Chapter 1

“We’re no threat, people, we’re not dirty, we’re not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we please.
When the weather’s fine, we go fishin’ or go swimmin’ in the sea.
We’re always happy, life’s for livin’, yeah, that’s our philosophy.”
-Mungo Jerry, [i]”In The Summertime”[/i]

Troy and Julie Equals joined hands as they crossed the street; a habit born of a shared childhood that, now that they were sharing their lives completely, had grown into a reflex whereby they unconsciously sought out each other’s hand before crossing.

They stopped at the entrance of the park. Julie produced a rolled-up reusable shopping bag from her purse and tucked it between the purse’s handles for easy access.

“Big crowd today,” Julie told her husband as she hoisted up the purse’s strap higher on her shoulder, next to the strap of her purple sundress.

“Open air bazaar and flea market? Yeah, figured one or two people would show up. The same procedure as last year, Mistress?”

“The same procedure as every year, Master.”

“The same procedure ... as every year...” he muttered, opening his wallet and doing a quick count. “Ok, so buy whatever you think will help, but don’t just give anyone money. Phone charge?”

Both produced their phones and checked the battery.

“Full.” Julie said before putting hers away. Troy nodded and did the same. The two of them entered the park, kissed each other goodbye, and walked away in different directions.


Karen stormed away from Joe; or she tried to. Joe was a couple feet behind her, trying to tell her she was over-reacting; which, of course, had the opposite effect of getting her to stop. Troy was buying a bag of popcorn from a cart and learned their names the same way everyone else in the vicinity did: By Joe repeatedly asking Karen to just stop and listen to him and Karen shouting at Joe to fuck off. Troy popped a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth and moved to intercept her.

“Everything all right,” he asked Karen, seeming to fill her entire field of vision. Not in a scary way, Gina thought; but like in movies where someone’s lost in the desert and passes out and when they wake up, their rescuer is looming over them. He held the bag of popcorn out slightly as if he were offering, though he hadn’t actually said the words. Like Karen was an old pal and he didn’t have to say the words “Here, bought some popcorn, want some?” If she’d felt like taking some, she thought that this strange man would be completely ok with it.

“Fine,” she sputtered before the unusualness of the moment hit her and she was back to anger. “Hey, this isn’t any of your business!”

“Well, my name’s Troy and I’m guessing you’re Karen and the guy trailing after you is Joe based on the yelling that I and everyone in earshot heard, so the bits that you saw fit to shout out in the middle of a crowded park are sort of my business in a way. But I’m guessing there’s more to it. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?”

Karen’s anger seemed to melt away as if the idea of being upset at this man who was stepping forward and offering to help in a park full of people who’d tried their best to ignore the argument didn’t exist anymore. She couldn’t think of any reason NOT to sit down with this man she’d just met and tell him everything that was going on in her life. As they sat, Joe stomped up to them.

“Oh, and who’s this,” he accused her. “I can’t thank a waitress for a compliment but you can just walk up to some guy and start talking?” Troy looked over at him.

“Joe, is it? Hi, I’m Troy. You two are obviously having a problem; the kind that might benefit from talking to someone who’s not emotionally involved and can see something from the outside that you can’t. So, I’m going to have a word with Karen here. Why don’t you go sit on that other bench across the way and I’ll come see you in a moment.” It wasn’t a question, but Joe felt what Karen had felt in his presence and decided that he couldn’t think of a reason not to wait patiently over on the other bench while this stranger had a private conversation with his girlfriend. He walked over to the other bench, sat down, and looked over at them as Troy turned to face Karen.

“Now, I know some of the story, Karen; something about a waitress. I’ll be listening to Joe’s version too, but I’d like to hear yours first. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Karen took a deep breath and, feeling no need not to tell Troy, began.

“We went out for breakfast and the waitress said something about his shirt being nice and he’s all ‘Thanks, babe, wore it just for you!’ All right in front of me.” Her outrage at the situation started to fade as she heard herself tell the story out loud to this incredibly nice man.

“I can see that being a little upsetting. My girlfriend was a waitress for years and she’s told me how they learn to do that for better tips. Eventually it just comes without thinking. She got a better job last year; but when it was her turn to make the coffee the other morning, she brought it to my desk, set it down, and actually gave me a ‘here ya go, hon; anything else I can get for you, sweetie’ without noticing that she was doing it until afterwards. We laughed at that.”

