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mydisenchantedeulogy · 6 months

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Monochrome || Toji Fushiguro

A/n: This is an entry for @nagumoan 's 'Dance With the Dead' collaboration. Please enjoy and make sure to check out the other amazing entries too. The divider was made by @saradika.

Warning(s): horror, ghost/poltergeist Toji, gender-neutral reader, rough sex, pet (dog or cat), modern-day au, dry humping, blackouts, implied/referenced death, orgasm denial, ghost hunters, haunted erotica. Words: 4,923.

Tag list: @ofsharkdreamsandspacejellyfish

No Minors Allowed!!

An eerie silence permeates the late autumn air, bringing about a sense of uneasiness that sets you on high alert. Your curious eyes dart from one end of the street to the next, waiting for someone - or something - to walk down the sidewalk toward you. But no one comes.

You do not blame them, no one would dare to proceed along this street on Halloween, where tragedy and death are in abundance, so much so the air is thick with the phantom scent of rot.

It is a terrible idea for you to be out here because even at a safe distance, the infamous 'House of Horror' feels like it is breathing down your neck. It might as well be; the rumors stemmed from the abandoned vernacular house. You can not attest to them, having never witnessed the cursed spirits that are supposed to be trapped within its walls, so here you are, waiting on your friends for a fun night of ghost hunting to kick off the spooky season.

They're late, you point out.

And what's worse, there is no cellphone service where you are.

An air of sheer paranoia cloaks you like a heavy blanket the longer you wait. You know there is nothing to be scared of - fear is only in the mind - but you can not shake the eerie sensation that someone is watching you from afar.

You turn toward the 'House of Horrors' and glance at the set of broken windows, but you see nothing beyond the inky blackness inside. What is causing this sensation?

The sudden flash of headlights averts your eyes toward an old car as it approaches. You forget about the house for the time being when a friend sticks their head out the window and howls like a wolf into the night. You turn up your eyes in a playful manner, checking your cell phone again.

"You're late, you know," you point out, once the car parks next to the curb in front of you.

Your friend snorts.

"Late is the new fad."

The driver, their partner sighs.

"It was Eric Jerome Dickey who coined the phrase 'Early is on time, on time is late and late is unacceptable'. You can learn from that babe."

Your friend turns up their eyes.

"See what I have to deal with."

Honestly, you don't, you are single.

Your friend and their partner leave the car and join you on the sidewalk, facing the 'House of Horrors'. An eerie silence permeates the air as the three of you stare at it.

"This is unnerving," the partner states.

You agree with a nod, but your friend snorts.

"You two are wimps. This is exactly what we came here for." They pause a moment, breaking away from the triad to rush through the front yard and onto the porch. "Move your asses."

With a sigh you join them, standing to the side as their partner tinkers with the doorknob. It is strange that the door would be locked, but you can understand why. People often break in and vandalize the house; it's the reason for the broken windows.

"Damn," the partner groans. "I can't get the door to open. We will have to try something else."

The sound of glass breaking makes you jerk in fright. You avert your attention to the window on the right of the house behind you to see your friend knocking down the broken pane.

"What are you doing, babe?" The partner asks in disbelief.

"I'm finding a way in," your friend simply retorts. They grunt, sticking one leg through the window. "Give me a second. I'll unlock the front door and let you both in."

You consider arguing with them, it's a terrible idea, but you know they won't listen. It was their idea to come here in the first place. You watch them shimmy through the window with a grunt and disappear into the darkness.

"And they say they have it rough," the partner jokes.

You snort. Your friend is indeed a bit hard to deal with.

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence as you wait, until the partner clears their throat.

"Do you know why the 'House of Horrors' is called what it is?"

"I have an idea," you utter.

The partner grins and leans in.

"It is rumored that whoever steps inside is cursed and therefore suffers."

You have never heard this rumor before.

"That's just to keep people out, right? I mean, several families have indeed died here, but it's not cursed."

"No, it's true. My aunt is a realtor and after she went into the house and gauged the damages, she got sick," the partner argues.

A feeling of dread consumes you. The idea of being cursed does not sit well with you, but perhaps this is just a ruse. Shifting uncomfortably, you glance toward the window. There is no sign of your friend.

"Where are they?"

The partner hums.

"No idea. It shouldn't have taken this long."

No kidding.

You reach for the knob giving it a shake but it's still locked. With a groan, you walk over to the window and peek in. From what you can see, it leads into a dilapidated living room. You can barely see the foggy plastic covering the furniture, but at the top of the stairs, nestled to the side, you see what appears to be a figure in the shadows. It's hard to tell whether they are facing you or not due to the shadows, but there is indeed someone there.

