Here's a taste to wet your appetite for this work....
Jailhouse Rock ©2012 – Garrett Carr
Published by Twilight Fantasies & CGB Press
* * *
Annie Langston was my on and off girlfriend. On when I was sober and rational; off when I was drunk and disorderly.
My gorgeous step mom, Delilah called them ‘bumps in the road and usually laughed at my indiscretions.
Well, tonight’s indiscretion was a bit different.
Alright, so I wrecked Annie’s $135,000 Aston Martin. Hey, it was after midnight and it had rained for hours. How was I supposed to know that it would hydroplane in only four inches of water?
Besides that, the big yellow piece of road working equipment should have been farther to the side. I mean really…who parks a twelve ton rig in the right hand lane and leaves it all night anyway?
I knew the Langston’s would be furious as usual, and wouldn’t come to bail me out, so there was no reason to call them...
And of course, with my shitty luck, Annie was amongst the missing on an assignment for KTMT in Boseman, Montana, but that really didn’t matter because she wouldn’t have bailed me out if she was just three blocks away.
In her words, “I’ve seen this movie Garrett, and I must say…it’s fucking tiresome.”
Ah, but Gus, my gregarious father was used to the late night calls, so I naturally dropped my last dime on him.
“Now?” his tone should have tipped me off that he too, had seen this movie.
“Sir, I’m in a tight spot here and need you to come down to the Sheriff’s Office in...”
I looked for an answer from O’Malley, the droopy eyed desk sergeant for the little substation.
“Searchlight,” O’Malley said as he blew his abundant nose.
“Uh, Pop…it’s a town called Searchlight.”
My dad growled, “Never heard of it son. Where is it?”
All I really knew was that it was more of a wide spot in the road than a town.
I held my hand over the mouthpiece and asked Searchlights finest, “Uh…excuse me sir…uh what state is this?”
O’Malley snorted into his nasty hankie. “Nevada…you’re in Nevada, sonny,” then rolled it up and stuffed it in his trousers.
Fuck again. Where did California go?
“Uh, Pop…Searchlight is in Nevada. I’m not exactly sure how far it is from the California line, but it can’t be too far…I got here real fast!”
After that, all I heard was a dial tone.
O’Malley walked in to my open cell and sat on the edge of my creaky cot. “Well, Mr. Carr? Daddy on the way I presume?”
It wasn’t just what he said, implying that I was just another spoiled rich kid with trust accounts and a garage full of Beamers; it was how he said it.
Factually, since leaving the family business, the one owned entirely by Gus, those big allowances were now gone, along with the Beamers. I was then struggling as a writer for the Needles Post, in Needles, California. Needles major employer was the railroad that at one time chug chugged servicemen back to their Los Angeles homes after WWII.
So it wasn’t exactly the NY Times, but it was writing and that was about all I knew how to do besides drink, play music, and fuck. I was born too soon to get in on the new age alternative scene which would have really fucked up my already crazy life.
The point being, I was certainly no spoiled rich kid.
As the alcohol content in my bloodstream diminished, it occurred to me that I had had a passenger with me.
Now, what was her name?
This was 1992 and that was the year of the Heathers. That’s it. Heather...Heather something from…was it Las Vegas? Yeah, Las Vegas was only 39 miles from the bustling metropolis of Searchlight, according to the greying map on the wall covered in plastic.
One look at the Serge with my bloodshot eyes answered my unspoken question. “Her dad came and picked her up while you napped.”
“Oh, well that was nice. How come she got out and I’m still here?”
“She wasn’t under arrest!”
Here’s where having a college education pays off.
“I’m under arrest?” I stood shrugging my shoulders at O’Malley.
“Uh huh. Judge Fisher will be here at 10:00 AM. Then he’ll just fine you and send you on your way. I’m sure your dad is just trying to pound some sense into that head of yours by making you spend the night in jail.”
I looked down at my badged babysitter and asked, “What am I under arrest for?”
O’Malley stood and stretched his 6’10” frame like he was about to pound nails with his fist. Instead he slapped them on my shoulders taking me almost to my knees.
I stared at the hulk and said with my head tilted like that e-trade baby, “Uh…what’s an FUI, Chief?” I had promoted him thinking he’d go easy on me.
“Fucking Under the Influence!”
My head shook involuntarily as he continued his rant.
“You got to go easy son. You could have killed yourself tonight and that sweet little girl. Did you know she’s only eighteen?”
Actually, I didn’t. I suspected she was young since she had an addiction to bubble gum that was only exceeded by her addiction to cigarettes. I never knew one could blow a huge bubble with smoke in it. I thought she was very talented and told her so.
My reward for such high praise was a first class blow job complete with gum and cigarette smoke.
Hmm…I wonder if that could that have had anything to do with the accident?
O’Malley left my cell door open (there was only one cell) and walked out and resumed his position in an old wooden chair with missing slats and squeaky springs. It was lights out for O’Malley as his snoring kicked in the instant his big ass hit the chair.
I laid down on my bunk, a sort of cot like thing with a mattress equivalent to the ones in hide a beds. My feet hung off the end since I’m on the tall side and I doubled the tiny excuse for a pillow after slapping it into submission, flung my then pony tail over my shoulder, laid my head on it and drifted off to the land of Oz.
I couldn’t be sure of the time since my Rolex Daytona was totaled along with Annie’s Aston Martin, (say that ten times fast) but it was dark as a dungeon in cell block one when I was awakened by some first class cock sucking.
Now, I’m a big fan of blowjobs as wake up calls, but I typically like to know the blower. I reached behind the slurping sounds and was relieved to find a long mane of silky hair. Thank God it wasn’t O’Malley…my first thought since the joint was soulless except for the Chief and I.
So, I settled in and tried to make out a face to go along with the super sexy slurping, (another tongue twister for you to try) but all I could make out was a profile backlit from the neon clock above O’Malley’s perch.
I managed to prop myself up on my elbows to watch the action..........
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