“Yeah, that IS pretty funny,” Karen said with a smile that faded quickly. “But he didn’t have to respond,” she replied, realizing that her anger wasn’t going to stand up in the light of reason, but still trying to defend her position.

“Well, has Joe gone there before without you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“And was he checking her out before this happened?”

“No. I don’t think he was, anyway. I wasn’t looking right at him the whole time.”

“I see,” Troy said, offering the bag to her, but making it clear that’s what he was doing this time. She took a bit as he continued. “So, there’s nothing but your own suspicions to support the conclusion that it was anything more than ‘She flirted with a customer hoping for a better tip and he tried to deflect it with a cute little joke?’ That’s all it really was, wasn’t it, Karen?”

Karen looked down at the ground and shook her head yes. “That’s all it really was.” Troy leaned in a bit closer, but not close enough to touch.

“I admit, Karen, that I’ve only known Joe for less than two minutes; I don’t have the kind of long, rich history with him as the two minutes and fifteen seconds that you and me go back.” Karen looked up and smiled at that. “But based on what I’ve seen, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d try to hurt you like that. Is he?” A nod in the negative came. Troy bent down to look her in the eye and continued.

“Karen, that level of paranoid jealousy toward someone you know wouldn’t hurt you exists for one purpose: to mask a guilty conscience. There’s something going on that you haven’t told Joe about, isn’t there? Be honest with me.” She sighed.

“Don’t know why I’m telling you this, but we went out to the club a couple nights ago and I ran into an ex. We talked for a few minutes and ended up trading numbers. We’ve talked a couple of times since. He texted me before we left this morning.”

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark here, Karen: The ex was the one who ended things because some other girl came along and turned his head, didn’t he?” Karen nodded yes again, looking back down at the ground. “And some time in between the club and this morning’s text, one of you called the other and you talked for a little bit, laughed about how some former mutual friends that either of you lost in the split are doing now, and soon it was ‘Hey, why DID we ever break up, anyway, ‘ wasn’t it?”

Karen gave another nod yes, followed by the beginning of sobbing. Troy took the paper napkins he’d picked up with the popcorn and offered one to her. When she took it, he put his hand on her shoulder and gave Joe a look that said “I’m just trying to comfort her, ok?” Joe got the message and nodded his understanding, remembering that Troy was going to talk to her privately and get to him soon.

“So, did anything happen, Karen? Did you meet up with him somewhere? Or make plans to? Be honest, now.”

“No,” she responded, feeling the overwhelming need to be honest to Troy and fighting back tears, using the napkin to take care of the ones that had already come from her eyes. “It’s come up, but not yet.”

“Well, that’s good, Karen. Except for the part where you punished Joe for the ex’s crimes just now because you’re looking for a justification to call him up and arrange that meeting. The fact that you had to reach that far for it tells me that maybe Joe’s not a bad ... you know, I didn’t even ask if he’s your boyfriend or husband or...”

“Boyfriend,” Karen said as the sobbing stopped. “We’ve been going out for three months, we just moved in together two weeks ago.”

“Ok, so maybe he’s not a BAD boyfriend, but he could be better. And maybe some quirk that bugged you a little is now something that you have to live with every day and it’s making you think how the ex never did that?” Karen thought for a moment, then agreed. “I know I’m lucky in that regard. My wife has been my best friend all our lives, so we entered into the relationship and marriage fully aware of, and ok with, all those annoying little things about each other.”

“I thought you said you had a girlfriend.”

“I do. And they love each other too. My situation isn’t yours, Karen; there are other factors that make it work for everyone. You don’t think there’s anything weird about it.” Karen nodded, not thinking there was anything weird about it. “You’ve made an error, but it hasn’t become a mistake yet. When you fail to correct an error is when it graduates to a mistake. My suggestion would be that if Joe’s a good enough guy to see past whatever the little thing is, lose the ex’s number. He hurt you once, and if he knows about Joe and is still pursuing you, he hasn’t changed and he probably just wants to use you to put some other girl through what you experienced; and then he’ll do it to you again. I’ll go have a word with Joe. He seems like an ok guy; if you follow my advice and end things with your ex before they begin, then there’ll be no reason for me to bring it up and hurt him, ok?”

Karen smiled and agreed. She took out her phone. “On it.”

“Cool. And if the ex won’t take the hint, here’s my card. Don’t worry about the business stuff unless you want to talk about it later; the second number is the phone that’s always with me. I’ll have a word with him. I’ll give Joe one too. He’ll want it when we’re done talking, just like you do.” She took the business card that she suddenly really wanted and read it.

