#elvis 1975

[elvisgasm]

I'm well aware I talk about this night a lot but his face card here was genuinely insane.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out on Big Daddy Chapter 1: Souvenirs

Summary: Rebecca is a young, single mom working a dead end job in Jackson, Mississippi when a chance encounter brings her into bed with Elvis in June 1975. Angst and smut follow....

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, smut, sex, oral, cursing, drug use and alcohol.

Words: 10,913

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Chapter 1: Souvenirs....

Monday, June 9th, 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

The metal shelf clinks as you set down another can of paint, only a few more left to restock. Your watch reads 5:59 p.m., one minute to closing. You let out a deep breathe, only to feel your stomach clench as the shop entrance bell rings. You yell out, standing up to walk towards the main walkway of the small store.

“We’re closed!”

You hear the low thud of footsteps slapping the linoleum as they get closer, and you repeat yourself.

“Are ya deaf? We’re fixin’ ta ——“

You stop, transfixed in space as your heart drops seeing Elvis’ body round the aisle entrance.

His voice growls.

“No wonder this store’s empty... employees here ain’t got no manners…” his lips betray a sly grin.

You swallow, meeting his eyes as he looks you over, pausing as you see him notice your belt. His belt. The belt of his that you walked out of the hotel with this morning while he was passed out. The belt you decided to wear all day long, savoring the light bouncing off the metal star, feeling the ridges on your fingers and smiling with pleasure as you remembered the night you spent on his chair. Floor. Bed…..

“Nice belt,” he mutters with a crooked smirk as he steadies himself, griping the larger, thicker and more ornate buckle at his own waist. Then he notices the ring you are wearing, you see his eyes fall on it and his eyebrows wiggle. Fuck fuck fuck….

“I guess ya caught me ——“ you say, and start to take it off. He laughs, and slides his sunglasses down.

“Honey, I didn’t even notice they was missin.’ ”

It is at this very moment that your cousin Harriet emerges from the other end of the aisle behind you, carrying another box of paint from the back room.

“OK Becks, I think this is the last of it, we ca—“ she drops the box when she sees Elvis, the sound of paint cans rolling across the floor rings through the store.

Elvis looks at you, shifting, and meets your gaze with a questioning face.

“Becks?” You’re frozen, your eyes look down as you try to think of what to say but stupid Harriet remembers how to use her mouth first and starts blabbling.

“Yeah, that’s Rebecca, I’m Harriet ! Oh my God, we are such big fans, especially Becky—”

“Huh, yeah, you don’t say?” he grins, interrupting Harriet. His voice is deep and powerful and he shifts and walks a few steps towards you. “Thought you said your name was Rachel…..?” He pauses then shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling. “Whoo man, you are sumpin’.”

You look at your feet, then steel yourself, turning around awkwardly to glance back at your cousin as she looks at you with wide, glaring, questioning eyes that grow even wider as she seems to get the gist of what’s going on and backs away in response to your silent hand movements signaling her to fuck off. Now. She quickly mouths an “Oh my god Elvis fucking Presley! I cannot believe you.” You shake your head at her, and turn back to Elvis.

“So if you’re not here to get your belt back, then……..?”

“You know I had my crew all over Jackson today lookin’ for you?���

Another gulp. You push yourself up and put your hands on your waist, pushing down the urge to run and jump onto his firm, wide waist and cling to his neck as you pepper his face with kisses. Summoned by the memory of his face looking up at you in awe as he brought you to climax while you rode him last night, slowly, forcefully, tears falling out as you orgasmed for the first time in god knows how long. You had tried to hide in his flesh, burying your face in the fur along his shoulder, embarrassed, blushing, trying to swallow the sobs that emerged uninvited. He’d coaxed you back out in front of him and shushed your whimpers as he wiped the tears away and whispered “everything’s ok, baby,” his hips continuing to meet yours as you fell even deeper on to his lap in a rhymic trance. His hands smoothing your face as you grasped his to yours and pressed your lips to his forehead, fucking away the pain and the loneliness and surging into Elvis' sweaty, warm, burly body.

That was then. You had allowed yourself to get caught up in the energy of the night, the concert, the party and the pull of Elvis’ magnetism as he’d focused his attentions on you. But the party was over, you had to go back to your life and you would be damned if you were going to make a fool of yourself fawning over him. You hate him right now. Last night was almost perfect, and now this is more than a one night stand. He’s making this hard, prolonging the inevitable and make the heartache even worse when it comes…. You resolve to get rid of Elvis… this is selfish and impossible and nothing good can come of dragging out what happened between you. Yes, fuck him.

 “Hmmm… still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re here?” You growl.

He steps toward you, inches from your face as he grabs your orange work vest and pushes you into the shelf behind you, the plastic of the paint swatch display board creaks against your body and you feel his weight press into you as the heat of his breath warms your ear. His left hand traces its way along his leather belt at your waist, pulling on the top of the buckle to bring you in closer. The air smells of cigars and a spicy, citrus cologne. Unlike you, Elvis had clearly showered today. His hair is slightly damp as it grazes your cheek, and he whispers.

 “No one talks to me like that… I don know who hurt ya, honey, but you can drop the cold ass bitch act right now… .” He kisses the nape of your neck, right below your ear, and you shudder. You can feel some of your shields start to retract and fold down as Elvis’ voice turns from vinegar to honey. His right hand slides up from your work vest to your neck, gripping the base tightly at first, then softening and caressing your collarbone. ”I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you all day… ya left without even saying goodbye…“

Your head slumps forward in response, his gruff tenderness melting the ice out of you, your arms began to make their way up his chest. You are about to kiss him, but then you think of all the reasons this is a bad bad BAD idea, so you slap his chest instead and fortify yourself, conjuring up the most lifeless expression you can.

“Maybe it was better that way. You should stop thinkin’ bout me, I’m ain’t thought of you since I walked outta that fancy hotel this mornin’… I went back to my real life and you should too.”

You slip out of his grasp, turning around after a few steps to look over you shoulder and say “But if that is what you came for, then I’ll give it to you and say goodbye,” and with that you walk to the back of the shop.

Elvis stands there, stunned. He covers his mouth with his hand, rubbing it as he thinks, the swinging door to the back of the store flaps back and forth as he watches your long, dark hair bounce up and down in a messy bun through the small, square window. What the fuck just happened? He thinks. Used to be them begging you to let them come back to the hotel wit ya…. you’re loosing it, ole man.  “No I ain’t, goddammit, it’s this fuckin’ stubborn ass chick…..why do you always like the crazy ones, huh Paco?” he mutters to himself, looking at the floor and shaking his head, before running his hand back through the fringe over his eyes. “Sonofabitch…” he growls, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as he marches after you.

You went to the storage room at the back, and leaned against the wall in-between stacks of building supplies and tools, hoping he had left. You take a deep breathe and think of last night. You had lied, of course you had, when you told Elvis that you hadn’t thought of him since you left his hotel this morning. You had been replaying the events in your mind all day…..

 ———

 Sunday, June 8th, 1975

 At this point in the summer you stop wearing make-up to work, the thick hot air in Jackson makes you rub your face so often it just felt ludicrous to try. It was almost 90 degrees outside, and your uncle refuses to put an air conditioner in his hardware store. There you sat, on top of the check out counter willing yourself to be as close to the ceiling fan as you could manage, when your cousin Danny rushed through the front door.

“Becky, you’ll never believe it!”

“What?”

“The station just gave me two press tickets for the Elvis concert tonight….”

“Since when are you press?

“I’m a DJ, aint I?”

“The overnight DJ….. how did you manage to swing these tickets over the prime time guys?”

“Well, George’s going tomorrow, and my boss didn’t realize we were getting passes for the three shows.. I was in the office when they got dropped off. “

Your sweaty thighs stuck to the counter as you slid off. You heart starts to beat faster, as you take in Danny’s intense energy.

“So wait, are you here because…..

“Wanna come?”

You squeal  and jump up and down once, then try to compose yourself. You’re a grown ass women. You have a 9 year old kid. Stop jumping up and down like a teenager.

“Are you sure? You wanna bring me? What time does it start?”

“OK, so…..yes and yes - you’re the biggest Elvis geek I know…. concert starts at 8:30.”

“What about Ruth….?”

“My mom will watch her…. come on, Becks, when was the last time you cut loose?”

You nodded, wiping you brow, a hundred thoughts run through your head and collide. It had been over six months since you went out for a night on the town... New Years Eve.

“Pick ya up at 6:30? I wanna get there early….”

“Danny, that only gives me an hour to get back to the house and get ready…”

Harriet walked back in with your popsicles from the drug store next door,

“…Get ready for what?”

Of course Harriet covered for you. You sped back to your aunt and uncle’s house where you live with your 9 year old daughter Ruth. You shower quickly, mainly focusing on the crotch and underarms, no time for hair washing. That swampy humid mess would have to be pinned up. The few nice dresses you owned were too boring for a concert, they were for synagogue, or PTO meetings. It’s that or jeans, babe…..

Your eyes fall on your mustard yellow bell bottoms, a little more fun than jeans, these could look cool with a cute blouse and some gold hoop earrings. Understated. You want to be comfortable anyway. OK, outfit accomplished.

You had to choose between make-up and saying goodnight to Ruth, isn’t that how it always is…..?   The thing about having a kid is that you never get to do everything on your list, you always have to choose, and the list is constantly expanding. You make your way to the living room where your daughter was watching TV with your aunt Ida, uncle Saul humming as he does the dishes in the kitchen. You grab a piece of garlic bread from the table, and, munching, sit down next to Ruth, mussing her hair.

“Y’all sure this is ok? We might be out real late…”

“Mom…. yes, you’re life is sooo boring. Finally I’ll have something to say about you at school.”

“Ok, great…you’ll appreciate boring when you get older…I love ya, baby, I’ll see you in the morning when I wake you up.” At 6 am….. DO NOT STAY OUT LATE, you warn yourself.

You stand up to go wait outside but Ida follows, walking over and cupping your face in her hands.

“You should be going out and having some fun, Rebecca, you’re 25 —

“I’m 26, Ida…almost 27”

“Ok, I’m sorry, 26, that’s a big difference, practically ancient…oy vey, my girl… 26 is still young….. Saulie and I used to go out, we went out even after we had the kids….We still like to go out, you know, your uncle can really cut a rug….”

“She speaks the truth!” Your uncle yells from the kitchen, poking his head out of the door way and wiggling his hips. “See, I can shake my hips just like Elvis.”

Ruthie busts up with giggles. Ida smiles, and tries to smooth your hair as you push her mothering hands away.

“You deserve this, kidlet. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone?”

“Yes, mom, bring me home a new dad…”

You shot Ruth a stern look, she was getting too sarcastic for 4th grade…. I wonder where she gets that?

“I’m not even looking for that, any guy who would pick me up at a concert isn’t new daddy material…they’re all sleezebags… I’m just excited to get out and dance and see Elvis … I don’t have time for a man anyway….  ”

“Don’t use me as an excuse for being boring and miserable mom….”

Then Ruth looks back at the TV. The sound of Danny’s car horn blasts through the walls.

“I’m gonna miss Rhoda tonight, maybe I shouldn’t go….”

“Leave!” “Get lost already!” “Have fun!” Your family yells, and you smile to yourself as you ran out into the night, jumping over the car door into your cousin’s white convertible with a thump as you sink down into the seat.

“Hmm, I thought you were gonna dress up a bit…”

“This was all I had time for, Danny boy. Plus, I don’t wanna scare off any of the girls who show up hot and heavy for Elvis and decide to settle for you…”

“Ha. Ha. Haaaaa.” Your cousin smiles, as he punches you in the shoulder, and you grab the joint from his other hand to suck it in - coughing as the rough sweet smoke hits the back of your throat. When was the last time you got high? New Years Eve? That was also the last time you got laid…. And it wasn’t even good. Why not indulge tonight? You ask yourself. All rules were out the window and you felt your heart beating through your chest as the cool air washed over you. You determined to leave all the baggage and bullshit at home, tonight was just for you.

 You arrive at the coliseum around 7, one of Danny’s press badges hung around your neck as he led you through the back entrance into a large lounge. You let him do his thing schmoozing with some of the other people he knew from the Jackson radio and TV scene. Grabbing a beer, you walked through the crowd, looking at the posters from previous concerts and events on the wall. It was nice to just be silent, the freedom of not knowing or caring about anyone around you made you giddy. And the pot. And the beer. Those made you giddy, too. Danny found you before the show and ushered you to the press area, it was at the left side, only about 15 feet from the stage. You drank another beer, and started to move, even with no music playing, as you settled into being a part of the masses ebbing and flowing, moving with the heightened expectancy that hung in the air. You embraced the anonymity of being in the dark among thousands of people. The smell of hash wafted through the building, mixing with cigarette smoke, beer and sweat, all of which intensified when the music kicked off and the audience went wild. Danny lights up another joint and you both add to the earthy atmosphere in the audience.

Elvis ran through the blue curtains on the other side of the stage, wearing a white jumpsuit with wide bell-cut pants, wider than the ones you were wearing, a zebra pattern zig zagging down his legs. His top was open down his chest, with a wide collar, the hint of a belly protruding out. It was more pronounced when he leaned back and put his hands on his hips, exuding confidence and sheer joy as he absorbed the audiences’ energy. Elvis was older, broader and hairier than in any of the films you’d seen, it made him seem more powerful. The excitement in the arena was palpable, you throw back your head and let the music take over your body, dancing, jumping, unabashedly diving into the the moment. The feeling of your hoop earrings hitting your neck was sensual and felt so good, you turn your head side-to-side through the night just to feel them graze you again. You watch as women run up to the stage throughout the show, noticing how Elvis came alive and laughed as he bends down to kiss them and give them scarves. You’re overtaken by his voice, you expected it to be diminished by age or overuse, but it is more forceful in person, ripping through you and compelling you to let it own your entire being. Especially when he belts out those deep long notes. The sound waves crash into you, filling in the cracks from your broken, fucked up disappointed life, all your worries and obligations dissolve as the music takes over and you move with the throng.

The show ends, and Danny lights up another joint and passes it as you sit down to wait for the crowd to disperse. He smiles at you, laughing at your sweaty, giddy expression.

“You look happy, you look younger…I’m guessing this was fun, yes?…. Whose your favorite cousin?”

You hesitate for effect, then laugh and say “You….. course….”

“Good, because I need a favor...one of the producers invited me and the other radio DJs to the after party…. It would be a good networking opportunity… it would be a real nuisance to drive you home and back, I’d loose like an hour…..”

