Coney

"Oh? Won't let you ride a coaster and won't let you try a dog? Sounds like a crumb to me."

As Emma suspected, he had indeed been listening to their conversation on the train. She wondered what else he heard.

"He's just looking out for my interests," she said testily. "He's a good husband."

Frank showed his hands. "Hey, I didn't mean to get ya all steamed up."

He ran his fingers along the red and white striped awning of a Coca Cola stand as they passed.

"Been married long?" he asked.

"A week ago was two months," she said.

To celebrate, Jonathan had gotten wine, which he drained. Once intoxicated, he had flopped out his cock and cited doctors orders. He fell asleep right afterward, stretched out in his long johns and snoring into the pillows while she read her book.

"Two months," Frank said thoughtfully. "And already the fire's gone out."

She ignored him. He was handsome, but rude. In truth, there had never been any fire. She married Johnathan because it was a good match. He came from an upstanding family, her parents approved, and being a banker, his income would take good care of her and, eventually, their children. She always knew their marriage would be void of passion, but her mother once said passion was over rated. Her well being and the security of her future children were much more important.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you married, Mr. Kelly?"

"Nah," he said. "It'd be too disappointing for the girlies if ol' Frank Kelly ever got married."

He cocked his hat forward and gave a smile, obviously proud of his own humor.

So, he was a bit of a braggart then. Of course, she shouldn't expect anything less from a street tough. There was some truth to his words, though. Handsome devil that he was, she felt certain she'd also be disappointed to find out he was married if she was one of his 'girlies.'

They passed a brass band gathered in a semi-circle, playing a quick march. Two monkeys on leashes held up tin cups to the passing crowd. The little things looked smart in their tiny military hats and jackets.

One of the monkey's dropped his cup, hopped onto his friend's rear end, and began to pump away. His little pink penis poked out for all to see. The crowd laughed and pointed. When the tuba player saw them, he lowered his giant bell over their little heads and gave a big blast. The monkeys scrambled apart and went back to panhandling.

"Hey, Mac," Frank leaned in toward the tuba player. "Lay off will ya? They's just having a good time. How'd you like it if you were trying to get a little frisky and some git blasted his trumpet in yer face?"

The tuba player just glared at him over puffing cheeks.

Emma chuckled. And then she saw it—the roller coaster. It was a giant rolling web of wood and iron. Its entrance, designed like a train depot and topped with American flags, had a giant wooden sign that displayed the name, 'Rough Rider.'

Her heart started to beat faster. Was she really going to do it?

As they got closer, she glared at the ride's price for admission: twenty-five cents a ride! Really? What robbers! She then noticed the line. It wound around and down the street for nearly a block. She and Frank would be waiting forever! What about getting back to Johnathan? Frank didn't lead her to the back of the line, though. He went straight to the front.

"Hi-ya there, Jimbo," Frank said as he casually approached the ticket taker who was dressed in a Spanish-American war uniform

"Hi-ya there, Frank."

The ticket taker let Frank and Emma enter the front of the line and without paying. Jimbo gave Emma an appreciative glance as she passed by.

A few of the waiting people protested and hurled a few insults in their direction. Emma was concerned about fairness, but Frank didn't seem to care. She turned to him as he eyed the coaster, irritated by his flagrant disregard of the rules. Then again, they had avoided the line.

"How did you-? And you didn't pay?" she said to Frank.

Frank shrugged. "I know most of the fellas out here. They let me in all the time."

She wished she had some of his cock-sure, devil-may-care attitude.

As they waited for their turn, she stared wide-eyed at the coaster's savage hills and turns. A cart zipped by in the distance and the screams of the riders faded as it disappeared over a hill. She wondered if she had made a mistake.

"Have people really died on these?" she asked. She remembered reading about it in the paper. Was it this coaster? Rough Rider. That name sounded familiar.

"Not in a couple of months," Frank said as he watched as a toboggan-like cart filled with hysterical people make its way up to the platform.

A couple of months? Was he joking? He had to be.

People exited the car. One woman was laughing like a hyena. As she stepped out of the car, she fell to her knees. Her smiling husband hoisted her back to her feet.

Frank brought her to the front, helped her into the cart, and sat down next to her.