A bout of fear consumes you. Is it a–

No. You are quick to shut down your wild thoughts. The spooky ambiance is getting to your head.

It is your friend, no doubt, but what are they doing standing there? Before you call out to them, you hear the lock click and the door open. You lean back and notice your friend standing in the doorway with their phone out. How did they get down the stairs so quickly?

You peek your head back through the window, seeing that the figure is gone. Goosebumps rise to your arms but you rub them away, joining your friend and their partner near the door.

"What took you so long?"

"We thought a ghost got you," the partner teases.

Your friend laughs.

"I walked through the kitchen for a moment alone. You know, in case the spirits are a bit shy."

You turn up your eyes. Opting not to ask them what they were doing on the stairs, you take out your phone, preparing to record whatever you see inside the house. Your friend backs up and spreads their arms.

"Welcome to the 'House of Horrors'. Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

"Chill out Dante," the partner jokes, walking into the house.

You follow close, shivering. The temperature of the house feels several degrees lower than outside, and the scent of mold and dust is thick in the air. You don't like it at all.

"Where should we start?" The partner asks.

"There's no basement or attic in this thing, so the first floor and then the second floor," your friend answers.

You are glad they have a plan because you honestly don't care. The sooner you leave, the better.

With your camera out in front, you have to readjust the settings to see what you are recording, and while it is not perfect, it will work. You hesitantly walk around the living room, stepping over broken bottles and used condoms from the various squatters who took residence inside the house. Various pictures hang on the walls, covered in thick dust and graffiti. You look at them carefully, barely able to see a family within them.

It is unsettling, knowing that they are now dead. A strange feeling of sorrow overcomes you, but you saunter away and join your friends, who are flirting with one another.

"Squatters destroyed a lot of the belongings," you mention, awkwardly.

"I had a feeling that would be the case," your friend retorts. "Oh well. To the kitchen, we go."

You agree with a hum.

Filming what you can of the living room one last time, you turn to follow your friend but the stairs catch your attention again. Something about them feels odd, yet you are not afraid. You feel drawn to them as if an intense desire overtakes you.

"Do you both want to go–"

You pause as you notice your friend passionately making out with their partner against the counter in the kitchen. Of course. Fear turns people on, they say. You opt to give them a moment alone, ascending the stairs.

The hall is built in a straight line with 4 doors; two on the right and two on the left with a narrow wooden floor between them. You hesitantly walk toward the first door, turning the knob to reveal a small bedroom. The mass of broken toys implies that a child slept there.

You frown as you further explore, leaning down to examine a torn and dust-covered set of canine plush toys; one black and one white. How sad.

Why would someone hurt–

The heavy sound of footsteps rushing by the bedroom door turns your attention. You do not see anyone in the frame, but the footsteps continue to recede down the hall toward one of the other rooms. Standing, you peer down the hall. The door at the far end on the left is wide open and someone is rummaging around in there. You can hear them rolling something across the floor.

How strange.

Perhaps your friend and their partner wandered upstairs to continue. But why did they not say anything? You ignore the sense of unease in your stomach and walk toward the door, walking into the frame with a teasing grin on your face.

"You know, if you two just came here to fuck, then you shouldn't have–"

You pause in horror, your grin fading as you notice that there is no one in the room. Peering back into the hall, you see that you are alone. So who walked by and opened the door? Your heart pounds in your chest like an 808 as you take in the decor. This room appears to be someone's office.

A large desk with two identical oak bookcases sits behind it. But what is strange is that the chair that you heard is across the room, facing the wall beside the door.

Nope.

You turn to leave but something falls to the floor with a loud thump and shatters. Jerking in fear, you search the room, noticing a frame on the floor next to the desk. Your body begs you to leave, stricken with shivers, but you walk over and lean down to pick the frame up, ignoring the broken glass as it falls to the floor with a clank.

A photograph inside shows a clearer view of the deceased family; a well-built man with black hair and two young children. The first, a girl with brown hair, stands beside the man with a kind smile. Then the second, a boy who looks much like his father, holds two canine plush toys in his arms as he stares at the camera.

"I'm sorry," you utter.

For some odd reason, tears gather in your eyes. Whatever happened to them was unfortunate. You sit the frame down and stand, clearing your eyes. This entire trip is an honest bust, despite the strange footsteps. You want to go home.