This sobers you up, and you purse your lips, starting to shake your head

“Maybe I should just grab a taxi home…”

“I thought you left grumpy Becky at home…? Come one, fun buzzed Becks wants to party…. You might even meet Elvis…”

“Ha, yeah… no, I don’t think so, I haven’t got the nerve….”

“There’ll be free food…?”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, jackass… I’m in, only because you got me stoned and I’m hungry… Let’s make a pact - we leave by midnight?”

“Yeah, no problemo - its only 10:15 now…. I have to be at the station anyway before 2 am to get ready for my show, so no argument from me…”

“Ok, cool….oy….I already know I’m gonna to feel this in the morning…”

The party is in the presidential suite of the Belhaven Hotel, it may be the only suite like this in Jackson, you think as you walk in, it is certainly the only one you have ever been in. You feel completely out of your element as you take in the ornate decor, the sheer largesse of the suite, with its kitchen, lounge and separate bedroom, it might be bigger than the house you live in with three other people. You try to feel at ease, embrace the high you still feel, the Eagles are playing on the stereo and the party is already in full swing. The women are what you used to call cotton club debs back home in Birmingham, they looked like the country club set who came from old tobacco or cotton money, just sluttier. Maybe they’re high class hookers? You giggle as you think this, but you feel even more self-conscious as you swear you see one whisper to her friend “Who let the trash in?” when you walk by. Danny is uninhabited, he’s an extrovert, especially now when he’s around music people, he doesn’t even notice the glamorous guests or surroundings, he just rushes in and starts talking to people. You nod at him as he introduces you to some of the other local DJs, some one hands you a beer, and you start to relax.

It’s another hour before Elvis and his entourage arrive, but it was impossible to miss their entrance. Everything stopped as they walked in and you felt the rush of air as people swarmed towards the man of the hour. You did not even try to get close, you watch from afar. He was wearing sunglasses and a silk blue collared shirt under a heavy fur coat. In June. In June in Mississippi. A season when the air hugs you tightly just to let you know that you belong to it and the overgrown kudzo and the deep red dirt.

It’s surreal to be in the same room as Elvis Presley, and you take in his stance and the group around him, watch as he kisses the women who push their way up to him. You quickly decide that this is definitely not your scene, you don’t want to ruin your fantasy or memories of listening to Elvis’ music and marinating in the sweet, tender neediness you always felt his voice conveyed. The Elvis in front of you strikes you as cocksure, jaded, larger than life and he knows it - dressed like a superfly pimp straight out of Shaft. You shake your head, everything from this night has coalesced into an absurd adventure. You owe Danny for this, you haven’t had this much fun in a while. You turn around to go find a drink, opting for a Pepsi as you realize its already 1145 and you want to be somewhat not drunk when you drag Danny out of here and go home in the next half hour or so.

12:15 rolls around, Danny is no where to be seen and you find yourself cornered in the kitchen being talked at by Joe, a short stocky guy from Elvis’ entourage. He’s wearing a printed shirt, leather jacket, is coming on hard and getting handsy. You know he is part of Elvis’ crew because he said it five fucking times. You can’t figure out why he’s chatting you up, but you gave him a fake name because he makes you feel uncomfortable with the way he’s boxing you in to the corner and licking his lips. He smells like hamburgers and too much cologne. Its not fair, if he was handsome or charming, you probably wouldn’t care. But he’s neither, you’re not interested and you’ve been politely trying to give him the cold shoulder. The night would have been perfect if you had left 30 minutes ago, goddamn you Danny, where are you? You accidentally let a laugh out as you think of Ida’s hopeful look, Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight. Assholes and married men, Ida, that’s all that’s left for me. You laugh again, in your own head, wondering what she would think of the prospect in front of you and then you notice his stare and try to remember what he was telling you about Chicago, but you can’t so you start to giggle. Fuck, you are still buzzed and a little high.

“What’s so funny?”

You tell the truth, why not, you don’t care what Joe buddy here thinks.

“I didn’t really have time to get ready for the show tonight, I came straight from work, I didn’t think any guy would even bother me, ‘specially with all them here.” You motion to the other partiers, the gorgeous women decked out with big hair and big make up and little dresses.

Joe misinterprets what you are saying, you’re trying to give him the brush off, let him know he is bothering you, but he thinks you doubt his intentions and moves in closer, reassuring you that he’s definitely trying to fuck you as he puts his hand on your waist. Uh oh…

“Hey, that’s why I came over here, I like plain girls, I don’t care for those high maintenance types. You look so normal… it really turns me on.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, you cringe as the hand at your waist tightens. “Plus, my boss over there gets competitive,  I knew I wouldn’t get in EP’s crosshairs talking to a girl like you.”

“Gee, thanks…” you say, as you whisper into your drink, “I can see why he sees you as competition, you are a real lady killer….. pure charm….”

Whack!

Something small and hard hits you in your eye and you stagger to the side, crying out loudly in pain as you feel the sting of salt, salt? and hear your voice boom “What the fucking cocksucking fuck was that?”

The room is quiet, except for some hushed laughs, and you look down to see a pretzel on the floor, how did a small projectile weapon turn into a pretzel after it hit you square in the eye? Fuck you’re still high….. You clutch your right eye protectively as you look around the room and notice Elvis Presley, the Elvis Presley, looking at you like the cat who swallowed the canary and pointing to the short white guy next to him.

“I saw Charlie here throw it, miss, he was a-a-a aimin’ for that bastard a standing beside ya…he just can’t throw for shit is all.” A laugh escapes Elvis’ lips, but then he summons a solemn face. The music is turned back up, and conversations rekindle as you watch Elvis stride toward you. He throws off his coat on the back of the couch, sauntering over slowly with his hands out in front of him. As he gets closer, he pushes his sunglasses down a smidge and you can see his blue eyes, mirthful but also tired, with a dash of sympathy for you.

“Let me take a look at ya, honey, don’t worry, I’m a medical expert.”

Elvis reaches for your hand, pulling it aside and pushing your chin up with the other. You feel the cold metal of his ring press into the bottom of your jaw. A shiver moves up your spine at his touch. Your eye still smarts as you blink up at him. Up close, you can see the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the creases in his neck, but he is still astonishingly handsome. So much for not talking to Elvis.

“You swear like a sailor, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Only after they try to blind me…”

Elvis laughs as he looks at you, and you try to be cool and act like you are just talking to a random guy at a random party that you randomly ended up at.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc, think I’ll be able to keep it?”

Elvis chuckles.

“Joe, go be useful for once and get some ice in a napkin for ——“

“Rachel —— “ Joe answers for me. You immediately regret telling Joe your name is Rachel, you would have liked to hear Elvis say your real name in that throaty baritone voice.

“For Rachel here… that’s a good boy, off ya go, she wadn’t interested in your ugly mug anyhow.”

A scowl passes over Joe’s ugly mug, but he does as he’s told. Your eyes meet Elvis’ as he turns back to you and steps closer, tracing your eyebrow with his fingers, pushing his belly into you, blocking your view of the rest of the party, the rest of the world, the entire universe is just Elvis Presley’s thick body. You shudder, and he feels it, a crooked grin breaking out across his face as he relishes the heavy breathe that escapes your mouth, as if he likes provoking this nervous response from women. You feel like you just lost some sort of wrestling match you never sign up for.

“I’m a healer, you know, I have a gift…. I can touch your affliction and make it go away…” his face is boyish almost and his eyes are alight as he jokes around.You feel yourself soften, something about Elvis’ warmth and the steady hand that has made its way to your waist puts you at ease.

“That’s lucky, cuz I’m fairly convinced you were the one tryin’ to blind me.”

“Huh, you sayin Imma a liar….?”

“You said it, not me….I jus think you looked awful guilty when I looked over is all… poor Charlie….”

“He’ll be alright, he’s used to covering for me by now.”

“So you admit it - a ha!”

“I really was a aimin’ for Diamond Joe over there… though you looked so unhappy, maybe I did ya a favor—“

“Don’t worry, I am quite capable of taking care of myself, if you hadn—“

“Well, ya looked stuck to me - but hey, let’s Joe back over here and I’ll leave y’all to it….”

You hit Elvis in the chest, “Don’t. Please.”

He grabs your hand and holds it there, his other still soothing the area around your  eye, and you instinctively pull in closer to him when Joe returns with the ice, grunted a “here,” before stomping off. Like you said, pure charm.

“Hey honey, let me do that,” Elvis holds the ice over your eye, his other hand now rests on top of your shoulder. You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how late it is and where the fuck Danny is and why you are starting to feel aroused looking up at Elvis’ long hair and meaty jaw hovering over you, his eyes amused as he feels you fidget with your hands on the counter.

“I was a aimin’ for Joe, just so we’re clear…”

“Ok, well in that case I forgive you…”

“Good, so we can be friends, then?”

“Sure…”

“You enjoy yourself tonight?”

“T’wasn’t bad, I’m just not, you know, not a big Elvis fan…”

Elvis grins, leaning closer.

“Me neither…. I fuckin’ hate Elvis…”

You exhale, bite your lip, fuck, fuck fuck…. are you flirting with him? Was he flirting with you? A tingling feeling starts in your core, it scares you, you haven’t felt that electric burn in a while. You clamp up, feeling how intimate and close you’ve become with him.

“OK, I think I’m good,” you say, pushing Elvis’ hand away from your eye.

Elvis’ steps back, but doesn’t move, he stays there looking at you, and after a few awkward moments you can’t bear it anymore. You think of something that will get rid of that urge to pull him to you and rip off his clothes, will get rid of him….

“Guess you really do have healing powers, maybe you can do something about my genital warts.”

You say it with a straight face, some dry humor to break the mood. Oh dear god what is wrong with you and why did you say the first thing that came to your head. No more pot for you. Ever. Elvis is silent for a beat, and then leans his head back in a loud, deep belly laugh.

“Man, you are one funny chick….man” he laughed again,

“Oh no, I’m 100 percent serious,”

“Baby, if you wanted to show me your beaver, you don’t need no pretense, jus go right ahead…”

You look down, inhaling, You thought he’d be grossed out and step aside. You see Danny emerge through suite’s door with a few of his friends, he must have gone outside to smoke more pot or something. You look back at Elvis.

“Usually talking about genital warts has the opposite effect on men, scares ‘em off.”

“That what you tryin to do? Get rid of me? Or seduce me?”

“Get rid of you... I usually prefer talking to good looking men.” You smirk, raising an eye brow.

Elvis clasped his hands on his heart, pursing his lips, and staggers back a step in mock despair. You smile again, then look at your watch: 12:50. Time to go, time to turn back into a pumpkin. Elvis follows your eyes, a look of disapproval on his face as you notices you checking the time, but before he can say anything, Charlie comes up and whispers in Elvis’ ear that the governor just arrived with his wife, and they are ready to take a photo downstairs.

“Hey, alright, honey, don’t go anywheres I’ll be right back.”

You nod, but the second Elvis’ is out of sight you move quickly, grabbing Danny.

“Where were you? I have to wake up Ruth in five hours, then open the store…”

“Were you just talking to Elvis?”

“Yes…. I’ll tell you ‘bout in the car, let’s go….” As you walk, you stop Danny on the shoulder. “I gotta pee, you go get the car and I’ll meet you at the front door?”

Danny nods, and you find the bathroom. Washing your hands, you catch yourself in the mirror and smile. You look tired, pale, and exhausted, but also happy - there is a glow in your eyes you haven’t seen in a while. “Hey stranger…. it’s good to see fun Becky,” you say to your reflection, smiling deeper, still exhilarated from the concert, the party, the few moments you spent with Elvis. You need to make a point of going out more often.

You’re still smiling as you wait for the elevator, when you look up to see Elvis come off with Charlie, Joe and another guy you haven’t met. He locks eyes with you.

“You ain’t leavin’?” He asks, looking down at you above his sunglasses.

“I gotta…” you mumble. Elvis flicks his head towards the hotel suite and the guys go ahead without him. He steps toward you backing you into the hallway table across from the elevator as he follows you, and lightly touches your waist.

“Like hell ya are, I told ya I would be right back…haven’t had the chance to work my healin’ powers over that pussy a your's yet…”

You gasp and look up at him, eyes full of shock as you take in his devious, dark blue eyes. He works his hand down over your pants, between your legs, cupping you there. You pull back.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression…”

“Hmmm…. Are you sure….?” He whispers deeply in your ear, then kisses your neck. You pull back further, but his body moves with you and he lifts you on to the side table, thrusting between your legs, his wide berth pushing you open.

“I didn’t come here trying to get with you——“

“I know it honey ——“ He says as he starts to kiss your neck.

“——I’m not a groupie——“ You say, a feverish moan escaping your lips as Elvis presses his soft lips to your mouth. You feeling the tight charge of arousal ignite.

He pauses, looking into your eyes. “Trust me, I can tell——“

Elvis kisses you again, groaning slightly, you feel his tongue in your mouth, gentle, then rough, then his teeth tug on your bottom lip. You gasp again, as he holds you steady at the waist, kissing the top of your exposed left shoulder, grunting.

 “— I never do this —  … there’s a whole room of women over there who came here to ju  ——“

Elvis moves a finger up to your lips, his other hand pulling on the empty belt loops at the side of your pants, looking at you, holding you close.

“Shhh, stop that now, those hens s’are as boring as hell, rather be with you, you can tell me all about those genital warts——“

“Ughhh, don’t remind me I said that… I don’t even know why…”

“Me neither suga… I don’t know why but that was the moment….I thought, if this girl has VD she’s probably real good in the sack…I gotta find out tonight…“ he laughs as his hands move under your blouse, slowly, and he takes in the heave of your breathing, pushing his hands under your bra as he rest them on your breasts while they moving up and down with each inhale. His eyes are locked with yours, not asking for permission but watching for rebuff. The delicate touch of his fingers feels so good, you close your eyes and part your lips in a low exhale. Your earrings hit your neck as you turn your head slightly and you let out a small moan.

“I never do this…one night stands… not with rock stars…..not with anyone….” You pull on his buckle, drawing him in, kissing his chest.

“S’ok, baby, I’ve done it a lot, I’ll show ya how it works——“ his face cracks into a crooked grin.

You laugh, then sober up for a moment as you take in the this situation, this has gotten out of hand. You look at Elvis and let go of his pants, pushing him back and pulling down your bra and your shirt. You are in a public hallway, what the fuck are you doing?

