peskybedtime

Katie / @shakerattlescroll is the Leiber to my Stoller / here for all things Elvis / 18+

[peskybedtime]

A masterlist?!

Can't believe @shakerattlescroll and I have more than one series and actually need a masterlist 🤯

All fics are on AO3, all are Mature/18+/NSFW, and all feature the subject of our shared obsession, Elvis Presley.

Puppet on a String universe:

Puppet on a String

It’s May, 1960 on the set of GI Blues. Faye, a shy puppeteer’s apprentice, must perform a duet with Elvis. Faye and her puppet take a liking to Elvis and pull some strings of their own.

Elvis x OC. Eventual time jump to the 70s.

Beach Boy Blues

Elvis was a healthy, red-blooded man, and a lot of things got him goin', but puppets had never been one of those things. Until Faye Wood.

A one-shot set in the same universe as the Puppet on a String main story.

Other works:

Disguise & Gals

It's October 31, 1957. Elvis faces some real-life horrors at Sy Devore's Halloween party. The beautiful and mysterious Jeanne helps unburden Elvis, in more ways than one.

Elvis x Jeanne Carmen. A strangely silly, Eyes Wide Shut-esque detour.

[peskybedtime]

@arianatheangel-girl I saved my answer to your ask as a draft, but then your ask disappeared! Booo tumblr!

Anyway, your question was how Elvis could have such chemistry with a wooden puppet of all things. @shakerattlescroll and I wondered the very same thing, which is why we wrote Puppet on a String! Apologies for the shameless plug, I couldn't help it 😂

Thanks so much for the ask!

[vintagepresley]

L-O-V-E YOU.

[thatbanditqueen]

New Year's Eve with Elvis

Which date would you choose?

54: Mikshakes at the diner and a movie, maybe necking the car on the way home?

57: Dinner @ GL w/ the fam & 5 Vegas showgirls then roller rink death match!

59: Receiving a new poodle delivery knowing your man remains true over seas.

63: Get trashed together out w/ 200 of his closest friends. Then fireworks!

68: Out at the club w/ EVERYONE. How much popcorn can he get in your beehive?

73: Home at GL comforting grumpy Elvis, watching Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's

76: At the Pittsburgh show watching him sing his fucking heart out to you.

Voting ended onJan 1, 2024

Extra points if you reblog with photos and or spicy descriptions!

Just a fun tumblr ask game, please play along and tag your friends! Everyone welcome to join in the fun, tagging a few to start:

@whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @ab4eva @ccab @powerofelvis @ellie-24 @moonchild-daniella @freudianslumber @dkayfixates @elvisalltheway101 @alienelvisobsession @louisejoy86 @hooked-on-elvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @theresalwaysep @precious-little-scoundrel @lllsaslll @elvissbabygirl @tacozebra051c@doll-elvis @loving-elvis @peaceloveelvis @xxmandaveexx @kingdomforapony @mydarlingelvis @thetaoofzoe

if I missed you just play anyways....

..... and Happy New Year's Eve

[peskybedtime]

Great idea and thanks for the tag!

I'd choose 1966, in the car with him when he's looking for a place to park outside Memphis' Manhattan Club. After circling the block several times, we look at each other and just say fuck it, let's go home and snuggle up to the TV with some cookies and watch the ball drop together. He can play his bass while I stretch out on the couch and mess up his hair.

[lookingforrainbows]

[peskybedtime]

Just a little wish for a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to some blogs that have brought me joy this year

🎁🎄🎁

Marinaaaaa 💗 You and your stories have brought me so much joy since finding this fandom.

And my 2023 would have been far less enjoyable without Elvis and every single one of you.

I hope you're all able to find some comfort and joy this holiday season.

P.S. Remember to put some air holes and peanut butter crackers in the box before sending your Elvis.

(Card is from the sweetest @vintageshanny 😍)

[peskybedtime]

Disguise and Gals Chapter Two - The Dinner

Chapter 2 - The Dinner on AO3

Our Thanksgiving gift (curse?) for you all...

Summary: Jeanne shows Elvis a little Southern hospitality with a home-cooked feast, but an unexpected guest turns the tables on their evening.

Notes: This is the second and final chapter of our Elvis x Jeanne Carmen series. @shakerattlescroll and I are quite proud of this one, and it's going to be so hard to leave these two behind. There's a little more Eyes Wide Shut inspo, but it's not as direct as last time. Also, how to put this... shit gets weird, y'all! If the thought of combining food and sex makes you want to vomit like Elvis did in chapter 1, best to just scroll right past. And, not to give too much away, but it is also much darker than the first installment and does not end on such a high note. So, if you're looking for bubblegum feel-good-times this is not the story for you. But to all our fellow freaks and deviants, we hope you enjoy!

Ratings: Mature/NSFW/No Minors

Warnings: Sex, kinky food stuff, mentions of old-timey contraceptives and back alley abortions, drug use, shameless food puns/innuendo.

We are so grateful to everyone in this community! Taglist: @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114 @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @precious-lil-scoundrel @karel-in-wonderland @elvisalltheway101 @deniseinmn @ashtag6887 @doll-elvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @literally-just-elvis-fics @richardslady121

[be-my-ally]

i have *just* caught up with this and i am once again in awe — love love loved it — everyone is so alive and in character and the dialogue is as wonderful as the smut!!!

[peskybedtime]

@be-my-ally Awww, thanks so much for the lovely feedback! 😊 We just write weird stuff for ourselves and the fact that anyone else likes it still amazes us 😂

[peskybedtime]

Puppet on a String - Chapter 8 on AO3

Hang up your pretty stockings

And turn off the light

Some smuppetry is comin'

Down your chimney tonight!

Summary: Faye, Wayland, and puppets spend Christmas at Graceland.

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Warnings: Smuppetry (smutty puppetry), sexy times, very light BDSM, mentions of drug use, guns, foul language, bad jokes, and a mention of Priscilla

Co-authored with the Leiber to my Stoller, @shakerattlescroll

Taglist: @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114 @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @precious-lil-scoundrel @karel-in-wonderland @elvisalltheway101 @deniseinmn @ashtag6887 @doll-elvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @literally-just-elvis-fics

[peskybedtime]

@thatbanditqueen you are always so kind to us, you're definitely our biggest cheerleader and as i've said before, we feel like we haven't really posted until we get your feedback 😂❤️ please don't ever go anywhere because we'd be lost without you!

[peskybedtime]

Puppet on a String - Chapter 8 on AO3

Hang up your pretty stockings

And turn off the light

Some smuppetry is comin'

Down your chimney tonight!

Summary: Faye, Wayland, and puppets spend Christmas at Graceland.