Walking back into the hallway, a sudden chill gives you the shakes. You ignore it, but as you reach the first door, a deep voice startles you.

"Sorry, you say."

Turning with a jerk, you stare with wide eyes at nothing. The shadows are however so thick. You lift your phone, hoping to get a clearer look, but what you see horrifies you. There is a man on the screen.

Fear chokes you.

Glancing at the shadows, then at your phone, you see that the figure of the man is still there. And to make matters worse, he is staring at you as if he's waiting for you to answer. There is darkness in his eyes; a darkness that turns your stomach. But furthermore, he looks like the man in the photograph.

"Are you the f-father?"

The man grins and steps forward.

You gasp in shock and turn to run, but you only manage to bump into your friend and their partner.

The terror in your eyes does not go unnoticed.

"What's wrong?" Your friend asks in concern.

You peek over your shoulder, seeing no one. The man is gone, but regardless, you want to leave this house at once. The desire to run is intense.

"I can't be here."

Before the two can bring you to your senses, you rush past them and down the stairs. Outside, a bout of nausea hits you like a bucket of cold water in the face. You fall to your knees and vomit onto the grass, retching.

What is going on?

As the sudden sickness passes, and you are left exhausted, you clean your mouth on your sleeve and glance back toward the house in sheer terror.

I should not have come here.

This is a mistake.

"It is rumored that whoever steps inside is cursed and therefore suffers."

You do not believe in curses, but the words remain in the back of your mind for weeks. Life should have returned to normal after the exploration, but it did not. Or at least for you, it didn't.

Something weird is going on. That sensation of dread that you felt that night now follows you everywhere. It feels like a dark phantom is hovering over your shoulder, observing you as you go from your house to work and back each day. It's suffocating. You fear that you are going insane; that the shadows are coming for you.

That 'he' is coming for you.

Fear invades your body as you walk quicker down the dimly lit sidewalk toward your house. The November air feels much colder than you are used to, but it's the last thing on your mind.

The black-haired man from the photograph invades your thoughts once again. His pale face at the end of the hall still haunts you. And to make matters worse, the footage that you had taken of him is missing from your phone as if he never existed. Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps you are just paranoid.

However, his handsome grin looked so real to you.

And his voice.

"Sorry, you say."

A shiver racks your body at the thought. You pull your coat tight around your shoulders and try to focus on getting home. It's been a long workday. You just want to take a shower and then go to bed. This entire ordeal is driving you insane.

Once at home, you shed your coat and greet your pet, running your fingers over their back.

"I bet you are hungry, aren't you?" You ask them with a smile.

Walking into the kitchen, you fill their food and water bowl. It's strange but you don't feel hungry at all. Perhaps you are coming down with an illness.

All the more reason for a long nap.

Loving on your pet for a moment, you then saunter into the bathroom. It does not take long for you to bathe, and then once you are done, you retire to the bedroom and pass out beneath the warmth of your blankets.

A strange chill suddenly wakes you in the night. It slithers up your body like a snake and clears your mind, enough to make you more aware. You groan in irritation and tighten the blankets around you, trying to go back to sleep. However, you can't.

Turning onto your side, you glance at your cell phone. It is early in the morning, but the sun is not yet up. So then why can you not rest?

For fuck's sake.

It's too late you fear, to force yourself back to sleep. You reluctantly leave the bed and wander into the dark kitchen for a drink. Once your thirst is satiated, you close the fridge door, casting yourself in darkness again. Knowing that you won't be able to go back to sleep just yet, you decide to return to your room and read on your phone. But as you turn, the soft tap of footsteps catches your attention. It must be your pet, roaming around in the living room.

"You too," you state. Pausing to lean down, you glance around the dark living room for them. "Come on then. We can go back together."

You smile as their footsteps wander closer, though beyond the darkness you are still unable to see them. Perhaps you should have turned on the light. As the noise increases, your smile fades. Where the hell are they? You squint into the darkness, able to see what appears to be their shadow, but then something furry brushes against your arm.

Jolting in fright, you glance over to see your pet beside you, waiting for you to caress them. An air of relief washes over you, but then, what is in your living room? You turn your eyes to the shadow and watch in horror as it rises to its full height.

It's a person.

Abruptly it runs at you. Its loud footsteps pound against the floor as it does. You fall onto your ass and scream, unable to move, as it draws near. Slamming your eyes shut, you turn your head and wait for the inevitable, but it never comes.