“Oh god oh god…. I can’t……my cousin brought me to this party, he just went to get the car - I need to go——“

Elvis charges back into you, his forehead meeting yours as he leans in and his voice echoes in the space between your mouth and his.

“Go tell him you’re gonna stay … I’ll go get rid of everyone else….”

“Shut down your party?”

“Yup… there’s only one thing I wanna do and it ain’t listening to the goddamn Eagles or making small talk with strangers….”

“I don’t—“

“You want me to go downstairs and tell your cousin I’m gonna fuck your brains out? Don’t try me, women, cause honey, I will….”

You exhale again and look up as he caresses your thighs, the aching need to pull him into you overpowering any sense or reason in your head.

“Fuck it,” he growls. “You’re comin’ with me, I’ll send Jerry downstairs, I’m not lettin’ ya outta my goddamn sight.”

You just nod, dumbstruck, your vagina has taken over and will be making all the decisions from now on. She is telling you to find somewhere more private to tear this man’s clothes off. Now. Elvis pushes back into kiss you, your arms reach up around his neck, his eyes ablaze, you think he is reading your mind.

“Ok,” you stutter as he smiles, lifting you off the table and gripping you around your waist to walk you back into the hotel suite. He motions for one of the guys, whispering into his ear. The man nods and leaves. Oh god Danny, don’t judge me…. You think to yourself.

Elvis loosens his grip on you and walks to the center of the room, yelling out, “Alright everyone, I reckon I’m ready to turn in.”

You watch as Charlie turns the stereo off, and starts turning off the main lights, leaving a few table lamps aglow. Others start guiding people out. Elvis winks at you as he says good night to the guests while they leave, and you make your way to the sofa, plopping down, looking up at the ceiling. Trying to get a handle on the electricity running through your belly, the anxious, nervy feeling of anticipation. You haven’t had sex in six months. And that wasn’t even good sex…. it’s too depressing to wonder how long its been. What if you are bad…or boring in bed…. How did this happen? How much you will regret it tomorrow? You shove those thoughts away, all you want is to feel Elvis strong fingers again on your skin. Joe comes out of the kitchen area and glares at you, pulling out a piece of paper, he calls out the names of Elvis’ entourage and gives each of them room keys, a few have women hanging on their shoulders. Joe is the last to leave, giving Elvis a salute, you hear them mutter a few words to each other, and then its just you.

Elvis turns towards you, wiggling his eye brows as he strides over. You let out a nervous giggling shriek, and jump up. He grabs your hand and pulls you into him.

“Alright honey, first lesson in one night stands - find the bedroom….” He kisses the top of your head, you stretch your arm around him, grabbing flesh at his hips as you lean into his shoulder.

You follow Elvis’ lead pushing off shoes as you enter the bed room suite. You shudder, nervous, aroused, exhausted but also WIDE awake, lust and adrenaline pounding up from your toes into your chest. You look over at him.

“You want something to drink?”

You shake your head, and slip from his shoulder to pivot in front of him, moving your fingers up his chest and around his neck, spreading them over his shoulders.

“Naked?”

“Huh?” he asks.

“I’m just guessing here, but step two is getting naked, right?”

You gently and deliberately start to unbutton his shirt, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“Whoo, slow down baby… I’m a gonna grab some water, its been a long night… let’s take it ….slow….” Elvis winks at you again as you breathe in, and he strolls over to the side table to pour himself a glass of water.

He sits on the big chair in the corner, and pats his thigh, summoning you and you answer, sliding onto his lap and running your hand through his hair as you rest your arm across his shoulder. Elvis takes a sip, then brings the glass to your lips, watching your neck as he tilts the glass further. You feel him stiffen a bit in his pants as he watches you gulp the water down, straining slightly to match the pace at which he pours the liquid into your mouth, a satisfied smirk spreading across his lips as he stops and finishes the water himself, slamming the glass down with a potent clang on the side table. You swallow, jutting out your chin, watching his eyes lids droop for a moment with desire, he is still wearing his sunglasses and he stops your hand from removing them.

“I need ‘em to see, baby…I’m an ole ole man….” he says, somewhat playfully, but you sense, for the first time tonight a vulnerability there…. you want to comfort him. You nod, accepting this without question, reaffirming your attraction as you bend to kiss him, your lips needy and firm as his right hand comes up to caress your cheek with his fingers.

“Wearing glasses doesn’t make ya old, you know….my sister was wearing glasses at three….. old men can’t do what you did on stage tonight, I’d like to see my daddy try… now he is an old man.”

“I’m probably old enough to be your daddy….” His voice drops a register, and he grins, his hand moves to your throat as he kisses you back.

“I don’t think these glasses are working, you woulda have to be, uh, 12  or 14 when you had me,”

He pulls back, looking you over.

“What, aren’t you about 20, 21…?

“Uh uh, now you’re making me feel old…I’m ‘bout to be 27 next month…”

“Man, my sight is really going, I usually only go for hot young chicks….”

“Ha, well, like I said, I usually like my men handsome, but here we are,” you add with an impish smile, and he laughs.

“Yeah…. here.. we…are…” he says, slowly, softly, as he moves to lift your blouse over your head and undo your bra, sitting back to stroke his fingers across your breast, his eyes darkening as he tweaks both of your nipples at the same time.

Your eyes close as a “fuckkkk” slips out of your mouth. You feel the blood run to your core as it starts to pulsate. You open your eyes and watch Elvis’s lips part as his eyes are wide with want and desire, he tugs again, a little harder, and you stifle a low scream because the insistent mix of pain and pleasure is sending a current of want through your chest and down into your tingling clit. He releases, and you press into him, your kisses are now demanding, and his tongue meets yours as you start to unbutton his shirt, the silky fabric welcoming as you insistently grasp his chest and neck. You are driven by an aching awareness that Elvis is wearing too much clothing, and you seek out contact with his warm skin. You come up for air, his shirt is pulled out from his pants, his lips are at your neck, and you can feel his erection as your hands release the last button from the bottom of his shirt. You swallow hard, feeling as though you might erupt, and he raises his right eyebrow at you, and you feel his hands push gently on your shoulder, pushing you down between his legs, his eyes are filled with a dark, savage need, tempered by his questioning eyebrow, and you bite your lip and work on unbuckling his belt. What the fuck is this buckle, it’s huge and too hard to undo... its different from the costume belt that he wore over this jumpsuit at the show, this one has an engraved, elaborate gold sheriff’s star as its buckle.

Elvis shakes his head, batting away your hands as he undoes his own belt, unzips his pants and lifts to pull down his trousers. There is no underwear, just the long expanse of Elvis’ cock at half mast, hardened but not taut, a curiosity in both size and the foreskin rolling back to reveal the head. You’ve never encountered an uncircumcised penis before, and you reach your fingers forward gently to touch the head, following with your mouth to lightly kiss it, sweetly, tenderly, your eyes moving upward as you watch Elvis looking down at you, his mouth agape, his lip curled back in pleasure as your own arousal builds between your legs. You steady yourself on your knees and open your mouth wider to take him in half way, pulling in as you return to the tip to create suction that is rewarded with the low utterance of a “goddamn…” His head tilts back in pleasure, and his hand moves through your hair, down your jawline where his knuckles gently caress your cheek as you push back on to him, and he grips your hair, pulling. The firm tug hurts, you start to feel like his cock is suffocating you but the insistent pace causes your own arousal to spread, you feel it right below your chest as you surge in and out, sucking and breathing hard and following with your hand, as you feel his cock strain and flex in response to the encouragement of your mouth. The butterflies in your belly flutter as you hear him groan every time you swell forward to take him to the hilt and push through the gagging feeling at the back of your throat. You savor the firm, salty musk of his manhood as his hand yanks your hair even tighter, and he draws you on in an increased rhythm.

“Fuckin’ goddammit woman, ughhhh…. “ his fingers pull you back into him, then let go as he pulls out of you mouth.  “Whooo, whoo….. don’t wanna blow my gasket just yet…..”

You scoot backwards, still on your  knees, wiping the spit from your mouth as Elvis joins you on the floor, removing your earrings from each ear, pulling each one out slowly, his mouth open in concentration, tenderly kissing your earlobe as he does this, before taking off his glasses. Elvis sits up on his haunches, you rest on your knees across from him and he pulls you in, kissing you as his hands move to your pants fidgeting with them.

“It’s ‘bout time these came off….”

You pull his shirt and throw it to the side before he pushes you below him on the carpet,

 He hovers above you, still fully erect, and you help as he tugs off your pants and underwear and throws them to the side. Calmly, gently, Elvis leans over you and kisses you, his fingers finding you moist and welcoming between your legs. He pushes your knees apart, looking down into your sex, thumbing your nub, and whistles.

“Don’t see anything amiss ‘round here… looks, pretty, pink, healthy…. must be my healing powers working already…”

You let out a “Ha!” Followed by an insistent come hither curling of your index finger, you almost don’t recognize the brazen hussy who has possessed your body and commands Elvis, saying “I know it’s pretty baby, but I didn’t open my legs just you for you to stare - come here and fuck me already.”

“Hey…don’t tell me what to do, woman!”

Then he tickles you at the hips, his eyes laughing as he moves between your legs and leans to shut you up with a forceful kiss.

He looks into your eyes, raises his eyebrows in question as he hesitates, but then pushes forward - looking down as he enters, slowly, and you gasp and clench at the sharp first thrust. Elvis moves thoughtfully, gently, his eyes look to yours, exhaling deeply as he pulls out after only going into you halfway.

“I can feel you tense up, honey,” he says, and you feel embarrassed. Watching the cloud pass over your eyes and he soothes you, rubbing your side.

“It’s been a while….” You try to explain. But you are slightly perplexed, you’ve never had a guy pause, they’ve always just shoved their way in and after the first few thrusts it would be ok….

“Ain’t nothin wrong with a tight little puss, I just need to go find a shoe horn or something….”

You belt out another laugh.

“I don’t know how I should feel with you making jokes about my pussy as you fuck me….”

“Huhhh, I’m kidding round…. just needs some attention s’all….” And he grins, a wicked grin, and you gasp as you cannot believe what Elvis is doing. Your last boyfriend never did this, and the one before that made it very clear what a chore it was…

You push up on you elbows as you watch him kiss your nipples and work his way down to the bottom of your belly, planting a kiss on the top of that hairy patch guarding your entrance. Elvis parts your cunt, biting his lip, looking back up at you as you take in the largess of his tan body, the slight paunch at his center and watch as his arm shakes a little when he rests down on his elbow . He licks your clit softly with his tongue, slowly, looking up at you as he does, letting his spit work down to your opening. You shudder with each fervent lap, it is almost too intense, and your hips buck forth reflexively as you relish and embrace each flick, calling out to the ceiling as he uses his fingers to work you open. Elvis moves closer, worshiping you with his tongue, his head rocks up and down, his breathing heavy, you feel a tingling around your core as you become slippery. As your desire builds, you grip his hair and pull him up you.

“Bed,” you are able to breath out, “let’s go to the bed.”

Elvis nods, standing above you and pulling you up, letting you lead him to the soft, satin sheets that have been waiting patiently for you while foolishly got carpet burn on your ass. He jumps ahead of you on to the bed, rolling over and positioning himself against the headboard and grinning a dumb, goofy sex smile.

“Get up here and let a man catch his breath.”

You slap his shoulder, lifting your knee as you straddle over him, guiding his cock into you, watching him closely as you bear down slowly and use his shoulders to steady your movement. A low sigh escapes his mouth as you hit down on his hips, completely enveloping him into you.

“Oh Gawd almighty…..”

You smile, and thrust your self back and forth, rocking into him, your mouth breathing into his forehead as his arms grip the sides of your waist, pulling you up, then moving to your breasts, cupping over them as they bounce up and down with your movements. The sensation is heady, intimate, his brow becomes sweaty and his lips purse into a diamond shape as his breath is measured and quick. You plunge down, burying him deep inside your soft cunt, his eyes begging you to continue,

“Oh god baby, gawd…fuck”  

Looking into his eyes an intensity builds as you almost breath in tandem with each other. His fingers hold onto you, firm, rough, possessing you, he grunts as he speeds up the pace with his hands on your handles.

You start to feel an overpowering flame erupt in your core, tears forming at the side of your eyes unbidden. A sob bursts forth. Elvis stops moving, his lip is still curled in intense passion but his eyes are questioning.

“You ok, honey?”

You nod your head, and keep going, riding the waves of your orgasm as you bounce up and down on him, burying your head into him, wiping the tears on his hairy shoulders, grabbing his neck and pulling your self closer.You laugh, sob, then laugh again, sitting back in the saddle of his lap, holding the thick handles at his waist and wiping your eyes. He slows his upward thrusts, soothing your face with the back of his hand.

“I’m ok, I’ve just never cum during sex before… I didn’t think I could…. I dunno why I am crying, its just … ugh… so silly…” and you laugh again.

He holds you at your shoulders, feeling you tremble, leaning up to kiss you.

“Ain’t nothin more natural, honey, s’fucking hot is what it is… ”

You pick up your pace, smiling, letting him draw you in closer as he pushes his face between your breasts, then holds you still.

“I’m close, I gotta get on top,” he announces, and you fall back, as he moves onto you from above, rolling into you slowly, gently looking in your eyes to make sure you are ok. You grab him to you, your legs wrapping around him as you move your hips up to meet his thrusts and he plunges in more vigorously, grunting and heaving and breathing out quickly. The close hum of your bodies anchored together is so heady, you feel like you are merging, like you are breaking each other apart and becoming something new together. The view of him over you, gasping, sweaty, his hair hanging down over you, is intoxicating.

“Goddammit…. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, “ he yells, as he pulls out of you and explodes on your belly, jerking him self with a few final tugs of his wrist, and you sigh and lean up to watch. He then collapses back, your heads now point in opposite directions, your limbs intertwined in a sweaty, heaving mess. You don’t care about the sticky liquid that drips off you onto the bed, you just need to catch your breath.

“Goddamn, goddamn….” He mutters under his breath, moving his head to look over at you. He pushes himself off the bed with a bit of strain and a sharp exhale, walking to the bathroom and returning with a towel.

“Such a gentlemen,” you murmur and he chuckles, as you wipe your self off, watching him stroll over to one of his travel cases and pull out medicine vials. He brings them back, and sits next to you on the edge of the bed, unfastening them and tossing back a few pills without needing any water. He looks over at you.

