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 13

All too soon it was time to head back to Central. The crowds in Mackinaw City had slacked off a lot toward the end of August as kids downstate went back to school, so it didn’t bother them as much to take off a day early to make a brief stop in Warren – the only time Sandy had gone home all summer – and then head on down to Bradford to sort out stuff to take back to college. Since they still had camping gear in the car, they didn’t get everything they wanted, but knew they’d be coming down there again once the Flint Renfaire was over with, so it wasn’t a problem.

They arrived in the middle of the unloading confusion in front of their dorm along about noon, in no great hurry. They’d made several stops at Central in the past month, to take care of changing classes and schedules, buying books and making other arrangements, which included setting up the gig at the freshman icebreaker party on Saturday – the one they’d been emergency fill-ins for last year. They took their time hauling their stuff up to their room, which was now on the second floor, and getting things arranged. Then, just at dinnertime, with all the kids – especially the new freshmen – crowding the lobby of the cafeteria, they appeared in their harem-girl outfits, and without any intro started busking. They opened the session with Midnight at the Oasis, which went well with the outfits and has some pretty steamy lyrics, and when they had everyone’s attention, Dayna spoke up: "Hi, we’re the genies from Hunter 215."

"She’s Jeanie," Sandy laughed.

"She’s Jennie," Dayna smiled.

"We’re genies," they said in unison.

"Somebody here rubbed a magic lamp."

"So here we are to sing you a genie song."

They swung into a Dayna and Sandy original that had come to life in the front seat of the Chevette: Genie in a Bottle, which included the very steamy, breathy refrain:

"If you want me next to you, rub me right and you will see,

Like a released genie, I will make your dreams reality."

About that time, the doors to the cafeteria opened, but nobody within earshot moved that direction. They swung into Come Away With Me, which was hardly less steamy, if having nothing to do with genies but a lot to do with blues.

"All right, folks," Dayna said after the song ended, "if you’re not freshmen you probably know us, but if you are, we’re actually Dayna and Sandy, otherwise known as the blues sisters, or sometimes known as those crazy girls with the guitars. We’re here today to bring you real music, live music, music right from our mouths to your ears, no DJs, no record companies, no hype, just the real thing for your enjoyment. If you happen to like what we do, a little applause would be appreciated. If you really like what we do, a little cash in my hat here would be even more appreciated."

A lot of work and practice over the last month – much of it on Central Avenue – meant that they now could do about half original music or their own interpretations of songs like Cold Cold Heart, and only half covers. But, like last year, it was all pretty steamy, and it got steamier yet when, as the hat went around for the last time, they ended with a heavily reworked version of the Billie Holliday-Cole Porter Love For Sale, which included the lines,

"Love for sale, Who will buy?

Who would like to sample my supply?

Who’s prepared to pay the price,

For a trip to paradise?"

"OK, that’s a wrap for now," Dayna smiled. "But to you freshmen coming to the mixer, that was only a warm-up. We’ll get into the good stuff later."

"Dayna!" Sandy protested to the crowd. "You are not going to do Eskimo Nell tonight. The college won’t like it if we warp the freshmen’s minds their first day here."

"Oh, if you insist; we’ll save it," Dayna grinned for the crowd. "You’re right, why rush? We’ve got all year to warp their minds."

*   *   *

Taking the day off from the renfaire to move into the dorm cost them a day of appearance money, plus the likelihood of several good buckets, but the opportunity to get the school year off on the right foot by appearing in the lobby, and then at the freshman mixer in the harem-girl outfits, was not to be passed up. They didn’t have enough original material yet to go half and half through the mixer, but they were about one to two, and didn’t really worry about it. They were moving in the right direction, they thought.

They were up early the next morning heading for Flint – at least they could get in one good day. "I thought it went pretty well," Sandy commented.

We got ’em going pretty well, though."

"I thought we got about as risqué as we could get without the college pitching a fit. God, I thought of a line we’ve got to use sometime, I thought about feeding it to you, but that would have been a little too far out, I think."

"All right, I’ll bite. What were you going to feed me?"

"After some really hot song, I’ll say, ‘Dayna, do you smoke after sex?’"

"Yeah, that might have been a little far out for last night. What’s the response?"

