#thicc elvis

[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

If you like this, please reblog, comment and like! And let me know you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters.

[teddypresley]

🍰 CAKE 🍰

[dreamingofep]

Day #31 of finding pics of E I’ve never seen before. Thicc daddy looking fine as hell, the choker, the shades. Ugh I’m whipped😣

@sournatromanoff @lindszeppelin @lllsaslll @powerofelvis a little something to start your day out right😉

[powerofelvis]

Thinking about sitting on thicc E's lap while he reads something to me.

Tell me more, baby? What else is going through that head of yours?

[therealnorapresley]

Made this Elvis gif 3 weeks ago. I love this movie so much. The way Elvis looks is so hot. I have to say he looking pretty thicc *wink wink*. PS: The gif was look long so I had to shorten it, unfortunately.

[lindszeppelin]

thicc daddy elvis appreciation post, because this man is beautiful ♥

[lovininapinkcadillac]

That is the love of my life. Like I said before I am going to say it again I love thicc Elvis. 🫠🫠🫠

[pandamurdock]

welcome back to Incorrect Daredevil Trio, brought to you by My Friends (skipping ahead a bit to the Quarantine 2020 era)

Foggy: I'm $81,000 in debt and this bitch wants a lamp

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Also Foggy:

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Matt: I didn't know thiccness was a religion

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Foggy: Ew, you're covered in blood!

Matt, probably concussed: Mm, pizza sauce

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Foggy: STOP SNIFFING MY FUCKING OVEN

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Matt:

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Karen: I found a pelvis but we have it already

Matt: You found Elvis?!?!

Foggy, singing: I can't help...finding dat pel-vis

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Matt: It went hguplplah and I was like no, doN'T DROWN MY PLANTS!!

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Foggy: Oh no! A fish---it wAS A STONE!

Matt: Wow, you're really gettin' stoned

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Foggy: Damn, girl, what that mouth do?

Matt: ...Never thought anyone would say that about Ariel but okay

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Karen: I have too many cards about vaginas

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Matt: I didn't know what else to do with Daniel Radcliffe's asshole

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Foggy: Crumbs or Vladamir Putin?

[sournatromanoff]

@samfangirls @lindszeppelin us on our way to find more thicc elvis with a choker on 👀😵‍💫😂

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

hi lovely lady!! congrats on 1k followers <3 you deserve every single one of them!!

im really keen to see what your insights are into which Elvis i'd be paired with. im shit at writing about myself but i'll try lol

im 5'5", and slim thicc i'd say. im a pale gal with long dark wavy hair and dark eyes. zodiac is cancer aka a sensitive little wallflower lol. i love singing and dancing my heart out to an audience of one (myself lol). i also enjoy fashion and makeup trends. personality wise im def introverted but will come out of my shell for the right people. im a deep thinker. i like to nurture and help people. aaaand idk what else...im wicked passionate and im a hopeless romantic. my love languages are touch, words of affirmation, and quality time lol

i hope that was helpful!! love ya <3 and congrats again!!

thank youuuu so much!! ♥️

cancer is literally exactly what elvis needs in all decades i swear. my mans just wants to be taken care of lolol but i would pair you with early 60s elvis. he still has a little of that boyish charm but is starting to become more of a man and getting into more adult things like introspection. because of that i also can see him becoming more nurturing rather than being the one who's nurtured. he would love the fact that you're really into fashion and makeup because we know that he always wanted cilla to be updated on the latest trends, so i think he'd appreciate that you keep up with that. also he needs ALL of your love languages, especially touch and words of affirmation, during this time when he's just gotten back from germany and is going into the movie business. the extra support is much needed lol

[strongbrew-hamstery]

Did you get our Guess the Golden game right? Everyone seemed to know who #Dumptruck was, but the others were more confusing! We had two people get all but two right which was amazing 🎉 even Hamdad didn't know who everyone was 😂💗 "How dare you!" Zyggy is long hair and has darker markings and a lovely little face. Lincoln is perpetually grumpy. Her markings are lighter but her face is nice (minus ears). Ru looks like Blisser, she has dark markings and bigger ears. Her face is more like a wedge. Dumptruck is thicc. Whiskyjack has a very delicate expression and is missing part of one ear. I was sneaky here and cropped that key feature. Elvis is lighter too, with very tightly curled whiskers. I find her face looks more "pinched" than Lincoln's. Rosemary is new to us and has lighter markings and a very serene face. I'm trying to be more active on our social media which is possible as I use my phone for that. Emails I am still very delayed with. I had planned to get through some the last two days but we have had to start painting our bedroom. Hoping that's done by the weekend at which point I'll start getting through the backlog I hope. There is always something to do and I'm totally exhausted. But it is coming together. The hamsters are now all in the hamster room which is a great step. I know it'll be a while of being busy but I'm hoping the non-stop go go go will end soon. Both Hamdad and I are absolutely exhausted from all the work. It is however very satisfying and it is nice to see our little house blossom slowly into a home. https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce3c_3igclo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thatbanditqueen]