“Want some… they help me sleep…”

You shake your head

“Get in here, s’bedtime” He says, again, its not so much a request as a command. A tenderly voiced command as Elvis lies back, and pulls you into him and you nestle your chin on his chest.

“Gawd, honey, I don’t know what ta say… I haven’t rassled like that in a good long while…”

He sees you lift your eyebrow.

“Hey, you don’t have ta believe me. Maybe I’m not old, but I’m not young neither… I’m forty…. forrrteeee……and I feel it. I feel it…. I love preforming, but it takes the wind out of me…  just wanna pass out more nights after a show on the road than not.”

“Huh….. same.”

“Ha…”

“I never do this, on a weeknight?” I tell him. “Between work and life, I’m fit to pass out by 10.” You think of Ruth, how much you love her, how much you wouldn’t go back and change anything, but also how the last 10 years seem to have sped by and you’ve almost time traveled to thirty and still haven’t figured out what you want to do with with your life or how you will do it because its hard enough to just get through each day... but why think about these things now, you left that behind for tonight...

Elvis pulls you in tighter, kissing the top of your forehead, and you are brought back to the moment, you want to stay in this as long as you can.

You talk for a bit, mumblings, as you tell him how you work two jobs, live with your aunt and uncle, work at their hardware store, grew up in Birmingham, he seems genuinely interested. You decide not to mention that you moved here after you got knocked up at 16, you decide not to tell him about Ruth, something in the back of your head warns you not to get too deep, share too much. Though you almost tell Elvis your real name, guilt tugs at your conscious. What you have shared feels intensely intimate, you’re here naked, lying in his arms, having experienced sex unlike any sex you’ve ever had. The word sex doesn’t even seem to really describe what this was. You usually find one night stands disappointing, selfish, focused on getting some asshole off who doesn’t know your body or care to find out.

After about ten minutes Elvis words start to run together, he kisses you absentmindedly on your head as he starts to slur nonsense, as if he were drunk or fucked up. Those must be some sleeping pills. In moments he is passed out completely. You lay next to him, tracing your finger along the ridge of his chest, down his belly to his hips and back. Looking at his face, trying to burn this moment into your mind forever, so you will always be able to conjure it up when you want to, when he is gone and you go back to the daily hustle. You turn and look at the clock. It’s 4 am. You lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep but you are nervous, adrenaline is still running through you, working against the post coital nod. By 4:45, Elvis is snoring, and you decide to just enjoy the feeling of being next to a man, next to this man. You play with the waddle under his chin, stroking it gently with your thumb.

At 5 am you slip yourself out of Elvis’ hold and get dressed, realizing you cannot look out of the windows to see how bright it is because they’re covered with aluminum foil behind the curtains. Glancing around, you suddenly feel the urge to take something. You grab that goddamn tricky belt with the sheriff star buckle, and put it in your purse. Then you help yourself to one of his rings, a large diamond star that fits on your ring finger, you throw that in your purse as well. Souvenirs to look at when you want to remember tonight. You sneak out of the bedroom, staggering back when you spot Joe sitting on the couch, his face lit by the embers of a cigarette he is smoking in the dark, contempt in his eyes as he watches you walk out.

“Hope you had fun…”

“Thanks, I did…”

He takes a drag of his cigarette, and blows it towards you.

“Congrats, you must be quite talented, I didn’t take you for a groupie…..but I also didn’t think the old boy could still get it up, he’s usually so stoned out of his gourd on those fucking pills……..”

Your eyes narrow as Joe continues.

“You know, he only screwed you to make me mad… it’s something he does, he likes to play games with us, his friends, his employees…. fuck with our heads, show us whose boss…never, ever, in a million years would he have fucked a thick, ugly bitch like you if I hadn’t been talking to you first.”

You turn to leave, feeling something, anger, self hatred, insecurity, a mixture of all three bubble up in your stomach. Joe is clearly jealous, fuck him, you’ll be fucked if you let this asshole get the last word.

“Well, then Joe, I owe you a thanks, I think I just had the best lay of my life. “ You make a mock bow towards him, then strut out the door without another look back. You put the belt on in the elevator, a sense of pride washing over you as you think about Elvis all the way through the lobby, into a cab and home, when you get back into time get Ruth off to school and collapse in your bed for a few hours before you have to go open the store. You did not get to shower, and it’s day three for your hair. Fuck. It was worth it.

———

Here you are, leaning against the wall of storage room at work, trying to will the wall to open up and transport you somewhere else. A tight, anxious ball has formed in the pit of your stomach.You hear the sharp sound of boots sauntering along the linoleum, and your heart drops as you realize Elvis followed you back here. He stops in the doorway, leaning into the frame.

“Goddamit, why are you so fucking difficult? I do not go ‘round begging stubborn, obstinate chicks to come out. They beg me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Presley to have to be the first person to ever tell you no, but you don’t always get what you want. I have a life, I have obligations….. I can’t come out tonight, I have to close up shop here,” you tell him.

Harriet’s voice rings out loudly from the hallway

“No she doesn’t!!!!”

Elvis laughs.

“I like her, maybe I can get her instead…”

You roll your eyes.

“Go right ahead…..I have other responsibilities after work too….. a life, you know? I have things I have to do…”

Elvis looks at the floor, looks up at you, as he places one hand on his hips and raises the other up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, his eyelids squeeze with anger. You can see him shake with a tremor of rage as he shifts in place and adjusts his sunglasses. With his large coat, he has expanded to fill the entire doorway, once again, overtaking your view of the world. For some reason the sheer expanse of his presence makes you want to jump onto his chest, wrap your legs around his waist and drag him down on to the cold, grimy storage room floor to have your way with him. Once again, you resist. Harriet’s stupid happy head bobs behind Elvis, as she leans over before heading out the back door.

“Hey, I’m heading out, don’t worry about anything, I’m heading over to my parents place and I’ll let them know you’ll be out….” she winks, a big, exaggerated wink, just to make sure you get the message she’s broadcasting.

“Just lock the front door on your way out.” She adds.

You hate her and you hope Harriet can feel the anger shooting from your eyes into the back of her skull. Elvis smiles as he watches her walk out the back door. Then he turns to you. Ugh, if you go to him now, he’ll have won, he’ll think he can get anything he wants. Like a spoiled, fucking child. Who needs to be put in his place.

“Right, ‘nuff bullshit, let’s go.”

You lean back.

“I’m not dressed right….…” you pull on your orange work vest, looking down at the old Destin tee underneath, the faded jeans, the converse shoes.

Elvis punches the door frame.

“I give exactly zero fucks whatcha wearing cuz I’m fixin’ to rip it off anyway, god fucking dammit. You’re not gonna need any clothes when I’m fucking done with you, goddamn brat!” He inhales and shakes out the rage, tries to be more calm as he announces, “I’m not leaving this goddamn room until you come with me.”

You look him dead in his eyes, crossing your arms, throwing down the gauntlet.

“Make me.”

Click here to read Chapter 2

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[70sgroovy]

priscilla presley photographed in 1975🦋

[hooked-on-elvis]

The "Street suit", worn onstage by accident (1975)

TWO-TONED STREET SUIT | Other names: Penguin suit Used only once onstage, on August 19, 1975, at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, during the Midnight concert. Elvis wore the suit with a Black Macrame belt. Info from website elvisconcerts.com (Jumpsuit index)

According to the rumors, Elvis was late for the show that night and he had no time to change his clothes, so he just walked on-stage wearing what he had on at the moment: the Two-toned Street suit.

Elvis during concert in August 19, 1975, at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada.

This sounds a little off to me, to be truthful. If EP in fact wasn't intending wearing the Street suit onstage then I wonder the reasons why: Did he get distracted and forgot to change his outfit in time? Maybe he was visiting with fans backstage or too busy chatting with guests/friends/family in his suite while resting before another concert could begun? (He performed the dinner concert the same night at 8:15pm and wore the Totem Pole suit for it); perhaps something happened with the other outfit he planned to change into for the second concert, considering he didn't want to wear the Totem Pole suit for both concerts the same night; or Elvis simply felt like wearing the Two-toned Street suit because he felt more comfortable in it at the moment. I guess we'll never know what actually happened.

UPDATE: I learned reason why he probably wasn't properly dressed for the August 19th concert. Thanks @deke-rivers-1957 for commenting on this post and sharing your knowledge on what was going on in Elvis' life in those days. I see I was only trying to be optimistic while guessing why Elvis wasn't properly dressed onstage in August 19, 1975 because it went through my mind it could be due to illness someway but I chose not to mention this possibility before. Thanks to you, we have an answer to share here. There you go:

Friday 15, in August 1975 "Late in the evening Elvis leaves Memphis for Las Vegas, very likely in the Jet Commander, but the place is forced to make an unscheduled stop in Dallas when Elvis has difficulty breathing. After resting for several hours in a motel, he recovers sufficiently to continue on the trip." Excerpt from book "Elvis Day by Day: The Definitive Record of His Life and Music" (1999) by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen.

Using my words to finish the explanations, Elvis was visibly not okay since, at least, August 15, but all signals were ignored by him and the ones around him. On August 18, 1975 Elvis opened another engagement in Vegas, at the Las Vegas Hilton, but he was visibly still not in good shape. In the book, Ernst Jorgensen says "Elvis had to sit down for much of the performance". The 19th was the second concert night at the venue. Apparently, other than the "wrong suit" situation during the second concert that night, the shows ran smoothly — During the first concert that night, Elvis wore one of his proper performance outfits, the Totem Pole suit, as mentioned before. A possible reason why for the second concert he was dressed casually can be explained from what happened in August 20. On August 20, Elvis told his manager, Col. Parker, he wasn't feeling good enough to perform. Colonel Parker told him to perform that day again because "no prior notice had been given". After the concerts in August 20, the remainder of the shows at the Las Vegas Hilton for that season (it was suppose to be a two-week engagement) were "canceled due to illness". On the 21st, Elvis was back in Memphis and he was hospitalized at the Baptist Memorial Hospital.

The way I see it now with the accurate information, Elvis was trying to say he wasn't feeling okay and this suit was likely his way of showing he was ready to go home. It's only mentioned he was vocal about his illness on August 20th, but knowing this "Street suit" concert was the second that night on the 19th, Elvis was probably not intending to even perform a second concert when he wore his off-stage wardrobe during a performance that night. Maybe backstage he was trying to convince Parker to let him cancel the second show for the night and he didn't succeed in his attempt but it was too late to change his outfit for the show, or, perhaps, knowing a little of Elvis' personality, he was probably not dressed to perform just to piss Colonel Parker off, a way of showing his will needed to be respected and taken seriously.

I confess I really was trying not to imagine EP was sick during that concert, but that's the backstage story behind the "Two-toned Street Suit" worn onstage in 1975.

LET'S SEE THE KING IN ACTION WEARING THAT SUIT:

Elvis had several different colored "two-toned street suits". He wore them during 1975 and 1976. This was the only one which was worn on-stage. Excerpt from website elvisconcerts.com (Jumpsuit index)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

VERSIONS OF THE TWO-TONED SUIT

About that, it's a part of Elvis's personality, as his friends told over the years, "when Elvis likes something, he goes all the way". From general off-work activities (going to the movies, amusement parks, riding motorcycles, collecting guns/police badges, and so on), to food and also to his wardrobe choices, Elvis overdid things when he liked something.

The King owned clothes in the same model in different colors, usually his favorites (blue, red, black and white). Below we have an example of this, before going to the Street Suit.

Two-toned Street Suit

EP had at least four of them: two are black and white with the variation between them being the reverse color scheme, another one goes in two shades of blue and a fourth suit goes in brown and beige tones.

The one he wore onstage is in the second picture below, this time worn casually, as usual. On the photos in both sides of that one, Elvis is wearing the reverse color scheme suit - same model but white with black side stripes and black lapel. On the latter pictures Elvis is wearing Two-toned Street suits in blue and another one in brown/beige tones.

Sometimes Elvis would wear the Two-tone suit jacket as a coat, over his actual stage wear:

The King wearing the Chicken Bone suit with the jacket of his blue shades "Two-Toned Street Suit" over his shoulders.

Elvis performing at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, on August 19, 1975 (Midnight concert).

Note: Those are only the pictures I could find of this one suit model Elvis had in different colors but it wouldn't surprise me if EP had more of them, which I imagine it would go in red-white or red-black color schemes or even all white/all black versions, but I haven't found pictures that can endorse this theory, so far.

[yourwizardofaus]

The Jackson, MS, afternoon show on June 8, 1975.

[kinokoshoujoart]

welcome to forget me not valley, which eligible man(datory husband) will you be pursuing

[be-my-ally]

Vegas Calling

very short, very sweet but has gotten me out of my writing slump so success! spoiler alert: the plot is heavily inspired by linda’s tale of elvis telling her he’s bought her a unique ring, and then giving it to sheila and buying her a boring tennis bracelet and pretending that was always the intended gift.  but uhhh because this is my fic, and reader is totally, completely, absolutely not based on me, it’s a happier ending.

Loosely based on this prompt: “You will love it” “I will hate it” “Nah, you won’t.” warning: this is unedited.

Reader x elvis 1975 (takes place during the march/april vegas engagement)

wc: 2.4k of a single phone call. let me know if you want a follow-up of reader in vegas!!

@whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 (on this note - I never know who to tag in these little one-shots so let me know if you want to be tagged in future!)

It had been a long ten days already, Elvis had left you behind, asking that you just “let [him] get all settled in, hon, then you can come on out and cheer me up.” You didn’t question it - or question the kind of settling he was expecting would be required. It had been a mere six months since his last residency, and by now it was a pretty smoothly run operation. But then, you were both well aware of what he really meant when he asked someone - or really, you specifically -to not come out to Vegas. It likely meant he’d already requested some sparkly  little two week wonder to join him. But, you knew his schedule better than everyone, and you knew full well that at the moment he didn’t really have time to be messing about with anyone else, or at least, not in any meaningful way. From what he’d been saying he’d been embroiled in rehearsals for the first few days - time he now claims, fed-up, that was wasted - busy even before the twisted schedule of his show routine started. All in all it meant he’d barely had time to chat, and you were desperate for his call tonight when he’d promised he’d have more of a chance to talk - but more of a chance didn’t mean any earlier, after-all he still had to get through two shows before he could relax and the two hour time difference between Vegas and Graceland felt a lot longer at 2 and 4am respectively. 

