The Ferris Wheel
Peter A. Weiss
Copyright © 2017 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Then their time was up. Lilly looked at her watch and told Paul they’d be getting off shortly. Only then did she take his hand, ever so briefly, under her skirt and under her panties. Just for a moment, she led his fingers into her most private space. After she let go his hand, she unzipped his fly and helped herself to a feel of him. Then she zipped him back up and kissed him one last time.
They walked slowly, hand in hand back to one of the ticket booths.
“I like you, Paul. I liked the way you looked last year and I like that you’re just you.”
“I like you too, Lilly.”
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “You can go bareback if you’re not sick. And just so you know, I’ve never let anyone bareback ever. You’ll be the first and the only.”
“How could I be sick, Lilly? I haven’t been anywhere.”
“Good,” Lilly said. “I don’t get any more breaks. I’ll be done about two in the morning. I have to be back at nine. The next three days, like today, are crazy for us. Anyway, meet me here, at this ticket booth.”
“I’m gonna find a good place to take a snooze” said Paul.
“Don’t be late, honey.” Lilly gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the booth.
The jeep was yellow sunshine. Lilly drove fast and wild with her cowboy hat off so her hair could fly in the wind. At the first traffic light, she kissed Paul and took his hand to kiss too. They were far apart in the bucket seats, the gearshift in between them, so that was it until they reached Paul’s apartment. She let Paul lead the way up the outside stairs, inside to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. Then they were in his apartment where she plopped herself down on the sofa.
“I am so beat,” she said. “I could just crash right here. But we had a good day. Took in plenty of money. Course that don’t mean we made a lot. But we did okay. This is always a good fair for us, I mean when the weather is nice.”
“Want a soda?”
“Got a beer?”
“How about some white wine? I don’t drink, but I do have a bottle someone gave me that’s been chilling.”
Paul went to the kitchen. When he returned, Lilly had kicked off her boots and taken off her socks. She had lain down on the sofa and fallen asleep.
He stood a long while looking at her, her feet mostly because she had gorgeous feet, he thought. He didn’t know what they were going to be like, but he’d imagined they’d be like—he didn’t know—cowgirl feet, whatever that was. He imagined chubby toes, calluses and maybe not manicured. But they were slender feet with painted toenails, a French pedicure with gold tips. Looking at them gave him wild thoughts and the wild thoughts made him very, very ready. He’d been ready for many years, many, many years.
Every part of him wanted to wake her. Every part of him wanted to use her as she lay there. Every part of him just wanted her and wanted to be done with the silly virginity thing. He went to his bed and took off one of the covers. Gently, so she wouldn’t feel it, he covered her and went off to sleep. Before he fell off, he remembered she said she had to be back at nine, so he set his phone to wake him at seven. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone to bed horny. It was just another in a long string of times. Goddamn, he thought, disappointed.
to be continued