Wes Boyd's
Spearfish Lake Tales
Contemporary Mainstream Books and Serials Online

Hat Trick
Book 2 of the Bradford Exiles series
Wes Boyd
©2004, ©2010

Chapter 5

December, 1988 Ė January 1989

It had snowed a few days before, so on Christmas Eve it looked like it was going to be a white Christmas Ė at least as white as you got in the city, Sandy thought as she walked through the blowing wind up the sidewalk to her home. By now, what snow there was lay dark and dirty from the passing traffic. That and the gloomy gray sky hanging overhead pretty well reflected her thoughts. Not having a car now was really a pain in the ass, but at least there was a neighborhood restaurant where she could get out of the house for a cup of coffee now and then.

As she reached her house, she saw that her motherís car was gone Ė it didnít matter where; gone was good. Maybe she was working, maybe not. She got out her key, opened the front door, went inside and took off her coat, heading over to hang it in the back closet. When she passed the kitchen table, she saw a note laying there: "Back in an hour. Dayna called. Ė Mom."

God, she missed Dayna! Sheíd had more fun the last four months than sheíd ever had in her life, mostly because of her roomieís spark-plugging everything. Even just talking to her would lift her out of her dumps. She didnít have Daynaís home number in memory, but a quick look in her wallet found it. In only a minute, she was in the living room, with her friend. "Hi, Dayna," she said at the sound of her voice. "Whatís up?"

"Sandy, are you as bored as I am?" Dayna asked.

"Nobody could be as bored as I am," Sandy replied. "Thereís nothing to do but listen to my mother bitch about how I should get a job for the next two or three weeks. All the pre-Christmas jobs are shot in the ass, I canít get to any of them without a car, and Iíd make next to nothing. Hell, I made more money with you in an hour this fall than I could make all break. But no, she sees me sitting around and figures Iíve got nothing better to do."

"Itís not quite that bad here," Dayna agreed. "But damn, Iíd forgotten how boring Bradford can be."

"Yeah, itís going to be a long damn three weeks."

"Maybe not," Dayna said. "I came up with an idea this morning. What do you say I pick you up the day after tomorrow and we head for Florida?"

"It sounds like a wonderful idea," Sandy said. "Except that my mother would shit a brick."

"Tell her I lined up some cash gigs, and you can make more than you could in some junk job."

"Did you find something?"

"No, of course not, I just now thought this up. Look, what Iím really thinking is that itís a perfect chance to blow into an area cold and see what kind of pitches we can find and what kind of hats we can get. At the worst, if we watch our money we might blow five hundred, but it gets us out of here on a road trip so we donít get bored. On the other hand, we might hit some good hats and make some real money."

"There is that," Sandy agreed. "I brought the twelve-string home with me, but the costumes are still in our dorm room, and we canít get in there."

"Not a problem," Dayna said. "I donít even know if there are any renfaires going on down there right now. If there are and we decide we want to do it, there ought to be costume rentals. But I want to see how well we can do not working a renfaire. And hell, we might get a little action, too. I still havenít had a decent fuck in months."

"Youíre talking tricks?" Sandy smiled. Although theyíd only done it once each, by any reckoning sheíd gotten the better deal; rather than the half-hard frat boy with money who Dayna had done, sheíd gotten a guy who had no particular looks and bad breath but a very hard and long-lasting dick. It had been the best time sheíd ever had in bed with a guy, and Dayna had been a little jealous of her, for once.

"Iím talking letís see what happens," Dayna grinned. "Stay loose and see what comes along. I need some action and I donít think youíd mind some, either."

"Youíve talked me into it," Sandy said. "The only thing is that Iím going to have to tell my mother about it, and sheís going to have a shit fit if weíre running around loose down there."

"Tell her Iíve got a grand-uncle weíre going to stay with at least some of the time," Dayna replied. "I do, and we might even stop by there. Tell you what, letís shoot for me meeting you at nine in the morning the day after tomorrow? We can drive all night, change off, and save a night in a motel, or something."

"Donít you have the camping gear in the back of the car, still?" Sandy asked. "We could do that if we needed to and had to save a buck."

