Travelling Folk Series Pt. 01: Fun Fair Attractions
Copyright by Paul, 2000 07 03. All rights reserved. All characters are fictitious.
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Pat and Chris stood on the balcony, outside the Insurance Brokers office where they worked, overlooking the field that was to be used for this year's Fair and watched as the vehicles arrived and the men begin to set up the stalls and rides.
Both were twenty two years of age. Pat being the elder by twenty minutes. Identical in every way. Light brown hair, blue eyes, turned up noses.
They shared a bedroom in their parent's house, only went on dates together, and always dressed alike. It was suggested, by some male members of staff in the office, that they would share a toilet seat if they could have. They always went together.
They had even lost their virginity's together in the same room and at the same time at a Christmas party they had both gone to. Different men though, although it was rumoured that they had held hands. Bill, who worked in a local Supermarket as a butcher took Pats and Nick a car mechanic, took Chris'. Both were Childhood friends.
That had been over eighteen months before. Neither had had sex for seven months since they both broke up with their boyfriends when they'd suggested swapping at a party Christmas last.
"That's a new one." Pat said pointing down to where one of the side stalls was being erected.
"What is it?" Chris peered, shading her eyes against the bright sunlight.
"Crazy Joe's Rifle Range." Pat read as the sign was positioned above the counter.
"I don't like guns." Chris ' eye was drawn to a tall, thin man with long black hair and a beard wearing a sleeveless denim jacket with a black dog on a lead walking towards the entrance of their office block.
"He's not coming in here with a dog, surely."
"No." Pat said. "He's sure to read the sign."
They both returned to the office and sat at their desks. They both heard the lift outside whirl to a stop and the clunk of the door as it opened. A second clunk and the lift whirled away.
The outer office door opened. The man stepped inside
Pat stood up from her desk and approached the counter. She heard a growl and stopped. Chris came and stood by her side.
"Down Killer." The man said harshly and jerked on the chain he was holding.
"Yes sir?" Pat spoke hardly above a whisper. "What can we do for you?"
"Have a shooting range. They won't let me open without insurance. What's the cheapest?"
"Against fire, theft and public liability?" Pat asked, opening a book from under the counter. "We have a form to fill in."
"Just the liability." He scratched the tattoo of a crow above a heart on his right shoulder with the leather strap of his dog's lead. "Nobody steals from me when Killer's around. How much?"
"One hundred." Pat quoted from a table in the book.
"Where's the form?" He demanded brusquely.
He reached inside a breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a roll of money. He flicked off five twenties and dropped them onto the counter. Pat picked up her pen and started to complete the form.
"Name?" She asked, conscious that the man was staring down the front of her blouse as she leaned forward over the counter. She wished she could remember how many buttons were undone.
"Real name please."
"What's the name of that field."
"You must have a home."
"My home is where I am."
"Occupation. Never mind. I'll put travelling showman."
"Do you want a job?" He asked suddenly.
"I have a job." Pat replied.
"Just this week." He looked Chris up and down. "Both of you. Six to eleven. Give you fifty each a night."
"We have jobs." Chris hesitated just enough to betray her interest.
"My camper and trailer are parked behind the stall. Be there at six and I'll let you have what I want you to wear. Five nights. That's a two hundred and fifty each."
Clerks in insurance companies are not well paid. Well not paid enough to turn down the offer of an extra two hundred and fifty.
All the afternoon they talked first about his offer, then what they would do with the money.
The office closed at five and they hurried home to change. Both wore blue jeans, a white blouse and slip on flat black shoes.
They left to head back to the fair ground without eating the meal their mother had cooked.
They both felt excited. It was like an adventure.
Ignoring the catcalls and wolf-whistles of the men still working on the fair ground they made their way to the rear of the rifle range.
They were ten minutes early.
He was sitting on a small folding chair by the side entrance to his camper his dog curled in a ball beneath his outstretched legs. It lifted its head and growled deep inside its chest at their approach.
"Down boy." He spoke gently and the hackles that had risen on the dog's back began to subside. "Friends."
