Travelling Folk Series Pt. 03

Travelling Folk Series Pt. 03: Glastonbury Games

Part 3 of the Travelling Folk Trilogy

Copyright 2000. By Paul. All events and Characters are fictitious. Well, nearly all of them. The Glastonbury music festival certainly exists. As far as I am aware none of the following events have ever happened at one.

Glossary: For Fanny read Vagina.

Click Here to listen to Section 1. (14 min/RealMedia)

Click Here to listen to Section 2. (13 min/RealMedia)

Click Here to listen to Section 3. (17 min/RealMedia)

Click Here to listen to Section 4. (19 min/RealMedia)

* * * * *

Introduction

The fields are just outside Glastonbury, Somerset, England and are the site of Europe's premier music festival for three days most June's.

The eighty thousand tickets for the three days had long been sold but the festival organisers knew that another twenty thousand would try and gatecrash at some period over the weekend. It was not that the organisers minded too much at this, they would allow for this in their calculations as to what to charge the stallholders. The maximum ticket sales figure was for insurance purposes and the security guards only evicted those without enough money on them to pay the, on the spot, entrance charge.

A hundred thousand people. The town of Glastonbury's population would increase fourfold for this short period before sinking back into its relative obscurity. Well, relative obscurity. It was well known to many for its legend of being the site of Camelot in the days of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Also of it being the birthplace of St Patrick and from where he was abducted by Irish pirates. As well as having the ruins of what had been the largest and richest Abbey in England before King Henry the Eighth got his hands on it. Over looking it all was the old tower, or Tor, on its hill. When the mists lay thick over the Vale of Avalon it was sometimes the only landmark in sight for miles. It was an old land.

It's ten o'clock on Thursday morning.

The first crowds were arriving, pitching their tents in the fields around them, even though the music wouldn't start until ten the following morning.

"Hey Max." Kelly called in his soft Irish lilt from behind the hotplate in his catering van. "Do you want a burger?"

"Please." Max shouted back. "I'll come across."

She finished serving her customer then checked the soil around the Bonsai Maple tree she kept as a reminder of her Canadian upbringing before lowering the flap on her tent. Her tent, from where she sold her mystical trinkets and told fortunes. She made her way across the lanes of mud to the burger van. She tapped on the back door, heard the bolt being pulled, slipped off her Wellington boots, and climbed the three steps inside.

She was a big woman. In her late thirties, five feet eight inches tall, one hundred and sixty pounds in weight with jet-black hair streaked with bright red as befitted a mystic. She was dressed in a knee length woollen skirt and a blouse and shawl. She had a black leather purse strapped around her waist. She washed her hands at the sink, dried them and, picking up a slice, turned the burgers on the hot plate while Kelly opened and buttered some rolls and buns. She looked down at a young couple in front of her. She surely wasn't sixteen.

"Two burgers please." The young girl said. "Do you know when the fortune tellers coming back?"

"She's here in front of you." She pulled some diced onions onto the hottest part of the hotplate. They sizzled, giving off their distinctive aroma. "What can I do for you? Haven't you finished those bread rolls yet Kelly?"

"You're worse than ever...." He started.

"Give them here." She took two, filled them with burger and onions, handed the offered note to Kelly and watched as he counted the change from the purse around his own waist and handed it down.

He was in his mid forties. She'd known him for eight years. Him and his wife, Mary. Mary who had died the previous year. They would meet at a dozen or more festivals and fairs during the season. Mary would run the van while he kept the pubs busy. Then, after that night in Bridgwater, when he hadn't been there when she had needed him, he hadn't touched a drop. It was all too late for Mary. She wondered briefly whether she would see Crazy Joe again this year. That new girl assistant he had, the one with the twin sister, she'd be good for him. Better than that horrible dog was.

She opened the fridge at the rear of the van and took out a tray of burgers. She started them all off cooking and handed the tray to Kelly to refill from the freezer.

The girl was still standing in front of her.

"Would you like to know your future, Dearie?"

The young girl tilted her head up, an expectant look upon her face.

"Yes please."

"If you're not on the pill you will end up pregnant."

