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 6

In a couple minutes, the several hands digging at Sandy were enough to free her from the sand, and a couple people helped her stand up, covered in sand that stuck to her body from all the sweat of her ordeal. "Let’s have a nice cheer for the tickle queen!" Dayna said to the crowd; there was a round of applause, and Sandy held her beer-filled hand high. "Hey guys," Dayna told the guys that had dug her out. "Dig that out a little deeper, I’m taller than she is and I want you to pack me in real tight, OK? I’ve gotta be even more ticklish than Sandy is, and I don’t want to hurt myself squirming."

They dug at it for another minute or two, while Sandy just stood by, shaking her head and catching her breath, killing the first beer and taking another that was immediately offered. "All right, guys," Dayna finally said. "That ought to be pretty close to good enough." She looked around at the crowd, held her arms up high, and called out, "Friends, Romans, countrymen! We who are about to be tickled salute you!"

"My God," a medium height, fortyish man with hair on the verge of going gray said to Sandy in a low voice. "Is she like that all the time?"

"No, sometimes she gets a little wild," Sandy grinned as Dayna sat down in the hole, put her arms by her sides, and several sets of hands began to push sand in on her. She spoke up a little and replied to Dayna, "No, it’s more like ‘vengeance is mine, sayeth the Sandy!’"

In only a minute all that could be seen of Dayna was her head and feet. "Folks," Sandy said. "I’m still a little out of breath, but let’s get this rolling, because I want you to really give it to her." She took a couple steps to stand between Dayna’s feet and squatted down, giving the audience in that direction a good look at some sand-filled cleavage – and the viewers in the other direction, for that matter. "Now, she says she’s ticklish, and I don’t know if she’s bullshitting me or not. Let’s find out."

She reached out with her hands, drew the tips of her fingers lightly up Dayna’s soles, and was rewarded with an "Aaaaaaaiiiiieeeeahhhhhhhhh! Oh, God, that ticklessssssssss!!!"

"Sounds like it to me," Sandy nodded casually. She looked up at the crowd and smiled evilly. "Now since she’s nice and fresh, and not all worn to crap like I was there at the end, the first one in line is probably going to get some real good screaming. So, let’s not start off cheap. Who’ll give me a hundred bucks to be the first to have ten minutes with these bare, ticklish feet?"

Sandy wasn’t an auctioneer, and didn’t have Dayna’s patter skills, but still managed to drive it up to a hundred and fifty bucks from the blonde in the blue bikini, who had to get the money from her boyfriend. "Have fun, honey," she said. "Send her out of her tree for me too, would you?"

As the blonde went to work on Dayna’s feet – giving the crowd a pretty good view of cleavage and butt crack in the process as well – she drew some serious screams. Dayna was babbling in an instant, tears running down her face, and Sandy just stood there watching. "She’s not faking it, is she?" the salt-and-pepper-hair guy said to her quietly.

"I don’t think so," Sandy said. "I goddamn sure wasn’t. I thought I was gonna die there a couple of times. I was ready to kill her before she volunteered to take a turn. That’s the only thing that saved her life."

"That must be a pretty serious bet the two of you have," the man grinned softly.

"Really, it’s not all that big a deal," she replied in a low voice. She probably wouldn’t have said the next thing she said if she hadn’t been tired and not thinking clearly. "It’s over who gets fucked first the next time we do a threesome."

"You do threesomes?" the guy grinned, keeping his voice low. "Who gets to pick the third party?"

"Whoever wins the bet," Sandy smiled, and gave the guy a serious looking over before continuing. He wasn’t the prettiest looking guy she’d ever met, but he was rugged and athletic. "Look, we both like it hard, fast and lots of it, and you can see we don’t fool around. If you don’t think you can fuck both of us silly let me know now. Don’t bullshit me."

"Works for me," he grinned. "You’ll win the bet."

"OK," she conceded. "Let me go work this crowd a little." She stepped over to where the blonde was tickling Dayna’s feet and drawing some serious screams. "Honey, you look like you’ve done that before and you did a hell of a job on me, but give her a chance to breathe for a second, OK?"

"All right," the long-haired blonde grinned. "This is fun!"

"You ever get tickled like that?" Sandy laughed.

"Not like that," she said.

"Tell you what," Sandy grinned. "After we get done with Dayna, and it’s gonna be a while, how’d you like to take a turn? I’ll bet your boyfriend would be, excuse the expression, tickled to death."

"I, uh, I’ll think about it," she blushed.