"Good." He stood up. "Come in."
They followed him inside. The dog stayed outside, sitting up, alert, guarding.
He picked up two costumes from the bed. A single piece outfit comprising of a red, white and blue stripped top with a red skirt and white panties.
"Try them on."
The two girls looked from at the costumes then at each other.
"They're very small." Chris held.
"Just put them on."
"But you're here." Pat protested.
"I've got better things to do than look at you."
He stepped out of the camper and closed the door behind him.
"It won't hurt to try them on I suppose." Chris said unbuttoning her blouse.
Her bra, jeans and panties soon joined it on the bed and she picked up the costume. She looked across at her sister, who was as equally naked.
"Here goes." She said stepping into the panties part of the costume, pulling the rest up and putting her arms through the shoulder straps.
She watched as her sisters tight little bottom disappeared inside her costume and remembered how they had used to play with each other's bodies when they had been younger. That had stopped when they had boyfriends but there were times when she longed to share her sister's bed again. It was July. Nobody had touched her since before Christmas. Even this Crazy Joe was beginning to look attractive.
Why did she suddenly feel like this?
She stood close behind her sister and slowly pulled up the zip of her costume, the side of one finger running up her spine. She saw her shiver.
Pat turned around and looked deep into Chris' eyes. For a moment she thought she was about to kiss her.
The door handle rattled, breaking the spell.
"Are you finished in there?"
Chris turned, offering her back and zip to Pat who fastened her.
"Yes." She called.
The door opened and Crazy Joe climbed back into the camper.
"Turn around." He said to Pat.
Chris watched her sisters skirt flare outwards flashing the white of her panties.
Chris repeated the movement, feeling the movement of her own skirt.
"Fine." Joe ran his fingers through his beard. "You'll do just fine. Be back here, changed, for six tomorrow."
Chris was first into bed and she watched as her sister undressed.
Pat stood naked in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door.
"It makes you wonder what a man sees in a woman's body." She said, running her hands down her sides.
Chris thought that she could tell her.
The familiar itch was starting between her legs. It had been coming with more and more frequency of late. She placed a hand upon her pubic mound and squeezed. This sometimes relieved the pressure inside her. Not tonight. She wished her sister would hurry up and put on her night-dress and climb into her bed. Her finger slipped between her legs and massaged the outer lips of her pussy.
At last the light was off and the goodnights had been said.
She bent her knees and allowed her thighs to flop open, like a frog on a dissecting table.
With the index and ring finger of her hand she spread the lips of her pussy and ran her middle finger between them feeling her wetness increase as she did so. Describing circles around her clit with the tip of a finger she thought back to the last time she had let Nick have her. It had been on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. Two days before the break up. Their mother had gone visiting and wouldn't be back for at least three hours. She had led Nick upstairs to her bedroom leaving Pat and Bill the front room to themselves. First they had kissed, standing up at the foot of the bed as they fumbled with each other's clothes.
Finally naked they had lain on top of the covers on her bed and kissed some more. His hands were soon on her boobs. Rough skinned hands. Strong hands from manual work. Sometimes, when he squeezed them, she would almost cry out in pain. His hand had moved down to her stomach then on to her pubic mound. Squeezing it. She'd opened her legs for him and arched her back as he pushed his longest finger inside her. He'd pulled it out then pushed it back in again. Despite his roughness she found her body responding and indicated her agreement for him to proceed with a moan. He'd knelt between her open thighs and ran the tip of his cock up and down the outside of her pussy. She had reached down between them and held herself open as he had lunged forward. Filling her with one thrust.
She'd grunted as their pubic mounds had banged together. He'd taken that as a sign of her pleasure and began moving quickly in and out of her. She'd lifted her hips from the bed and tried to meet his thrusts with her own. She couldn't match his pace so had relaxed back onto the bed and waited for him to come. He wasn't long and she soon felt him jerking inside her as his balls emptied.
