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 16

Getting the RV proved to be a little more complicated than they thought Ė mostly because as talented as they were, neither of them were mechanics, although Dayna was enough of one to check oil or change a tire. Now, they had to get serious about going through used vehicles, and the next weekend, the first weekend they seriously looked, they realized just how deep they were in the water. They saw several used RVs at dealerships on the way back down to Bradford, but they either were too high priced, or if the price seemed reasonable something was wrong Ė or if there wasnít they couldnít tell.

"Damn, I hate to do it," Dayna finally said after looking at another RV, their last one that day. "But I think weíre going to have to bring Tim in on this."

"Iím sure heíd do it," Sandy said. "He sure knows more about it than we do."

"Oh, yeah, heíd do it, but I hate to keep asking him for help."

"Got any better ideas?"

"No, so donít mention it," Dayna sighed.

So, even before going to Bradford they stopped off in Hawthorne to see Tim and Charlene, and explained their problem. "Yeah, finding the one you want is gonna be on the tough side, especially since you want one thatís easy on gas and not going to be a mechanical monster. Tell you what, make me a list of what you want, Iíll hunt around a bit and see what I can come up with and check them out. Then Iíll give you a list of the ones I think are all right, and you go make the deal."

"Iím afraid weíd get taken to the cleaners," Sandy protested.

"Do I have to point out that the two of you have some negotiating skills that work well on men?" Tim grinned. "I mean, I know you do, the way Jeanie and Jennie spun Jerryís and Jimís heads around last summer."

"They told you about that, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim laughed. "Not all the details, but I could read between the lines pretty well."

"But did it do any good?" Dayna grinned.

"Looks like it may have," Tim laughed. "Jerry brought a girl home from Grand Valley over Christmas, and it was all they could do to keep from groping each other right in front of us. And I understand Jim has a fairly serious girl friend himself, although we havenít met her yet. So we owe you kids one. I was starting to wonder if they were gay or what. Guess not."

Dayna and Sandy looked at each other and laughed. "Nope, definitely not gay," Sandy giggled. "Neither one of íem."

Tim called along in the middle of next week. "Got three or four that would serve you," he told them. "You probably ought to go down and check them out this weekend. The best one I saw is an í86 Itasca Class C on a Chevy van chassis up in Battle Creek. Pretty close to self-contained, even a small generator. Heís talking fourteen and a half. I know itís a little more than you were looking for, but itíll be more comfortable to live in. You kids are planning on paying cash, right?"

"Yeah, if we can afford it," Dayna replied.

"A word of warning, donít tell the dealer that until youíve worked out a price; sometimes they get kickbacks from the finance companies. If you canít quite hack the price, thereís not anything wrong with a big down payment and carrying a small payment for a year or so."

"That one youíre talking about is a little on the high side," Dayna told him. "But weíll go take a look."

"Might be worth a reach," he assured her. "If thatís too much, Iíve got a couple others Iíll tell you about, but I donít think theyíre as good a deals."

The RV proved to be just about what Tim said it was Ė it was actually fairly small, but there was a fair amount of room inside. It would be cozy, but it looked like there would be enough space for everything they could think of that they needed, and seemed to handle reasonably well on a short test drive, where both girls switched off at the wheel. With negotiating skills in mind, both the girls were wearing miniskirts and tight sweaters; fortunately it was a fairly decent day for January. It was even halfway warm in the back of the RV, where they sat with the dealer, who couldnít take his eyes off the low-cut sweaters and nylon-clad legs that were in such profusion. "Itís a nice motor home," Dayna told the guy. "But the tag is just a little steep." She took a deep, deep breath and continued in a sexy voice, "What would it take to bring you down, oh, three thousand?"

"Thatís a pretty big discount," he said.

"Oh," Sandy smiled and gave a chest heave of her own. "Weíd make it worth it to you."

The guy looked at her, and at Dayna. "Both of you?" he said, astounded.

"Of course," Dayna grinned. "We want to be fair, too."

He stared at them for a second. "Youíre kidding, arenít you?"

"Oh, no," Sandy laughed. "After all, this thing has a nice biiiiig bed, we need to take that for a test drive, too."

"Thatís, uh, pretty steep."