"If we can find a cheap place to camp," Dayna said. "Thatís something else we need to take a look at, seeing how hard itís going to be to find cheap places to stay. Having to blow fifty or eighty bucks a night on a motel room or even twenty on a campsite is going to cut into the hats real quick. But, yeah, we need to have the option open. And thereís always my grand-uncle if we get into a pinch."

"Like I said, Dayna, works for me. Christ, Iíd pay to get out of here right now. I wish we could leave tonight, but I guess we have to do the Christmas thing."

"Then spend your spare time getting stuff ready to go back to school," Dayna suggested. "If things go good, we might just cut it as tight as we can, stop off and change stuff in the car so weíre not faced with too many awkward questions."

"Sounds like a plan," Sandy smiled. "See you in a couple days."

*   *   *

"God, Iím glad thatís over with," Sandy said as Dayna drove the light brown Chevette up the street from her home. "That wasnít real pretty."

"She seemed pleasant enough to me. Unless she was just being nice to a guest."

"She was. Look, if weíre going to get away with doing this all summer, this trip is going to have to be a big success. At least, Iím going to have to tell her it was a big success, and a stack of cash money to show her would help."

"We can do that," Dayna nodded. "Look, while I want to mess around and have some fun both on this trip and next summer, I donít think either one of us is going to be happy just playing two days a week. Weíre going to have to find some pitches on off days and play some, even if we donít make a lot of money."

"Well, I hope it is a success," Sandy sighed. "And I hope we can make it a success without having to peddle our asses all over the state."

"I think we can manage that," Dayna said. "At least weíre going to find out. Look, Iíve thought about this a little. While I do want to get laid and wouldnít mind doing a trick or two, I donít want to do it often enough that I get to thinking of myself as a hooker who busks on the side. I want to think of myself as a busker who happens to turn a trick when sheís horny and then only if the price is right."

"Iím absolutely amazed that Iíve come around to about that position," Sandy nodded. "I mean, I donít think doing one trick makes me a hooker for life, but Iíd really rather not think of myself primarily as a hooker, either. But looking past that, weíre going to have to be a little careful with each other. I mean, we donít need to be taking guys away from each other."

"Right," Dayna said. "Especially if one of us has a paying party set up, and the other one offers him a freebie. Is that what youíre thinking?"

"Yeah, part of it," Sandy said. "More than that, I donít think we want to get in the habit of going out looking for pay parties. I mean, if the opportunity comes to us, fine, but I donít think Iíve got the legs for high heels and fishnet stockings out on some street."

"Me either," Dayna said. "In fact, for now Iím tempted to say that Iím pretty much going to do it like I did with that guy at the frat house. In other words, if he hits on me and Iím not particularly interested, Iíll raise the subject of money."

"And enough to make it worthwhile if he meets your price like that frat rat did," Sandy agreed. "All right, I can go along with that. You realize, donít you, that it represents a hell of a revision in my thinking?"

"Iíve been thinking it through, too," Dayna said. "Look, I figure on being a little easy on this trip, for pay or not. I donít really want an easy reputation around renfaires or around campus, but not many people are going to know us where weíre going, if we run into anyone at all."

"I wouldnít mind a little partying with the right guy myself," Sandy grinned. "Dayna, do you realize how much youíve changed my thinking in the last few months? I mean, thereís not much of anything that weíre planning on doing on this trip that I would ever have dreamed of doing four months ago."

"Getting addicted, huh?" Dayna laughed. "Tim warned you about that."

"Like you said, it beats working."

*   *   *

It was a long drive to Florida, and driving straight through the night just made it longer. Daynaís Chevette was an old one, and it had seen better days, although it was still pretty sound. One of the things that didnít work too well was the FM band on the radio, and once they were past Toledo about all they could get was AM with commercials and country-western, more the former than the latter.

Normally that would have been a problem, but not with these two. Theyíd discovered long before that if they scrunched the driverís seat forward to where she just about had room to get the steering wheel past her boobs, and slid the passenger seat back, there was plenty of room for the person riding shotgun to play a guitar. Some of their most productive rehearsing and songwriting was done in the Chevette. They also worked out comedy routines and show fillers Ė many of which wouldnít ever get used because they were too dirty, but they got some laughs out of them, anyway, and it made the miles go quicker.