He pulled out of her and left the room to visit the toilet. She had heard the door close behind him and had reached down to furiously massaged her clit. As she was doing now. Trying to control her breathing as she let the peaks of pleasure wash over her. Feeling the pressure building inside her until, with a strangled cry, she came.
She turned onto her side and looked at the shape in Pat's bed.
Had she heard?
Nothing stirred for what seemed ages then, as she watched, Pat turned slowly into her back. Did she look in her direction? Yes. She held her breath.
She heard rather than saw Pat bend her knees and open her legs. Straining her ears she heard the sound of a hand rubbing against a sheet. Heard her sister's sharp intake of breath. The sound in the back of her throat which she always made before coming.
Pat suddenly turned onto her side facing away from her. She heard her fight to control her breathing, then sigh.
They returned to the fairground carrying their uniforms in carrier bags by six the following evening. The lights were on above the stalls and rides even though it was bright sunlight. The smells of Burgers and candyfloss filled the air, together with the sounds of music from a dozen sources and the calls of vendors attracting customers. They had discussed the events of the previous evening and what was to be expected them that evening at every opportunity during the day. Their supervisor had observed twice in the morning that their minds were not on their work that day.
After lunch, they had visited the personnel department and checked on their vacation entitlement and both applied for the remainder of the week off.
"You may as well." The supervisor commented as she was handed the forms to sign. "You're minds obviously won't be on work."
Crazy Joe told them to use his camper to change in. He tossed Chris the keys.
"Tell Killer you have the key." He said.
They went through the back of the tent; Killer lifted his head and growled as they approached the camper.
"I've got the key." Chris felt foolish, dangling a small bunch of keys in front of a dog.
The dog stopped growling and lay down.
Inside they quickly stripped. Smiling at each one another they looked at each other's naked bodies and remembered.
They fastened each other's costumes and returned to the front of the tent. Past the dog, who watched them in silence.
The crowds were starting to gather. The noise levels rising. The smells intensifying.
Joe sat on a stool behind the counter at one end. A small metal cash box on the shelf in front of him.
He picked up one of the eight air rifles chained to the counter.
"Here is how you load them."
He broke open the front section of the barrel.
"Place the pellet. Round end first in the hole like this."
He loaded the weapon.
He pointed the weapon at the heavy canvas screen behind the targets and squeezed the trigger. The pellet thudded into it.
He pointed to the targets. Six fingers of metal in each block. Pull the string to re-set the targets. He pointed to wooden toggles that dangled above each firing point. They were set fine for somebody his height but the girls would have to lean against the counter and stand on tiptoe to reach them.
"Bring all money to me. Tickets on the prizes show how many coupons for a win. Six from six for a coupon."
He looked them both up and down.
"When you get ammunition or prizes." He pointed to four plastic buckets half filled with pellets on the lowest shelve of prizes. "Keep your backs to the counters and bend over from the waist."
"But they'll see our."
"What do you think you're here for? Your conversation? Don't stand in front of anybody when they're firing."
He turned from them and picked up an old hand held megaphone.
"Roll up. Roll up. Impress the pretty girls."
The customers started to arrive. And arrive.
At first they would crouch to collect the ammunition from the buckets but after being shouted at they started to do as they had been asked.
As Chris whispered in Pat's ear.
"It's not as if they're our real panties. We would probably show more at the beach."
As the evening progressed and the beer flowed the customers became more and more boisterous and rowdy. And more familiar. First they would touch their waists as they reached to reset the targets, then their backsides and finally one man reached out for Chris's tits.
A gnarled old walking stick came down upon his wrist. Crazy Joe loomed above him, standing as he was on the duckboards behind the counter.
"No touching." His growl was deeper than Killer's was. "Not unless you're invited."
He looked at Chris, and winked.
"Roll up, roll up." He returned to his stool and spoke into his megaphone. "Win a kiss from a pretty girl. Only five coupons."
The girls were staggered.
"We didn't agree to that." They protested in unison.
"It'll do you no harm. Looking at you, you could both do with some."
"Roll up. Roll up." He went back to the megaphone.
"What did he mean by that." Pat hissed at Chris.
"I don't know." She replied.