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Warnings: Smuppetry (smutty puppetry), sexy times, very light BDSM, mentions of drug use, guns, foul language, bad jokes, and a mention of Priscilla

Co-authored with the Leiber to my Stoller, @shakerattlescroll

Taglist: @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114 @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @precious-lil-scoundrel @karel-in-wonderland @elvisalltheway101 @deniseinmn @ashtag6887 @doll-elvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @literally-just-elvis-fics

[vintageshanny]

Ode to Little Elvis

This is exactly what it sounds like - a love poem for my favorite package! 😍 When I first read about Elvis feeling embarrassed or self-conscious about certain body parts, I felt compelled to express to him in whatever way I could that he is so beautiful and I would not change a thing. I hope that it is clear that my intention is not to just objectify his body; even a poem like this is borne of a love so deep that I find it hard to even articulate it at times. ❤️

Your body is absolutely perfect to me, an exquisite work of art

But right now I’d like to focus in on one specific part

The part that drives so many of us crazy with each thrust and gyration

The part we refer to as Little Elvis with affection and adoration

How little or big he actually is, we’ll never really know

But I appreciate so very much each time he put on his own show

The way he stood halfway to attention when you danced in Girls Girls Girls

And flopped thickly against your thigh in Frankie and Johnny probably made some clutch their pearls

Your little swim shorts could barely contain him and his two friends in their proper place

And you’d think water would make him shrink but that didn’t seem to be the case

I wish so badly I could see him in person and admire his beauty up close

I’d take him in as deep as I could until your patch of hair tickled my nose

From the tip all the way down to his fuzzy base and balls, I’d explore and massage him with my tongue

Never letting up on taking care of him until you called out in ecstasy and I could taste your cum

To consume him with my body would be a feeling so divine

I’d do anything to please him and make sure that he knows his pleasure is also mine

I know you felt shy and nervous sometimes about his ability to please

But whenever he wanted to be loved on, baby, I’d get down on my knees

I’d press sweet kisses all over him and warm him to the core

And in case I haven’t made it clear yet, that foreskin makes me love him even more

To roll it gently back and see his sensitive head peeking out would be so inviting

And I think it’s sweet the times he couldn’t last long because things just got too exciting

While others may have made you feel like there’s some other way you’re supposed to be,

You’d never have to feel self-conscious making yourself vulnerable to me

Health issues and medication took their toll on his ability to function some of the time

But I’d continue to shower him with all the affection he deserved even if he couldn’t respond in kind

I’d stroke him and kiss him and tell him that he’s amazing in any state

Whether he’s resting or ready for action, I will always love and appreciate

No matter his size or ability to rise, to me he is perfect like every other part

Not because of how he looks or the way he performs, but because he belongs to a man I love with all my heart

Poetry tag list: @lookingforrainbows @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114

[arrolyn1114]

Memphis St Jude Half Marathon!

Omg I can't believe how time flew! In 2 days I fly to Memphis and in 3 days I will be running the St Jude Half Marathon. I've been crazy busy the past few weeks with finishing up my training and getting ready for the trip. This is my first trip to Memphis and Graceland and I'm super excited! The starting line is at BB King Blvd and Beale St and around mile 10 we go through the actual St Jude hospital campus. This course looks like it's going to be amazing and I can't wait to run through Memphis.

I'm also excited that on this trip I'm going to be meeting some fellow Elvis fans that I have been talking to for just over a year now on a Discord channel I was invited to join by @deke-rivers-1957. I'm so thankful for that little community of fans from all around the world and all different ages. They have all been super supportive and have been cheering me on all throughout training and for that I'm super grateful and I hope they all know just how thankful I am. I'm so excited that some of them are able to come and cheer me in person: @shakerattlescroll, @peskybedtime, @moonchild-daniella, @leopardandstuds, @thatbanditqueen, @nemos-rapture

@vintageshanny helped me build an amazing training playlist a few months ago with one of her Elvis Top 3 posts and for that I am SO grateful and I know I already thanked you in the Discord this morning but I want to thank you again. That playlist was perfect and it got me through the toughest of my long training runs. It means the world to me.

This trip is going to be SO much fun and I can't wait!

And of course, I want to end this post with a pic of Elvis, here's my beloved Aloha E, my man of many leis. 🌺❤

[peskybedtime]

Can't wait to see you and cheer you on! 🌺👏

[thatbanditqueen]

The Only Sure Thing Ch 14

What would it be like to join Elvis as he films Follow that Dream?

Is anyone still reading this fic? It's been a while, but well, oy, here is my 15K word ode to Elvis' penis as it might have been in summer of 1961 whilst shooting Follow that Dream......

@whositmcwhatsit held my hand while i wrote this, thanks for your help figuring out what to do and also for all the copyediting. A special thanks to my harem for their help and support through writing fic and everything else... @lookingforrainbows @missmaywemeetagain @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @from-memphis-with-love

I highly recommend putting this video on low in the back ground and then playing this playlist as you read.

If you close your eyes, it will almost be like you are there having a summer romance with Elvis at Crystal River....

EXPLICIT MINORS DNI: underage sex, threesomes, discussion of menstruation genitalia.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

@eliseinmemphis @notstefaniepresley @beeandheroddobsessions @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @richardslady121 @doll-elvis @burningloverdoll @dkayfixates @ohjustpeachy1 @artlover8992 @everythingelvispresley @velvetelvis @ashtag6887 @horror-movieshoes @i-r-i-n-a-a

Let me know if you want to me tagged

[peskybedtime]

I've been seriously slacking on my reading, but I can now say with certainty (like I didn't already know) that this is such a good and poignant chapter that must be enjoyed by all by decree of me. I'll never get tired of reading Elvis and Midge so don't even joke.

[peskybedtime]

Disguise and Gals Chapter Two - The Dinner

Chapter 2 - The Dinner on AO3

Our Thanksgiving gift (curse?) for you all...

Summary: Jeanne shows Elvis a little Southern hospitality with a home-cooked feast, but an unexpected guest turns the tables on their evening.

Notes: This is the second and final chapter of our Elvis x Jeanne Carmen series. @shakerattlescroll and I are quite proud of this one, and it's going to be so hard to leave these two behind. There's a little more Eyes Wide Shut inspo, but it's not as direct as last time. Also, how to put this... shit gets weird, y'all! If the thought of combining food and sex makes you want to vomit like Elvis did in chapter 1, best to just scroll right past. And, not to give too much away, but it is also much darker than the first installment and does not end on such a high note. So, if you're looking for bubblegum feel-good-times this is not the story for you. But to all our fellow freaks and deviants, we hope you enjoy!

Ratings: Mature/NSFW/No Minors

Warnings: Sex, kinky food stuff, mentions of old-timey contraceptives and back alley abortions, drug use, shameless food puns/innuendo.

We are so grateful to everyone in this community! Taglist: @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @arrolyn1114 @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @precious-lil-scoundrel @karel-in-wonderland @elvisalltheway101 @deniseinmn @ashtag6887 @doll-elvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @literally-just-elvis-fics @richardslady121

[doll-elvis]

MARTY LACKER : “I'll tell you something about Elvis. If he watched a football game on TV, he wore a helmet. He dressed for every occasion. If he watched guys on TV riding motorcycles, he would have his motorcycle helmet on. You'd walk in and it looked funny. I mean, you walk in, he's sitting there with a football helmet on. You’d say, ‘Good lord, Elvis, what are you doing?’. He’d say, ‘I'm watching the game'”

quote from “Friends remember Elvis Presley” on the Larry King show

[vintageshanny]

Drop of Sweat

Just a horny piece of poetry - what I’d give to be a drop of sweat on this man’s body! 🥵❤️

A little drop of sweat forms at the edge of that thick black mane

Before it can dry or be brushed away, it starts to fall like rain

As it slips past the hint of gray at your temple and starts its six-foot drop,

It has no idea how lucky it is to ride the most beautiful man to the bottom from the top

Mere centimeters from those perfect lashes and stunning ocean blues,

Gravity pulls it over your cheekbones and toward that exquisite jawline it starts to cruise

How it doesn’t stop to kiss those marshmallowy plump lips, I’ll never know

It continues its descent down that long graceful neck to your broad chest and its shimmering glow

Zig-zagging its way between perfect pink nipples, it crawls through the thick patch of hair

The thought of it caressing every inch of your body to me just doesn’t seem fair

Running my hands, eyes, lips and tongue all over you would fill me with elation

It’s just not possible that a drop of sweat could find, in this moment, the proper amount of appreciation 

That little drop keeps rolling through the fur down to your waist

How does it have the self-control not to stop and have a taste? 