"You were joking about the people dying weren't you?" she asked.

"Nope," he said as he lowered the roll bar over their laps. "Seventeen people were thrown from the second turn back in June. Only four died, though."

"On this ride?"

"Yes."

Terror seized her. She wanted out! Now! She grabbed the roll bar and shoved. It wouldn't budge!

"Ready?" Frank asked.

"No!"

"Hold on tight!"

She felt her lungs would burst from her scream.

*****

The car zipped past murals of the Spanish American War then hurtled down a steep embankment. Emma fell over into Frank's chest, sobbing. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"You're doing it, dove! Look! You're doing it!"

She ventured to peek out from under his arms as the car slowed. They rounded a curve, accelerated, then dipped down another hill. She covered her eyes and let out a wail, and yet she didn't feel quite as afraid this time.

Slowly, she pulled herself off his chest, while she still enjoyed the comfort of his arm around her. He laughed and yelled into the wind as they rounded another turn. She closed her eyes and felt the wind on her face and whipping through her hair. Her body was pitched up into the air and then thrown against Frank as they rounded another turn. This time, they both let out a laugh.

They slowly ascended the final giant hill. Emma held her breath in anticipation. When they reached the top, Frank roared, "Hold on, dove!"

She let out a thrilled scream as they hurtled toward the ground, her bottom bouncing on the hard wooden seat as she smacked against Frank.

She was laughing when the car slowed and pulled back to the platform.

"Bully good ride," Frank said. "Bully!"

Emma felt her body flushed with exhilaration. She wobbled a little when she stepped out of the cart. Frank steadied her.

He looked at her head. "Oh jeez. You lost yer hat."

She didn't care. She had done it!

It took her a while to finally quit laughing and catch her breath.

"Oh my, that was fun," she said giving one final giggle as she wiped her face of dried tears.

Frank smiled and pulled a nickel out of his pocket, flipped it in the air, caught it deftly at waist level and rolled it across his knuckles.

This fellow seemed to get his way and take life so easy. She wanted to know more.

"You usually go about asking married women to go riding with you on roller coasters, Mr. Kelly?"

"Call me Frank. No, not usually, but when I saw you back there on that train, I says to myself-Frank, this here girl is the most beautiful thing you ever did lay your eyes on and you'd be the biggest goop if you didn't give her the good time she was looking for."

She felt her cheek flush at the compliment. Most beautiful thing? Really? Her?

Then reality set back in.

"I should probably go find Johnathan," she said looking around as if she might see him. How long had they been gone? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Oh gracious, he was going to be either terribly worried or terribly furious.

Frank seemed hurt. "Do you really want to go back?"

Truth? No. If Johnathan was angry, he would just want to leave, and she'd have to suffer the silent treatment all the way home. Also, she had just begun her adventure. How could she possibly go back? But going back was the right thing to do.

"He's probably looking for me," she said.

"Oh, no doubt. But he ain't gonna find ya. There's almost half-a-million people at Coney, dove. You're a needle in a haystack."

The thought of losing herself in the crowd was appealing. She could pretend to be Frank Kelly's best girl and not Mrs. Johnathan Adams for the day. But that was stupid. Was she really willing to throw away her livelihood for a fantasy romp in the park with a handsome stranger?

Her stomach growl. Her eyes drifted toward a hot dog stand.

Frank followed her gaze."Wanna dog?"

She clasped her hands. "Oh yes, please!"

They got in line. Her stomach rumbled like the roller coaster at the sizzling smell. Patrons were exiting the stand with pink sausages wrapped in a bun.

"Do they really have dog meat in them?" she asked.

"If they do, them pups got a mighty good taste."

It was their turn next. She watched as the cook turned the hot dogs on a grill.

"What'cha want on it?" Frank said. "They got onions, and chili, relish . . ."

"Everything," she said standing on her toes to get a better look at the toppings. Her mouth was watering.

With quick, deft hands, the cook made it to order and offered it to Frank who then gave it to Emma. She marveled at the the pink ends of the dog poking out on either side of the toasted buns and steaming brown mess.

Frank ordered a double. While he waited for his, she found a place for them on a bench near a carousel.