"Oh, thatís what we usually get for threesomes," Dayna laughed. "Nobodyís ever said they didnít think it was worth the money."

"Jesus Christ, if my wife finds out about this Iím a dead man," he said with resignation. "But youíre on."

"Oh, we never tell," Sandy told him sweetly as she peeled her sweater over her head.

Several hours later, Dayna drove the RV into Timís driveway, with Sandy following in the Chevette. "You went and did it, huh?" he smiled. "Welcome to the ranks of RV owners. You beat him down any?"

"Three grand," Dayna snickered. "You were right, we do have some special negotiating skills."

*   *   *

The next day, they headed back north in the Chevette, leaving the RV in Bradford, where Daynaís father had agreed to take it to a local dealership and have it gone through thoroughly. There was no rush; they decided to pick it up over spring break, although a quick Florida trip was still up in the air depending on how other things came along.

"Actually, I was surprised about your dad and mom," Sandy said. "Us talking about it is one thing, but that monster sitting in their driveway makes it a lot more real. And hell, it does to me, too."

"Yeah, itís one thing when we were just putting miles on the Chevette," Dayna told her. "But this little guy is getting on up there in age and was getting due to be replaced, anyway. It ought to be good for one more Florida trip, and we could probably make it through the summer, but letís face it, itís getting some miles on it. A decent replacement would probably cost us that much, anyway. Iím guessing we sell it up at Central before we leave for Virginia, and if we canít, we leave it at home and let Dad peddle it."

"Iím going to miss this thing," Sandy said. "Itís taken us a lot of miles and places in the last year and a half."

"That it has," Dayna told her. "But that RV is going to take us a lot more miles, and to lots more places weíve never been."

"True," she nodded. "But like I said, it makes things more real. Itís been talk for months, kind of up in the air. Now, weíre a lot more committed."

"Not actually," Dayna sighed. "It just seems like it."

*   *   *

One of the things on the "to do" list was to get some photos of themselves in some of their various costumes Ė not just snapshots, but good quality studio shots. Partly these were for the flyers that they were going to have run off, but they could see other uses out there. It wasnít a priority item, and they didnít want to spend a lot of money on it. They kicked around several ideas, and Sandy thought of approaching a guy she had in one of her classes. He was a fairly advanced photographer from what she knew, and was pretty familiar with the school studio and photo lab, so one lunch hour the two of them cornered him in the cafeteria and put the pitch to him. "Sure, Iíd like to do it," he told them. "I can cut you a good price, too. But I can cut you an even better price if youíd do something for me."

"What, nude photos?" Dayna grinned. "I guess Iíd be up for it if they were artsy, and no crotch shots."

"Iíd love to do some," he said. "But look, I know you two sometimes do things that are a little far out. I screwed up and wound up taking a performance art class this semester I thought was going to be something else. Now Iím stuck with a project I donít want. I donít actually have to do it, just put it together and have someone perform it. I have an idea, and maybe you could help."

"Maybe," Sandy said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Is the story true that last fall you got mummified in duct tape on a bet?"

"Yeah," she replied. "It was kind of cool in a way. Well, actually, it was kind of hot. But it was Daynaís idea."

"Whatís your take on it?" Dayna asked.

"Well, that story is what caused me to think of it," he said, and went on to explain his vision.

"I donít know," Sandy said. "I just about cooked my ass the last time. Iíll do nude photos for you if you like, but I think Iíll give that one a pass."

"It is a cool vision, though," Dayna conceded. "And nobodyíd be tickling your feet."

"Oh, I agree itís a cool vision," Sandy nodded. "In fact, if youíd like to do it, Iíd be willing to throw in some guitar, something light and ethereal."

"Tell you what," Dayna said to Sandy. "We never did settle that deal from last October. Iíll do it if you let me pull one on you that you donít reciprocate."

"Well, maybe," Sandy said. "Does your idea involve duct tape?"

"Doesnít have to."

"All right, no duct tape and itís a deal."

"Good enough, but the time isnít ripe for it yet."

"When will it be ready?"

"When you find out," Dayna grinned.

"Christ," Sandy shook her head. "How do I get myself into these things with you?"

"Because you like it and you know you like it," Dayna laughed and turned to their photographer friend. "All right Jeff," she said. "Itís a go. When do we do this, and how do we do the details?"