"Think about it real hard," Sandy said. "I know you’re into him for pretty close to two Franklins, I’ll bet he’d like to get some of that back. OK, it looks like she’s got her breath back a little, go to it!"

"AAAAhhhiieeeeee . . . it ticklessssssss!"

Sandy stood back up, made a show of brushing some of the sand off – her breasts got special attention, and she scrunched around with her bikini bottom a little. "God, I’ve got sand everywhere," she told the crowd. "I mean, ev – ree – where!" She gave a big breath, brushed the sand off one of her breasts for about the fourth time, and said, "Miss Tickle here has got a few minutes left, but let’s get going on the next round with those really ticklish feet. The way Dayna is screaming, I think the next round ought to be pretty good. Now, who’ll give me a real good opening bid for ten minutes?"

"Five hundred," the guy she’d been talking to before said.

"Now that’s what I call an opening bid!" she smiled. "Anybody give me five and a quarter? No, sold! And at that price, I think I’ll give you an extra few minutes!"

Well past an hour later, Dayna was crying, sweating, screaming, shaking, and still giggling as a pair of kids worked on her feet – they’d weaseled the money out of their parents. "All right, kids, that’s enough," she said. "Dayna, do you think you can handle some more?"

"Oh, God!" she puffed. "Nooo . . . please . . . no more!"

"Dayna, I think you’re faking it," Sandy grinned. "You remember when you had me locked in that pillory, and I said I was going to get you back? The time has come."

"Oh God . . . nooooo!"

"Have fun, folks," Sandy grinned. "It’s freebie time. I’m just going to stand back and watch for a few minutes."

"AAiieeehhh! Pleeeassse! It tickleeesss! Stop, pleasssseeee!"

Sandy only let it go on for a few minutes. "All right, I think I made my point," she said. "Knock it off, and if some of you guys will be so kind as to dig her out of there, and maybe give her a beer, I think she’ll appreciate it."

It took a few minutes to dig her out, and a couple guys had to help her stand up. "All right, let’s have a cheer," Sandy said. "She proved she could take it." There was a round of applause, and when it died down, she continued, "Dayna, just one thing."

"What?" she puffed.

"The next time you get an idea for some weird-ball bondage game, you’re ‘it’ first."

"OK," she puffed, taking a sip of her beer.

"One other thing," Sandy called to the crowd. "Miss, you in the blue bikini, I didn’t catch your name, could you come over here please?"

The blonde stepped forward gingerly, not liking the sound of this. "What is it?" she said softly.

"A while back we were talking about you taking the next turn. What does your boyfriend think about that?" She glanced over at the guy, who gave a big nod. "Works for me," Sandy grinned. "Gentlemen, if you’d be so kind as to assist this young lady in getting buried in the sand . . . "

"But . . . but . . . please . . . " the shocked blonde stammered.

"I’m sure they’ll be glad to assist you," Sandy smiled, as about half a dozen hands grabbed for the blonde. In mere seconds she was being buried in the hole and not liking it one bit. Sandy walked over to the boyfriend and said, "I have absolutely got to take a shower, so we’re out of here. Don’t overdo it, or you may not get any tonight. A few minutes is sauce for the goose, but don’t take it too far."

"I can dig it," the guy said. "She’s deserved it for longer than this."

Dayna just stood back, catching her breath, as covered with sweat and sand as Sandy had been over an hour before. "We do all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sandy said. "We more than made the motel room; we made the nut for the trip and then some."

"Good," Dayna panted. "That makes it worth it. Christ, I never dreamed you could come from having your feet tickled."

"I didn’t think so either," Sandy admitted. "I know I came at least a couple of times but I couldn’t keep count."

"What was that five hundred dollar bid all about?" Dayna asked.

"We worked out a deal, he’s the third party in our threesome. And Dayna?"


"I get him first."

"Aiieeeeeahhh!" they heard the blonde scream. "Please . . . ha, ha, ha . . . don’t! It tickleeeesssss! Randy, you son of a bitch!!! Please! Stooooopppppp!"

"Ah, the course of true love," Sandy grinned as she motioned the fortyish guy over. "What do you say we sit back, watch the proceedings, maybe have a beer, and let Dayna recover for a bit?" she said. "Then we can head up to our room, take a good shower together, and we’ll do our best to fuck you dry."