That soft sweet skin is begging for some kisses and some licking

But that drop just keeps going down as the seconds keep on ticking

Over those famous gyrating hips and down to the region below 

Here my heart would be racing and I’d need to take it slow 

Sliding down your inner thigh, it gets a full view of Little Elvis where he dangles

Hard or soft, big or small, I would worship you from all angles

The sweat drop continues its journey over that sturdy muscular thigh

Down your lean calf, circling your ankle, until it drops in your boot to say goodbye

If I were that little drop of sweat, my journey would never be done

I’d head right back toward the top, tracing the path up with my tongue 

Stopping to kiss and whisper my love to each sweet spot on the ride

When I reached the top I’d just keep going right down the other side 

Poetry Tag List: @arrolyn1114 @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @ellie-24

[peskybedtime]

Smutty Elvis poetry is not a thing I knew I needed until this very moment. Thank you, Shanny! 🥵

[thatbanditqueen]

Aphrodite's Curse

The last of this year's Elvis-o-ween one shots.....

A hastily written spooky smutfest that may be my worst writing yet?

Summary: Loosely based on Elvis' affair with Elisabeth Stefaniak, this one shot finds our boy during his Army service living in Bad Neuheim and playing the field, much to the chagrin of his shy, live-in secretary and girlfriend Bettina.

Warnings: MINORS DNI Sex stuff, infidelity, angsty angst, lots of typos and probably nonsensical sentences.

WC: 6.2 K

Thursday, September 9th, 1959

Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany

Approximate 10:45 p.m.

Bettina watched from across the room as Elvis whispered a joke to the Australian girl sitting beside him on the piano bench. What was her name, Julie? Cynthia? Her shriek was so loud and jarring it made Bettina bite her lip, and she winced at the coppery taste on he tongue, mad at herself for being so jumpy. Elvis hit a minor key and lost his place in the song, which made him turn and yell at Charlie.

“Watch ya chords now, watch it Foggy Bottom Boy. Made me loose my place. Some times I think ya head got water logged crossin’ over.”

Elvis sighed, then went back to tinkering around on the keys, settling on singing the ballad “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” directly to Julia, whose giggles now filled the room. There were a handful of people over tonight, in addition to the Aussies that Lamar had brought home from the beer hall. No doubt he had hoped to get lucky with one of them, but both girls had been hovering around Elvis since they arrived, and Lamar had now plopped onto the couch with a pout. Bettina caught Rex looking over at her, and she rolled her eyes and tilted her head at Elvis, trying to get Rex to smile. Elvis had been singing this song all week. But there was more than just teasing camaraderie in Rex’s eyes. There was sympathy too in the way he narrowed his gaze at her. Bettina frowned and turned her eyes down to stare down at her shoes. She pulled on her necklace and crossed her arms around herself as tight as she could. You wished for this, you are living the dream, she told herself as she leaned further into the shadows.

Meeting Elvis last year had been her dream. Was it only a year ago? How had her life changed so completely in one year? She had left that shy, inexperienced eighteen year old girl who had spent her nights hoping to get Elvis’ autograph back in Graferwohr. The night Rex noticed her and took her to meet Elvis had been the happiest night of her life. Elvis had walked her home and kissed her good night against the tree in front of her apartment building. His lips had been so sweet, his hands so tender. They had lifted her off the ground and she was pretty sure she had just floated up to her bedroom knowing nothing in life would ever top this experience.

But then Elvis had shown up at her door, her door, again the next night and invited himself to dinner. He spent the week at their apartment, flirting with her mother, playing their piano and then kissing her good night when she walked him out. No, nothing could ever top this.

But then, as she braced herself to bid him farewell at the end of his training he invited her to come live with him in Bad Neuheim and be his secretary. You could have knocked her over with a feather. Because Bettina knew from the way he kissed her that he was not just asking her to be his secretary. She knew he was bringing her home to be his girlfriend, and make all her wishes come true.

If only she had been more specific and wished to be his only girlfriend.

Now here she was, spending her evenings unsure if Elvis would spend the night with her or another girl he met. The music stopped and Bettina glanced up to see Elvis whisper again to the girl sitting next to him. His hand caressed the girl’s shoulder and then she blushed and nodded. A minute later she stood and disappeared through the door on the other side of the living room toward the back staircase. He thinks he is being so clever, Bettina thought. In ten or fifteen minutes he’ll declare himself ready for bed and go join her. It was a performance Bettina knew all too well.

Elvis continued play songs on the piano, singing “I Asked the Lord” next and then a few other American pop songs. Charlie was harmonizing with Elvis, but now he, too, was shooting her a sorrowful look. Ugh. Bettina felt a prickle behind her eyes and had to blink back her tears. She wanted to recede through the wall.

But that is not how walls work. They do not just open up and transport you to a better place when you feel uncomfortable. Had she ever felt more alone than she did here in a room full of soldiers, wives, dates and random women who all ignored her ?

Thinking of this, Bettina sucked on the part of her lip that she had bitten and decided to flee to the kitchen. She grabbed a Fanta and the sweet, citrus drink stung her lip. But she kept gulping it down, forcing herself to drink it all. At least it got rid of the bitter taste of blood in her mouth.

The other Australian stumbled through the swinging door to the kitchen and dipped her head as she took a Dr. Pepper from the ice in the sink.

“Oh hiya. Gosh, our own private Elvie concert, eh? Must be sweet as honey working as Elvis Presley’s secretary, faffing around with him and this lot all the time.”

Bettina took another sip of her drink, looking the blonde up and down. “Ja, sweet as honey. It is, as they say, the most.”

“Yeah, s’what I thought, ol Elvie is so much more handsome in person, and so fun too. We’re all just mad for him back in ‘straya.”

“Hmmm, ja, he is so fun.”

Bettina smiled and nodded big before she excused herself and made her own way upstairs and then down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. She could hear Dodger snoring in the room next to her's. Stopping outside Elvis’ room,  the faint sound of girlish giggles hummed through the door, followed by a loud THUMP on the bed. It made Bettina’s tummy drop, and she had to steady herself against the wall. She didn’t even brush her teeth, she want straight to bed. All she wanted was to slip under her covers and disappear into oblivion. The taste of orange Fanta was still on her lips, sweet and bitter.

It was before dawn when she heard the door to her room creak open. Half asleep, Bettina stirred and straightened her back as she felt someone climb into bed behind her. A tall, long lanky someone. She knew without looking it was Elvis. Still miffed, she kept her eyes closed and turned her head away as he pulled her into him.

“There she is, can’t sleep without ma little Fog Horn.” His breath was warm on her neck, and he nuzzled his chin into her shoulder. ”Ugh, honey, I’m plum tuckered out.” He leaned over her, giving her a final kiss on her ear before settling in with his arms around her.

When Bettina woke up she was in his arms and her head rested over his chest, her breath keeping time with each lift and fall of his body. His palm was flat against her back and she could feel his fingers trace circles slowly into the silk fabric of her night dress. The dim light of dawn shone in through the window, painting the room in a pinkish dreamy haze. She thought of all the things she wanted to tell him. How she could still smell a foreign perfume on his bare chest. Or ask him in a snarky tone what happened to his other friend. But then his mouth was crushing into the top of her forehead and each kiss reminded her that he was there, with her. Not anyone else. And the reassurance of his physical body, here and now, longing for her, made her heart swell with desire. His fingers stroked away all her hurt and jealous qualms like sunshine chasing away the clouds, and she was his completely once more.

Bettina tilted her head to meet his lips and he moaned into her mouth. “Aw Betty, this is always ma favorite part of the day.”

The smell of Elvis’ musky sweat and pomade filled Bettina’s nose when he shifted himself over her. His knees grazing hers as a goofy, bashful smile spread across his face. Below her waist his fingers pulled at the hem of her night dress.

 “I mean it honey, s’only thing that gets me through the day.”

His eyes turned downward, and Bettina shivered with anticipation as he languidly rolled the beige silk fabric up her thigh, inch my inch, savoring the way he gasped out at the sight of her white panties. She lifted her hips to help him pull them off and sighed out when he slide his fingers between her legs. Then his breath was at her neck and he was nibbling her ear, all the while flicking his fingers back and forth over her sensitive nub.

