Theme Parks and Obstacle Courses – a Novel



The door opened and in the opening stood Roller Girl. “You don’t need us after all!” she said.

“We will if he strips down,” said Pat, pointing at Wally. The hostess came back with the drinks on a tray, setting them on the table. Wally dismounted and returned to the couch.

“Come in,” said Johnny, waving Roller Girl into the room. She pushed her feet along in short strides, her wheels not turning very well on the pile of the carpet.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, folding her hands behind her back. “My name is Alexandra. I’m 22 and I’m your Roller Girl. I do everything other than kissing, of course, and Greek. I will give partial head without a condom but not before inspection.”

“Thanks Alexandra,” said Johnny as she settled down on the arm of the couch, closest to the door beside his glass. There was a knock and the next girl came in. She was dressed as a warrior princess-type. The hostess returned with their drinks. She set them on the table and left.

“My name is Shoshanna,” began the warrior princess, “and, as you can see, I have a sword.” With that, she drew her plastic sword from its scabbard and held it overhead.

“How about that,” said Wally, “So do I.”

“Yours is blunter. And shorter,” said Pat.

“I don’t kiss, none of us do as you know, but I do everything else. No condom no head, but I can go Greek, depending on your size.” Shoshanna squeezed onto the couch, in between Pat and Wally.

Pat’s blood pressure shot up. His black coffee stood in its white cup and saucer, an unblinking black eye in a white face, untouched at the corner of the table.

When the door next opened, it was Wonder Woman. “Morning gents, my name’s Wanda. As you can see, I am, in fact, a wonder. And I do everything wonderfully, other than head.”

“No head? Really?”

“I’m Jewish – no pork.” The girls laughed at this. “I’m joking. I do give head – with a condom.”

“Wonderful,” said Wally.

Next, a tall schoolgirl with an enormous smile and pigtails appeared at the door. Instead of heels she wore knee-high leather boots. Wanda draped herself across the back of the couch, behind Stevie and his father.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Monica. Would you believe I’m 17?”

“Of course,” said Johnny, one hand smoothing his hair. “Would you believe I’m 35?”

Pat remained quiet and anxious. His close proximity to Shoshanna was making him sweat. A single, agonising bead rolled down one side of his ribcage.

“I know a thing or two, but I’m always ready to learn a little bit more.” Monica spoke to the other girls as much as the boys. The introductions were corny, but the girls were excellent hosts.

The fact that they were here for sex wasn’t concealed, but it was made into a source of fun and ridicule. It put everyone at ease, except for Pat. He lifted his cup, blew onto the surface of the coffee and took a sip. It spread like a drop of acid on a leaf. His mouth remained resolutely dry.

“If you’re good,” said Monica coquettishly, crossing one leg behind the other, “Shoshanna and I could come together.” She crossed the room and extended one very long leg to step over the table.

“Can I sit on your knee?” she asked Pat.

“No,” he said, looking down at his feet.

“Okay,” she responded, and sat beside him on the arm of the couch.

“And lastly, there is Monique,” said the tall blonde who appeared in the doorway, introducing herself in authoritarian fashion. Big red lips, heavy black eyelashes, shortish slicked-back hair and a white shirt tied across her navel.

Her heels were high, her skirt was short and her black stockings were sheer. She carried a long ruler in her hand and, when she stood in the doorway, she took hold of either end and flexed it like a riding crop.

“I do whatever I like, you will do whatever I tell you and if you want Monica as well, both of you will come. Very, very hard.” Pat’s gaze plunged into his coffee. “Look at this one,” she said, pointing the ruler at him. “He is terrified.”

“Most of us are,” said Shoshanna.

“You’ve got a sword!” said Wally.

“The sword is fake, but the ruler is real.” Monique cracked it against her thigh for effect. There was a knocking on the door behind her; she turned and then stood aside. “I was mistaken,” she said, “There is one more.”

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