"One question," he asked. "Would you be willing to do it in the nude?"

"Only if you have a signed, sealed guarantee from the president of the college on down that Iím not going to get my ass thrown out of here in the process. Or else itís a body stocking."

"Shouldnít be a problem; this is the art department weíre talking about. They do figure studies all the time, and Iím pretty sure thereís some other nude projects in the works."

"Oh, all right," Dayna said. "Check it out. If itís OK with the authorities itís all right with me. Christ, how do I get myself into these things, anyway?"

"What you said," Sandy laughed. "You like it and you know you like it."

*   *   *

The performance came down the weekend before spring break, in a well-lit atrium in the art building. Considering what it was, the performance was closed and limited to the students in the performance art class, a couple of professors, and a few friends. However, Jeff was going to photograph it intensely in still, and there were two professional video cameras that had been brought in as part of a different class project by some friends of Jeffís. Dayna thought about it a bit, and finally invited Vicky Varney and her roommate Melissa to help set up and witness the performance, if only to give Emily another story about what she was missing. Besides, they already knew what they were doing.

The setup was rather more complicated than Daynaís friends had pulled on Sandy back in October. Like that time, it started out with paper towels being wrapped around the body, and covered with duct tape, but this time, rather than starting at the feet, they started around the hips while Dayna was bent over. When she was duct taped from her waist to her thighs, the three girls helped her sit down in a wooden chair. Once seated, Melissa wrapped her legs with paper towels and duct tape, but this time, clear down to her feet, while Vicky and Sandy wrapped tape around her upper body, this time with her arms crossed in front of her and held up high. They went on wrapping and wrapping, until she was a complete duct tape mummy from the top of her head to the tip of her toes Ė only a small and barely visible slot allowed her to breathe through her nose. She was also taped to the chair, to help keep her from falling over.

The head wrap really was a little scary, and it was rather claustrophobic. Dayna willed herself to be calm, since she was going to have to be a mummy for a while. She felt herself being picked up, chair and all, and could feel some movement, knowing that the plan was to put her on a cart and haul her out to the middle of the atrium. In a fairly brief time, she was there. "OK, hang in there, itís going to be a few minutes," Jeff told her.

What the small audience saw as they walked in was the duct tape cocooned shape sitting in a chair in front of them Ė nothing else. After a while, Sandy started some light music on the twelve-string, delicate and ethereal. It went on for several minutes, until she hit the music theyíd agreed upon. While no one else knew it, that was the signal for Dayna to take the box cutter that she held in one hand and cut her way out of the cocoon. It was not a simple process, and it went slowly until she got a small hole opened, along with some blessed cool air Ė it was getting hot in there Ė and to make it worse sheíd been left in the sunlight. But she took her time, careful to avoid overheating, and careful to not look frantic, but easy and natural. Once she got a little room to move one arm, it went quickly from there. She had to work more carefully up around her throat, head and face, which had been wrapped tightly, so that she wouldnít cut herself with the box cutter, but once she got the upper part of the chrysalis opened up, it went more quickly. Now having the full use of both hands, she was easily able to cut her way down to her legs, and from there on was a minute or so of some dramatic music from Sandyís twelve-string culminating with Dayna stepping out of the cocoon sheíd freed herself from.

Sheíd been sitting on a cape of thin fabric, and it had been tied around behind her neck and behind her back much like a halter top, although well above her breasts. As she stood up, she found the corners of the cape, and spread her wings like those of a butterfly for the first time. While she was not much of a dancer, other than stomping around with a guitar in her hand, sheíd worked out and practiced a few moves. She spread her wings slowly, dramatically, tried them out for the first time, then a little more with bigger steps, until she was walking, and then running around the cocoon sheíd metamorphosed in, and finally, fluttered on out of the atrium.

A minute or so later, she walked back into the room, wearing a robe and a big grin, to some serious applause. It felt pretty good, and it looked even neater on the videotape. Several stills that Jeff took, along with some of the photos that he took of her and Sandy in costume, were the start of the girlsí big scrapbook of their travels. And yes, for the hell of it, and to underline their reputation, they did some nude posing for Jeff, anyway.