She carefully picked the dog out of its wrapper and took a bite. Warm chili, onions, mustard, relish, and ketchup all combined with the salty meat whirled like the carousel in her mouth.

"Whada ya think?" Frank asked before taking a giant bite out of his.

"Aw!" she said. "Delicious." Though perhaps next time she'd get one without relish.

Frank was watching her intently as she ate. Almost too intently. She wouldn't have liked it if he wasn't so handsome. She wondered what was going through his mind, but enjoyed being the object of his attention.

She smacked her hands together as she took the last bite.

"That was wonderful," she said, her mouth still half full.

Some of the chili dribbled down her chin. She reached for her bag and dug around for something to wipe. She picked up her book to see if there was anything under it.

"Here ya go," Frank offered her his handkerchief. She thanked him and wiped her chin.

He took the book from her hands. "What's this you reading?"

"The Awakening," she said.

"What's it about?" he asked opening it.

She felt some hesitation, worried about what his reaction might be if she told him. Then again, Frank wasn't exactly the church-boy type. "It's about a married woman living in New Orleans seeking a better life and freedom."

"Married woman wanting freedom, huh?" he said. "She cheat on her husband?"

That was forward. Everything about Frank seemed forward. "Yes."

He thumbed through the book, "Where's the good parts?"

She rocked her legs back and forth under the bench. She knew exactly what he was talking about. "Look for the dog-eared pages."

He found one and ran his fingers down the page. He gave a smile when he came to the line.

_'It was the first kiss of her life to which her nature had really responded. It was a flaming torch that kindled desire.'_

Emma had memorized that one. She said it along with him in her mind as he spoke the words. She felt a little of that flaming torch right now.

She watched as Frank flipped through the book, reading one page after another. He read the passages with a little difficulty. His words stumbled on some of the larger words, but overall Emma felt herself squirming with the butterflies as this handsome young tough read the most forbidden pages of the controversial book. Part of her wanted to take the book back, but most of her wanted him to keep reading.

"Good stuff this is," he said. He turned the pages to the next dog-eared page. "Where in the book does she get her fuck?"

She pinked at his vulgar, but so easily spoken, language. It was so different from what she was used to hearing. In many ways, it was such a relief for someone to use honest and direct language to describe what they thought and felt. She wished she could be more like that. She took the book from him, turned it to the page he was looking for, and gave it back for him to read aloud.

_'His hand had strayed to her beautiful shoulders, and he could feel the response of her flesh to his touch. He seated himself beside her and kissed her lightly upon the shoulder.'_

Those beautiful lips were speaking the seductive words. She felt her skin tingle, imagining it was she and not the story's protagonist feeling those caresses and kisses, and instead of the story's love interest, it was Frank—Frank with those rough hands and muscles on her.

_'He did not answer, except to continue to caress her. He did not say good night until she had become supple to his gentle, seductive entreaties.'_

She snapped back to reality as he offered the book back. "Good for her, I say. A lady deserves that type of attention from a man. Girls like a good fuck just as much as a man. Don't ya think?"

Her mouth opened and closed as she put the book back in her bag. She didn't know what to say. For one, his course language was still making her nervous. Secondly, she didn't think she knew the answer.

"Don't ya?" he asked again.

"I suppose we do," she said as she arranged her items in her bag. Though as of yet, she hadn't found anything about the act of sex that could be appealing to a woman. Johnathan certainly enjoyed himself, but for her, it usually started out exciting, the same way Ms. Chopin described in her book, but then Johnathan would get between her legs, rut around a bit, she'd begin to feel a little thrill, and then it would be over. It had always been a rather short, and often, uncomfortable experience. After reading this book, though, she couldn't help but think there was supposed to be more.

As they made their way back down the boardwalk, back towards where she thought Jonathan should be, Frank hooked his fingers in his vest pocket and offered her his arm She looked at his elbow for a brief moment. Why not? She put her hand in the crook. It felt like bended steel.

She began to go over in her mind what she was going to tell Johnathan when she saw him. How long had she been gone now? An hour maybe? She could tell him she had gone to look at the roller coaster, but then got lost in the crowd. Frank came to her rescue and offered to help find him. That sounded good.

"I heard your old man say you have a condition," Frank said interrupting her thoughts. "You sick?"

She shook her head.

"A baby coming?"