“She’s such a pretty baby. Prettiest baby he ever found. He’s so lucky to find a lil angel like hers in Germany.”

Elvis awkwardly fumbled at his belt, shaking his head as he had to sit back to  to get his pants off. Bettina rolled her teeth over her lip, feeling the sensitive spot where she had bit herself again. She was happiest right here, looking up at Elvis as he eagerly struggled to get his clothes off and make love to her. The warmth of the sheets enveloped her and she gave him a single nod of approval as he parted her legs. Her hands clutched  his back, roving over his shoulder blades as he thrust gently into her. Moaning out, she focused on his eyes and how intent they were as she relaxed and opened herself to him.  His lip hung open in apt concentration and she bucked into him as he steadily rocked back and forth.

An aching tingling pleasure coiled in her belly each time their hips met, and Elvis leaned down closer as he sunk further into her. Kissing her neck and whispering sweetly about how pretty she was, and how much she meant to him. He found the spot that made her cry out, and the metal frame of her bed began to bang lightly against the wall as he increased his rhythm. She could hold back no longer and moaned out as her orgasm burst through. Just then the door to Grandma's room slammed shut and Elvis quickly covered her mouth with his hands to muffle the sound of her cries as Dodger’s footsteps echoed through the hallway on the other side of the wall.

He shook his head, sssshing her with a michievous grin. Bettina made a face, as if to say she couldn’t help it and Elvis’s grin became a squeezed, pained expression. His movements become more erratic and he began to stutter before he pulled out and finished over her belly. Afterwards, he caught his breath and fell back into the pillows panting, drawing Bettina into him as the sweat cooled over their bodies and they heaved together. She leaned into his chest hair and whispered “Ich liebe dich,” and he stroked her head, mumbling “me too, baby, me too.”

At five a.m. he kissed her forehead and pulled on his pants, looking both ways out of her door before departing with a wink.  Bettina waited until he showered and went downstairs before she got up to follow.

6 a.m. Friday, September 10th 1959

Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany

Dodger was pouring another cup of coffee for her son and grandson when Bettina came into the dining room and blushed at the sight of Elvis’ grandmother.

Some nights he snuck into her room late at night, some nights he would whisper for her to see him in his bedroom. Either way, she was certain the old woman could hear the creak of the mattress from their late night and early morning activities. For that matter, Bettina guessed that Elvis’ father Vernon also knew how things were between his son and her. But whatever his thoughts on the matter were, Vernon kept them to himself.

Elvis stood to leave with a mouth still chewing bacon, egg and tomato sandwich. This did not stop him from kissing first Dodger and then Bettina on the cheek and wishing his babies a good day. Bettina downed a cup of coffee and helped Grandma clean up.

“God knows that youngun’ has the world on his shoulders. S’too much for one boy to bear. He is lucky to have a nice girl like you, Betty.”

Dodger looked her in the eye, before lifting up the loaf of cornbread that Vernon’s new girlfriend, Dee, had brought over. Dodger sniffed it with a tight grimace before tossing it in the trash.

“That Stanley woman has about as much business messing with corn bread as she does messing with my son.”

Bettina giggled, and the two woman made quick work of clearing up the kitchen together before Bettina went to work sorting through Elvis’ fan mail and sending back photographs that she signed for him.

It was a cheerful, fall day, and the house was in high spirits when Elvis came back for lunch to eat with Lamar and Cliff. It was only after Frau Pieper, the house keeper, brought Bettina the latest stack of mail that she felt her spirits waver again.

There on the top was a pink envelope addressed to Bettina. This was what Elvis told his girlfriends back in Memphis to do in order to make sure their correspondence didn’t get mixed up with the fan mail. Looking at the return address, this letter was from Anita Wood.

Frau Pieper muttered under her breath in German as she watched Bettina hesitate.

“Ack, you should be ashamed of yourself, cheapening your body for that American. You will never be anything more to him than a bed warmer.”

Bettina stared down at the wood floor, studying the grain and the scratches there.

“You are just jealous, Frau Pieper.  I see the way you look at Elvis, how you hug him. You find him just as irresistible as I do.”

The housekeeper grinned. “If I were your age, I would be visiting Golde Wolff for a love spell.”

“Golde Wolff? A love spell?” Bettina turned back and arched her eyebrows, unsure she had heard Frau Pieper correctly.

“Ja, the old Jewish witch on Friedensstraße.”

Bettina rubbed her hands together. “I heard there were no Jews left in Bad Neuheim after -”

“Ja, Golde Wolff is the last Jew, she hid in a basement of one of the abandoned houses for ten years. They say she only came out during the darkest nights to forage for herbs and food.” Frau Pieper leaned in, whispering in a hushed tone.  “The men who burned the synagogue and marched the Jews to the trains died tragically. All of them. At different times. She cursed them with her magical spells.”

“Hmmm, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

Frau Pieper put her hands in her apron and leveled Bettina with a look as sharp as a knife.

“I do. My sister took my niece Elfriede to Golde Wolff when no doctor could cure her fever. Today, Elfriede is married and lives a full life. If you want to fix that boy who treats you like a pig, go to Friedensstraße.”

Bettina laughed, and then grabbed Anita’s pink letter, as if to show Frau Pieper how aloof she was, how accommodating and at ease she could be knowing she was one of the many women in Elvis’ life. Frau Pieper was just another ignorant, superstitious small town old lady. Witches. Honestly. It was just how the old guard masked their prejudice to Jews today in 1959.

“It’s women like you who are holding this country back.” She muttered in English smiling all the while at the housekeeper, knowing she didn’t speak English.

But Frau Pieper’s words were harder to dispel and Bettina found they stayed with her through the day.

You will never be anything more to him than a bed warmer. The boy who treats you like a pig.

These words poked at her, digging deep into the recesses of her subconscious, the part of her that was not cool and aloof. The part of her that wanted more. That told her if she was just prettier, funnier, more charming Elvis would not want to be with other girls. And she could have him all to herself.

A darkness settled over Bettina’s mood. Not even the bright light of Elvis’ smile could fully put her at ease when he got home and squeezed her waist, teasing her with a mouth full of coconut cake. No, her mood only darkened as the night wore on, and it got harder to cover it with a forced smile after the two Australian girls returned and gleefully smiled when Elvis invited them both up to his room. He did not visit Bettina that night, and the next day she heard him bragging to Lamar and Cliff at lunch.

“Man oh man, ain’t nothin’ like a pack a wild Australian gals. Almost too much, jack. I’m tellin’ ya. Pounced on me like a couple a tigers. Grrrrr. Know what I mean? All I gotta say is, look out.” They laughed. “I don’t know bout all that, like my girls to act like girls, ya know? Them cats was too aggressive. Think I got some scratch marks.” This was followed by another round of sycophantic laughter, and a joke from Elvis about how Lamar likes his guys to act like girls.

It was all Bettina could do to keep her smile steady when she met Elvis in the hallway and accepted a farewell kiss on the cheek.

“There’s my gal.” His crooked smile melted her heart. “Why can’t every gal be like you, Betty? Ya just pretty and so sweet.”

That’s why you don’t need every girl, you just need me, she thought to her self.

It was not long after this that Bettina  gathered her things and ventured out to find Friedensstraße.

It was not late, only half past three when Bettina got down to the town square. Yet for some reason it was already getting dark. The uneven cobblestones in the street  rose to meet Bettina’s shoes as if they were trying to trip her, and she felt as if the town was progressively getting darker as she made her way through what must have been the old Jewish quarter.  Bettina walked all the way down Friedensstraße, but there was no sign or business that looked like it belonged to a witch. She wasn’t sure what kind of store front a witch would have. She hadn’t wanted to give Frau Pieper the satisfaction of knowing she was taking the old women’s advice, and so had just gone to town hoping she would find it. It was only on her third trip sauntering back up Friedensstraße that she noticed the dark, narrow alley and the little flag sticking up from a basement several buildings down. Bettina’s heart beat faster as she stumbled toward the sign, finally able to read the tattered cloth in the dark depth of the alley: “Der Apotheker.”