"How about, ‘That’s not smoke, that’s steam. But a cigarette usually tastes good afterwards.’"

"Yeah, that’s a good one; we’ll have to remember it. Gonna have to time it right, though."

"I’m sure glad we had the sound system to work with," Sandy sighed. "We could never have gone straight acoustic in that mob."

"Yeah, that’s probably the biggest crowd I can recall us playing," Dayna agreed.

"You know, that’s something we’re going to have to admit we need after we get the RV and go full time. We’re going to hit some places that we’re going to need some speakers and an amp that can handle at least four channels. We’ve shied away from doing bigger shows because we don’t have them."

"It’d get to be a lot of crap to haul in the Chevette," Dayna nodded. "But yeah, we’ll about have to do it. Maybe we ought to get something right away, and that way we can use it a little this winter, and learn how to use it."

"It’s not a rush item," Sandy agreed. "I’ll tell you something we might want to think about sometime, though. We really haven’t done any promotion up to this point other than just sitting down and playing. I think we want to look into doing some, even if it’s only to have some simple flyers made up. We can write on them free show tonight, 7:00 PM, such and so a place, run the original through a copying machine, and spread them around town."

"Good idea, but do we need a name other than Dayna and Sandy? I mean, think of, oh, Sonny and Cher, although that might not be the best example."

"Well, I was thinking maybe ‘The Genies’, but that sort of leaves us in the harem outfits, and we may not want to use them all the time. Let’s face it, Dayna and Sandy are going to be pretty steamy at times; we don’t want to use the same name for elementary school shows." She shook her head. "God, wouldn’t Jerry and Jim just shit if they knew we were using that inspiration to build a kids’ show?"

"Yeah, they’d shit," Sandy nodded. "And they’d really shit if they knew they were still the last guys we fucked. We have got to do something about that sooner or later, preferably sooner."

"I think that’s what pisses me off about having to miss staying at Flint last night," Dayna shook her head. Those two guys from the sword comedy routine had potential, but it just didn’t work right."

"I think we need more than a simple screw," Sandy protested. "We need a serious sexcapade. I never thought I’d see the day when I said this, but I’m looking forward to what you’re going to pull on me without warning."

"They’re not planned, they just sort of happen," Dayna grinned. "And yeah, I need one, too. Every one we’ve tried since our birthdays has been either kind of wussy, or got balled up, like with Mom that time."

"Tell you what," Sandy grinned. "Just for the sake of creativity, let’s not reciprocate the next time."

"What do you mean?"

"Just because I pull something on you, you don’t have to do the same thing to me. You have to think of something else."

"Sounds reasonable," Dayna nodded. "You want to make it interesting?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"A side bet, like we did when we got buried in the sand?"

"Yeah. That’d be fun. Pick a guy out for a threesome, and the one who comes up with the wilder kink gets screwed first. Or something like that. We’ll have to think about it."

"How do we figure out which one is wilder?"

"If it’s not pretty obvious to the both of us, then we call the bet off. But let’s make it more interesting. We don’t use the chains or stocks. We have to do it in public, like the buried-in-sand deal."

"Ohhhh, that makes it tough," Dayna grinned. "More of a challenge. Obviously, the prisoner is going to have to cooperate. Can the tormenter have help setting it up? I mean, extra sets of hands?"

"Yeah, why not? You sound like you’ve got something in mind already."

"Not really," Dayna smiled. "A direction perhaps, but it needs some work. There’s a problem, though. Whichever one of us goes first, the other one will know they have to top it."

"OK, what if we get someone to help us out? I mean, let’s have a party, there’s a few crazy people we know we could ask. We each get a couple of helpers and explain what we want the helpers to do to the other person; that way it’d get done at the same time. Then we let the guests vote on who the winner is, and the loser has to get her feet tickled for an hour or so."

"Sounds like it’d work," Dayna laughed. "We’d have to hold off till after we’re done with the renfaire weekends, but that gives us a month to think about it. And that would sure add to the old reputation around campus."

"Let’s juice it up a little more," Sandy grinned. "If it’s going to be a party, let’s even be kinkier. We have to wear string bikinis."

"Fine with me," Dayna shook her head. "God, we scare me sometimes."