The couple stormed off.

"You shouldn't have said that." Kelly said, looking out for potential customers.

"Why not?" Max retorted. "It could prove to be one of my truer prophecies."

She made up two burgers and handed one to Kelly.

"Close the shutter while we eat." Max said, sitting on the stool Kelly kept for use during slack periods.

"Why?" Kelly asked, closing the front shutters. "What do you want to do? Tell me my fortune."

"I could. Come to my caravan tonight and I will."

"Thanks for the offer but you know I have no truck with that sort of thing."

"Who said it had anything to do with that sort of thing." She smiled and looked at him from underneath her large eyelashes.

"Oh." He looked at her. "Well in that case. Maybe one day I'll take you up on it. Just not yet."

"Whenever you're ready."

She finished her burger and stood up refusing his offer of coffee. She looked at the row of model cars on the high shelf along the back wall of the caravan. 'Cars from the movies'. The legend on each box read. Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang, James Bond's Aston Martin DB5, and nine others.

"I see you haven't found it yet."

"No." Kelly shook his head. "Perhaps one day."

"I wrote again to the company who made them." He continued. "They only produced a few hundred sets as the magazine they were produced for folded before the whole set had been issued. They let me have the un-issued ones but they had none left of the McQueen Ford Mustang." He picked up the box that contained James Bond's Aston Martin and turned it around in his hand. "It was Mary really. She was determined that I would have the complete set. I'll just keep looking."

He replaced the box on the shelf.

"Anyway." He pushed up and locked in place the shutters. They formed a small awning for his customers. "I've a living to earn what with the amount he wants this year for a site."

"Tell me." Max stood on the outside steps and stepped into her Wellington boots. "It looks like it's going to rain again. I don't suppose we should expect anything else in June in England."

"What keeps you here?" Kelly asked over his shoulder as he started filling an order for hot dogs.

"I could go back to Canada I suppose. My sister and her husband still own their Country music bar outside Toronto. I could make a living there I suppose."

"I've heard you sing." Kelly handed the customer his change. "You could make a living here."

He nodded towards the trees behind which the huge stages had been set up.

"Get on with you."

"No, I mean it. You're very good."

"I'm writing a song at the moment. I'm having problems with the last verse but if you don't want your fortune read or anything else, come across, and you'll be the first and probably only person to hear it."

"Maybe. You'd better hurry. There are some folks trying to get into your tent."

Max hurried back before they left. It was starting to rain again. She served the two young girls with the rings and necklaces they wanted and look out down the path towards the entrance of the lane.

She knew exactly what could happen to a girl in the fields of Pilton when they weren't on the pill. She'd finished college and was out to see the world. It had been a wild period in her life. Lots of drink, lots of pot and lots of sex. She was too careful to get pregnant. That was something that only happened to others. Proof that she couldn't always see the future bounded towards her.

"Hi Mum, sorry Max." Curly light brown hair, she had a round face with freckles on her nose. She was sixteen years and three months old. She really must get her a better fitting bra.

"Hallo Claudette," she said, hugging her to her own bosom.

"How's your father?" She asked when she released her.

She didn't see Tom very often even though she owned a flat in town. He owned a Newsagents shop in the centre of Glastonbury. They had stayed together for nearly eight years but in the end she'd had to leave him. Out of boredom mainly. When his parents had died leaving him the shop and business she could see the future then, clearly. Each day would be the same until they retired or died. She'd tried to get him to sell up, come on the road, see new places, meet new people, but he'd changed almost overnight. There was Claudette to consider, he'd said, her education. She needed a home and a stable environment.

She hadn't known at the time that Paula had been waiting in the wings to take her place almost before her old VW camper had left the town. Had she known, she would probably have left sooner. Funny, she'd never seen Tom as being the one to have an affair.

It had probably turned out for the best. She'd had her freedom. Claudette had been brought up in a stable environment. No. Things hadn't turned out badly at all. But her nights were sometimes lonely. Her succession of lovers had never fully satisfied all her needs. There was always something missing. An emptiness that still needed to be filled. Even Crazy Joe couldn't fill it. She smiled when she thought of him.