The rail at the top of the stairs down to the basement door was wet, and Bettina gripped it tightly, unsure whether to go through with this visit. She didn’t believe in witches, she didn’t believe in magic. At the bottom of the stairs was a door painted black, and in the middle a faded yellow star. It almost looked as if a circle or marking had been drawn around it, and Bettina was just squinting to try and make it out when the door flew open and she felt the wind push her forward until she was stumping into a dimly lit parlor.

“Come here, mine kindela.”

A soft throaty voice called from the back of the room, where a short, stout older women stood. Her hair was cut in a short grey bob, and her dress was a smart mustard yellow floral print. The kind popular after the war had ended. A golden dragonfly pin lifted the hair off the right side of the women’s face, and adiamonds sparkled in the dragonfly's wings.

This was the old Jewish witch? She was trim and clean and friendly and could have been someone’s grandmother. Comparatively, Frau Pieper looked more like a fat old hag. But then Bettina noticed something eerie about the way Golde Wolff smiled at her

“I ve been waiting for you. Have a seat, have a seat.” Golde motioned to the chairs at a dark red table in the center of the room.

Bettina looked around as she sat, the walls of the basement were painted a dark, burgundy color. Underneath her was a Persian rug with navy, gold and burgundy detailed patterns swirling around. As Bettina tread over it she could almost swear the patterns were moving. Shelves lined the back half of the parlor, stacked with glass jars filled with plants and powders and god knows whatelse. A stained glass lamp decorated with dragonflies in the mosaic and around the metal base was the only light in the room, save for a candle burning in the middle of the table.

“I’m, I’m not really sure why I’m here.”

Golde sat down across from her, folding her hands on the table.

“You want a spell. A love spell, no?”

Bettina nodded, her mouth hung open.

“if I do this, you can never go back. There is no remedy. Do you really want to make someone love you?”

 “I - he, uh. He already loves me. He tells me all the time. I just want, I want him to love only me.”

Golde nodded, petting the black cat who suddenly appeared and jumped up into her lap.

“Ah, yes, a spell to bring forth feelings that are already there. Focus them. Well, there will be a price.”

“Would I have to sacrifice something I want, like not being able to have children?”

“No, no. A cost, forty marks to be exact.”

"Oh, ha."

Bettina pulled out her wallet, that was half a week’s wages. She swallowed hard and handed over the money. Golde smiled and put out her hand.

“I need something of yours and something of his.”

Bettina pulled out the white, ivory bone comb she had found in Elvis’ room before she left, and then plucked a hair from her own head, placing the the black and brown strands into the witch’s palm. 

Whack! The cat jumped on the table and began to rub against Bettina’s shoulder, purring.

“Wait here, Rumi will keep you company.”

And so Bettina scratched Rumi behind his ears and watched as the witch pulled out jars and poured ingredients into a mortar, grinding it up with a pestle. Twenty minutes later, Golde was pouring the mixture into a glass jar and handing the deep red candle to Bettina.

“You must say your intention out loud then light the candle immediately and let it burn over night. Put it somewhere well protected where the flame can burn strong, creating a robust foundation for your love. When the candle has burned out, your spell will be complete.”

Bettina lit the candle the minute she got back, and left it burning on top of her dresser far from the window or the door. She could tell the magic was working immediately. Elvis was sweet to her the whole night through, pulling her on to his lap as he cajoled Cliff to entertain them with some of his stories, and keeping her near him all evening. His hands were at her waist, caressing her back and forth with his thumbs, his knee between her legs, naughtily pushing up and down. And when it was time for bed, he put his hand around her shoulder and guided her upstairs in front of the other guests.

 5 a.m. Saturday, September 12th , 1959

Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany

At dawn he was furtively rubbing against her, half asleep with a full erection, and Bettina turned into him, bringing him between her legs for their morning love making ritual. She sighed as he pressed his dry lips to her neck, and peppered her clavicle with kisses as they banged the metal frame into the wall clumsily rocking and grunting into the day.

The candle had burned down to the bottom when Bettina checked it, and she smiled with satisfaction as she cleaned herself off and skipped down stairs to help Grandma with breakfast.

At midday she looked up from her work in the office to see Elvis jumping the high wooden fence that bordered the back yard and emerging at her window, smirking as he tapped her window. She opened it and laughed as he jumps through, helping to pull him in and then falling back against the desk.

“There is a door, you know, ja?”

Elvis’ lips curled into a wider grin and his hands held her tight. “This way was more fun. Better view.”

He waggled his eyebrows and kissed her lips, a glint in his eye.

“You are a naughty little boy.”

“Nah uh, ain’t true.” He mumbles, lifting her on to the desk and knocking over her carefully stacked piles of fan letters and autographs. “He’s a good little boy. He’s her good little boy.” Then before she knew it he was telling her to be quiet as he settled on his knees and removed her panties, and his head disappeared under her skirt. At first, his tongue tickled her, she had yet to feel totally at ease letting a man do this. But Elvis had been dutifully working all year to make Bettina comfortable being kissed between her legs. There. At her pleasure point. His voice hummed into her as he pulled her to the edge of the table. He lapped at her gently, moving his index finger into her, his tongue feathering over her at first, then gradually flicking her nub before kissing it again. Lingering, he now possessed her completely with his mouth. Bettina knocked over more stacks of mail as she tried and failed to to find the edge of the desk to hold something as her whole body began to vibrate and thrash with the overwhelming sensation of her second orgasm of the day.  She was still heaving and shuddering from the aftershocks as Elvis wiped his face on her inner thighs and licked his lips, a devilish glint in his eye.

“Mhmmm mhmmm mhmm. Guess I had my dessert fore ma meal. S’what you do to me, Betty boo.”

Bettina stayed in the office over the lunch hour, trying to compose herself and smiling. The spell had worked. She could feel it.

The spell had clearly not worked. There was no other explanation, Bettina thought, as she stood in her usual perch at the edge of the living room and watched Elvis talk and flirt with Heli, one of the other pretty young German girls he was dating. Bettina thought of the intimate moments she had shared with Elvis just hours ao. This made her tummy do several more summersaults until she could no longer stand to watch them anymore. Instead, she calmly turned and fled to her office. Moments later the door handle turned, and she looked up with excitement, knowing Elvis must have been stymied by the spell and told Heli to get lost.

But it wasn’t Elvis.

“Please Rex, I’d like to just be alone, I - I have a headache.”

Rex inhaled, and instead of leaving, walked towards where she stood, looking out the window. He grabbed her wrist.

“I can’t bear to see him treat you like this, Betty. You’re so beautiful.”

“Rex stop - what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. You know what he will do if he finds you talking to me like this.”

Rex stepped closer.

“I don’t care, I can’t stop thinking of you. I love you.”

Bettina blinked, and pulled her hand from his, looking around the room to get her bearing. She didn’t know what to do, so she slapped his face, then jumped back as if she had been the one struck. Rex floundered for something to say, but Bettina didn’t want to hear it and shuffled out as if the room was on fire, sequestering herself in her bedroom alone.

The sound of Elvis mattress bumping against the wall across the hallway drove a knife deeper and deeper into Bettina’s heart.

8 a.m. Sunday, September 13th , 1959

A dark alley off Friedensstraße,  Bad Nauheim, West Germany

The air was chilly as Bettina made her way down the steps to Golde’s door, rapping against the black paint loudly until the witch finally opened up.