The phone rings insistently, and you blearily rush to pick it up, unsure how long it had been ringing for while you woke up and panicked that he may hang up if you didn’t get to it fast enough. He’d not been very happy two days earlier when you’d missed his call - his mood swinging from annoyance into being downright teary the following day. You were sure that some other source had been to blame for the extreme emotion, although part of you had hoped it was simply how much he’d loved you, and while you hoped it never got back to him you’d been worried enough about him that you’d called Joe directly to ask him to check in. 

“Hullo Elvis baby,” You breathed down the line, still blinking awake. He breathes a little laugh back at you, fondly, 

“Hey sweetheart,” He pauses, “That how you always answer the phone?” You’re still not fully awake and you can’t think of anything clever to say in response so you have to settle for a simple, 

“Maybe…but… I knew it was you.” 

“Better have - You haven’t been givin’ out my special number have you?” It was indeed, very special, his own little hotline straight to you. 

“No!” you laugh down the phone, 

“Better not - or you’ll be in trou-ble,” he sing-songs it down the line and you giggle back at him, 

“I swear! Hey - how’d the shows go tonight?” He pauses, and you can hear the sound of others in the background, 

“Oh you know. Same as always, nothing to write home about.” He’s never particularly talkative about these shows - not like he can be on tour, but he normally has some funny anecdote about a woman climbing the tables, or a lyric fudged, or even a joke one of the boys made - he’s not normally totally reluctant to share. 

“No?” He doesn’t seem to hear you - distracted, talking to someone else, and you can hear a tittering giggle accompany Joe’s characteristic cackling laugh while you wait for his attention back. You try not to assess it too much or spend any time deliberating who’s wife or girlfriend that might be. You know the others pretend not to know, Joan and Pat and Judy and all the others  all turning a blind eye to their own  husbands’ many indiscretions and pretending to each other there’s nothing to know. But…Elvis could never keep a secret, and you were more looped into the gossip than any of them probably knew - it made it a tad tricky when you had to pretend to the other steady wives and girlfriends, and you had been so proud of being a girls-girl, the type that wouldn’t have put up with hiding this kinda thing before Elvis - but, ultimately, you didn’t believe any of them truly had no idea - or that they weren’t willingly pretending.  And more than anything the potential to be lying in bed, curled up on Elvis’ chest, giggling and gossiping  about the ins & outs of the mafia’s relationships was worth more to you than being friends with any of them. None of this made you feel any better about being confronted with the possibility of Elvis distracted by a different girl. 

“Elvis?” You question again, 

“Uh-huh?” Still distracted,  you don’t know what to say other than, 

“Is now a bad time?” 

“Naw, now  why would you think that?” He sounds a little annoyed, short with you, although at least you now have his full attention. 

“No -no,  no reason. Just wanted to check you could talk.” 

“Wouldn’t have called otherwise, would I?” It feels a little like he’s riling you up, and you can’t tell if it's your sleepy state that makes you quick to annoy or if he really is intentionally trying to be a little mean. 

“Of course not,” You rapidly try to change the subject, “I really miss you.” You weren’t trying to manipulate him, but you can’t pretend it doesn’t please you when you can hear him call out in the background; 

“Go on, yeah, no - no, all of you -go on,  clear on out! I’ll be fine, go on.” You can hear the sounds of the guys all rapidly leaving, and then, finally, there’s a momentary lapse before Elvis picks up his bedroom phone, you can hear him breathe down the line, and a little grunt as you hear the bedcovers rustle about. 

“Go on then yittle, tell me that again,” You squirm under your own covers, his voice just low and deep and rough enough to make your stomach flip. 

“I - I miss you Elvis, I really do, I-I-I  can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Do ya?” 

“Uh-huh, I do,” There’s not much point now to try and play it cool but still you give it a go, lasting all of five seconds before gushing, “I can’t wait to come out there. I’ve been thinking about it all week, can’t wait to see you again.”

“Oh, ba-by, I can’t wait to have you out here either…” You can hear the smile in his voice, “What do you think about -  when you’re thinking about me?” 

“Oh god,” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, even though you know it’s just the two of you,

“Go on, honey, you can tell me.” He has to know what he’s doing, emphasizing his accent and tone. 

“Oh Elvis” You hate how breathy and girlish you already sound, but from his fond chuckle he’s agreeable to it and that makes you feel confident enough to keep talking, “Everything, oh, just everything - there’s, there’s just so much to think about…” 

“Well if you hadta pick?” He’s teasing you, but you can hear the affectionate tone in it - he’s digging for compliments more than anything. 

“Oh well, if I had to, I guess… I mean, maybe sometimes I might think about your voice…”

“My voice?” He intentionally lowers it, “You like my voice baby?” and you giggle, fidgeting one foot against the other, rolling the sheets between them. 

“Yeah-huh, your voice, and your…” You try not to be too shy, “your, well, I guess your face,” Elvis laughs, slightly taken aback at the pronouncement.  

“My face?” You can still hear the smile in his voice, and you decide to do the best to make him laugh again. 

“Yeah your cute little face, and, and your cute little butt.” He roars with laughter, 

“Ain’t so little ‘ccording to the reviews.” It’s the kind of comment he means light-heartedly, but one that could turn the conversation dire if you don’t have quite the correct response - and it's a lot harder to reassure him that you like every part of him when you can’t touch and show him just how much. You keep the conversation joking, hoping he’ll laugh it off. 

“Notice you don’t protest the cute.” 

“Well now, honey, I ain’t a liar.” You can hear him shake his head and despite the fact that you’re alone in the room you bury your grin into your pillow, “I miss you too darling girl,” and then almost shyly, “I got you a present today.” 

“A present?” You peek out from the pillow, twisting the cord around your finger, “What kind of present?” 

“You’ll love it, I promise, doll, it’s just gorgeous - it’s the most unique lookin’ ring I’ve ever seen. Got a huge ol’ red stone right there, next to some diamonds - but all twisted and natural like - it looks totally, totally, organic.” 

You feel your tummy flip, he’d promised you similar things before that had never materialized - given away perhaps before you made it to his door, and you’ve not been seeing him long - only a couple of months, and it sounds expensive - probably too expensive. 

“Oh - oh Elvis, it sounds lovely, but that’s, that’s too much - I’ll, I’ll hate it - having to worry about wearin’ it and all that…I’ve never, never had diamonds before and you’ve already given me those earrings - and, and my necklace - I’d hate having to worry about them on my fingers.” 

“Nah you won’t darling, just trust me - it’s lovely - it’ll look lovely on your little soft hands, you’ve got them softest hands I’ve ever felt.” You were about to protest more, but his voice had dipped down, imploring you to listen. 

“Do I?” 

“Uh-huh, lil soft hands that deserve to be treated.” 

“It's just, it’s just a lot E - I really don’t think -” 

“Look why don’t you just wait and see when it gets delivered tomorrow - you’ll be here by then won’t you? You can tell me then.” He’s trying to change the subject, but you still feel guilty, and you just need him to know that you like him for more than just his excessive gifts. 

“Well, ok, but you didn’t have-” Elvis growls, cutting you off, tone sharpening as he speaks. 

“I aint gotta do a damn thing, I’ve not got a gun to my head - if I wanna buy you a thousand rings I will.” You squirm, while you feel uncomfortable at the concept of the sheer dollar amount he’s suggesting he’d spend on you, you can’t deny the little thrill it gives you. “Think I’ve earnt the right to treat whoever I like to whatever I goddamn want.” 

“Of course, I was-“ You try to backtrack. 

“Good, because I picked it out special - couldn’t wait to give it to ya, wanted to give it to my sweet yittle grateful babydoll  - not have to listen to you bitch and moan ‘bout it.” 

“I’m not Elvis…I swear - it sounds,” you give in, sighing “It sounds lovely, I can’t wait.” 

“Uh-huh.” He huffs, 

“I mean it, I promise.”

“Well…you’ll see it tomorrow. I’ll give it to you then…” 

“I really can’t wait… I can’t wait to see it, and I can’t wait to see you - It’s been so hard.” He sighs, 

“I know darling, I shouldn’t have left you behind, all on your own. Wasn’t - it wasn’t fair on you.” He pauses, “You know there wasn’t one damn reason why you couldn’t have come with me.” 

“Oh.” That was a surprise to hear, and you weren’t one hundred percent convinced of the honesty of the statement.  “You don’t, - you don’t have to lie to me, if, if your plans fell through - it’s, it’s okay, I promise.”

“No sweetheart, you’re not listening, don’t,” You can picture him shaking his head, “ don’t make it to be something else - I never made any other plans.” 

“Oh, well, I - next time I’ll come with you right away.” 

“I’d like that.” It’s abrupt and gruff, and you can tell he means it - probably more than he means the babytalk or the gifts. He yawns and you can practically hear his jaw through the phone, reminding you it's late for him, and later for you, although at least you’d had some sleep before the call. 

“Elvis…do you…is there anything you miss about me?” 

“Miss about you?” He questions again, and you can hear him shift lower down the sheets, picturing himself settling against the pillows, phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Uh-huh?” 

“Well, well, that’s easy, honey, I-I,” His voice is slowing, and you wonder at what point in the call he took his sleep aid. “I - miss, miss everything about you.” You consider if it’s ridiculous to feel disappointed he doesn’t bother to specify further. 

“Everything?” He snuffles, heavy breathing traveling down the line. “Elvis - everything?” You can tell the question practically wakes him up, 

“Miss, miss your cute little lips, and, and your - god, honey, I miss your, miss your hair.” 

“My hair?!” You can’t help the little screech and Elvis  breathes a little laugh back at you, 

“That’s right, baby, - your hair, I love your hair, it’s just,” He breathes, “It’s just perfect.” You laugh, he must be thinking of his other girlfriend who doesn’t have your wild frizzy mess. 

“Anything else?” 

“Well, I-I,  miss your  legs too, honey,” You make an encouraging hum back to him, closing your own eyes in response to his further slowing speech. “Miss getting to watch you leave a room, you’re so, god you’re so, so pretty baby, miss you so much darling.”  Your thighs squeeze of their own accord, and you know he’s probably too sleepy for it but you figure it’s worth a try. 

“What would you do if I were there? I-I’ll - If, I mean, if you go first, I’ll tell you what I wanna do to you right now.”

 You hope your nerves at your proposition don’t convey over the phone. It doesn’t matter though, since he makes no reply. Tiny snuffling noises straight to your ear. You know it’s wrong to take advantage - since if you’d been footing the bill for it you wouldn’t dream of it but, you also knew he wouldn’t mind - and you’ve missed him beside you so much.  So instead of hanging up you settle the phone against your pillow and  wriggle all the way  down under your covers. Closing your eyes to the sounds of his gentle snoring and sniffs, counting down the hours until you’ll be physically beside him.

[misforgotten2]

48 years ago today.

People Weekly   January  13th  1975

[suraemoon]

Elvis Outfit Spotlight V9

The Totem Pole Jumpsuit

Worn: for shows during Elvis' 1975 July tour and His 1975 December Las Vegas engagement

Designed by: Bill Belew

[simplyelvis]

ELVIS 2022 vs reality

[pretty-little-fools]

[elvisgasm]

Loooove this particular outfit choice... he Changed lives, I fear.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 5: Salty Lips

Warnings: Tarot misinformation, penetrative vaginal sex, manipulation, fluff, smut, then angsty tears. 18+ Minors DNI.

Apparently I don't know how to schedule things so I am posting earlier than expected. Please file your complaints accordingly.

Word Count: 9.4 K

Summary: Becky has settled into the rhythm of life at Graceland over the first few days there, though she still has not had a full tour. Luckily, her hosts finally get it together to show her around. She goes to visit her sister, but encounters an unexpected guest. At least for her.

I need to first thank my alpha, @whositmcwhatsit for reading the first draft and giving me feedback as she corrected my grammar. Which is generally bad. Thanks Jade, I some how fooled you into hanging out with me and I would feel guilty for asking you to read my stuff, because it takes you away from your own writing which is necessary and needed for the good of the fandom. But you always make my work better so I cannot feel guilty at all. No, I selfishly will take every glance and glint and comment you give me.

Also thanks to my fellow Elvis sister wives for all their morale support and brilliance. Just being in your orbit is a gift: @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

If you need to catch up first:

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

or start from the beginning: No One Walks Out On Big Daddy Masterlist

Chapter 5: Salty Lips  

11:45 a.m. Thursday, June 19, 1975

Graceland Estate, Memphis, TN

A cardinal twittered loudly, joined by a chickadee, and Becky was so ensconced in the bubble of idyllic life at Graceland that she wondered if this musical rendition wasn’t just for her benefit. Lisa gave an excited hum where she sat next to Becky on top of the picnic table by the pool and slapped down another tarot card.

“Alright, Becky, ‘Page of Swords’, what does this one mean?”

Becky looked closely at the drawing, closing one eye and squinting nearer for effect.

“Well, babt,” Becky mused, trying to stifle a grin and pronounce the girl’s fortune with complete confidence. “They all go together.” She set it next to the other cards they had drawn: Strength, The Chariot and The Moon. Becky was not sure how many cards you were supposed to put down when reading tarot, but four seemed like a good number.

”So?” Lisa slapped her hand on the table.

“Well, so, Page of Swords, as we can see here now, obviously means you are gonna live on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you’ll have yellow tights, and a pretty pink dress, and a big ol’ sword that you’ll be very good at using,”

“I’m already pretty good with my daddy’s samurai sword, wanna see?”

“Hmmm, maybe later.”

Becky thought of her shooting lesson the other day and decided against more deadly weapons. Getting through the day without letting Lisa kill or be killed would count as a win for bonding with the kid of her new  - lover? fling? friend? - whatever Elvis was to her. She decided to go with fling. A short fling. They were two grown adults having a casual, fun, very short fling. Well, one rock star and one adult. 

Was she even an adult? She had spent most of the last three days playing with a seven year old until the late afternoon, and then playing with Elvis into the night. She felt like she had wandered into a strange, enchanted land where all the adults acted like children and all the children acted like adults. Water fights, target practice, ice cream for breakfast, and impulsive shopping sprees. 

Not having a schedule or others depending on her had been freeing at first, but now, on day four of life at Graceland, Becky had started to feel somewhat unmoored from reality away from the structure of her daily life back home.

She looked down at the table, where Lisa was tapping on the next card, and continued her tarot reading. 

“Ok, see here, Strength, that’s an angel with a lion. Of course, now, that is just symbolic. The angel is your conscience telling you the right thing to do, but you won’t have this moral confidence until you own a lion. They can be very difficult pets, I hear, I recommend getting an ice locker for all the gazelle meat you are going to need to feed it.”