*   *   *

They gave real thought to giving spring break a pass this year. They had things to do, and the sands were beginning to run through the clock more quickly. But thoughts of bikini busking filled their minds, and theyíd had enough snow for a while, so like the year before, they cut classes to get an early start and drive straight through on what would be the last major trip for the brown Chevette. Once again, a day after they left they were in their bikinis on the beach at Daytona, doing the first real serious busking theyíd done since Christmas. Like the year before, theyíd planned on partying their way through things, and they did, again not renting a motel room at all but staying with different guys each night, most of who paid, and most of whom provided beer or grass or both.

"Sheer fucking dissipation," a sunburned and nearly fucked out Sandy said as they headed north with the Chevette. "God, Iím almost happy weíre not going to do that again. I mean, we did all right on money, thatís fine, but I screwed enough drunks to hold me a lifetime."

"Me, too," Dayna said. "Jesus, to get puked on once while youíre being screwed is bad enough, but twice? And, you know, when you get right down to it, I didnít have what I call a really decent screw all week."

"Me either," Sandy snorted. "I mean, being a sure thing for money is one thing, but I like to get some fun out of it, too."

"Actually, I wonder how we made any money at all, there were so many girls giving it away for free."

"Because there were so many more running around in even briefer bikinis that were just plain cockteasers," Sandy snorted again. "There wasnít any way they were going to give any freebies. If you get a guy frustrated enough, heís going to go for a sure thing. Donít get me wrong, weíve had a couple decent college kids over the last year or so, but thereís something about beer, grass, and college that doesnít go well with sex."

"Yeah, I could have stood for something good myself," Dayna admitted. "Tell you what. Letís back off on the hooking for a while. If a real decent deal should come along, well, maybe, but that doesnít mean we have to be chippies like we were this week."

"It wouldnít break my heart," Sandy agreed. "But look, letís not back too far off. Remember what it was like last summer. Shit, we went months after Jerry and Jim and we never even did each other. Letís be a little more assertive than last year about picking up guys who are going to give us a good time, even if we have to use some hooker tactics to get it, rather than give it away for free."

"Works for me," Dayna sighed. "Screwing an incompetent drunk for money is good for the pocketbook but not very damn enjoyable. I want some quality sex."

"Me, too. Iíve had enough quantity to hold me for a while. Whatís more, I think weíre getting a little too close to being real hookers. I havenít kept track, but I think Iíve probably screwed more guys for pay than I have for free."

"Itís very likely I have too," Dayna conceded. "And, youíre right, thatís a good reason to back off from it for a while." She let out a long sigh. "I have to admit, except for Erik and Kurt those times, we never did much tent screwing, but I wonder how much the RV is going to change things."

"Weíll know real soon," Sandy said. "After all, this time tomorrow weíll be picking it up from your folks, and by then weíre going to have to be over the hangovers and the hooker talk."

"Seems hard to believe," Dayna said. "We havenít got much longer, have we?"

"Right. And then it will be the real thing. Christ, I hope this works."

*   *   *

The RV sitting outside in the dorm parking lot made things seem strange. The future was closer now. It had seemed like herding an aircraft carrier up the highway compared to the little Chevette, but they traded off halfway to campus so each could have a taste of it. "Damn," Sandy said as they traded off outside of Lansing. "Youíre sitting up so high you can actually see something, but itís a hell of a long way down."

The following weekend, just for a shakedown run, they drove to a campground a few miles to the north and spent the night. It was well that they had an early start, because there were a lot of practical things to learn, even after the discussions that both Tim and Daynaís dad had given them about how to set things up. "Christ, this takes forever," Dayna complained late that afternoon when they were still only partway through the process. "I thought it was going to be pretty much pull in and pull out the guitars."

"Yeah, I did, too," Sandy said. "But a lot of this shit wonít take so long the next time, since weíll know what weíre doing, and where everything is."

"Right," Dayna replied. "I can see that stuff like a place for everything and everything has its place is going to apply here in spades. Weíre going to have to make damn sure that we donít have too much crap with us, and when it gets to be too much weíre just going to have to do some culling. I mean, I hope we can leave winter stuff in Bradford in the summer and vice versa."

