Erotic Amusements

by Justine Elyot

  “Visiting hours are between seven and eight. Buses aren’t very good at that time of night—if you like, I could give you a lift in on the bike. What do you say? Yes. Say yes.”

  “Is there a problem?” Cordwainer, having completed his elegant glide, eyed Rocky sharply.

  “Flipp’s just had a phone call. Her grandmother’s had a stroke. She’s in Goldsands General.”

  “And you are going to take her visiting, Rocky? Remarkably public-spirited of you.”

  “Ah, well, you know me,” Rocky said, working the bonhomie a little too hard. “Always ready to help a blonde in need.”

  Cordwainer snorted. “Indeed. Well, I was going to offer you some overtime, Flipp, but that can wait for another time. Unless—”

  “I really ought to visit her,” Flipp interjected, alarmed by the clenching of Rocky’s fists. “She doesn’t have anyone else.”

  Cordwainer, thwarted for the moment, simply nodded stiffly and returned to the office.

  “What was all that about?” Flipp muttered, putting her mouth to the small opening at the bottom of the screen.

  “I’ll tell you later. Meet me at the funfair at eight, by the waltzer.”

  “This is like a spy novel.”

  “Isn’t it? And every bit as risky.”

  “I’ll see you later then. Oh, and Rocky?”

  He turned, halfway to the door.

  “Wearing sunglasses indoors is very uncool, you know.”

  He didn’t take them off but simply ran a finger along the bottom of one frame, adjusting it so that it sat a little lower on his cheek.

  “There are worse things than being uncool,” he said. Then he walked out, the monstrous revving of his bike cutting through the electronic bleeps a moment later.

  “Oh, take them off. It’s getting dark.” Flipp’s entreaty met with a grunt of resistance, then Rocky, joining her on the lowest step of the waltzer carousel, removed his shades.

  “Oh. Right. I see now. What happened to you?”

  “Long story. Let’s just say a cat took a dislike to me.”

  “Some cat.” Flipp reached up and put a tentative finger on the deep-set gashes beneath Rocky’s eye. “More like a tiger.”

  “Yeah,” Rocky agreed. He took her hand, removing it from his face, and kissed the fingertips. “Not a fluffy little pussycat like you.”

  “I’m not fluffy,” Flipp objected. “Anyway, what’s all this about? Why are we here? Why has my fake grandmother had a fake stroke?”

  Rocky stretched backwards, extending those long, shiny black legs outwards and clasping his hands behind his head.

  “Do you know what, Flipp? We’re at a funfair. Let’s have some fun.”

  Flipp took a breath in, filling up with burnt sugar and engine oil. Bells and sirens and screams and motors rose and fell around her. Night was creeping in and the coloured lights were beginning to glow. There was a trashy magic in the air and a sexy man at her side. The seduction was in full swing.

  “Okay.” She smiled at him and pinched a thigh. “Fun’s good.”

  “Are you a roller coaster or dodgem girl? My money’s on roller coaster.”

  “You collect. I’m a thrill seeker.”

  “I knew it.” He bent to take her lips, long and languidly, before pulling her up by the wrist and leading her over to the Dive of Doom.

  “Okay,” said Flipp, her dinner threatening to escape her stomach in advance. “I know I said I was a thrill seeker, but that thing looks as if it might collapse at any moment.”

  The metal struts bent and buckled at odd angles, giving the structure a perilous Tower of Pisa appearance.

  “You like safe thrills? Oh, Flipp.” Rocky pretended disappointment. “Tell you what. I can take your mind off it. Ever made out on a roller coaster?”

  Flipp’s high-pitched laugh was barely audible over the clack-clacking of the cars as they slowed to a halt, disgorging their green-faced cargo to try to find their feet once more.

  “So I can die in your arms? That makes me feel so much better.”

  Rocky dragged her into the car beside him, waiting until the safety bar was pulled across before letting his fingers stray beneath the hem of her tie-dye tennis dress.

  “I like this,” he breathed into her ear. “Nice and short.” Flipp squirmed as she felt the spidery march of his fingertips up her thigh. Then she sighed as he began to nip and suck at the side of her neck until the only dangerous curves on her mind belonged to her and not the roller coaster.