Important survey for scientific research purposes.....

It’s 1975, 6 am in the morning to be more precise, and you just spent the night riding BDE and gave up trying to fall asleep, and are now trying clean yourself up and do the walk of shame. He asked you to stay the night after, because, well, he’s a gentleman and his semen is all over you, but you’ve been lying in bed wired unable to sleep so you decide to just leave now. No one else is around, so what are you taking with you as your souvenir? Are you throwing a scarf in your purse? Strutting out with a jumpsuit over your shoulder acting like that is what you are supposed to be doing....?  Whatcha taking with you, besides the special sauce?

 @eliseinmemphis  @woundmetender​ @aconflagrationofmyown​ @ab4eva @presleys​ @samfangirls​ @ash-omalley​ @presleyonfilm​ @whositmcwhatsit​ @austinbutler4life​ @butlervol6​

[quinnallerton]

Since messed up sleep schedules are a thing with isolation, I killed hours on the web and found some thought provoking, rare John & Paul photos:

We always see the one of them from the ‘Lost Weekend’ on the couch, but I liked this one

...and these ones of Paul in all of his sassy glory....

*peak 1967 McLennon*

*Elvis McCartney*

*Thicc Johnny*

Thighs.....yum 😘

Thanks for looking at my garbage post!

[powerofelvis]

Okay, but; thicc Elvis having you fuck/ride him while he's sitting on a chair or the couch? You'd have plenty to grab onto lol!

YES YES YESSSSSSS!!! Especially when he’s smoking his cigar?! YES PLEASE GIMMIE THIS NOW 😭😭😭

[buttercupjosh]

Happy National Boyfriend Day to my fav hockey boys🎉. Every year, I highlight my favorite band members (i used to post about this on insta but i stopped and ya girl has never had a boyfriend) on this day and this year I’m going to highlight hockey players. (I know my chances of actually dating a hockey boy is super unlikely but it’s fun to talk about them).

Without further ado, in no particular order, here’s a list of hockey boys that are currently living rent free in my head/some of which, I would possibly take home to meet my family if I could:

-Carter Hart (THIS BOY RIGHT HERE IS MY CINNAMON APPLE, MY CREAM CHEESE CUTIE. HE’S TALL, HIS EYES ARE NICE, HE WORKS HARD, HE WATCHES FOOD NETWORK AND I JUST LOVE HOW HE’S SO HUMBLE AND SIMPLE AND HE GIVES BACK TO OTHERS LIKE THAT’S SO HOT AND HE’S SUCH A CUTIE)

-Vince Dunn (He may flex his wealth on us but I love the fact that he gives back to others and that he RESPECTS WOMEN and loves his mom, SUCH A CUTIE) (unrelated note: i can’t stand the goalie for the blues because he’s a douchey person but i like Vince)

-Andre Burakovsky (I think a lot about that video of him golfing at Top Golf, you know the one and also about him holding a baby in his Caps jersey. Also, this gif set is so cute)

-Quinn Hughes (Not gonna lie, I was a Jack girl at first but then I converted over to the SUPERIOR Hughes brother. Huggy bear is such a cute nickname and I want to embrace him in a hug. Also, we’re super close in age. Like Quinn is only a month older than me)

-Elias Pettersson (He’s moving in after seeing him in glasses and reading about how he advocated for his friends who were refugees. Also, he will always deserve the Calder over *redacted*)

-Mat Barzal (wears a chain, speed skater, the first guy I read fic for on here and will continue to read fic for. SUCH A CUTIE.)

