’t think she will?”

“I think she’s nervous.”

“She can’t afford to be nervous anymore.” He snapped. “If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll take care of puppy dog-eyes and finally join us.”

Vera frowned. “It can’t be fun, being caught in limbo like that. I mean, I don’t see the point in not committing fully at this point…”

“I can’t even remember being a half-vampire.” David shrugged. “Pretty sure I had my first kill immediately.”

“Alright, no need to brag.”

“What?” He smirked. “I was born for this life, baby.”

“Born to sleep all day?”

“And party all night.”

“Hell yeah!” Paul shouted as he flew to his roost, the rafter shaking with the force of his claws gripping it.

“Y’know, David…” Dwayne said, voice low and grumbly with sleep as he joined them and settled in.

“What, Dwayne?” He asked, sounding irritated.

“…you never told us what Max said earlier.”

David was silent for a moment, grumpily squaring his jaw before he spoke again. “He’s in love with that lady.”

The boys were silent for a moment.

“You mean like…” Marko trailed off.

“Yeah. I do.”

“The redhead from the shop?” Paul asked, scoffing.

“Yes. That one.” David grumbled.

“So why’s that our problem?” Marko huffed.

“Because he expects us to play nice,” David hissed.

“Because he wants to bring her into the family,” Vera interjected.

She was met with a series of growls and grumbles, the boys all glancing at each other warily.

“He sounded serious about it,” she added.

“And let me guess,” Marko drawled, “he expects us to do something about it.”

“…yeah, he mentioned something…”

“He said she’s got two sons,” David sighed. “He said we’ve met them.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “We meet a lot of dudes.”

“I don’t suppose he said anything more helpful,” Marko hissed.

“Of course not.” David snapped. “But he gave us their names. Sam and Michael.” His jaws parted in a wide yawn as he pulled Vera closer. “Tomorrow night we’ll find them and get a better look at who exactly the old man expects us to play nice with.”

“And Star’ll finally have a decent meal,” Marko grinned. “Big night.”

“Big night.” David agreed.

Big night, Vera thought, frowning to herself as she tried to settle in for the morning.

#the lost boys #goddamn shit sucking vampires #the lost boys x oc #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #marko lost boys #paul lost boys #poly lost boys

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