he disappears back into the crowd, backward, bowing all the way.
The bottle is dripping and cold. The label is very coolâa blue moon and a round orange pumpkinâand at first I just sit there like an idiot, holding it and looking at the moon. Then thereâs a clink and the girl in pink is saying, âCheers, then,â and sheâs tipping the bottle into her mouth.
So I do the same. Itâs so cold and nice on my raw throat that I just chug it. Sheâs watching me, grinning, and so Iâve got to smile. âThirsty work, being king,â I say.
I donât know, maybe the beer plus the patch plus that one hit of Philâs joint, maybe all of that is a bit much. Or maybe my eyesightâs more impaired than usual, by the mask and all. Because things get real fuzzy after I drink my first Blue Moon. There are others, too. Phil shows up every once in a while with another bottle and then bows his way out of sight. Last two times, heâs got a pretty girl hanging off his side, arms around his waist. I think sheâs dressed as a leafâcanât remember why, I just picture leafiness in this haze.
The girl in pinkâshe says to just call her Marieâshe sticks around. We talkâno clue about whatâand laugh a lot. And at some point, she climbs into the chair with me, pushing her ass right into my lap. And Iâm pretty sure I have a hard-on, although Iâm kind of numb everywhere else. Because she giggles and kind of scootches herself around on there until thereâs a nice place for my hard-on to fit and sheâs moving her hips and humming a sweet little song in my ear. And then she whispers, âMy lord, your willing servant would be most pleased to . . .â She licks my ear, all long and slow and wet. âIf youâd like to stepâum, rollâinto my chamber.â
I canât say a word, of course. Iâm so dizzy and horny and, like, completely surprised that anyone, anyone at all, would offer toâwhatever sheâs offering. So I just sort of grunt. But apparently, Iâve also got both hands on her breasts, so she takes that as a yes. She slides out of my lapâand, man, then I know Iâve got a major boner, cause ole Bingo is suddenly very cold and very lonely, sticking up into the air, until she sets the bloody head over it. She gets behind my chair and yells into the crowd, âMake way for the king. Make way, vassals.â When people are a little slow to get out of our way, she just screams, âMove it.â
Outside, the air is much colder, and I go to wrap my blanket-cape around my arms. But itâs gone. Fell off somewhere. And for a second, I think of how Mom brought that blanket to every hospital, every single time, and it was alwaysâalwaysâwaiting for me in my room after every torture and every operation, dark blue and starry and soft and warm and smelling like home, and I think Iâm going to start to bawl. But then weâre in, like, some sort of dark quiet place and Marie is kneeling in front of me.
âMy sweet lord,â she says. Then she takes the head off my lap and I manage to unzip my jeans and, whammo, my boy is right out there in the chilly air. Itâs looking sort of desperate, I got to say. And we both stare at it for a minute, and then she giggles and grabs it, and itâs pretty obvious she hasnât got a clue what to do next, but sheâs trying and thatâs what counts. And thereâs a girlâs hand on there and, really, thatâs all I need. I slide down and my head goes back against the back of the chair and I feel my crown drop away. Mask is still hanging on, though. Doesnât matter. Nothing matters except that sheâs still touching me, and then Iâm, like, just shaking. Gasping. Moaning. She jumps back and loses her grip, and I think Iâll die if she leaves me out there in the cold, but she doesnât: she leans in and holds me
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