“You’re silly, Becky, no one owns lions as pets.”

“No one yet, but hey baby, according to your fortune, you are gonna change all that. There’s nothing you can do. It’s in the cards. That means it has to happen.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, her lips betraying a smile. “Ok, what else?”

“Well, here, The Chariot, clearly one day you will go to Egypt and meet a prince -”

“And marry him?”

“Well, that depends. On whether you like him or wanna feed him to your lion?” Becky growled and gashed her teeth playfully as if she was going to eat Lisa’s shoulder. Just as Lisa shrieked and hit Becky, the back door slammed and they glanced over to see Elvis’ aunt Delta stagger out.

“Alright, Lisa Marie now, s’getting to be round lunch time. I just got Ma settled out in the rockin’ chair, so it’s time for you to come eat.” Delta looked Becky up and down as she spoke. 

“Whatcha y’all got goin on?” she said, and Becky noticed Lisa stiffen and gather up the cards.

“We’re just playing Old Maid, Aunt Delta.”

Becky raised her eyebrow at Lisa, who just shook her head with a crafty smile. Becky turned to the older woman. Hmmm, I guess these older ladies don’t approve of mystical practices. Or maybe they only let one resident here get away doing whatever he wanted. 

She thought of Elvis’ grandmother, who had turned to her after he had left the dinner table the night before, taken her arm and whispered low:

“I hope ya don’t break his heart, like all the rest. That young boy ova there has been through so much. Don’t know why he canna find a good woman. Guess they just don’t make us like they used ta.” Minnie Mae had then released Becky’s hand and spit part of her chew into the tea cup next to her dinner plate. 

Becky only had a moment to feel uneasy before Elvis swooped back in and pulled her into the den and onto his lap, where he cajoled Lisa to perform “Crocodile Rock” for the group on top of the coffee table. 

No, I reckon these good ole girls who sit around bemoaning the lack of any good women left would probably not go in for tarot cards, Becky thought, as she looked at Elvis’ aunt.

“How are you doing today, Ms. Presley?”

“Hmmm, it’s Biggs. And it’s Mrs. And never you mind, you can save it, I don’t care for you kissing up ta me. I know your kind.” 

Becky tightened her smile at Delta’s grimace, wondering if that was the faint odor of vodka wafting off the older woman. Just then, Delta weaved towards her and gripped a nearby chair to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed at Becky in judgment. 

“You are like all the others, waiting around for your payday. Out for all you can get. Bout as useful as gum on a boot heel. Humph.”

“Oh brother, here we go!” Lisa jumped up and walked past Delta. “C’mon, Becky Butt, let’s go get some chocolate cake.”

Becky smiled even wider at Delta as she followed Lisa, and watched the older woman scan the pool area, before tottering back to the house behind them.

“Chocolate cake? That doesn’t sound like a good lunch.”

“Oh, it’s the best lunch, don’t worry, I told Nancy before she left this morning, so it’s all ready.”

“They - they  let you have that for lunch”

“Let me?” Lisa grinned a devious grin and her eyes sparkled. “I’m the boss round here when Daddy’s asleep. If they ever give me any guff, I just lay down tha law an let ‘em know how it is, jack.”

“Oh? And how is it?”

“Get with the program or git!” Lisa held the door to the kitchen open for Becky, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

Sure enough, there in the middle of the counter was a tall, chocolate cake adorned with a circle of pink frosting rosettes. Lisa poured two tall glasses of milk  and carefully set out china plates with all the hospitality of a true, Southern hostess.

“Don’t worry, Becky, it’s vegetarian!” Lisa announced, grabbing the biggest knife Becky had ever seen, almost the length of the short, seven year old’s arm, as she proceeded to carve two large, unwieldy pieces from the beautiful dessert.

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

Becky was certain that her chocolate cake was about to make an encore appearance as the golf cart whipped around the bend. Grabbing the top of the seat, she looked over at Lisa as the little girl pushed her foot harder on the pedal and yelped with glee while she steered them down the grass behind the carport.

“I didn’t realize golf carts could go this fast.” Becky gripped her seat tighter, her knees jostling up and down against the metal bar at the front.

“Oh yeah, these are top o’ the line, Becky. Watch, I can get it to go even fast—” Becky put her hand up in protest.

“Nope, not necessary, this - this is great. Very refreshing in the heat.”

Lisa pushed her feet down a little further and Becky held on for dear life as the air whipped through her dark curls and reminded her very much that she was alive and wanted to keep it that way.

“Ok, so this is the stable,” Lisa pointed to a large white building coming up on their left side. “It’s called House of the Rising Sun, and most people think it's after a song, but actually, it's named after Daddy’s horse, Rising Sun. Though I always say he should be named Setting Sun, on account of the fact that the sun is usually setting before Papa gets up and goes riding.” Lisa slapped her thigh, as if making a rimshot on a drum set, and Becky realized this was her cue to laugh, so she let out a chuckle and rubbed Lisa’s hair.

“Yeah, that is a much better name. Or Sleeping Bear, hmmm?” Lisa giggled. 

“Or Grumpy Sleepy Bear.”

“That one sounds perfect, what do you think? We have time to paint a new sign?”

Lisa laughed as she drove them on, showing Becky the trailer where her daddy’s nurse, Tish lived, and the other where Billy, Jo and their kids lived, and they wound their way around the back of the paddock.

“That’s where Daddy likes to race his horses with the guys.”

“For special occasions? Or just for fun?”

“Oh, he does it to show off for the fans.” 

Becky snorted down a laugh and and attempted to catch her hair and pulled it back up as it escaped into the wind. 

“Um, ha - how do you know he does it for the fans? He tell you that?”

“No, my mama told me; he likes to race the horses round for no good reason, just to show off for the fans cuz he’s a big show off and he’ll never really be a true questrion.”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean your mom may not know —”

“Oh, she does, she knows everything. Daddy’s always saying my mama’s the biggest know-it-all you’ll ever meet. And hippo cat. Why would he call a woman a hippo and a cat?”

“Hmm.” Becky grabbed the side rail as the golf cart swerved back around towards the mansion, trying not to laugh at Lisa’s casual description of her parents. “I bet he meant something else and said it wrong, cuz you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

Lisa seemed to agree, nodding her head. And on to the next point of interest, her proud, confident tour guide voice explained that the house butted up to fence over there used to be her granddaddy’s. 

They drove past the throng of fans at the front gate near the bottom of the hill they were coming up and Lisa asked Becky if she needed any money or a new camera. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how this related to the crowd, but she had some suspicions as she looked over her shoulder at the people mulling aroun down at the gate. So, instead, she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and complained about the heat. 

Parking the golf cart back at the side of the house, Lisa led the way back inside, suggesting they cool down in the pool. Becky didn’t have a bathing suit, but jumped in wearing her tee shirt over underwear, letting her feet push off the rough, concrete bottom of the pool. She felt an almost instant sense of relief and rejuvenation as she sprung up weightlessly through the cool water and floated to the top, rubbing the chlorine out of her eyes. This was, of course, a futile exercise, as more chlorine water was in her face almost immediately, followed by the sounds of Lisa laughing from where she was splashing Becky a few feet away.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

Lisa’s screams ricocheted through the patio as Becky swam over, grabbed her and threw her playfully back into the water.

They raced each other like this for a bit, and then played catch in the water. Lisa particularly liked trying to aim directly in front of Becky, and shrieked with delight when Becky let the ball hit the water and then dramatically flustered about in the wake of the splash, uttering out a loud, affected:

“Now heyyyyy! That’s not fair!”

After a while, Mary brought them out some lemonade, and ham and cheese sandwiches, and they dangled their feet in the side of the pool, eating. Becky pulled the ham out of her sandwich, and Lisa opened her mouth, motioning for Becky to drop the cold cut in, chuckling.

“Hmmm, we make a good pair, huh?” 

Lisa nodded, speaking with a full mouth:

“Mmmm choww nuhff.” She swallowed, and took a sip of lemonade. “How’d you get to be such a good swimmer? You don’ all kinds of fancy moves out there, I never seen anyone swim sideways like that or stay underwater so long.”

“I was on my high school swim team. Then I used to lead canoe trips down the Cahaba, that’s the big river where I’m from, over in Birmingham.” She ruffled Lisa’s hair. “And I was a camp counselor for a while in Mississippi, we spent most of our summer in the pool. I reckon I was a fish in my past life, that’s what Helga used to say.

“Your nanny?”

“MMhmm. You have a good memory, kid, I can tell. You’re whip smart.”

Lisa giggled and splashed Becky with her foot. Water was violently flying up in the air as they commenced in an epic foot splash fight when a loud, deep ‘Ahem’ made their feet still. Lisa’s lips were pursed, emitting a nervous laugh and Becky met her eyes with frightened giddy trepidation as they turned in unison to see the tall, broad silhouette of Elvis behind them. Becky coughed nervously.

His thumbs hung down from the belt at his white trousers and he tilted his sunglasses down to look over them, adjusting his stance.

“MMMM what's - a -a - ahappenin’ ova round these parts, mhmmm?” Elvis tried unsuccessfully to keep his lip from quirking into a smile as his voice boomed out comically deep.

Lisa giggled, and pointed. “Becky started it!”

Gaping, Becky pushed her into the pool with a whispered, “Thanks a lot, Lisa Marie Benedict Arnold Presley!” Then jumped up to say hi to Elvis.

His face beamed with a grin but then, as she got closer, his lip tightened and his chin tilted out as he took in her swimsuit.

“Becky, what the hell are ya wearin’, girl?”

Becky pulled her shirt down, and Elvis went to grab her hands to stop her, as it just made her nipples more pronounced through the thin, wet fabric.

“Elvis, I don’t have a bathing suit, I didn’t think it was that big of a differe—”

“Honey, I can see your hair through your panties,” he whispered gruffly, wrapping Becky in the thick, white, suede jacket he’d been wearing. As part of his outfit. Outside. In June. In Memphis. Becky rolled her shoulders, trying to shirk it off, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Elvis, I’m all wet, it will ruin this suede and get it all dirty. It’s so humid, too, I just th—”

“Becky, don’t worry about the jacket.” He pulled her in, unable to resist flicking her over her nipple imself as he scolded her to cover up. “Anyone could see you out here.”

“Baby, no one is out here.”

“But they could be, boy, they could be.. ‘Sides, think now what if a band of drugged-out commie burglars jumped the back fence, and I, I had to send you running to safety at that motel across the street? You don’t wanna be waiting for me and the boys and the police in public like this.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Elvis, that’s ridiculous - what is the likelihood tha—”

“Now, c’mon on, you never know, it’s getting rougher every day out there. These are the things ya gotta consider.”

Becky was about to argue with him further, that he was being paranoid, and where did he even come up with this stuff, commie drug dealer burglars? She thought of Elvis doing some of the karate moves he had taught her as a band of crazy-eyed youths scaled the back wall, and almost giggled. However, she was suddenly distracted by the fingers tracing over her hips, underneath the suede jacket, and she shivered as she felt goosebumps rise up on the back of her neck, still chilled from the water. Elvis leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes with a low gasp, feeling his belly press into hers.

“Good thing you got me around to think of every angle.” Elvis clicked his tongue and point to his head. ”Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, wanna give you a tour of Graceland.” He patted Becky on the butt as he turned her to the house.

Shuffling forward in the comfort of her new mobile suede sauna, Becky heard Lisa pull out of the water and ask her dad if they could have a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and baked potatoes and corn and s’mores and coconut cake and ice cream.

“Course, baby, jus let Mary and Charlie know how you want it.” 

Becky opened the door at the side of the house, she looked back to see Elvis kneeling and smiling as he wrapped Lisa in a towel. 

“You’re the boss, booger, I jus’ work here.”

Becky could feel the brightness radiating from Lisa’s broad smile as she went inside, and she shook her head as she mused to herself how sweet they were together. The way Elvis spoiled his daughter was charming when Becky pushed aside her own parenting philosophy, which she had always considered to be overly permissive until spending this last week at Graceland. 

She frowned at the prospect of having to parent with someone like him, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Priscilla, a woman whom Becky had always regarded as a bit of a cold Yankee. As if you could ever know what someone is like from reading gossip magazines, silly girl. 

Getting dressed, Becky chided herself for not telling Elvis about her earlier tour of the estate. It was just that he had looked so intent as he told her what they were doing, and the sound of his voice gently commanding her made her agree with whatever he said, take whatever he offered, do whatever he wanted to do. 

Yeah, a long term relationship with this man is trouble. Becky reflected on how relieved she had been when Lisa didn’t wake up and come get her until 10:30 that morning, instead of 8 a.m., like she had the first day, and felt a bit disgusted with herself. Ugh, Elvis’  lifestyle is warping your judgment. Sleep all day, play all night, and now I have to go pretend that I haven’t already seen the grounds of Graceland.

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

The dirt shifted under Becky’s Keds as she walked beside Elvis towards the stables, holding his hand as he squeezed it tightly and turned to look at her, eyes soft and bright as he spoke. Becky summoned a look of awe as if seeing the building for the first time.

“Right, now this is the House of the Rising Sun, on account of my horse, Rising Sun. Though I reckon I shoulda named him Setting Sun, because, ya know, that’s usually when I’m getting up.” Elvis looked at Becky expectantly, and she forced a giggle, leaning into him as they walked into the building.

The sound of horses’ snorting and whinnying greeted them, and Becky followed Elvis as he grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the front counter and leaned against the white gate of the first stall, waggling his eyebrows at Becky as she cautiously stepped forward. He took her hand, unrolling her fingers and putting a piece of sugar in the middle, then clicking his tongue as the large palomino nuzzled into him, nickering and searching for treats.

“Now, go on, he won’t bite ya - much.” Elvis smirked, watching as Becky rolled her lips in and put out her hand, shrieking at the tickle of the horse’s chin hairs on her hand.

“Is this one yours?”

“MMhmmm, this is Rising Sun,” Elvis told her, turning to ruffle the blonde tuft of hair between the golden horse’s ears.

Becky cautiously stroked the white blaze down the middle of his face, stopping to rub his muzzle as he sniffed her hand for more sugar. She looked into Rising Sun’s large brown eyes, wondering how such a majestic creature could be tamed, and how quickly he would trample over her for more sugar.

“He’s beautiful. And terrifying.” She said, then looked up at Elvis. “Just like you, I suppose.”

Elvis’ fingers caressed over Becky’s dress, stopping at the small of her back to rub into her tenderly. 