"Can I work with you again this year?" Claudette asked, picking out some new growth on the top of the Maple tree.

Max had been expecting this and took the workers pass out of her purse and handed it to her. It would give her free entry into all parts of the site.

"Thank you." Claudette said as she pinned it to her blouse. "Is there anything you need?"

"Where from?" Max teased. "In town?"

Claudette looked crestfallen.

"I didn't mean there." She started to explain.

"I know." Max smiled. "You want to look around. There'll be no stars here yet. The big ones send their roadies to do the sound tests."

"Claudette, are you ready yet?"

A tall, almost painfully thin, youth stood in the entrance to the tent. He was also wearing a workers pass.

"Mum. Sorry. Max. This is Gerry."

"Hallo Gerry." Max said, stepping towards him and holding out her hand. "Have I seen you before."

"He goes to Millfield School." Claudette offered as explanation.

"It's alright, Claudette. I've known your mother for years."

"Gerry." Max thought out loud. "Of course. You're Mike's son."

"That's right."

"How's your Dad?"

"He's doing well. Promoting with the big boys now."

"I'm glad. It was sad what happened to your grandfather when they stopped giving out licenses to Boxing booths."

"It killed him." Gerry said bluntly. "The family had run the booth for over one hundred years. It broke his heart when they said it was not allowed in this modern age. An age ran by woman, that's what he called it."

"A good thing too." Claudette said. "It's sad about your Grandfather but Boxing is barbaric."

"I saw some of those booths." Max said, adjusting the position of the maple tree, then moving it back. "Getting drunken lads into the ring against professional boxers. They never had a chance."

"Well. They're over with now." Gerry said, linking his arm through Claudette's.

"Don't be too long this time if you're going to help me." Max raised her eyebrow in query to Claudette as they turned to leave.

"See you later." Claudette smiled back at her and nodded.

She watched her back until it disappeared from view amongst the hoards of people queuing at the main site entrance.

Mike Webster's son. She thought. Now there was a thing. She knew Mike. She knew him very well indeed, in fact. She remembered the serious look he always had on his face, as he would move in and out of her. How it always broke into a huge smile after he had finished pumping his come into her.

Should she tell Claudette? She had grown up so quickly. It wouldn't be incest for a daughter to go out with the son of her Mother's former lover. Could lead to some interesting moments if she did meet Mike again though. He had a wife now, unfortunately. Now he was one she shouldn't have let slip through her fingers.

Another was Crazy Joe.

There was a man. He was so hard on the outside yet so gentle as a lover. She had never really trusted that dog of his though. She had been half expecting him to try to mount her as well on the first few occasions they'd made love. In the end she'd made him leave it outside the caravan.

Unfortunately their paths had only crossed a dozen times in that year. She would sleep with him whenever the opportunity arose but she could tell he was moving on. Some men would have continued to use her for the sex she freely offered but not Joe. That had been three years ago now. She'd hoped he would ask her to spend the winter months with him in his parent's old cottage on the south coast. Instead, one evening, before going to her bed, he'd told her that he thought their relationship should end. He wasn't being fair to her. Just using her. She'd said him she didn't mind. Then he told her he had found somebody else and left her lying on her bed. It had been a long time since she had cried over a man but she did that night.

When she had next seen him at the Easter fair the following year she'd found out that they're hadn't been another. He had thought he was being kind to her. The fool. Now there was somebody else. A lot younger and prettier than she was. Worse still, a very nice young girl.

Lucky Joe. Damm Him.

She looked across at Kelly. He would take some working on. It was nearly nine months since his wife had died. He was her height though probably weighed less. A wiry physic, you could call it. A thin face, almost pointed, with the palest blue she thought she'd ever seen.

She wondered what he'd strip like. Would he be muscular or bony? She had an itch between her legs. Turning her back on Kelly and the people walking by her stall she rubbed at herself through the material of her skirt. The itch seemed to worsen. She squeezed herself, feeling the give in the lips of her fanny. She felt a warm glow throughout her body. She hadn't felt like this in ages. She rubbed herself again, targeting her clit this time. She breathed in deeply. She looked at her watch. It was eleven thirty. There wasn't normally very much business at this time of day so she went to the front of the tent. Waving to Kelly, who had a group of people waiting for service, she started to close off the flaps of her tent.