But the driver could only take sitting all scrunched up by the wheel for so long, so after a bit theyíd slide the driverís seat back and just talk. For two girls who had been total strangers a few months before, they were now far and away the best friends each of them had ever had, even lovers on one memorable afternoon, and both agreed that might happen again sometime if they happened to be interested. They saw a lot of things alike, or pretty closely. Dayna tended to be the leader, mostly because she was the more brassy of the two, but Sandy was coming along in that department. Sandy still wasnít a great singer and only joined in on choruses on some songs, plus did lead on some of the really screechy country-western, but she was much the better musician, and Dayna had considerably improved her skills from playing with her. Under Charleneís urging the year before, Dayna had gotten beyond the teenage-slob stage. She now tried to dress sharply, if a little hot when out in public on business, and over the last four months, Sandy had made many of the same changes. Sandy wasnít the striking beauty that Dayna had become, but she wasnít bad looking and had some attractive features of her own.

A year before, Sandy had had a weight problem. While not terribly overweight, she was obviously heavier than she should have been. A lot of it had been cleared up with the lousy food at Cedar Point, but the first weekend that the two had played the Michigan Renaissance Faire, sheíd discovered that she didnít feel like eating much if she was wearing her corset tight-laced Ė which led her to wear a tight corset under her clothes much of the time. While it was stiff and could be uncomfortable, she grew used to being corseted, and didnít eat as much as a result. With that incentive, sheíd lost another fifteen pounds without even thinking the word "diet," and while sheíd never have Daynaís willowy sexiness, she really wasnít complaining.

The one-piece swimsuit sheíd had at Cedar Point over the summer Ė and had rarely worn Ė wasnít a very good fit anymore, and she didnít even bother to pack it for this trip, knowing that Dayna would want to keep stuff to a minimum. So, the first order of business after reaching the Atlantic beaches south of Daytona was to buy something a little sexier. With Dayna involved, it turned out to be a lot sexier, of course Ė a really tiny string bikini with some lurid print flowers on what there was of it, which wasnít much. The price was steeper than she liked, and sheíd never have even thought of wearing something like it at Cedar Point Ė but this wasnít Cedar Point, and she had a better body now, as well as a much different attitude about showing it off. Dayna thought it looked so good that she bought one at least as daring in a different print.

"You know," Sandy said as they walked out of the store, "I really want to get to busking, but you know what Iíd really like to do? Just lie on the beach for a while and bake some of the Michigan winter out of me for a bit."

"We could do that," Dayna laughed. "You want to show off that hot body and see how many guys you can draw?"

"Yeah, that too," Sandy grinned. "I mean, this is supposed to be a vacation, too. What do you say we find a good beachfront motel and blow some of our savings? I mean, spend the afternoon on the beach, get ourselves wound down, and then think about finding a pitch."

"Iíve got some ideas," Dayna smiled. "But that sounds like a winner to me."

They found a large beachfront motel not long afterward, big enough to have a restaurant and bar. The place seemed fairly busy, and it wasnít cheap. Even though they just got one room for just one night, it would put a big hole in their planned budget.

It was still midmorning when they headed out onto the beach carrying towels, wearing sunglasses and their new string bikinis; Dayna carried a small plastic bag with sunscreen. The beach was fairly busy, but they found a spot close to a place where someone must have been doing some beach engineering; there was a large hole, and a plastic sand bucket was half buried in the sand. They spread out their towels, lathered on the sunscreen, and spread out to bake in the sun. "Life is good," Dayna sighed after a while.

"Yeah," Sandy agreed. "But now that weíre here, it seems just a little dull. Iím having second thoughts about blowing as much money as we did."

"Oh, itís not like weíre blowing it," Dayna smiled. "The point of making money is to be able to spend it to have fun, after all."

"True," Sandy sighed. "But I guess my idea of fun isnít as lazy as it was a few months ago." She rolled over and looked around. "What do you suppose that hole is all about?"

Dayna shrugged. "Probably someone got buried in the sand. Maybe yesterday, at a guess."

"You know, I always liked playing in the sand," Sandy grinned. "I never got to do it very much. I wonder what it would be like to be buried in the sand like that."

"Easy enough to find out," Dayna said, rolling to get up. "I always liked playing in the sand, too. What say we dig it out a little so we can get you really buried?"