“Good morning, my child, it is early for —”

“Your spell didn’t work.”

Bettina pushed her small frame through the cracked door, eyeing Golde’s gold and burgundy robes as she entered the witch’s parlor.

“That is not possible.” Golde announced, closing the door behind her.

The smell of pinewood wafted through the room, and Bettina gazed into the flames of Golde’s fire, watching them dance as she warmed her hands.

“Well, this time it is. But that is ok, I no longer want him to love me.” She turned to the witch, fists clenched. “What is the price for you to curse him?”

Golde put her hand on Bettina’s shoulder, as Rumi slinked over, mewling at the witch’s feet. “My child, you are so quick and changeable. Yesterday a love spell, today a curse. I cannot in good conscience do this. You must be mistaken, my spells always work.”

“Yesterday, he made love to me in the morning and was in bed with another women by nightfall.”

Golde stroked her chin, and walked over to the table, motioning for Bettina to join her.

“And you are certain you brought me his hair?”

“Yes, I found that comb on the floor of his room.”

“You said he loved you already. So, the spell I made for you was one for a natural love, a spell to acquire his undivided devotion where love already existed. The only explanation is that you are wrong. He does not love you. He is just using you for his carnal pleasure.”

Bettina nodded. “Ja, he seems so earnest, so sincere. But you must be right. All the more reason I want to put a curse on him.”

“You are certain? Once done, it cannot be undone.”

Bettina folded her hands, looking down at where Rumi’s black tail now wound around her ankle.

“ I was a virgin a year ago, besotted with this man. He brought me to live and work with him, he lied, telling me he loved me. And now I am stuck working for him, in love with him, watching as he romances woman after woman in front of me, and then when he is bored, he comes back to me for comfort and companionship. I do not have the strength to leave him. If I cannot have him, I want him to feel the same way I do.”

“60 deustch marks.”

Bettina sucked in her breath. Then pulled out her wallet, 60 was all she had on her, it was the most money she had ever spent on anything in her adult life. Golde stood and rummaged around in her cabinet until she pulled out a black candle, while Rumi jumped up and made himself comfortable in Bettina’s lap.

“I do not need anything except his name. After I light the candle, we must hold hands and you will recite the fate you want to blight on this man. Understood?”

Bettina shivered as a cold wind blew through the parlor.

“Yes, I understand.”

“His name?”

“Elvis Presley.”

The witch raised her eyebrow, but lit the candle never the less. She took Bettina’s hands and began to mutter an incantation in a language Bettina did not understand. Maybe it was Hebrew, but she was not sure. Somewhere amidst the doleful recitation she heard the name Elvis Presley repeated a number of times.  Then Golde stopped and raised her voice.

“Oh spirits, we beseech you, hear this poor girl’s plea.” She nodded at Bettina to continue.

“Curse him with unrequited love, may he fall in love with someone who is everything he despises, a succumbus starved for sex and male attention who wants only to use him for his fame and fortune. Whose faithfulness will match his own. Whose betrayal will make him want to die. “

WHACK!

The front door blew open, and the rushing sound of the wind filled the basement, knocking over the lamp and making Rumi run under the couch on the other side of the parlor, mewling louder and louder. Golde did not flinch, she only gripped Bettina’s hands tighter, calling out loudly.

“Here us, oh spirits, curse this Elvis Presley with the affliction of an unrequited love for a woman who embodies all that he despises, may she be the opposite of his ideal and break his heart. And when they meet he will only see her as a reflection of his ideal, his one true love, and by the time he realizes his mistake may it be too late.”

The blast of air circled them in a spiral that tangled their clothes and pulled up their hair, spinning and spinning around in a whirlwind until it blew out the candle’s flame. The front door thwacked shut. And Bettina fell back against the chair fatigued and almost unable to stand.

Somehow she summoned the strength to trudge back along the cobblestones to the house on Goethestraße. None of the guys were there when she returned, just Grandma Presley there to greet her with a pinched smile that made the old woman's cheeks cave in. Bettina thought about Mrs. Presley. Most days Grandma was her only companion. Guilt washed over her briefly for the cursing this kind women’s grandson. But then Bettina thought of Heli and the wound that still ached in her chest from hearing the sounds of their love making this morning. She thought of Julia and Cynthia. She thought of the countless times Elvis had asked her to accompany him on dates as his translator. She knew many of the women he had gone out with better than he did. And then to find that he did not even care for her? It was too much to bear. Exhausted from a hard morning of casting spells, Bettina made her way up stairs and lay down.

It was well past 7 o’clock at night when she woke up again, and she was surprised to see Rex on the floor of Elvis room as she walked past the door.

“What are you looking for?”

Rex stopped, and stood. “I haven’t been able to find my comb in days. It’s a nice, ivory number, I think Elvis and the boys took it as a prank, they were with me when I bought it in Paris.”

Bettina gasped. “No.” She faltered and fell back against the hallway. Her stomach dropped to the ground.

“What is it, my darling, are you ok? Even peaked, you are still the most beautiful -”

Just then Elvis bounded up the stairs, and Rex jumped back a mile.

“There’s my sweetheart, c’mon baby, need my best gal by my side.” Elvis hands were around Bettina’s waist, cradling her into him as he walked down stairs, yelling back at Rex.

“Looking for something Rexadus? You didn’t go and loose that fancy ass comb you bought in Paris already? You shudda seen him, Betty, made us late for our show that night, prancing round buyin that thang.”

Bettina nodded, half dazed. Her mind was racing as she pieced together the mistakes she had made over the last few days, wondering if there was any way to undo the love spell, to uncurse the curse.

She barely heard the doorbell ring or Elvis snapped at Charlie to go answer as he made his way to the piano and sat Bettina next to him as he played. She couldn’t sit still, and began to fidget with her nails. Elvis pursed his lips, and was just about to give her a lecture on proper posture when something caught his eye. Bettina turned to see his friend, Currie, being led into the room with his wife, Carol and a beautiful, shy young girl with porcelain skin, dark brown hair and an upturned nose. Elvis whistled and stopped playing to stride over and introduce himself to the newcomer.

“Howdy, I’m Elvis Pretzel.” He stammered out with an awkward laugh.

Bettina rolled her eyes as she watched him eagerly run his hand through his hair. The young girl blushed demurely.

“A pleasure, I’m sure. My name is Priscilla. Priscilla Beaulieu.”

Happy Halloween.........

tagging a few friends:

@missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @ashtag6887 @deniseinmn @ab4eva @i-r-i-n-a-a @j-v-9-2 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @arrolyn1114 @lialocklear @everythingelvispresley @artlover8992 @dkayfixates @kingdomforapony @louisejoy86 @notstefaniepresley @literally-just-elvis-fics @whositmcwhatsit

[peskybedtime]

I've loved all of your Elvis-o-ween one-shots, but I think this one is my favorite. Elvis had a very magical, mythic life, and this taps into that while being sexy and silly and everything else a good fic should be. As others have lamented - do we really have to wait another year for more of these spoopy delights? 😭

[whositmcwhatsit-deactivated2025]

Chapter 1?

Okay, so technically this is an introduction... taster... of the fic to come? I have been desperately trying to finish this for today, but didn't quite make it, so I'm posting this hoping it'll hold me accountable.

A fall/Halloweeny story Inspired by a brief stop Elvis and co made on their way to the World's Fair in 1962. @thatbanditqueen I apologise for messing with your era Elvis and the naughty, terrible things I plan to do with him later in the fic...

All the love to my coven of wicked sisters of the night @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows

“You have got to be kidding me! What is your problem?!” Cheryl slammed on the brakes as the station wagon in front of her was forced to drop below ten miles an hour because of the Dodge motorhome in front of it. It was the third time it had happened in the past ten minutes and, just like before, both vehicles abruptly started speeding up again soon afterwards. “I’m going to pass ‘em and there’ll be a monkey at the wheel. It's the only explanation!” 