*   *   *

Their second year at Central proved to be a lot different than the first – at least partly because in general they were studying things they wanted to learn, rather than just things they’d been told they had to learn for no clear reason. Their classes ranged from prostitution to performing for children, with several stops along the way at places like belly dancing and poetry – and every class had something they thought might be useful to them. Because they wanted to learn those things, they worked hard at them.

In the last two weekends of the Flint Renfaire, a lot of the vendors were cutting back their stocks for the season, so there were significant sales and markdowns. They used the opportunity to stock up their costumes; two complete new regular outfits, including corsets, which with the older attire could mean a lot of flexibility and mix and match; plus two more matching harem-girl outfits, considerably different from the older ones. Since they enjoyed playing in costume out on the streets, having some depth was welcome, even though it would mean more to pack.

They were even glad to have the renfaire season over with; they’d been offered a contract for the following year, but they said they’d have to think about it, they had other plans. The odds were that they wouldn’t be back another year, but a year off was a year off and plans could change, so it was just as well they could leave the door open as long as possible.

The weekend after the renfaire season ended, they finally were able to take off for Bradford to pick up the rest of the things stored there that they needed for the semester. That weekend happened to be the weekend they’d been scheduled to play the music festival at the Briarwood Mall, and the mall would supply their own microphones and speakers – but it was even more clear that those items were going to have to be added to their own inventory pretty soon. The show went well – being a family crowd, they kept it on the clean side, wearing corseted renfaire outfits, not the harem-girl costumes. The music was a mixture of renfaire tunes, pop music, and some original tunes, none of which had been played in Briarwood previously.

But the weekend was also an opportunity to see Tim and Charlene, who had been back for most of a couple months, but there just hadn’t been time to see them before this. They reported a good summer, bringing back more money than they left with, which was the general idea in the first place. Tim had found some excellent pitches along the Jersey Shore and along Cape Cod, and had played several smaller renfaires and some local festivals.

They hadn’t let the word get out – especially to their parents – so they swore Tim and Charlene to secrecy and told them they were seriously thinking about bagging college the next spring and hitting the road, with the possible idea of doing a winter term somewhere. The four spent several hours going over the plans the girls had made, and both Tim and Charlene were able to make a number of useful comments and suggestions.

Tim had told Dayna since the first that she needed to work toward more original music, or serious remakes of older, less familiar tunes. He had several pieces he’d written over the years that he offered to the girls, and offered to copy for them several notebooks of lyrics to older music, which might help them with the battle. Their repertoire of original or vastly revised music grew considerably from those pages, not only in the following months, but also during the following years.

The Willoughbys reported that living out of the motor home worked well, but it took some planning, since hopping into the vehicle to go to the store for a gallon of milk involved tearing down and packing up everything, or begging a ride from someone else, neither of which worked too well. Tim knew that a lot of people towed small vehicles behind motor homes for just that purpose, but figured that in most cases they’d be moving frequently enough that having the extra vehicle’s convenience wouldn’t balance off the extensive dent it would make in the gas mileage. "Take bicycles, or maybe mopeds," he suggested. "They come in handy other times."

Gas mileage was a concern, since the RV tended to have trouble making it past a gas pump. "Especially after driving that Chevette, it’s going to seem like it’s costing you a shitload," he told them. "And it will. Again, planning helps. Don’t just drive around for the sake of driving around, have some idea of where you’re going and what you’re going to do when you’re there."

Tim and Charlene had a ton of other suggestions that they would draw upon in the coming months, and the girls were sharp enough to take extensive notes of the discussion, like they had of many of their own planning discussions.

*   *   *

They talked about Tim and Charlene’s advice most of the way back to Central. They did not, however, talk about the bondage challenge party scheduled for the following weekend. They’d both been working on ideas for a month, but had gone out of their way to not give away anything. It made it more exciting that way.

Dayna had kicked around a lot of ideas, some pretty far out. On thinking about it, though, she realized that it would be a good idea to not get too far out – it was possible to get too kinky in a public thing like a party. Worse, something hard to top would be hard to top, and might inhibit some sort of repeat, so the idea pretty obviously had to be to come up with something that was just wild enough to win – but something flamboyant, too, that would make sure she’d win.