"Give us a hand there Maxie if you're closing up." She heard Kelly call. Fuck.

A feeling of frustration swept over her but she finished closing the flaps of her tent from the outside, hung up her closed sign, and made her way across to Kelly's van.

He let her in the back door and handed her his spare apron. Leaving her boots outside she slipped her feet into the spare pair of trainers he always kept by the door and, washing her hands, picked up the slice and started turning burgers.

Perhaps it was his closeness, the occasional touching of their bodies as they moved around in the cramped confines of the van but her itch just wouldn't go away.

Max stayed, helping Kelly, for over an hour and a half until the lunchtime rush subsided. Another five minutes on her own whilst he answered a call of nature in the nearby public port-a-loo then she headed back to her own camper, which was parked behind her tent, refusing his offer of another burger. No wonder Mary had died of a heart attack. She thought. Living off burgers and hotdogs.

She unlocked the door of her camper and slipped inside, kicking her boots off by the door. The former horsebox where she carried her canvas and merchandise whilst moving from site to site was still hooked to it. She could do with some big strong men to unhook it for her.

Time enough for that later. For now something more pressing had to be addressed. She pulled the curtains and stood looking down on her bed.

"If only you could talk." She spoke her thoughts out loud as those who spend a lot of time alone often do.

Unzipping her skirt and stepping from it she laid it out flat on the bench seat opposite her bed. Her tights and panties followed and she stopped to gaze at her half nude body in the full-length mirror on the front of the wardrobe door. Lifting her blouse with one hand she ran her fingers through her forest of dark pubic hairs. Opening her legs she swivelled her hips forward until the lips of her vagina were in view. With two fingers she spread them wide. The swollen bud of her clit sprang out from under its hood. It looked so pink and moist. She moved a fingertip to its side and gently rubbed it. The muscles on the inside of her thighs tensed, then relaxed.

She rubbed it again. Breathing quickly. Faster. Faster. She dropped her blouse and placed her hand on the doorframe to steady herself. She threw back her head drawing in great gasps of air until, with a sigh, the tension that had been building inside her peaked. Her legs went weak and she rested her head against the back of her hand. She breathed deeply for a few seconds then, standing upright looked at her face in the mirror. She looked flushed. There were beads of sweat on her hairline. One ran down her temple onto her cheek. Her fanny felt as if it was on fire. She squeezed her lips together. It didn't help. She needed something else.

On the small table surrounded on three sides by bench seats at the rear of the camper she had some open boxes of scented candles she'd been pricing up with her pricing gun earlier that morning. She picked up one of them and lay down upon her bed. She closed her eyes as she bent her knees and allowed her thighs to flop open.

Crazy Joe's face was looming above her. His long hair released from his ponytail, hung down, the ends swaying to the movements of his body. She pulled her fanny lips wide with the index and middle finger of her left hand and guided the larger, blunter end of the candle between them. She first pushed an inch of the candle inside her hole, as Joe would do with his prick. She pulled it out and pushed it in again, a little further this time, as she tried to hold the image of Joe's face in her mind. She pulled it out a little then pushed it fully in. Tilting her hips to angle her vagina to take it.

She lay still, the muscles inside her feeling and adjusting to the object of penetration. She started working the candle slowly in and out then faster as her lubrication increased. Joe's face had disappeared to be replaced by Mike, then Harry, Fred, Larry and others. A kaleidoscope of features and feelings as she continued moving the candle, moving it in and out until, finally, as Kelly's face appeared above her, she came.

She lay still again. This time every muscle in her body seemed to relax. Her entire being was filled with a warm glow. How long she remained like that she couldn't tell. Suddenly she could hear voices outside. She recognised Claudette's. She pulled the candle from her hole and, swinging her legs from the bed, stood up and quickly pulled on her skirt. The door handle turned and the door opened. She hadn't locked it.