"OK," Sandy grinned. "Itíll be like being a kid again."

With hands and the bucket, they deepened the hole quite a bit, taking five minutes to do it. Giggling a little, Sandy slid her butt down to the bottom of the hole, with her neck and feet still above the surface. She put her arms down at her sides, and giggled as Dayna pushed sand in on top of her. It took a while, and Dayna was having fun with it. Soon, only Sandyís head and feet were sticking above the sand, while Dayna smoothed off the surface.

"This is kind of fun," Sandy smiled. "Except that I canít move a muscle. I couldnít get out if I tried."

"You were the one who wanted the relaxation," Dayna grinned. "How about if I leave you here to get some rest? I could go over to that cute guy over there and tell him Iím fantastic in bed. We could come dig you out in a few hours."

"Youíd do it, too, wouldnít you?" Sandy laughed, shaking her head, the only part of her body she could move except for wiggling her feet around a little. "If youíre going to do it, at least get enough to cover the cost of the motel room."

"If Iím going to do it that cheap Iíd just as soon do a freebie," Dayna laughed, an idea creeping over her. "But what do you want to bet that I can cover the cost of our motel room in the next hour, without touching an instrument?"

"Youíre up to something, Dayna; I can see that look in your eye."

"Of course I am," Dayna grinned. "Letís make it interesting. Say, an hour in a pillory the next time we get to a renfaire with a good one. Or maybe a spanking."

"You do have a little bondage demon in you donít you?" Sandy laughed. "I mean, youíve got me pretty good right now. Tell you what. Letís find some guy and offer him a threesome. The winner is the one who gets screwed, or at least goes first."

"Fair enough," Dayna grinned. "You know how horny I am, youíd just love making me watch, wouldnít you? But I intend to win. Iíll be right back." She got a really evil note to her voice and added, "Donít go away."

"Oh, God," Sandy said, shaking her head as she watched her friend walk toward a group of college guys on the beach. "The things I get myself into with you."

*   *   *

Dayna walked right up to the college guys. "Hey, you guys down here for break?" she said in a sexy voice.

"Yeah," one of them spoke up. "Weíre down here from Memphis State."

"I wonder if you could help my friend and me out a little," she said in a sexy, pleading voice. "Weíve, uh, got ourselves a little problem."

"Yeah, sure," the guy said, realizing that he was getting hit on by a good-looking chick in a hot bikini. Right at that moment, he was game for anything, and so were his buddies.

"Then, come on over," she said, leading the four college guys to where Sandy lay buried. She stood straddling Sandyís feet. "You see," she told them. "We didnít have a lot of money to come down here with, and this motel is more expensive than we thought it would be, so weíre a little short. My friend has volunteered to help out." She squatted down, giving the college guys a good view of cleavage, and ran a fingernail up the soles of one of Sandyís feet.

"Dayna! No!" Sandy cried from behind her. "That tickles!"

"Sheís very ticklish," Dayna continued, gently sliding a fingernail up Sandyís other sole.

"Dayna . . . ha, ha . . . please, donít, Iím ticklish."

"She is quite ticklish," Dayna smiled. "Just a little touch like that and sheís already pleading for mercy. Just imagine how sheíd be screaming and begging for mercy if someone were to give her feet a real, serious tickling . . . "

"Dayna! No! Please! Donít tickle! Please!"

"Sheíd really have fun," Dayna continued, ignoring Sandyís protests. "Youíd just hear her laugh till she cried. Now guys, donít you think five minutes one on one with these ticklish tootsies would be worth, oh, twenty bucks?" With that, Dayna reached down, with both hands, and drew a fingernail up and down each sole.

"Stop it, that really tickles," Sandy pleaded. "Oh pleeease stop, itís my feet, theyíre sooooo ticklish; that tickles . . .!" Her pleas went for nothing; two of the guys were reaching for their money. In seconds, each of them handed her a twenty.

Dayna took the money and slid an end of each bill up under her bra, leaving them waving out in the open. "Why donít each of you take a foot for ten minutes?" she suggested, standing up and getting out of the way.

"Please, no, no tickling!" Sandy pleaded, "Itís not fair, I canít even moooove!"