*   *   *

The fortyish guy – his name proved to be Frank – was just about as good as his word. It took both Sandy and Dayna working on him for several hours before they finally wrung him out, and in truth they were pretty well wrung out themselves in the process. They lay in a complicated heap on the bed, Frank in the middle, all of them just catching their breath and pulling themselves together. "Holy, shit!" Frank sighed. "You two are something else! What are you, college students?"

"At least part of the time," Dayna mumbled, glad of the first real good sex she’d had in a long time. It may have been seconds . . . and fourths . . . and sixths . . . but damn good. "The rest of the time we’re itinerant musicians."

"I didn’t think you acted like hookers."

"Fine distinction," Dayna laughed. "We fucked you for free. You paid to tickle my feet."

"Splitting hairs," he grinned. "What do you say that we get up, take another shower, and then I’ll take you down and buy you dinner?"

"Works for me," Sandy smiled. "We’d both like that."

*   *   *

More as a special "thank you" to Frank than anything else, they dressed rather hot – short skirts and tank tops, along with makeup and a general spiff up – before they headed down to dinner. There was a pretty good crowd in the lounge where Frank took them. A hostess led them to a good table, with a smile for Frank, who she apparently knew. As Dayna’s eyes adjusted to the low light in the place, she saw a low stage at one end of the room, sitting mostly empty. "Do they have a band in here?" she asked Frank.

"Once in a while," he said. "Not often. I’m not here much, but when I am it’s usually for a week or so, and I think I’ve only caught a band here once."

"Dayna," Sandy said. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"

"Darn right, I smell a pitch."

"Pitch?" Frank frowned as a waitress came over, asking if she could get anyone anything from the bar.

Frank ordered a beer, but the girls ordered soft drinks – they were still under twenty-one – and Dayna asked, "Hey, by any chance, is the manager around?"

"Yeah, he’s in back," the girl said. "Would you like to talk to him?"

"If I could," Dayna replied. "I’ll go out back if you think I should."

"No, I’ll send him out," she smiled. "It may take a minute or two."

About five minutes later, a thirtyish man came out into the room and joined them. "Hi, Frank!" he said. "Good to have you in the house tonight. Is there something I can do?"

"I think these young ladies wanted to talk to you," Frank smiled.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Do you ever have a band in here?" Dayna asked.

"Once in a while, but the local bands aren’t very good and they’re pretty expensive."

"Tell you what," she said. "Would you be interested in a band tonight for free?"


"Doesn’t cost you a cent," Dayna smiled. "We work for just tips."

"What kind of stuff do you play?"

"Just about anything but hard rock," Dayna smiled. "We can do a little country, but we pretty much run toward blues, light rock, and ballads. We usually try a little of everything to see what works."

"You’re not noisy as hell are you?"

"No, we’re strictly acoustic, no amps."

"Works for me," he said. "We’ll give you a try, anyway."

"OK, we’ll get started right after we eat, while there’s still a good crowd here."

"Good enough, I’ll get the waitress back over if you’re ready to order."

Frank watched the man walking away. "With what little I know about you two girls already, I’ll bet you’re pretty good at that, too."

"We like to think so," Sandy grinned. "Stick around for a while; you tell us."

"I wouldn’t miss it."

After the waitress took their orders, Dayna headed back up to the room to collect the guitars, and came back down wearing her black fedora. "What’s the hat for?" Frank asked with amusement.

"Couldn’t pass the hat very well if we didn’t have a hat, could we?"

Not long after they were finished eating a light dinner, they headed up to the stage, pulled a couple of bar stools from the back, got out their guitars and gave them a quick tuning, then launched into one of their favorite openers, I Know A Place. They gave it a lot of energy, and got some applause at the end of the song.

"Thank you," Dayna grinned. "It’s good to see everybody here tonight, because tonight this is going to be the place where the fun happens."

"We’re Dayna and Sandy," Sandy added. "She’s Dayna."

"She’s Sandy," Dayna laughed. "But then if you were out on the beach this afternoon, you know we were both pretty sandy."

That drew a laugh – a lot of people had witnessed the scene on the beach.

"I know there were some people out there who thought we were crazy," Sandy grinned. "But we’re musicians, so that proves it."

"Just a word about what we’re doing here," Dayna said. "We don’t believe in middlemen. We believe in music directly from producer to consumer, live music that you can enjoy, and we can enjoy playing for you."

"We’re not being paid to be here tonight," Sandy went on. "That means just one thing. If you like what you hear, we’d appreciate a tip or two. If you don’t like what we do, you’re under no obligation."