“Oh now, don’t tell me ya afraid of me, now honey. Or these horsies, are ya Becky Butt?” He moved behind her, his hand trailing slowly over her arm, down from her shoulder, until it was over the back of her palm. He slowly guided her palm up to smooth over the side of Rising Sun’s face and cheek, leaning into whisper into her neck. “See, now, now, see? He’s a good boy, gentle and well trained as can be. Ain’t got nothin ta fear from hims.” 

Elvis kisses warmed her skin, and Becky shuddered as his lips crushed into her. Moaning, she dropped her hand and turned into him, biting her lip in anticipation as Elvis rolled back on his feet and then forward, pressing her into the white pole that separated the stalls. Rising Sun grunted at them and blew his nose, and Becky squealed at the feeling of his large, gummy mouth chewing at her hair. Elvis' mouth quirked into a smile, but his hand rubbed her side more intently, and a fierce, starved look animated his eyes.  

“Get now, silly horse, that ain’t hay.” He gently pushed Rising Sun away, and pulled Becky into him, gripping her tightly.

A tingle burned in Becky’s belly and she breathed out in hushed desire.

“Huh. How - how does my hair look?”

“Looks a a a, a whole lot better than it's gonna once I’m through wit ya.” Elvis said softly, through a high breathy giggle. Then he looked down, bashfully, his hand rubbing Becky’s waist up and down then pinching her on both sides. Becky giggled, pulling herself into his frame, her hand working up over his chest as she kissed his jaw. 

“Why, Elvis Presley, I declare, are you - are you trying to seduce me? In the barn?”

He shook his head, a goofy expression pushed his lips into a pout.

“Depends.”

Becky arched her eyebrow, her fingers toyed with the high blue collar of Elvis’ shirt. “Mmmmmm? Depends on what?”

Elvis withdrew, blushing, his jaw tightening, suddenly changing his mind from whatever he had been thinking about doing,  “Neva mind, baby. Here, let me introduce ya to the other horses.”

Becky followed him, brushing her hand over the top of his belt and sweeping along his back. 

“Ok darlin’, you’re the boss.” Pushing her hand around him, Becky leaned into Elvis, and he drew her tighter into his side, looking ahead to give a large, black horse a sugar cube.

“This here, now, this boy is special, this is Ebony’s Double, come from a real champion stud, Ebony Masterpiece.”

Becky put her hand up to the horse’s neck, feeling his muscles ripple under his silky black coat as she rolled her hand over him. Breathing in, her eyes locked with Elvis as she caught him looking down at her, and she thought about reaching up on her tiptoes to try and kiss him, but instead kissed his shoulder. It was easier, and she relished the way he squeezed her into him in response. His bottom lip dropped down with his chin, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.

“Hey there, lil’ girl.”

Becky nuzzled in, and shifted the rubber soles of her shoes to pivot and bring her closer into Elvis' chest.

“Hey,” she whispered into his armpit.

Elvis brought her chin up and leaned down, his hand moving to cradle her neck as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Gentle kisses became more fervent as his hands crept lower until they cupped her bottom and Elvis was holding Becky up. Notched above his tummy, Becky’s knees bumped up awkwardly against his elbows, and Elvis chuckled as he carried her towards the back of the barn, almost dropping her with a mild stumble. That would have been the end of the white suede suit. But he quickly recovered, grunting as he jostled Becky up and smiling at the sound of her breathy chuckles as she held onto his shoulders while they staggered to the back of the barn. Becky could hear the sound of horse’s hooves, grunts and neighs, but they were peripheral to the sound of the heartbeat pulsing through her ears.

Becky felt the edge of the workbench where Elvis placed her atop. They were at the back of the stables, next to a saddle presumably left for repair. Beckys legs hitched on either side of Elvis' body, and she dragged her thumb over his cheek, moaning out as his lips found that spot on her neck once more and his hands moved under her skirt, slowly, carefully, tugging on her underwear.

“Hey,” she murmured. Elvis cheeks reddened above a smirk as his dark blue eyes looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he breathed out in a deep voice.

Becky fell back on the table, resting on her wrists.

“Hey.” she waggled her eyebrows and dangled her legs, then tightened them at his side.

He shook his head, unbuttoning his trousers and moving over her, his lips feathering above her as he whispered: “Heyyyyyyy.”

Becky gasped as she felt him thrust slowly upwards into her, moaning out into his mouth. 

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, rocking her hips to meet him in the slow, gentle cadence of their love making. His eyes narrowed on hers as his movements became more deliberate, and his thumb found the slick over her clitoris, swirling in time to their needy rolls back and forth over the workbench. Heat coiled in her belly, and Becky leaned back as a guttural cry escaped her mouth.“Heeyyyyyy fucking ohmygod heyyyyyyYYYYYY GODDAMMMIT” as her climax overtook her.  

Elvis leaned forward, peppering kisses over her collarbone and burying his head in her bosom where he continued to slow move in and out of her until he came with a vehement grunt and remained there, head in her chest, panting through the final thrusts before stilling completely. 

Becky relished the weight of his body pressing down on her, insistent, immediate, she wanted it to crush her forever. His shaggy swath of black hair moved as Elvis’ chin protruded forward, and she met his blue eyes, looking up at her from his smug, boyish expression. She melted in the radiance of his smile. “Hey.” Elvis blushed, again, then grunted as he pulled himself up and grinned at Becky’s playfully shove.

“Hey is for horses, Presley,” she gasped, and he laughed as he zipped up, bending down to restore her panties to their rightful place.

She wondered if she had made the wrong first impression on the horses, as they ambled out of the stable and back toward the house.

“Hmmm, so that was the tour huh?”

“I think that’s all the tour I can manage right now, lil girl.”

“OK, well, Lisa already showed me the smokehouse, and I’m definitely not having sex in there.”

“Hmmm, well, figured you should know by now, telling me something isn’t gonna happen just about guarantees I havta try.” He slapped her bottom  and she shoved him away, only to have his arm instantly around her, drawing her into the warmth of his body as he kissed her head.

“Just so you know, Becky, I did not intend to get busy back there.”

Becky nestled into his shoulder as they walked. She could still hear the sounds of twenty horses behind them if she focused, joined by the sound of crickets and cars on the far off roads buzzing into the twilight of early evening. Above it all, she could feel the grain of Elvis' voice as it rumbling into her ear, heating the side of her neck with each word.

“I, I  - I just, well, suddenly couldn’t help myself. Don’t feel that way very often, honey, I think - ” He stopped talking abruptly and turned Becky in to face him.

“Honey, now stop walking already, I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.”

As he looked at her, he noticed that her hair really had come half out of the up twist she had styled it in that evening, and he paused to take out her hair pins, freeing her curls and arranging them over her shoulders.

“There, better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. OK. Here it is. I think I’m starting to really fall for ya, baby. I think, well, I think you should move up here. Can’t bear ta think about taking you back to Jackson next week.”

“This week,” Becky muttered, crossing her arms. “Sunday.”

Suddenly the buzzing, post-coital glow disintegrated and she stood still trying to process what he had said.

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Think about it. Didn’t you say you have a sister here in Memphis?”

Becky nodded, her mind still swimming, wondering if there was any way in hell she could, would, should pursue this. Looking up into Elvis’ eyes was like diving into a sea of endless optimism where everything was possible.

“Hey, I got a business meeting I gotta handle tomorrow night, maybe you could go visit your sister? I was thinking you probably would want to while you're up here anyway. And you can think things over. How it would be, if I got you a place up here, come live with your lil girl in Memphis?”

Becky stood there, nodding again, looking back down at the house. Elvis started to walk.

“Don’t just stand there woman, get in here. The most handsome man in the world just asked if you’d be his baby, least you can do is give him some sugar and say thank you.”

Becky leaned back into Elvis' open arm and kissed his chest. “Hmmm, just took me by surprise is all. I, um, I need to think about it, that’s a big deal, Elvis, I , well, I feel strongly about you too.”

She tickled his side as they walked, and he jerked back with a, *Hey, now.*

“You’re right, though, I should try and see my sister. Tomorrow night, I guess.”

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

6:15 p.m. Friday, June 20th 1975

Still at Graceland, for now…

It was one of the new dresses Elvis had bought her that week, a purple, jersey halter dress, that Becky pulled over her head, before asking Lisa to help clasp the simple, diamond drop necklace around the back of her neck. Lisa jumped back, and put out her wrists for a spray of perfume as Becky doused herself and twirled around.

“How do I look?” Lisa put her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. 

“I think you need more eye make-up.”

“Ha, maybe, but trust me, my sister is the opposite of glamorous. She’s a judge. And I’m crashing a dinner party, so I think modest, simple, less-is-more sort of look is what I want.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed, ”you definitely nailed the less part. You’re hardly wearing any diamonds. Sure you don’t wanna borrow some of mine?”

Becky fidgeted with the ring she was wearing, the gift Elvis had given her that first night at Graceland. It was almost too large and gaudy for her style, let alone her sister Deborah’s taste. But it had come to be a comforting talisman, something she felt and twisted when she felt nervous or out of her element here with Elvis, doing whatever she thought she was doing. *Acting like an immature teenager who just discovered what sex is*, she thought to herself. 

Becky also sensed Elvis would be hurt if he saw her without the ring, because he’d mentioned how nice it looked on her several times, usually taking her hand and kissing the ring there before turning her palm and kissing the center of her hand. And pulling her in for a kiss. *Ughhh, these kisses*. Even the way his dry lips bumped over hers at first touch caused a burning electricity to electrify her face and she became instantly incapable of reason. 

Becky sighed, she had this impending sense of doom, her inner Cassandra, as Ida would say, always on high alert to call out trouble at the slightest provocation. Just trust him. This is fun. This feels right. Everything is ok. Wear the damn ring to Debbie’s dinner party.

Becky’s dress swished around her legs as she carefully walked down the staircase, trying not to trip in the orange platform heels Elvis had picked out at the boutique during a late night shopping spree on Wednesday. As she descended, she saw him whispering with Charlie, then the two men heard her and turned around, smiling in an eerie unison. Elvis was somewhat dressed up for his business meeting, in a dark red suit with a light blue dress shirt with a high, starched collar framing his face.

“There she is, Charlie. There’s the most beautiful gal in the world. And the smartest. And the funniest.”

Becky teetered on her platforms as she put her foot down another step.

“And the most graceful woman in the world.” He let out a low guffaw with out, and Becky narrowed her eyes at him

“Oh, keep laughing, Elvis Aaron Presley, I’mma get you for that. Buying me mile-high shoes an then laughing at how I walk in theses unnatural torture devices!”

Becky ran down the rest of the stairs and leapt onto his waist, ruffling his hair as Elvis chuckled.

“God, crazy woman, tryin’ ta kill me?” Becky kissed his forehead as he jostled her up and down, then placing her safely on the ground.

“Mhmmm. Just wanted to give you a kiss for good luck with your business dinner.”

Elvis kissed her back on the cheek as he ushered her and Charlie out of the door with a swat to the butt and a “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Charlie’s white Pontiac was waiting in front for them and they walked around, Charlie leading to open her door. Just as Becky was about to duck into the passenger seat, she saw the long, black snout of Elvis’ Stutz Blackhawk rolling up the driveway, Jerry at the steering wheel. Next to him sat the thin, blonde frame of Linda Thompson outlined against the dark, red leather interior. Jerry was a statue, stoic and serious as he pulled up and Linda burst out of the car to stride over.

“Charlie Hodge, you handsome man, where you runnin’ off to this evening? And who’s your friend?”

Charlie let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh, wondering to himself how Jerry had managed to arrive twenty minutes earlier than he had been told. Becky smiled awkwardly as she watched Linda give Charlie an air kiss on each side of his face, and then turned to Becky and her tight, wide forced cheerful smile.

Charlie stammered quickly, “Ugh, Linda, this is my cousin Becky, from Birmingham, come up to visit while her kid is at summer camp. I, ugh, well I -”

“He promised me I’d get to meet Elvis while I was here,” Becky gushed, summoning all of her energy to force her tongue to sound excited. She watched Jerry get out of the car and walk to join them. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were stiff.

“Oh, well, it just dills my pickle to meet Charlie’s family, I feel like we’re practically family ourselves, seein’ how much time I spend with this good ole boy.”

Becky tried very hard not to tense up as Linda threw her arms around her to squeeze her tight. Linda wore a red, satin evening gown with cutouts along the side that emphasized her the curves of her sveltetorso and the wide hips below. Becky felt as though her tall, awkward fleshy figure and bust overwhelmed Linda’s body completely.

“Gosh, I just love that dress,” Linda exclaimed, adjusting the layers of Becky’s hair off her shoulder. “Though I don’t know if I could pull that color off, mhmmm, don’t know if that would be my choice, but it's so you, isn’t it?”

Becky smiled. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“So, Charlie, the old boy been behaving?” Linda winked at Becky, then whispered conspiratorially. “You know, Elvis is a good, Christian man, s’just that the devil is mighty powerful, hmmm, know what I mean?”

“MMMhmmmm.”

Becky nodded. It was like she was back in high school and one of the popular girls had waltzed up to her desk at the school newspaper, indirectly ordering her to do a story about the committee decorating the homecoming game bleachers. Ughhh.  Becky steeled herself, falling back on the niceties that she was well versed in.

“I can’t even imagine! Gosh, it’s so exciting to meet you, I’ve seen your pictures in the paper and, of course, Charlie has told us about you. But you are just more precious in person, you really are.”

Linda gave Becky another hug. “Well bless your heart, Becky. Aren’t *you* the sweetest.”

Jerry coughed. “Hm, yeah, we better get going.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Ugh, I know, we got this Police Charity Dinner to go to, I flew in from LA just for this. I guess the Lord saw fit for me to make it. And meet you! I hope I get to see you again while you are visiting, are you staying here? With Charlie?”

“Oh God no.”—“No she aint!”

Charlie and Becky both answered together. Becky smiled big again, hugging Linda one more time. From the big, wide-eyed puppy dog look on her face, Becky felt she seemed to expect it. “No, no, I’m staying with my sis - sorority sister from college, who lives here, we’re actually just heading there now, for dinner. In fact, we better scoot, eh cuz?” Becky looked at Charlie, and sat into the car.

Charlie closed the door, a big  smile at Linda as Jerry led her up the steps into the house, and Linda waved goodbye. “I hope y’all have a the best night, see you again real soon!”