  He found the elastic border of her knickers just as the car jolted forward and began to move jerkily along the track. She squealed at the unexpected graze of teeth, then put her head back and shut her eyes, sensing the upwards climb but seeing nothing, feeling nothing but the sly, sneaking finger finding her most intimate parts right here in the open air of the fair. They were in the front of the car, so even people oblivious to their own white-knuckle experience would not be able to see what Rocky was up to on his own special, secret thrill ride.

  The slow ascent seemed never-ending and Flipp was tempted to open her eyes and see how high they were, but somehow Rocky’s talented fingers kept her locked into her sightlessness as they crept closer and closer to her juicy centre, stroking in an elliptical motion around the widening split of her lips.

  “Nearly at the top now,” he whispered. His thumb made contact with her clit, pressing down and then rotating it. “Aaaaaand…down.”

  Underneath the screams, Flipp’s moans of pleasure found Rocky’s ears only. Her stomach dropped, yet it seemed part of the sensation in her pussy, connected to it by a thread, enlarging and deepening the excitement.

  When the plunge was finished and the car began to crawl to an even greater height, Rocky continued fingering Flipp, finding every special spot, making her bite her lip and shift her bottom continuously in the moulded plastic seat. She knew she was gushing all over his hot, rough skin and she sighed when he managed to fit a firm digit up inside her, swivelling it while he flicked at her clit, preparing her for the rush of her life, taking her higher and higher and higher, until…

  “Come,” he muttered into her ear after three looping swirls, at the top of the very highest drop, and she was ready. She fell, swan diving, into her orgasm so that it burst upwards like a fountain from her crotch, its ecstatic spray drenching her every fibre. She screamed, just like everyone else, but the quality of Flipp’s scream was deeper and more intense, ending in a closeness to tears rather than a giggle of excitement. Air rushed past her ears and she thought she might fly if it weren’t for Rocky’s hand planted so firmly at her crotch, keeping her rooted to the spot.

  “Oh my God.” She half wept at the foot of the drop. “Oh my God. Where did you learn that?”

  Rocky laughed at her dazed face, kissing the damp spots beneath her eyes.

  “Bad Behaviour 101,” he said. “Didn’t you take that course?”

  “Take it?” she said, willing the tremor out of her voice, replacing it with smoky allure. “I wrote it.” She clamped a hand down on the leathery bulge below the hem of his T-shirt, liking what she found there.

  Rocky waited for the safety belts to rise automatically before taking her hand and stepping with her out of the roller coaster car.

  “Oh really? You’ll know all about the things you can get up to in the Hall of Mirrors, then?”

  Flipp followed the direction of his gaze, reacting with a low, thrilled chuckle. Rocky had shot to the top of her Sexually Adventurous Lovers chart within two days of their meeting. What on earth could he have in store now?

  “On reflection, I think I do,” she said, laughing at Rocky’s deep groan.

  The Hall of Mirrors was unattended, and Rocky managed to grab a traffic cone on their way over and place it at the entrance.

  “Don’t want to be disturbed, do we?” he whispered, pulling her past pane after pane of elongated or squat or highly focused versions of themselves. “Oh, now, this is my favourite.”

  He
stopped and Flipp found herself confronted with multiple images of her and Rocky, stretching away into infinity, above and below and beside—a kaleidoscope of tearaway lovers.

  “God, you’re hot,” she found herself saying, her eyes feasting on his sinewy arms, and hips tightly packed into their leather casing.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said, pulling her in front of him so that his upper chest and shoulders surrounded her head, his chin resting on the feathery crown of her hair. “What about this?” He cupped her breasts, braless in their flimsy cotton bodice, squeezing them gently together. “Is this hot?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed, transfixed by his large hands on her, watching them at work.

  He caressed her bare shoulder with his lips, but all the while his eyes were lifted to the mirror, watching Flipp’s expression of pained pleasure, enjoying the slow loss of control he was inducing.

  “Mmm. And this?”