"Actually, if we do it right I hope we donít need much winter stuff," Sandy said. "But still, itís going to be nice to have your folks to serve as home base for us."

"Yeah, if we didnít have that, this would be a hell of a lot more complicated. Letís get this wrapped up, have our first dinner in here, practice a little and go to bed."

"Fine with me," she said. "How are we going to handle the bed, anyway? Itís going to be a pain in the butt to take down the sideboard every night to turn it into a second bed."

"I have no objection to us sleeping together if you donít."

"If we do that, weíre just going to be tempted to do each other more."


"Fine with me," Sandy agreed. "You remember when we were screwing all those losers down in Daytona? I know I thought more than once that itíd be more fun to just be cuddling with you, whether we did any more than that or not. We decided last week we were getting pretty close to being hookers, so I guess it doesnít add much if we get even closer to being lesbians."

*   *   *

When April first and Daynaís birthday rolled around, they went out to Sluggyís, a local bar not far off campus, to have Daynaís first legal beer. It was a quick one, just to say sheíd done it; Sandy had a Coke and looked on, knowing that the real celebration was going to come at her birthday a few days later. She suspected something special, since Dayna had been doing a little sneaking around, but she wasnít sure what was coming down when the two of them walked back into Sluggyís nine days later. There, at a big table in the back of the room, sat a bunch of their friends Ė mostly people who had been at the tickling party back in October, including Vicky and Melissa, but this time some people from the performance arts class were there, including Jeff and his camera.

"Wow," Sandy said, jaw hanging down. "What a surprise! I wasnít expecting this! Thanks, everybody."

"We know this is a very special day for you, and we wanted to make it memorable," Dayna told her. "So hop up on the table, and youíll be the guest of honor."

"On the table?" Sandy frowned.

"On the table," Dayna grinned. "Come on, this is your birthday, and we have a special surprise for you."

"Well, all right," Sandy shook her head. "But what are you up to?"

"Youíll find out," Dayna told her. "Up on the table, and sit there."

A little reluctantly Sandy complied, remembering that a year ago sheíd agreed to let Dayna pull some bondage stunt on her for her twenty-first birthday. "OK," she said, sitting down. "Now what?"

"Slide back a little. In fact, get your butt well over to the far side of the table."

"Dayna, youíre up to something," she smiled as she slid right.

"Darn right I am," Dayna replied as she reached under the table and pulled out the stocks.

"Oh, good grief, I thought the idea was to get shitfaced drunk," Sandy protested as Dayna and a couple other people quickly helped her get her wrists and ankles in the holes in the stocks; in an instant they were padlocked closed.

"Well, it is," Dayna said. "But like I said, this is special."

"But how am I supposed to drink with my hands locked in here?"

"Oh, no problem," Dayna said. "Like I said, since this is your birthday, we want to treat you special. So, any time you need a drink, just ask. Someone will be glad to help out. Oh, and if you wait too long between asking, weíll take your shoes and socks off, and then you know whatíll happen."

"How long do you intend to leave me like this?" Sandy shrugged the best she could, surrendering to the inevitable.

"Oh, most of the evening, probably," Dayna grinned. "If you get so drunk you have to puke, weíll put a bucket between your legs."

"Dayna, Iím going to get you for this."

"No, youíre not," Dayna laughed. "Remember the non-reciprocation agreement we had when I agreed to do the duct tape cocoon?"

Sandy had wondered off and on when Dayna was going to pull it, and had even asked a couple times, only to get brushed off. "Youíve been planning this since then?" Sandy asked.

"Longer than that," Dayna laughed. "Itís the big reason I built them in the first place."

"Dayna, youíre kinky."

"Come on, you knew that," she laughed.

The bartender and the waitress had been watching the whole scene with poorly-controlled laughter, even knowing what was coming Ė Dayna had cleared it with them in the first place. Now the waitress decided to add her bit. "Miss, can I see some ID?"

"Yeah . . . oh, shit, Dayna, I canít even get to my wallet!"

"Iíll take care of it," Dayna told her, picking Sandyís pocket. "Of course, since you canít get to your wallet you canít pay for anything tonight, but weíre just going to let everybody else buy for you. Of course, they get to choose." She pulled Sandyís driverís license out of her wallet and flashed it at the waitress, who nodded. "And Iíll start off. Bring me a draft, maíam, and our guest of honor here will have a double tequila."