Forcing open your eyes, you glance over the area but whatever the thing was is now gone. Your stomach churns and your heart begins to pound. It feels like any moment you might jump out of your skin.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Horrified tears leak down your face as you sob, cradling your pet for dear life.

After the sudden shock in your kitchen, it took a lot for you to calm down. You had barely slept the rest of the night, but fortunately, nothing else happened.

It was a day later that you had decided there was no shadow hiding in the darkness. There was a logical explanation, you just did not know how to explain it yet. And there was no reason to.

You ignored the signs and continued with your life.

A few days later, however, you experience another incident, far worse than the last.

You are in bed, almost asleep. The warmth of your blanket lulls you into a sense of safety as you slowly drift in and out. Muffled sounds of music from your phone echo around the room and faintly through the bottom of your toes you can feel the rise and fall of your pet's warm body as they rest at the end of the bed.

A sudden gentle jerk on your blanket pulls you into a state of dim awareness. It feels as though it's gradually sliding down your body but you ignore it, thinking that your pet is at fault. With a soft groan, you turn onto your side and pull the blanket back up. A second later, however, it flies off you with a rough yank and lands on the floor.

You jolt up in fear and dart your eyes around the room, breathing deeply as though you have run a marathon. It feels as though your heart is about to explode. Could this be your mind playing tricks on you? Perhaps you had kicked the blanket off. You honestly can't remember.

Taking a deep uneasy breath, you are relieved that there is no one in your room.

Fuck me.

You glance at your pet to see them staring at the far side of the room as if they were watching someone. But upon further investigation, there is no one there.

"What are you look-"

Before you can finish your sentence, an unseen and malicious force grabs your leg and yanks you off the bed. Your scream of horror is interrupted by a loud oof as you land on your back on the floor.

"What the fuck," you groan in pain.

A soft and eerie song from your playlist permeates the air and from the corner of your eye, you notice movement from the other side of the bed. It takes you a moment to realize someone is standing there. You can see their feet from beneath the bed, but beyond that, you can not see who they are.

In horror, you watch them disappear, crawling onto the bed. The mattress dips and creeks in protest as they creep to the other side toward you.

Fuck…fuck…

Who is in your room?

Your stomach churns in dread as the face of the man from the photograph comes into mind. Could it be him? Is he real? You wait for whatever horror lies ahead to peek over the edge at you, but when the moment comes, your pet sticks its head over and glances at you instead.

Warm tears leak down the sides of your face. Why is this happening?

You sob. "It's you. It's only you."

From the corner of your eye, something moves. You glance to the side, but before you get a clear look, you are yanked beneath the bed.

A scream of terror leaves your mouth. You struggle to get away from the unseen hands, clawing at the floor as you manage to turn onto your stomach.

Once you are out from beneath the bed, you flip around and lean up on your forearms. The figure of a man, almost transparent, follows you out, moving slowly up your body. His cold hands bite at your skin as he pushes you onto your back and looms over you.

It is him. The man in the photograph.

You can recognize his black hair, blending in with the shadows in a way that makes you think he is a part of them. If not for the fact you can feel him, you would almost assume he was born from them.

Not able to move, you stare into his green eyes. His scleras are black, making the color of his eyes pop. They seem to almost glow supernaturally, mesmerizing you into a state of ease.

The man grins as he looks you over.

"What an interesting toy."

He then leans in and runs his nose along your ear. Heat spreads across your face.

"You and I are going to have so much fun together."

You aren't sure what to think about this. A part of you is terrified, but the other part wants him to. His tone doesn't sound malicious, as though he wants to hurt you; it sounds sexually deprived.

You shiver as his cool breath brushes against your ear.

"Why are you doing this?" You utter, returning to the jump scares.

"Do the dead need a reason to haunt the living?" The man asks.

He leans up and grins.

"This can't be real," you mention. "You can't be real."

"Oh, I'm real, darling."

His hips sink and he brushes your sex, making you arch into him. A knowing look crosses his face and he laughs.

"Do you still have your doubts?"

Your face heats up. For fuck's sake. Why is your body reacting to him like this? Are you deprived too?

"You're a curse."

"That's a matter of opinion, darling," the man utters. He leans down to your ear again and runs his tongue across the shell. "I can be a blessing."

You shiver in response. It feels as though you might faint, especially when he grinds his hard length against your sex. This should not feel so good. A soft moan escapes your mouth and you arch into him.

He's a ghost…or a figment of my imagination.

You might as well. His cock feels real enough.

"Who are you?"