  He lifted the hem of her skirt, slowly, revealing the upper slopes of Flipp’s soft white thighs above the stripy knee socks, then the knickers with their pink-and-green leopard print. Flipp saw herself, helpless with lust in his hands, and whimpered.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?” Two thumbs hooked themselves at the sides of the panties and began to ease them down over small hips—one of them tattooed with a pair of dice—over the plucked triangle of her mons, revealing the pert sweet lips of her pussy, already sticky with the residue of one orgasm and the anticipation of another.

  “Let’s just keep those here.” Rocky’s low hypnotic voice in her ear kept the spell wound tightly around her, holding her in place while he patted the knickers into position at midthigh, then pushed his hard leather bulge into the soft yielding flesh of her bottom.

  “Oh,” she moaned, watching a hand delve into the cleft at the top of her legs, feeling an eager cock part the other, hidden cleft. “Oh God.” The leather was so warm and smooth at her rear, sticking slightly to her heated flesh. She watched a finger push and relax, push and relax, finding herself almost surprised that the actions of the reflections opposite resulted in sensation within her own body. She moved her legs farther apart, her calves beginning to tremble. Rocky’s free hand loosened her shoulder straps, revealing the nude breasts, fiddling with the nipples. “Oh God, Rocky, please.”

  “Please?” His voice was thick, as if he’d swallowed a bottle of treacle.

  “Want you so much…want you to fuck me…please…”

  “Want to watch?”

  “Oh…yes.”

  “Kinky little girl gets kinkier every day. Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

  Flipp fell down onto her knees on the rubberised matting of the booth, obeying Rocky’s silent indication with the steel tip of his biker boot that she should move around to show her profile in the mirror. On all fours on the worn old floor, she looked sideways at herself, at her skirts gathered over her waist so that her pale bottom was thrust out, hanging above the naked thighs and the stripy stretchy wool that protected her knees. She could only see Rocky’s legs and his booted feet until he crouched behind her, placing hands on her hips, lining her up for his devilish purpose. His face in profile looked almost noble—a high brow crested by that dark hair, the aquiline nose, the chiselled features. Somebody should sculpt him. Only the unmistakable gleam of lust in his eye distinguished him from some plaster god on a plinth. That and the leather.

  She saw his hand dip down to his fly, unbuttoning rapidly, then she saw the waistband of his jeans slacken and begin to uncover, inch by inch, the firm flesh of his backside.

  The curve of it complemented her smaller version so perfectly that Flipp was momentarily transfixed, seeing what a fine erotic photograph it would make, until she was distracted from aesthetic pursuits by the unveiling of his hard, upthrust cock. It sprang out, ready for action, coming to get her, and she raised her bum invitingly, wiggling it, enjoying the wanton effect in the mirror.

  The swollen head connected to her body, visible for a brief moment before it disappeared from view and made its brazen way inside her. Flipp held her breath, revelling in the sight of that long, thick shaft getting shorter and shorter until finally Rocky’s belly covered her bottom and they were one beast, two-headed, another perfect photo opportunity of a reflection. The first few strokes were slow, gorging on the sensual delight provided by this marriage of exhibitionism and voyeurism. Both of them liked watching; both of them sighed with deep satisfaction each time the cock length came back into view and then plunged out of view again.

  “Look at it.” Rocky hardly needed to voice the command. “Look at yourself, full of cock, getting fucked. You like watching, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I wish we could film ourselves.”

  “Oh, good idea. Save that for another time, eh? Oh, yes, you’re tight. Keep that arse in the air and take it, yes, again. You were made for this.”

  So were you, she thought, but then a sound from the entrance, alarmingly close to the noise of a cone being shifted to one side, accompanied by the gruff clearing of a throat, urged them to speed up.

  Rocky began to slam and their reflections to blur, Flipp squirming and squealing in his unyielding grip, while a voice echoed, “Oi? Anyone in there? Who shut the entrance? Vern, is that you?”

  “Yeah,” gasped Rocky, building his speed until the sweat poured off him and Flipp’s bum slid damply against his flat stomach. Flipp felt fit to burst, sure she would ache all over but not caring much in the face of the sensation growing ever huger inside her pussy.

  “What’s up, Vern? There a problem in there?”