"Christ, canít I at least have a chaser?" Sandy pleaded.

"Oh, all right, a draft, too," Dayna added.

"Jeez," Sandy shook her head. "What a birthday party. Locked in the stocks and getting tequila poured down me."

"Oh, more than just tequila probably," Dayna laughed. "I think we might want to start a pool on how long itíll be before you need the bucket."

Jeff got a good photo as Dayna poured the double of tequila down Sandyís throat, followed by a beer chaser, and then the serious drinking got started around the table. By the second round, Dayna had the Gibson out and it didnít take long to get into the rowdy songs Ė MargaritavilleFinsSarah Sarah, and others like them. It felt just a little strange for Dayna to be playing without Sandyís backup.

Sandy was well on her way to getting wasted before another problem arose. Even though sheíd been drinking hard stuff, sheíd been drinking a fair amount of beer, too, and soon the inevitable problem arose. "Dayna," she pleaded after a song. "Let me out of here. Iíve got to pee."

"No, youíre not drunk enough yet," Dayna grinned.

"But Dayna!" Sandy protested. "Iíve got to pee so bad I can barely hold it. Let me go take a leak and I promise you can lock me back up again right after."

"When they locked people up in those in the old days, they used to leave them there for days whether they had to piss or not," Dayna grinned.

"Dayna, I donít want to piss all over the table! Please!"

"Well, there is an alternative, I suppose," Dayna grinned. "Jeff, will you be so kind?"

"Jeff?" Sandy said, confused as the big photographer put his beer down and came over to them. Without discussion, he picked Sandy up in his arms, stocks and all, and followed Dayna to the ladies room, where she held the door. Jeff sat Sandy right down on the toilet, then headed for the door.

"Lean forward a little, and Iíll get your pants down," Dayna laughed.

"Goddamn, Dayna," Sandy shook her head as she felt her friend help her out. "I mean, goddamn! This is weird, even for you."

"Youíd have done it to me if youíd thought of it, wouldnít you?"

"Well, yeah," Sandy replied sheepishly. "Next year I get to pull something on you, but I donít think itíll be as good as this."

"Fair enough," Dayna grinned. "OK, there you go; go for it."

"Aaaahhhhh . . . thank God," Sandy said as a flow that felt about like Niagara began. "Oh, goddamn, that feels good," she panted after a few seconds. "Thank you, Dayna, I really needed that."

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," Dayna laughed.

A couple minutes later, Dayna had Sandyís pants pulled back up, and called to Jeff to take her back out to the party Ė which he did, to a round of applause. "Somebody get a beer for Sandy!" Dayna yelled. "She wanted to get piss drunk, and she got at least half of it!"

As time went on and the booze flowed, Daynaís singing turned from merely rowdy to downright raunchy: Why Donít We Get Drunk And Screw, a rather steamy version of Love For Sale, a dirty version of Rising Sun, even Eskimo Nell before getting into Lucille Bogan and things like Shave íEm Dry. Theyíd done some of the milder stuff for friends before, but the really dirty stuff only at Daytona before tonight. It was, as they say, a rather wild party.

Well after midnight, Dayna was drunk enough that it took her a while to find the keyhole in the padlock with the key. Unbelievably, Sandy hadnít needed the bucket, but she wasnít walking well as she headed for the bathroom, and not being able to move all evening had little to do with it. Vicky wasnít twenty-one yet, and had volunteered to be designated driver, but she had to make several trips to haul all the drunks back to the dorms. "I guess Iím just as glad the two of you wonít be around when I turn twenty-one," she said. "You two have a reputation for playing rough and knowing the rough stuff, and I guess you do. Thatíd be a tough one to top."

*   *   *

The final days blasted by quickly; on the last Thursday afternoon in April, Dayna walked out of a final exam and she figured most likely out of her college career. Everything from their room had already been loaded in the RV, and Sandy had turned in the keys while Dayna was taking the exam. "Well, thatís it for Unpleasant Flats," Dayna said as Sandy started the RV up and drove away. "You sorry?"

"Hell, no. Iíll miss some things, but most of it I wonít miss much."

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