"That means we have to work to make you happy and make you laugh and have a good time, just like we did on the beach today," Dayna added. "I’ll just throw my hat up on this stool here, and if you want you can throw some money in it."

"We don’t know everything," Sandy smiled. "But we do know quite a bit and if you have something you’d like us to play, we’ll take a swing at it."

"And now we’ll shut up and play some music," Dayna laughed, and launched off into a very bluesy version of Cold Cold Heart.

It took a few songs to get the audience warmed up, and they stayed away from hat lines for a while. But before long, people were sitting around after their dinner, and a few people were filing in just for the show. Before long, the place was rocking, and almost anything they did drew applause. After an hour or more, Dayna ended a song by saying, "I think we’ll take a little break and let the waitresses and the bartender earn their salaries. Like we said earlier, if you like what we’ve done, a one or a five or a ten in my hat on the stool here would be appreciated. And if you don’t like what we’ve done but just want to be polite, a one or a five or a ten would still be appreciated."

"And if you don’t want to be polite," Sandy added, "you’re not the first cheapskates we’ve run across."

They headed back to the table where Frank was still sitting. "You two are pretty darn good," he grinned.

"The crowd’s a little tight, but I think they’ll loosen up when they get a little booze in them," Sandy grinned. "Then we can get into the good stuff."

"I have to say, I have to wonder what you call good stuff, after that."

"Tell you the truth, we don’t know either," Dayna said, watching several people head up to throw money in her hat. "It depends on the crowd. That’s part of the fun. This group seems to go toward light rock, but it could change as the evening goes on."

"This is what you two do for a living?"

"It’s what we do to work our way through college," Sandy admitted honestly. "But we may wind up trying to make our living at it."

After a few minutes, they headed up to the stage, and started in on some lighter stuff – California Dreamin’I’ll Never Fall In Love Again – but soon sensed that this crowd wanted more meat, so headed into rockier, bluesier music. Eventually, they brought the set to an end, fired off another hat line – and this brought an interesting response: the blonde from the beach and her boyfriend came up, gave them both hugs and cheek kisses, and threw a couple bills in the hat. Dayna glanced out the corner of her eye and could see Ben Franklin’s face looking back at her, so the blonde must have had a better time than she’d expected.

They found the manager sitting back at the table with Frank. "You’ve got this joint jumping," he said. "You’re a lot better than I expected."

"Thanks," Dayna told him. "That’s one thing about working for tips, we have to do a good job."

"I see that," he said. "Look, if you’d like to come back tomorrow night, you’d be welcome."

"We could think about it," Dayna told him. "We’re kind of on the move, and we want to get around some."

"Would it help you if we comped you a room?" he asked. "We’ve sold ten times enough booze tonight to pay for it."

"Deal," Dayna grinned. "I don’t even know what time closing is. When do you want us out of here?"

"If you could, wrap it up about one, I think," he said. "Unless it flattens out, you can make the choice. I’ll tell the front desk to comp you another night."

"Thank you, sir," Sandy grinned. "We’ll do our best to make it worth your effort."

After he left, Frank smiled. "I think I begin to understand what was really going on out there on the beach today. You were putting on a show, weren’t you?"

"Yep," Dayna grinned. "It was off the cuff, but a lot of what we do is off the cuff. The screaming was real, I have to admit. Hey, Frank, Sandy and I haven’t talked it over, but once we wrap it up, if you want to come back up to the room and go another round, you’d be welcome. You’re a pretty cool dude."

"I’d love to take you up on it," he said. "But we’d go till all hours and I have to be at work in the morning. I really should get out of here now, but I’ll stick out one more set and throw something in the hat."

"Thanks, Frank, you’re a sweety," Sandy said. "Bummer that you’ve got to work, though."

"Oh, I don’t mind," he said. "It’s challenging, and it’s a hell of a lot of work, but I wind up doing something that I enjoy doing very much."

"What’s that?" Sandy asked.

"Oh, I’m just here doing some prep work," he said. "I’ll be commanding a shuttle next summer."

Both girls jaws dropped to somewhere around the floor. "You mean . . . you’re an astronaut?" Dayna finally managed to say.

"Yep," he grinned. "Don’t ask about zero-gee sex though. NASA secret. Maybe you’d like to think about being a mission specialist some time."

"Holy shit," Sandy shook her head. "You mean we spent the afternoon . . . "

"It was a very good afternoon," he smiled. "Maybe another time."

"Just say the word, Frank," Dayna smiled. "Just say the word."

<< Back to Last Chapter
Forward to Next Chapter >>

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.