  “Mirror…broken…” panted Rocky. “Take it, you hot little bitch, take my cock all the way.” This last whispered loudly into Flipp’s ear, making her mewl.

  Rocky’s pace was blistering now and Flipp began to fear for his cock even more than she feared discovery in flagrante by the disembodied voice.

  “Which one? Have you called the glazier?”

  “Oh fuck.” roared Rocky, pouring his all into Flipp’s tight channel while she twisted and turned and moaned into her own orgasm.

  “’Ere. What you doing? You aren’t Vern.”

  Footsteps somewhere in the reflective labyrinth.

  “Bloody maze. I’ll find you. Whatever you’re up to, you’d better hope you finish it before I get to you.”

  Much as Flipp wanted to drink in the luscious multiplied reflection of Rocky’s face in extremis, she did not want to end up in court on an indecent exposure charge, so she shuffled forward, off Rocky’s cock, and pulled her knickers up while she tried to find her footing. Feeling a little drunk, she put a hand up to the mirror, steadying herself, whispering an urgent, “Put it away. Let’s go.”

  Rocky slumped back on his knees, fumbling with the condom and the buttons before making a noise of frustration, hauling himself to his feet, grabbing Flipp’s hand and running, jeans half-undone, through the remainder of the maze.

  He seemed to know his route and within seconds they were outside, leaning against the hardboard wall, wheezing with panicky laughter while Rocky fixed his trousers.

  “Vern. Is that you?” Flipp mimicked. “I nearly died.”

  Rocky belly laughed, then wiped his mouth with a sweaty hand. “Christ, I need a drink. You make me crave cider, girl. Come on. Let’s get out of here before Vern comes back.”

  Hand in hand, they walked through the flashing, crashing chaos of the fair and off the pier, looking for a suitably anonymous hotel bar in which to wet their dry throats.

  “Definitely cider,” said Rocky, returning to their table in the busy lounge bar with two half-pints of cloudy orangey beverage. “Something sweet with a powerful kick.”

  “Tangy and a little bit rough.” Flipp smiled, enjoying the game, enjoying everything about being with Rocky, from his low-key intelligence to his high-key sex appeal.

  “Are you calling me rough?” He sat down next to her, pinching her thigh in warning. “I’ll remember that.”

 
“I love a bit of rough,” said Flipp, catching and squeezing the pinching hand. “All the nice girls do.”

  “Ah, don’t tell me you’re a nice girl.” He pretended disappointment. “And I had such plans for you.”

  “Something tells me they all involve risky sex.”

  “Yeah. Safe sex too. But they all involve sex.” His smile faded and he looked down into the rusty-apple-scented liquid, as if an unwelcome reminder had been issued.

  “What’s wrong? Sex is good, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He swigged from the glass. “Yeah, it is.”

  “But…not enough? Maybe? Are you going to tell me about Cordwainer’s overtime? And why I should avoid it?”

  “You need a new job, Flipp. If you don’t work for him, then we don’t have to worry about getting caught together.”

  Flipp almost laughed. “You seem like the last person on earth who worries about getting caught.”

  Rocky made a face. “I know. And I’m probably the first person on earth who should. Seriously. If you want to be with me—and I hope you do—you need another job.”

  “It’s that simple, is it? I can’t get another job. They’ll want references, bank details, all of that.”

  “And you can’t provide them?” Rocky’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Why not, Miss Enigma? Why did you run to Goldsands, and what are you running from?”

  Flipp looked away uncomfortably. “Long story,” she muttered. “Anyway, if you think Cordwainer’s such a bad guy, why don’t you work for someone else?”

  “It’s that simple, is it?” He echoed her earlier words. “No. No, of course it isn’t. So it isn’t simple for either of us. It’s complicated. Perhaps it’s too complicated.”

  “God, I hope not. Rocky, if you’d just tell me—”

  “Shit,” he interrupted as a scream of electric guitar cut across their conversation, struggling to extract his mobile phone from the tight pocket of his trousers. “Cordwainer,” he told her with a grim look, pressing a button to accept the call.

  So precise was Cordwainer’s enunciation that Flipp could almost hear him as clearly as Rocky.

  “You’ve finished your knight errant act for the evening, I presume?”