The height and size of the motorhome meant that Cheryl couldn’t get a clear look of the road ahead and this had stopped her from trying to go around before, but with time ticking on and so many miles ahead of her, she decided to take a chance. She pulled out into the oncoming lane and stamped her foot on the gas. 

It was all going so well, she passed the station wagon and was coming up alongside the motorhome. She had been expecting to see some silver haired, doddery grandpa at the wheel; that would have been the most reasonable explanation for the erratic driving. Instead, with a dark captain’s hat over his dyed black hair, she found Elvis Presley eyeing her curiously as she floored it to try and get ahead of him. And that was when the truck pulled out of a hidden junction from within the tall trees ahead. 

Cheryl had ten seconds to choose her fate: splattered face first into the broadside of a pick up or swerve into the ditch at the side of the road and take her chances. Ditch it was. There was a deafening chorus of blaring horns followed by a finale of grinding, crunching metal. The ditch was wider than it looked and the front end of her car dipped before smashing face first into the earth bank and turning sideways.

Ears ringing, Cheryl was glad later that she didn’t have to explain or justify her vanity as she checked her face for injury first. She worked her way down after that and was just discovering that she had managed to survive with only a cut across her knuckle where her flailing hand had caught a knob on the dashboard, when the door was opened above her and, appearing unexpectedly for the second time that day, Elvis Presley peered in. 

“I think so?” she called back, wriggling her toes and, she could only blame it on shock, hissing in annoyance at the ladder in her stockings.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay?”

“Good, good,” he murmured, seemingly in relief. “Honey, can you reach my hand? Let’s get you outta there.” More faces appeared around the doorway and Cheryl did not have the time or inclination to worry about the hands gripping her body and pulling her up through the gap and into the damp autumn air. 

“Christ, you should be dead!” one of the other men marveled, standing on the near bank of the ditch. Cheryl stared blankly at the dented and torn hood and the shattered windshield of her car, before reality penetrated the high-pitched whistling that filled her brain. 

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” She wrapped her hands over the top of her head. “I can’t… I need… What am I going to do?! I’ve got a show tomorrow a couple hundred miles from here!” 

“You some kind of singer or something?” asked another of the men, his voice more twang than words. 

“Or something. I’m- I’m a clairvoyant.”

“Clairvoyant? And you didn’t see this coming?” scoffed a short, round balding man, eagerly looking for approval from his boss. 

“I’m a spiritualist, not a fortune teller,” she snapped. “I see spirits of loved ones watching over us, I don’t get tips on horse races and car crashes.” 

The captain’s hat slipped slightly askew with the speed at which Elvis turned from the crumpled hood to her. His gaze was deep and it felt like he too was seeing more of her than just her earthly form. Her face heated despite the cold, damp air and the chilling effects of shock. 

“We’ll make sure you make your show,” he said, letting his hands drop from just below his hips to help with his balance as he climbed up the side of the ditch. His gait was a little awkward and Cheryl wondered if it had something to do with the tightness of his tailored pants or the height of the heels on his eye-catching shiny shoes, before she focused back on her mess of a car and wanted to cry again. 

A crow fluttered down and settled on the roof of her car, cawing judgmentally at her. She scowled at it, but it just impassively ruffled its tail feathers and shouted at her a little louder. She rolled her eyes and turned from it, surveying the little huddle that had formed around Elvis on the bank of the ditch. She noticed now that all the guys around him were wearing black coveralls like they were his own personal squad of mechanics. They each had a fancy ‘EP’ printed on the breast pocket. 

“... I mean we’re on a tight schedule, shooting starts in two days and the Colonel-”

“And if we happen to break down on the road and end up a day or two late, ain’t no helpin’ that, you know.” He winked at Cheryl, smiling so much like a mischievous little boy that she found herself mirroring him, her smile only fading when she glanced back at her car. 

“Ain’t gonna know what I don’t want him to know,” Elvis interjected, not bothering to hush his voice the way his lackeys were, which Cheryl appreciated from an eavesdropping perspective. “Man, we’ll make it for shooting, don’t worry about it.” He slapped the shorter man on the shoulder, adding over his shoulder:

As she stood watching a couple of Elvis’ guys scramble down into the ditch to retrieve her belongings, the man himself came to her side with his arms folded, looking down his nose like he was supervising. 

“What’s your name, honey?” 

“Why are you all the way up here?” she asked. “Taking a vacation from all that sunshine and dry air?”

“Cheryl,” she sighed, turning and giving him a rueful smile. “And you’re Elvis.” He stared at her a beat too long and she realized he was trying to get a handle on her, figure out if she was a fraud. “It’s not like I live in a coffin. I know who you are.” He ducked his head as he laughed a little and shrugged. He was very sparkly, she noted, sparkly white teeth, sparkly, twinkly eyes. Yes, she may have hit her head a little in the crash. 

“We’re heading up to film on location,” he explained, sticking his hands into his pockets. “At the World’s Fair.”

“Oh. Still, I bet you’d rather be warm in California right now, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t say that, honey. Wouldn’t have got to meet a pretty little thing like you now, would I?” His left eyebrow twitched up playfully and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he turned away towards the motorhome. 

Ignoring the way her stomach churned with excitement, Cheryl reflected that at least her car would have still been intact. She would have to call home as soon as she got to a phone, and get them to wire some cash for repairs. Her mother would be furious, as if it was her fault that Elvis Presley couldn’t drive and some idiot in a truck decided to commit a hit and run.

The air inside the motorhome was warm and kind of musky with so many men crammed in together. The guy who had been fretting about getting to location on time climbed in behind her, settling on her other side, Elvis was obviously behind the wheel to her left. 

“We’ll just follow the highway until we hit a town,” Elvis said like he was thinking out loud. “Even a one-horse backwater place’ll have a fella with a tow truck. I know a little about cars and I’m betting your ride looks worse than it is.” 

One of the guys in the back murmured something in a low voice that Cheryl didn’t catch, but she didn’t miss the sharp look that Elvis gave the rear view mirror.

“It’ll need to have a Western Union, I don’t have enough money on me to even cover a tow. Not until after my show anyway.” 

“Well, honey, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out from the side of the road. “I said I’d get you to your show, didn’t I.” 

After a couple of minutes, she asked if a window could be opened as it was a bit stuffy and a skinny man behind her with a wispy mustache informed her that Elvis didn’t like the window open ‘on account of his hair’. 

At the same time, Elvis instructed the man to shut up in Pig Latin. Cheryl recognised it because it was how she and her brothers had communicated in front of townies when they were growing up. She was impressed with Elvis’ fluency and the way the curse words flowed so nicely off his tongue. 

Elvis rolled down his window as she sat pretending with wide-eyes not to have understood what he had said. There was no real need for the deception, but it was just in her nature and part of her upbringing to build up ammunition and jealously guard secrets and information like a secret agent. You never knew when it would come in handy.

“So, what does your show entail really?” he asked, glancing at her before turning back to the road. “You’re up there on the stage and you… do what exactly…?” He met her eyes briefly. “I ain’t making fun, I’m just curious, honey.”

“Well, it’s probably a lot less interesting than your shows,” she murmured, wiping at the beads of moisture sitting on the surface of her wool coat. “People come to me to make a connection or get reassurance or to find peace, and I try to help them. It’s a fluid thing, there’s no set script so to speak.”

“Oh, but you made plenty of connections at your shows, right, Boss?” chuckled one of the guys behind him. 

“The road!” she reminded him nervously, reflexively hitting his thigh. He jerked slightly, tightening his grip on the wheel as he turned back to look through the windshield. Luckily, they were only going about twenty miles an hour at the time. 

“Shut up, Charlie,” he murmured perfunctorily, still staring at her, eyes slightly narrowed. 