Coming up with people to help wasn’t a problem. They’d had a core of dorm mates who might as well be called groupies; the previous year and a couple times this year, they’d gotten together in dorm rooms, usually with beer and guitars. Dayna thought about it a bit, then went out of her way to invite an occasional participant in these parties – Vicky Varney, the only other member of the Bradford Class of ’88 to attend Central.

She’d been friends with Vicky in high school, though not particularly close. Vicky had been a cheerleader, one of the popular girls who was always dating and having a good time. She hadn’t been able to continue that kind of popularity at Central; Dayna thought the fact that she and Sandy had become well-known if not a little notorious around campus ground on Vicky a little. However, Dayna knew that Vicky was a gossip, and she remained real close pals with Emily Jones – well, Holst now, the class president – who had gotten married right out of high school and pregnant immediately thereafter. Vicky told her in the cafeteria one day that Emily was feeling really left out these days and spent a lot of time gossiping with people about the good old days. Word of this party was bound to get out – having Vicky there would make it as accurate as possible and add a little to the already wild reputation Dayna had among her old high school class – and make Emily feel real jealous about what she was missing. What’s more, Vicky could be depended on to run her mouth all over campus.

"That’s about the sort of off-the-wall thing I’ve come to expect from you," Vicky sighed when Dayna proposed the general idea to her. "Are there going to be any cute guys there?"

"Probably a few," Dayna smiled. "I’m sure somebody will bring beer, and we’ll probably pound the strings a little afterwards. If I win, and I get drunk enough, I might even be talked into doingEskimo Nell."

The party was a little slow getting started, and it took a couple beers each to get things going. "All right, it’s time for the Blues Sisters Annual October Bondage Challenge," Dayna told the crowded room. "OK, just to review, we’ve each gone over with our helpers how we want the other one bound up. Whichever of us is in the more diabolical arrangement has to get her feet tickled by all of you for an hour. You ready, Sandy?"

"Ready when you are, Dayna," she replied, stripping off her sweat shirt to reveal the bikini top underneath.

In a couple minutes both of them were in their bikinis and getting worked on. It proved that Sandy had decided to go with rope – it turned out later that she’d had their suitemates Barbara and Amanda tie her up to practice and work out details. Sandy’s rope tie was a honey – Barbara and Amanda started by binding both Dayna’s wrists and elbows together in front of her with several turns of rope around the arms lashed into place. Then the two had Dayna bend forward, putting her elbows between her knees. Then, each forearm was lashed to the leg on that side, and another lashing went from above the wrist lashings on her forearm to the calf. Even with the two girls working, it took a while, but Dayna wound up with her wrists nearly between her ankles, her hands just far enough away to not be able to stop anyone working on a ticklish foot. It also left Dayna’s ribs open for tickling. It wasn’t the most comfortable position possible, but she figured she could relax and manage it for a while. Besides, she thought she had a better trick for Sandy.

Vicky and her roommate Melissa had been working on Sandy all the while Dayna was being tied. This was a little simpler to describe: the girls wrapped paper towels around Sandy’s legs while she was standing, and taped them together with duct tape. They kept working their way upward and upward. Soon Sandy’s arms were taped at her side, but Vicky and Melissa didn’t stop until Sandy was a solid duct tape mummy from ankles to neck, so stiffly taped together that she had trouble standing. A couple of guys were volunteered to help keep her upright until the girls were finished, then they laid her on the bed.

Soon, they were done. "All right," Vicky said, standing up. "Who wins?"

"Tough one," Paul, one of the guys present smiled. "Face it, neither one of them can get free."

"Yeah," Mike, another one of the guys present agreed. "Sandy might be a touch more comfortable now, but tickle her for a while and she’s going to be steaming inside all that duct tape."

They talked it around for a minute, and there was no real conclusion. "All right, why don’t we get some input from Dayna and Sandy?" Barbara suggested.

"She’s got me real good," Sandy said. "There’s no way I can move."

"This is quite a rope tie," Dayna agreed. "I don’t think I can move much more than she can."

"Only one way to settle this," Vicky nodded. "Declare it a tie and tickle both of them."

"Vicky! No!" both Sandy and Dayna chorused.

"Might as well," Amanda grinned. "They can’t stop us, after all."

"AAAAhhhhieeeeeaaaaa! That tickles! Stop! Pleeeeeease . . ."

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