-Anthony Beauviller (He has such beautiful eyes, he can bake and I wouldn’t mind raising a dog with him)

-Tyler Seguin (my favorite hockey himbo. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be on this side of tumblr)

-Jason Dickinson (moved in during playoffs and definitely stayed after kneeling during the anthem)

-Nolan Patrick (a rosy cheeked cutie. I love his friendship with TK, it makes me smile so much. I prefer him with short hair but long hair works for him)

Honorable Mentions because I reached my image limit:

-Travis Konecny (I love TK and his chaotic energy and I also love his iconic chirps and his friendship with Nolan.)

-Pierre Luc-Dubois (he’s anti-Trump, he’s basically a fridge and I wouldn’t mind raising a dog with him as well)

-Elvis Merzlikins (He just moved in a few days ago and I don’t know much about him besides the fact that he’s cute and has a adorable dog)

-Jake Oettinger (moved in during playoffs and he’s basically like the Stars version of Carter Hart. Also, he has the cutest nickname, Otter)

-Brock Boeser (yes, I know about the post and I’m upset about it. He just moved in last month and he listens to One Direction)

-Tyson Jost (loves his mom and that’s so cute)

-Ryan Graves (He’s also a giraffe who reads anti-racism books so)

-Mikko Rantanen (just moved in last month after seeing how thicc he is in shorts and I read a really good fic with him in it)

-Phil Myers (is a giraffe and wears a chain so)

-Joel Farabee and Morgan Frost (they moved in at the beginning of my hockey journey but I haven’t seen much about them or from them on here)

-Andrei Svechnikov (He moved in during playoffs after I saw him in a suit and we’re super close in age)

-Mitch Marner (He moved in the beginning but I don’t keep up with him as much as I used to but he’s still on the radar)

-Gritty (STRAIGHT UP PURE CHAOS THAT I’M HERE FOR)

[lindszeppelin]

a bit of a rant

okay here I go. I had the time to sit with the discussion in the fandom about Big Daddy Elvis (or thicc daddy, whatever lol). and these are my thoughts.

there's a lot of you in the Elvis fandom that think that those of us that find Elvis attractive during the later portion of the 70s are "fetishizing" his illness. some of you guys think it's immortal and wrong that some of us find the man good looking at that point in his life. and some of you guys chastise others on how despicable they are for even daring to think Elvis was hot at that phase in his life.

first of all. why are you infantilizing a grown man in his 40s, as if he was rendered fucking helpless and bedridden unable to move and incapable of doing anything for himself? as if he needed around the clock care, like he was a patient in a hospital dying of some horrendous, inoperable or incurable disease? as if he wasn't a grown ass man who lived his life and was up and walking around living his usual routine until the last breath he took? it makes no fucking sense to me.

i think everyone is privy to the obvious fact that Elvis was sick. we get that. we are not overlooking that. and we are not fetishizing his illness. what the hell is up with that bogus take? the man gained some weight and had water retention. are you to imply that we can't find overweight people attractive? are you to imply that people who are sick are incapable of being looked at as a human being with human needs? the man had a girlfriend in Ginger Alden at that time and he was STILL getting women in that phase in his life. are you going to ridicule those women for daring to find the man hot?

as if for some reason, Elvis being sick rendered him as this manchild that needed a wetnurse instead of a loving girlfriend or wife who wanted to be with him sexually, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally?

some of you out there in the fandom seem to think that we must be horrible people for looking at Elvis in that phase of his life saying "omg big daddy elvis is so hot" as if we're the devil or something. like, how dare we find that man even remotely attractive. i can guarantee you anything that elvis would not want to be patronized and looked down upon as this poor helpless, innocent babyboy that didn't have needs just like the rest of us. newsflash, Elvis was a sexually charged man and he was still getting some at the end of his life. whether that makes some of you upset, that's not my problem to deal with. that's just a fact.

he was the most beautiful man to probably ever walk the face of the earth. even with his illness at the end, he was beautiful. and he had an even more beautiful soul that shined through everything. it doesn't matter what someone looks like, or what illnesses they go through. people that are sick are STILL HUMANS WITH HUMAN NEEDS AND DESIRES. do NOT infantilize him. and you need to look up the meaning to the word "fetishizing" because that's not what we're doing here.

how about we stop rendering that 40-something year old man as a baby who needed mommy and daddy to coddle him, and see him for what he is. he was a man that made mistakes. and im sure he had regrets. but he was a gorgeous man with a loving soul. and if we truly LOVE Elvis like we claim we do, then we love and accept him with all of his flaws.