"Toji," the man utters with a groan. "Remember it or not, it doesn't matter to me."

He must have been a real asshole in his former life. You snort.

"I've lost my mind. Fuck it. I might as well run with it."

"That's what I like to hear," Toji retorts.

Before your eyes, you watch his clothes form into light particles that rise from his body and fade into the air. And though almost transparent, you can see his well-built frame and hard cock.

You take a deep breath and glance up at the ceiling. This is happening. You almost can't believe it.

Helping him remove your nightwear, he then positions himself on the floor at your side and turns you away from him, bending your leg at the knee. You stare at the wall in anticipation, waiting for him to continue.

When at last he does, you shiver as he slips a finger into you, then another, preparing your tight hole to fit him. Your body is his and he takes care to prove this to you by fingering you in a way that makes you roll your eyes back and moan for him.

The little bit of pain you feel mixes perfectly with the pleasure building in your stomach, but it quickly ebbs as Toji removes his fingers.

Spreading you once again, he thrusts into your sex. You sigh in relief and angle into him. It feels strange, almost like you are being fucked by something intangible, yet there is clearly a cock inside you. Yet, despite this, it's intense. Every inch of your body is tingling.

Soft gasps pour from your mouth as he quickens the pace, bouncing you like a paddle ball. The floor bites into your side becoming a bit painful but you ignore it. The man behind you does not seem to care. You aren't sure if he even feels anything, but he continues to fuck you as if he does.

"Listen to you, panting like a dog," Toji teases. His breath hits your skin as he snorts.

"I'm n-not a–"

He slows down, making you whine in protest.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds," Toji threatens.

You nod in understanding, fluttering your eyes closed as he picks back up his pace again. The hand keeping your leg raised slips between your trembling thighs, playing with you. A moan pours from your mouth in response.

There is not much more you can take. It's been a while since you have been fucked like this and the pleasure is getting harder to handle. It builds and builds with each rough thrust until it suddenly shoots through you like an electric current. You have never felt anything so intense, so much so, that you can hardly breathe.

The world around you darkens and the last thing you hear before you pass out is Toji's airy voice.

"Now let's discuss living arrangements."

"How are you?" Your friend asks.

The sincere expression on their face makes you smile. It has been a while since you have seen them. A video chat was due.

"I'm living," you retort with a snort. Leaning back in your chair, you adjust your phone. "And I'm sorry that I haven't messaged or called you since Halloween."

"You should be," your friend jokes. "I was worried, you know."

You imagine so. You kind of dropped off the grid.

"Hey…listen. That night at the house. Did you see something? You looked so upset," your friend asks in all seriousness.

They have no idea. But to assure them, you shake your head.

"Just some rats. And I'm fine. Work has been a pain."

"That's a relief. It was a bust anyway. We didn't see shit, but we did fuck everywhere."

You snort, having no doubt.

A moment passes, and then your friend narrows their eyes in curiosity.

"Do you have someone over?"

You raise a brow.

"I'm alone. Why?"

You peek over your shoulder, but you don't see anyone there. The hallway behind you is dark and empty. Glancing back at the screen, you raise your shoulders. Your friend hums.

"I thought I saw someone standing behind you. Guess I'm seeing things."

You doubt it.

"Someone is losing their mind," you joke.

Your friend sticks out their tongue.

"Too late for that." They pause to laugh. "At least we are both alive. I was worried there for a bit with you, but I'm glad you are doing OK. I can rest now."

"I'm managing," you retort.

Your friend hums.

"That's all I wanted to know. Listen…I have to go but we should do something on your next day off."

"It's a date," you agree.

Saying your goodbyes, you end the call, putting your phone on a dark screen. The figure of a man appears behind you on the phone, making you jump in fright.

"You ass, I asked you not to do that," you snap, peeking over your shoulder at Toji.

The said man yawns.

"Yeah…I'm not gonna stop. You're too damn easy."

You turn up your eyes.

"Behave or I'll call someone to take care of you. The Ghostbusters or something."

"Whatever you say, darling," Toji retorts.

He sits down on the bed and motions you over.

"I'm bored. We have an arrangement, remember."

You remember.

With an eager grin, you hop up and walk over to him. Perhaps you should not have made a deal with him, allowing him to haunt your house. He's an asshole of a ghost and a bit obsessive.

But one thing is certain, the sex is otherworldly.

#dwtdcollab #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fandom #toji x reader #gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #modern day au

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thatbanditqueen · 11 months

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Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh, so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.” If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis smiled and looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder - shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

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