"Donít mind her, itís not like she can hit you or anything," Dayna grinned as the two college guys crouched down in front of her bare feet and set to work.

"Please, please, pleeeeeease, pretty please no I canít stand being tickled, I canít stand it, nooo . . . hee hee. . . . no more tickling, not on my bare feet . . . hee hee . . . oh, God! . . . "

"Keep it up, Sandy," Dayna grinned. "We want to make sure these guys get their moneyís worth!"

"Please, not under my toessss . . . hee hee hee . . . oooooh, oh no no not there, not there . . . ahhhhhhhhhhh . . . "

Inspired by her reactions, the college guys just upped the pace. Soon Sandy was screaming, pleading, laughing, tears running down her face, breathing hard, trying to get air. Dayna finally took a little pity on her, went over and put a hand on each of the college guyís shoulders. "Hold up a second," she said. "Let her catch her breath, OK?"

"Yeah, sure," one of the college guys smiled.

Dayna glanced around. There were more than just the four college guys standing there now; there might have been fifteen or twenty people standing around watching. "These guys will be done in a couple minutes," she said. "Anyone else like to spend a little quality time with those ticklish toesies? Really, sheís enjoying it, you can tell by how much sheís laughing."

"Dayna . . . " Sandy puffed ominously. "Iím gonna get you for this . . . ha, ahahhh, ha, hah . . . "

"Now that youíve seen how it works, what am I bid for five minutes of one on one with those tender tootsies?" Dayna said. "Letís do an auction. Anyone give me ten for five minutes, anybody give me ten, ten, Iíve got ten, anybody got fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, well how about twelve, twelve, all right, Iíve got twelve, now fifteen, fifteen, now fifteen dollars for five minutes with Sandyís ticklish soles, Iíve got fifteen, now eighteen, eighteen . . . " Sandy was now screaming with laughter, partly because the Memphis State guys had gone to work on her feet again, but partly at the sight of Dayna auctioning off the next round . . . "Now thirty-two, going once, going twice, anyone give me thirty five, Iíve got thirty-five . . . "

" . . . . stop it, it tickles, oh I canít believe this . . . hee, hee . . . stooooop, really, my feet are soooo ticklish! pleeease . . . hee, hee . . . "

"Forty-five? Forty-five? Going once, going twice, sold, for forty dollars to the blonde in the blue bikini! Oh honey, those fingernails are going to be sooooo ticklish . . . "

At the end of an hour or so, there was an even bigger crowd around, and there were a number of bills hanging out of various strategic spaces in Daynaís bikini. "All right, folks!" she called out. "I think we may be wearing her out, but hang around a second. Letís have a big round of applause for Sandy Beach, sheís been a helluva good sport about this . . . I mean, not that she had a helluva lot of choice, but sheís been a good sport." There was a nice applause; Sandy was still catching her breath, and Dayna could see that she was seriously pissed. But, she fixed it in an instant. "Iíll tell you what, the showís not over with. I canít let her have all the fun, so if some of you guys will be nice enough to dig her out, Iíll fill in the hole, so to speak."

"I . . . donít believe it . . . youíre volunteering?"

"Sandy, Iíll make a deal with you," Dayna said, loudly enough so the crowd could hear. "We had a bet, and I won. Now, Iíll give you a chance to win it back. I had to draw a crowd, now youíve got one. If you can bring in more cash in an hour than I did, you win it after all."

"Dayna," Sandy said, struggling for breath as several guys started to dig her out with bare hands. "I swear to Christ, Iíll never figure you out."

"Just to be fair, just because you were a good sport. Tell you what, I donít know how much money I have here, but letís call it three hundred. Better than that wins, all right?"

"Iíll . . . Iíll take that bet if someone will go get me a pop or a beer or something, Iím exhausted and dry."

"Iím sure with all the cans Iíve seen around this place that someone must have a beer they can spare," Dayna smiled to the crowd.

"Here you go," someone replied, handing her a cold can. Dayna kneeled down in among the guys digging her out, popped the top, and held the can up to her lips.

"Oh, God, that tastes good," Sandy puffed. "Dayna, you are crazy as hell."

"Youíve known that for how long?" she smiled. "How long have you known me?"

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