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Cheryl. 

Cheryl tried to not ask too many questions and distract him, but Elvis still told her about the movie he was making, talked about how security was going to be a pain in the ass because of all the visitors to the fair, but that he thought that it would make the movie look better than if everything was filmed on the lot with a backdrop. He said he always found that distracting when he was watching a movie, especially if the film in the background was repeated over and over. Cheryl did not doubt him since he seemed to get distracted extremely easily. 

They had been traveling on the highway for about thirty minutes when a big logging rig headed their way on the other side of the road. Elvis enthusiastically gestured for the driver to sound the horn and Cheryl side-eyed him, but couldn’t help breaking into an indulgent laugh at the glee on his face when a booming honk filled the air. 

“Hey, what you laughing at?” His entire face was radiant when he smiled. Cheryl almost felt like she needed sunglasses. “You know, I always dreamed of driving one of ‘em big muth- trucks when I was a little fella.”

“Oh well, at least you had this little sideline to fall back on when that dream didn’t work out.” 

He laughed too late and with a touch of incredulity, like he couldn’t believe that she could be funny. “Yeah, it’s my, uh, consolation prize.” He couldn’t let that stand even as a joke and quickly included an addendum. “Naw, I’ve been very lucky, I got more than I ever dreamed.” 

“You don’t want to tempt fate, huh,” Cheryl remarked. 

“Just don’t wanna seem ungrateful, honey, ‘cause I’m not.” 

She frowned at his earnest insistence, but smiled and nodded when he glanced from the windshield to look at her.

Finally, Elvis pulled the motorhome into the parking lot of the Cozy Pines motel, sounding slightly baffled as he mused that he’d never seen a cozy pine tree. 

It certainly looked like a motel designed by someone who thought a pine tree was cozy. It was the usual two storey L-shape concrete structure with a leaf strewn concrete rectangle sunk into the middle of the parking lot with a little fence around it that looked like it might have been intended to be a pool. 

“Welcome to the Bates Motel,” one of the guys in the back muttered, face pressed up against the window.

“It ain’t so bad,” Elvis remarked gently, seeing the dubious expression on Cheryl’s face. “Honey, you just gotta find yourself a car mechanic and have ‘em send me the bill. Won’t take long and you’ll be on your way.” 

“Or else you’ll end up dumped in a swamp.”

Cheryl swallowed as she peered at the squat office building, its window dominated by a flashing neon sign that promised/threatened ‘vacancies’. 

“Goddamn it, Marty, shut your damn trap!” Elvis snapped, ripping off one of his leather driving gloves and pitching it behind him at the guy who had spoken.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Cheryl murmured, but only softly, because if he didn’t do that, she would slash his tyres to stop him leaving her.

“Okay, change of plan. Listen up, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” said Elvis, talking fast as he grabbed her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Joe here’s gonna get his lazy ass into that office and get us some rooms. And then we’re gonna rustle you up a car and straighten everything out so that you’re on your way in a blink of an eye. Okay, honey?” He snapped his fingers at the dark haired man with wavy black hair on her right, who nodded, but rolled his eyes once he was out of Elvis’ eye line, climbing out of the truck.

It started to rain while Joe was in the manager’s office, and not just flecks but a massive biblical downpour. They all peered through the windshield at it, bemused by how suddenly the clouds had converged. 

“Might be better off leaving the car and buying a boat,” Elvis remarked, leaning forward so that his shoulder pressed against hers. Cheryl looked at his lashes, marveling at how long and dark they were. Then she noticed the dark smudge underneath his lower lashes, recognising it as someone who frequently applied make-up and then absently rubbed her eyes. She was growing more and more intrigued by this man. 

Joe scuttled across the parking lot with his hand held over his head like he thought this would shelter him from the rain. 

“Okay, good news and bad news- Uh, it’s Sunday, so there is no chance of finding a mechanic willing to go out and look at the car until tomorrow. Good news, they have ten rooms available upstairs, and there’s a restaurant just behind the parking lot there that’ll deliver food to the rooms.” 

“Well then, let’s get unloaded before we start to attract a crowd,” said the one Elvis had called Charlie. 

Cheryl looked around the deserted parking lot dubiously, but scrambled out when Joe proffered his hand. She thought she glimpsed the silhouette of a couple of girls back behind the office building, but they were gone before she fully turned her head. 

“You got room 220,” Joe informed Cheryl, barely looking at her as he deposited the key with the wooden room number keyring into her palm. His annoyance was evident, she could feel him almost vibrating with it, along with his anxiety that this stopover would derail their entire schedule. 

Room 220 was at the very end of the concrete walkway, next to a room that Elvis and all his sidekicks disappeared into. All in all, Elvis seemed more normal than she would have expected, except for his need to be followed around by a line of identically dressed ducklings of various sizes and shapes. 

The room was surprisingly clean-looking, but otherwise much like other places Cheryl had stayed while plying her trade up and down the coast. When she was younger her father used to insist that she stay in boarding houses, places with doilies and nosy old women that set a curfew and forbade all gentlemen callers. No doubt he would have still insisted on this, but he wasn’t in a position to insist on anything anymore. At least not in person. 

Cheryl sidestepped quickly from the window as there was a clonk and a barrage of tapping against the glass. After a second, she cautiously hooked back the curtain with finger and frowned at the crow perched on the railing outside. It tilted its head almost condescendingly as she peered out. She huffed a sigh of annoyance and let the curtain fall back into the place. 

“Hey, how come your room’s bigger ‘n’ mine?” 

Cheryl whirled round and had to bite back from retorting: ‘How come you think you can just walk into my room?’ She forced herself to be more gracious to the man paying for her room and her car repairs. (Even if he was partially responsible for her needing them).

Elvis was standing in the threshold of what she had assumed was a closet opposite the bed. Apparently it was a connecting door between their rooms. 

“I’m happy to switch rooms with you if you’d prefer. I don’t mind being cozy.” She stepped closer so she could peer over his shoulder at his room, but she saw no size difference. The only discrepancy seemed to be that she didn’t have half a dozen men turning down her bed, setting out her toiletries and bringing in creature comforts like a record player. 

“As cozy as a pine tree. No, I’ll be a gentleman,” he said softly by her ear, his fingers sliding down from her ribs to the hips. His other hand snagged her fingers and lifted them up for inspection, frowning intently at the little nick on her knuckle. 

As she opened her mouth to make a joke about how it was clearly the end of her promising career as a piano player, he pressed his soft, pillowy lips to her knuckles and what came out of her mouth was instead a slurred mumble of vowels. She held her breath, gazing up at his dark blue eyes and watching those long, black lashes flutter, before his pout spread into a sunny grin and whatever spell they had been under dissipated like mist. 

“You hungry? I am starving!” he announced. He turned back to his room, “Hey, it’s chow time. Where’s Billy?”

After half an hour, there was a knock on Cheryl’s door and one of the guys stood on the covered walkway, his hands behind his back like he was about to ask Mr Bumble for more gruel. 

“Y’all can come eat with us, Boss said,” he informed her. There was no question involved. She reminded herself that her room was being paid for and stretched her mouth into a smile. 

“I guess the locals have heard about their special visitor,” she said, slipping her feet into her pumps. “All that screaming, I thought someone was being mur-” She stopped as she looked over the railing at the dreary, gray and empty parking lot. “I could have sworn I heard girls outside.”

“Oh, they’ll be here soon enough,” he sighed with inevitability. “They always are.”

To be continued...

If anyone is any good at yelling at people until they ignore their boring real life commitments and do the fun writing stuff, please feel free to shout at me in comments!

[peskybedtime]

What a great premise! Elvis on the road is such a fun setting, and you've captured his quirks beautifully. Also, Cheryl is such an interesting OC - love me a career woman 😍 Can't wait for more!