"Are you going to do it?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
"Only if you are."
"He'll have to pay us more."
"Yes. If he pays us more."
"You tell him."
"Come on you two." Crazy Joe shouted. "They're are customers waiting."
"We'll tell him together."
"Give me some slugs." A man in his mid thirties with a scar down the side of his face and dressed in motor cycle leathers snapped. He dropped a coin onto the counter top. Two other men dressed the same, and a hard-faced girl, not wearing very much, stood behind him.
"Five for a Kiss." He looked Chris up and down. "How many for a fuck."
Chris stepped back and looked towards Joe. He sat on his stool, watching.
"Hey Joe." The man called. "How many to fuck her?"
Some customers, especially those with children, were moving away.
"Keep your language clean." Joe stood up.
"Come on, Jim." The girl said, pulling on his arm. "It's time for the next performance."
"I'll be back." He leered at Chris.
Chris and Pat ran to Joe.
"Who was that?" They asked together.
"Mean Jim. They call him." Joe watched as the crowd swallowed up the group. "Used to be in the same Bikers club as me. I left when he wanted to change it into a Hell's Angles Chapter. He runs the Wall of Death."
As he spoke they could her the revving of a motor bike engine in the distance.
They stood closer together.
"I don't like him." Chris looked around nervously.
"Don't mind him." Joe smiled encouragingly. "He won't touch you if he knows you're with me. Who do you think gave him the scar?"
"I need the toilet." Pat said suddenly.
"So do I." Chris joined in.
"One at a time."
"But." Both girls started talking at once.
"One at a time." He looked at Pat. "You first."
Then at Chris.
"You. Back to work."
Pat walked slowly and nervously through the crowds to the plastic cubicles on the corner. She wished Chris were with her. As she waited for her turn in the queue a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped and almost ran.
"Hey." The girl with Mean Jim stood by her side. "Jim says, come and party tonight, after the Fair closes."
"NO." Pat replied indignantly. "Go away. Leave me alone."
"That Crazy Joe can't satisfy two girls like you anymore. I've got five studs who need servicing."
Her turn had come and she stepped quickly forward, closing the door behind her and locking it.
What was she going to do? How was she going to get back? She was sure they would all be waiting for her when she went outside. She needed the toilet badly.
Reaching behind her she managed to locate the top of the zip, with difficulty, and pulled it down. She slipped her shoulders from the straps and looked down into the bowl. The previous occupant hadn't ensured her mess had been fully flushed away. Her stomach turned.
She operated the flush. Pulled off some paper and wiped the seat then crouched above it ensuring that the skin of her ass and thighs didn't come into contact with it. The relief as her bladder emptied was immense. She finished and wiped the drips from her pussy.
After struggling into her costume she stopped and pondered. What if they were outside? They could rape her. She wished Chris was there and, strangely, Joe.
Somebody thumped on the door.
"Come on. Hurry up in there I'm dying to go."
"Alright." She called back. "I'm coming."
She pressed the button above the sink for water to wash her hands. Nothing came out.
She slowly opened the door and looked around. She could see no sign of the girl. Yes she could. Standing on the platform outside the Wall of Death enticing passers by to go in.
A girl, in a short dress and high heels brushed past her.
She had to go now. Continuously looking around she hurried back to the stall.
Chris had a worried look on her face when she reached there.
"You were gone so long." She hugged her. "I thought something had happened to you."
Pat stepped back. Somehow she didn't feel the need to be so close to her sister.
"Are you alright." Joe called.
"The girl was there." Pat shouted back.
"Lucy." Joe smiled as if remembering something.
"They invited us to a party."
"Go, if you want, now back to work." He looked at Chris. "See Mary in the Burger bar and pick up some on the way back. Tell her it's for Crazy Joe."
Chris looked at Pat.
"Go on." Pat smiled. "You'll be alright."
Chris looked doubtful but headed off in the direction of the toilets.
Having loaded the last firer Pat stood by the side of Crazy Joe's stool.
"What did she want you to do?" He asked without looking at her.