A tense feeling pushed up from Becky’s tummy and seized her shoulders in a tight anxious grip. It was one thing to know you were spending the week with a man who was seeing several women at once. It was another thing to come face to face with one and have to lie about who you were and what you were doing. Becky felt dirty, dirty and sick. She didn’t know how she could possibly face her perfect fucking sister, Deborah, and Debbie’s husband Steve, another lawyer, and the various lawyer professional type guests she expected to be at this dinner party. Charlie patted her thigh, seeming to intuit her thoughts, at least in part.

“Ya know, he’s not a bad guy, the boss man. He carries a heavy burden. And Linda’s moved out to LA to try and break into the movie biz. She had him buy her a home here in Memphis. It’s like they both know it’s over but neither one can bear to pull the trigger. And she knew how it was to date someone like him.”

Becky nodded, telling herself not to cry, and leaned against the window, hitting her head on the cool glass a few times as she swore under her breath at how stupid she was to be here. She muttered to herself in yiddish: 

“Ugh, whenever you have choices, oy vey, my sheyna maidel, boy oh boy do you somehow always manage to pick the worst. Your picker is broken, that’s what it is. When you go home, you are turning your love life over to Ida and her yenta brigade. There is a reason they used matchmakers in the old country. People are incapable of making good choices in men when left to their own devices. Stupid, foolish, idiot girl!” She hit her head on the window one last time, and then realized they had pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.

Charlie rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be out here waiting when you’re ready. I - he - I - he’s gonna be dropping Linda off at the other house. It was, it is, all part of the plan. You see, her brother’s in the police force here. It, ugh, it just made sense that she would be his date for this big charity ball fundraiser for the cops.”

Becky nodded, half in a daze, trying to mentally prepare for her sister, for the dinner party, and for Elvis later.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, totally makes sense, absolutely.” She breathed in, then looked over at Charlie’s apologetic face. “Wait, you’re just gonna wait here?”

“Yeah, the boss, he, well, he wanted me to look after you. On account of all the druggies running wild these days.” Becky nodded. 

“Right. The drugged out commie burglars, those are clearly the biggest threat to my livelihood right now. Not Elvis Presley and his selfish manipulative ways. Not his powerful girlfriend, or her cop brother. Not my family and their judgment. No, no no, it’s the invisible commie drug criminals supposedly lurking everywhere. Well, thank god you’re here Charlie, I feel so much safer.” 

She slammed the car door, knowing it was unfair to take it out on Charlie, but the look on his face when she bent to the window made her heart sink even further before she uttered one word of apology. Because his goofy, winsome smile told her she was not the first woman to yell at him like this. Not only did he seem to expect it, he had mentally braced himself for it. Becky’s face softened apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, for that. I’ll try not to be more than an hour.”

“S’ok, we’re family now, cuz.” 

Becky knew that Charlie’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it made her stomach drop even more as she turned and braced herself for a night at the Hoffman - Blumfeld’s (very intentionally hyphenated modern family of the 1970s) Dinner Party.

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

To say the night was uncomfortable and embarrassing would have been generous. Everyone else at the dinner party was dressed in jeans, khakis or linen pants and some sort of comfortable blouse or semi-casual shirt, and Becky felt she stood out like a Vegas showgirl at a library full of nerds. Which was probably the best way to describe Debbie, her husband Steve and their social circle. She was grateful it had been Debbie who opened the front door, so she could walk Becky into the side room and they could make their flustered hellos alone. 

Debbie wore a pair of sensible khakis and a tasteful floral button up top tucked in. As predicted, Debbie wore no make-up. And all judgment, though she tried to repress and be loose and fun.

Six years older than Becky, Debbie had always been half friend/half-parent to her, and this was a characteristic she inhabited calling out “Rebecca, please come in!” when she greeted Becky at the door.

Thank god for wine, the Hoffman-Blumfeld intentionally hyphenated household had some very good bottles of wine on offer and, after sipping one glass gracefully, and the another quickly in the kitchen, Becky was able to exhale and confront the evening with a blundering fort of confidence. She decided to pretend the meeting with Linda never happened, and stumbled confidently through her description of her relationship. She was dating a man who worked in the music business, after meeting him with Danny at a radio event fundraiser for the tornado in Mississippi. Was it serious? Well, sort of, he had invited her to Memphis for the week to meet his daughter, and he was trying to persuade her to move there. But her very successful life managing Saul and Ida’s store, and all her f.’

riends, made her reluctant to leave Jackson.

“I’m just taking a day at a time.” Becky winked and sipped her wine, before taking another mouthful of salmon.

After dessert, Debbie cornered her in the kitchen and asked if they could talk somewhere. Putting up her finger while she poured another glass of wine, Becky nodded and followed Deb to a bedroom, where she sat on a tasteful quilt blanket and had a tasteful restrained conversation about the impossibility of letting her father see Ruth secretly the next time she was in Birmingham.

“She is his only grandchild, Becks.”

“Well, they should have thought about that possibility when they kicked me out. Three months pregnant. Pronounced me a shonda, and disowned me.”

“Do you really want to have Ruth grow up without her grandparents?”

“I didn’t make that decision, Debbie, they did. Maybe, maybe, maybe if Papa was willing to admit how wrong they were, and stand up to Mama, and if he had any backbone at all and publicly welcomed me home for everyone to see, for Ruth to experience a true family, maybe.”

Debbie responded with a knowing look. “Well, I told Papa I was gonna see you when he called earlier, and I promised to ask, but I don’t blame you. I wish Ruth was here now, it’s been too long. And this guy, hmmm? Sounds promising. He wants you to move here?” Becky gulped her wine down first, rubbing her sister's arm. 

“Yup, yes, mhmmm. Oh yeah, finally, right? Everything’s coming up Becky. I can’t wait for you to meet him, because I’ll definitely be back up here with Ruth after she finishes camp. Ah, yes, mmhmmm.” She downed the last sip of wine, smiling so enthusiastically she almost laughed at how absurd the charade was. “I feel like, ugh, finally, right? I’m finally getting that happiness I searched for, for so long. ”

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

“You are never going to find happiness.” Becky said to the fork of coconut cake as she brought it to her mouth, letting the sweet, sticky crunchy sugar do its work comforting her momentarily as she chewed it and swallowed it down with some chocolate milk. The door to the kitchen opened, and she jerked her head up to see little Lisa Marie poke her head around.

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, late night cake?” Becky answered.

“Have you been crying?” Lisa asked as she stepped closer, getting herself a plate and a piece of cake.

“No, honey, no, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is it cuz of my daddy?”

Becky shook her head, too vigorously perhaps. “Npoooo no nononoo. No. It’s just been a long day.”

“You’re a bad liar, Becky Butt,” Lisa said, taking a big bite of cake, and then rubbing Becky’s shoulder. It broke her heart to see Lisa’s genuine look of pity staring up at her as she tried to comfort Becky. “Why is he like this? Mommy says he ruins every relationship and he’ll never truly be happy.”

Becky laughed at Lisa’s matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, my dear, I think your mama is very wise, but who knows what the future will bring. I do know your daddy loves you, that’s a relationship that makes him happy. Trust me, my parents never openly showed me love the way I see him show you. He’s a good man. There are just some things I might do differently if I were him.”

Lisa looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I’d carry around less guns, I guess, that's dangerous. And maybe wear less jewelry, probably out there blinding people with all those dazzling gems and diamonds all over his person.”

Lisa laughed out loud as she finished her cake, and let Becky walk her up the stairs where she tucked Lisa back into bed and then returned to the kitchen.

Becky was down on her knees, looking through the drawers under the phone when she heard the door behind her slam shut. Glancing up, she saw Elvis’ broad figure swagger slowly toward her in the dimness of the kitchen lit only by one of the lights under a cabinet. He sighed and stopped, hands bracing the front of his hips, spread out fully extending his fingers as they tapped a little ditty over the sides of his belly. 

With his jacket pushed back at the hips, he looked even wider and more intimidating than usual. His lips were pursed in a frown at the sight of Becky in the jeans, converse and Destin tee shirt she had been wearing when she left Jackson the previous Sunday.

“Huh, hey.”

Becky turned back to look up at him. “Oh, hey!”

He adjusted his stance, pivoting his feet and twitching his left knee, his thumbs tapping over his belt.

“Watcha doin’?”

“You don’t know where the yellow pages are, do you? I’ve been looking for a phone book for the last fifteen minutes.”

Elvis sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “Why, uh, why ya looking for the phone book?”

“Well, maybe you can help me.”

Becky returned her attention to the kitchen drawers in front of her, trying not to flinch as she heard the thud of Elvis boots walk closer and stop directly behind her. She chose not to twist back around and look at him, afraid she might cry or be dramatic, so she decided to speak directly into the drawers as she continued to look through them.

“You see, I’m trying to find a number for a local cab company, so I can get to the Greyhound station.”

“Mhmmm. I noticed your bag in the foyer.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Becky sighed, shutting one drawer and then opening another. “Well, you see, it just dills my pickle to be all prepared and ready to go when I call up a car to come get me. Although I had rather hoped I would have been gone before you got back, I didn’t want to bother you. But, since you’re here, maybe you can make yourself useful and help find the phone book?”

Elvis bent and leaned over the island that jutted out of the counter at the front of the kitchen.

“Honey, I have absolutely no intention a helpin’ you find a phone book.”

Becky stopped and fell back against the cupboard next to the set of drawers, her legs stretching out over the dark, burgundy carpet that covered the kitchen.She banged her hand back and closed her eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just give me the phonebook?”

Elvis walked over and stood above Becky, his hand reaching down. “Cuz I don’t want you ta leave, honey. Not like this. C’mon, let’s talk. If you still wanna go home, why, I’ll drive you back to Jackson myself, like I promised.”

Becky glared up at his hand. “No.”

“What, you just gonna stay there on the ground?”

“Mhmmm.” She crossed her legs and her arms and tilted back into the cabinet. “Yup, yessiree. This is my home now, til I get a cab, I reckon.”

Elvis meandered over slowly and groaned as he lowered himself next to her on the floor. He moved his hand out to touch hers, only to be rebuked by their swift retreat back under her breasts in a huff of crossed arms and limbs. He rolled his neck to meet her gaze against the wooden cabinet.

“Honey, you are actin’ like a child. This is all one big misunderstanding. Now, c’mon.”

Elvis put his hand over her thigh, but Becky swatted it away, so he grabbed the foot she had criss crossed over her knee, and rolled into her shoulder as he scooted closer, squeezing her foot.

“Becky, look, you know I have other friends —”

“Girl friends, yes, I know about them, but apparently they don’t know about me. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt? Lying, looking at your beautiful beauty queen girlfriend, pretending to be Charlie’s cousin?” She pressed her face against the cupboard and let the tears come pouring out. “Ugh, I am so stupid, I know this isn’t me. I am not cut out to be the other woman.”

“Sssshhh.” Elvis put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, massaging her as he drew her body into his, bringing her head to nuzzle in his chest, where she gave up and grasped his shirt, letting the sobs come out as she cried into him. “Sshhhh. S’ok, s’ok.”

“No, s’not ok, ugh, I’m a horrible person, a traitor to my sex.” Her fist bumped tepidly into Elvis’ chest. She looked up at his chuckles. “What, why are you laughing at me?”

“Baby, you are too pretty to cry. Now, come on. Linda is not my wife, she knows it, I know it, things haven’t been going well and our relationship has been sorta peeterin’ out. But I have to do things my own way, ok? Her brother is on the police force, it made sense, right now, for me to take her as my date. But I swear, nothing happened. I’m here with you. At my house. Would I have a mistress at my house, where I lived, if I was keeping her a secret?”

Becky wiped her eyes. “You think she knows about me? She knew when she met me?”

Elvis sucked in his breath. “Honey, I don’t know, and frankly, right now I don’t care who knows. I-I, I didn’t wanna get into it tonight. But Linda knows well enough how it is with me. Look, I want to be with you, here, now. So let’s be together, and let’s go to bed.”

He said this with finality, and stood up, groaning slightly and steadying himself against the sink,  and Becky followed, exhaling loudly as she pulled herself up on his outstretched hand and walked with him out of the kitchen, still sniffling and wiping her eyes into his silk dress shirt.

“Ok, but only because the floor was starting to feel uncomfortable. And I couldn’t find the phone book.”

Elvis smiled and Becky watched his cheeks twitch above the pout of his mouth, and she couldn’t help it, she led herself into his embrace.

“There now, lil girl, why you go get yourself all worked up like that?”

Becky looked down, blushing trying to just calm herself and feel good about making peace, or whatever it was she was doing. Giving in. No, you are having fun, she told herself. It’s silly to be upset over Linda, and was the use of fighting? This is a short, fun, little fling. Somehow his logic made sense at the same time that it made no sense at all. Becky’s head ached trying to sort it out, she decided that she was tired and exhausted and still a little tipsy, and needed to stop fighting and let herself fall forward into Elvis’ pliant, warm belly. He took a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wiped her eyes, then softly pressed his lips to Becky’s mouth.

 “Mmmm, baby, those are some salty lips.” 

Elvis lifted his hand, thumbing over her lower lip slowly, it made Becky gasp and she watched him respond with a smirk. He leaned in slowly, and Becky shivered when he breathed on her, watching with anticipation as he  licked his own lip and hesitated with a wider smirk before pressing his mouth into hers. More forcefully this time, his hands soothing up her sides. 

“S’alright now, s’alright, no more cryin, ok, lil girl? Too pretty ta cry like this. Goin’ on and making my favorite lips all salty. "

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[javelinbk]

John Lennon, on the roof of the Dakota with the eastside skyline toward 5th Ave in the background. New York City, 25th February, 1975 © Brian Hamill

[hooked-on-elvis]

✨ ELVIS IN 1975 WEARING THE TOTEM POLE (GYPSY) SUIT ✨

Credits to fan 'Gogatine PF' for sharing those amazing pictures on Facebook fanpage 'Gentle On My Mind Fan Club Italy Recognized EPE'

[yourwizardofaus]

Assorted Pictures Of Elvis On Tour

1) Heading onstage for a concert in Tampa, FL, on September 13, 1970.

2-5) Elvis with fans after arriving at San Francisco airport for departure on November 15, 1970.

6) At the airport after Elvis’ Houston show in November 1971.

7) Elvis returns after the Atlanta concert on June 29, 1973.

8) Going to the afternoon show in Memphis, March 17, 1974.

9) Elvis in the Aqua Phoenix jumpsuit, on his way to perform at Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino on May 13, 1974.

10) Leaving the stage in Macon, GA on April 24, 1975.