Again, shake of the head. "Mr. Kell—Frank, you are prying into my personal affairs."

"Yeah, that's me. Nosy Frank. Don't mind me, dove. I'm just curious about ya is all."

She felt a little guilty for snapping at him. He was just being Frank. His manners were certainly rough, but she knew he meant no harm. In truth, she guessed she should be flattered that he was so interested in her.

"Well, if you must know, I've recently been diagnosed with female hysteria."

She couldn't believe she'd just told him that-a perfect stranger- on something so personal and intimate! She wouldn't tell him the doctor's prescription, though. When he recommended more coitus, Johnathan had been delighted. She couldn't help but wonder if he and the doctor were in collusion.

"Is that right?" Frank asked. "I know all about that."

"Do you?" He had to be joking.

"Sure," he said. "My mother was a midwife. She saw it all the time. She knew just what to do."

"Really? What was it?" She hoped this was what she had been looking for.

Frank held up his hand and flexed his fingers. "You just reach up between a woman's legs and give her a good massage. After a little while, she starts to feel just fine."

Emma's cheeks went white hot.

He smiled, watching her expression. "Ma said it was because their men don't touch them enough down there. It turns a woman foul."

Emma looked away, not believing she was having this conversation with him.

"So you ought to tell your old man, that," he continued. "Next time you get all the dizzies, just says to him, old man, I need ya to give my jelly a good rub."

Emma's hand flew to her face, half-mortified and half-laughing. "Frank, I can't believe we are talking about this."

"Why not? Just offering some friendly advice. You mark my words. Ask him for a rub and it will cure what ails ya."

She waited for the heat to die down in her face and the lump in her throat to get small enough to speak again. The idea Frank suggested sounded nice. Quite nice. But . . .

"Johnathan would never do that."

"No?"

She shook her head. Her genitals seemed to revolt him. He once told her they stank and she needed to put more toilet water down there.

Frank looked about in disbelief. "What kind of man-"

He shook his head. "I tell ya what. You get that hysteria again, you just come looking for ol' Frank. I'll take care of ya. Don't you worry about it."

Images of Frank's hand between her legs suddenly filled her mind. She remembered how he rolled the nickel over his knuckles and thought about how nimble those fingers must be.

"Hey!" Frank said pointing. "Look! The Steeple Chase!"

Emma looked up as a pair of riders swished by on the back of a wooden horse. It looked like so much fun!

"C'mon," Frank said. "Let's go for a ride."

Emma hesitated-Johnathan.

Frank read her thoughts. "I'll get us right in the front of the line again. Your old man's waited this long, he can wait a little longer."

True. There couldn't be any harm in it. Emma smiled as she took his hand and they hurried to the ride.

*****

They entered Steeple Chase Park under a giant maniacal head that grinned down at them from ear to ear. The Steeple Chase ride was a wooden horse race that ran the circumference of the park along a rail. A youth in bright jockey silks helped her mount the large double-saddle. Frank climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. It didn't seem proper—here in public. She wouldn't do such a thing even with Johnathan, but the couples on either side of them were doing the same. He nestled himself in against her back. She could feel her heavy breathing against him- expanding then contracting under his chest and arms. His breath was at her neck, tickling her skin and waving her hair. She felt a little dizzy.

A boy in checkerboard silks raised a silver trumpet to his lips and blew the start of the race. The bells clanged and the horses shot off.

Emma felt as though she were riding on air. The horse soared up and around, revealing the expanse of the park and the constant motion of Coney Island beyond. She could see the rolling ocean and its mobs along the yellow beach.

Their horse broke from the others on the final turn and they ripped through the finish line tape. When they dismounted, they were pinned with blue ribbons.

As she admired the ribbon, she noticed a tendril of hair was hanging down her shoulder and against her breast.

She felt about her head, "One of my pins must have fallen out."

"Here, let me help," Frank said.

He wrapped his fingers around the lock and arranged it back on her head.

She liked the feel of his hands in her hair. He lingered there for a little too long, though, she thought.

"Beautiful head of hair ya got," he said. "Smells nice."

She was about to say thank you when she realized she and Frank had walked onto a stage. In font of them were rows of bleachers filled with laughing men and women pointing at them.