“Troy Equals Financial Planning. Troy Equals: President, Treasurer, and CEO; Ph.D. pending?”

“Little business I’ve come up with while working on my doctorate; I help people find budgets and investment plans that they can stick to. The name was a total accident. Or, rather, that wasn’t why my wife and I picked it when we got married. HER card says ‘Julie Equals Graphic Design, ‘ which I think works for an artist. She did my logo. Here, go ahead and finish my popcorn. I’ll get a new bag for Joe, and we’ll probably all want a soda afterwards.”

Troy walked back toward the popcorn vendor, giving Joe a “just going to get this, and then be right there” gesture along the way. As he put his hands in his pockets while waiting for the current customer to finish, the thought of last night in bed with Julie crossed his mind and he wondered what she was doing.


Julie Equals looked over a table of pewter and crystal figurines. Amongst them was a model of the original Starship Enterprise with sparkling yellow crystals at the fore of the warp nacelles and white ones on the aft. She thought Troy would love it and asked the vendor if he had another one for Susan. While the vendor went to check the boxes he hadn’t unloaded from his van, Julie took a look at the people around her. Her eyes lit on a girl with purple hair sitting under a tree and writing in a notebook. A backpack decorated with all manner of Sharpie-drawn symbols rested against the tree next to her. Julie recognized a few of them, as well as the look on the girl’s face as she stopped to think about something, then gave a weak smile and wrote it down.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the returning vendor, who found another Enterprise in the van. Julie bought both of them, then her eyes set on another figurine on the table and she bought that one as well before strolling in the girl’s direction. When she got close, she stopped and turned to her as if she’d planned to walk by, but just now noticed the girl, and came closer.

“Know what I always hated,” Julie asked, seeming to fill the girl’s vision. “When I’d be sitting there under a tree writing something in a notebook, not bothering anybody, and some asshole I never met and who knows nothing about me would come up and go ‘What’re you writing?’ I’d always go ‘My suicide note, fucker. So I don’t have to deal with dicks like you getting in my face anymore.’”

The girl looked up with a “how did you know” look on her face before realizing Julie was making a joke and gave her a forced laugh.

“Heh, yeah,” was her response. “So, that was funny, but what’s your excuse?”

“I spotted another Purple Girl and had to come say hi. I’m Julie. Hi.”

“Oh,” the girl said, taking note of the dress Julie was wearing. “Er, hi.” She bent her head down into the notebook and started writing again, hoping the strange older woman would get the hint and go away. Julie remained undaunted and sat on the grass next to her.

“Hey, we’re rare as fuck. Take a look around.” Julie started pointing out other girls her age walking around with someone or in groups. “Pink Girl, Pink Girl, Pink Girl, Pink Girl. Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink.” She pointed to herself, then the girl under the tree. “Purple Girl, Purple Girl. And what do you think they’re talking about? ‘Blah blah boys, blah blah reality shows. Fitting in/being popular/prom, blah blah.’” The girl smiled and started getting into it as well.

“Yeah. ‘Hey, party at Brent’s house tonight. Football team’s gonna be there.’ ‘Think they’ll have enough roofies for all of us or should we bring our own?’ ‘Last one to get felt up by a drunk trust fund jock’s Denise!’”

“You’re fucking dark, lady, I love it,” Julie laughed. “Or rather, Denise, I’m guessing from that last one.” Denise nodded as her laugh ended. “So, what’s your favorite season of Buffy?”

“Six. Evil Willow is so cool and poor Tara.” Denise thought for a second. “Wait, I was like two years old when Buffy ended; how did you know I’d even have a favorite season?”

Julie’s answer was to point to her own dress and Denise’s hair.

“Pink Girls learn the lesson of Barbie, Purple Girls learn the lesson of Buffy. Mine’s season 3. The Mayor reminds me of my best friend so much, if he’s watching with me when the Mayor comes on, I’ll just look over at him until he notices and tells me to stop it, cause he knows WHY I’m looking at him, too.” Julie looked the girl over. “Sorry, I just love the look. I always wanted purple hair, but if you didn’t notice, I’ve got weird hair anyway and dyes just don’t take to it.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that. It looks really Eighties.”

“Doesn’t it? Like those 80s girls who went blonde, then when the brown grew back, they just let it go? That’s not the deal, though. This isn’t a dye-job thing, it’s a weird medical thing. My hair’s looked like this since I was a baby. I don’t carry pictures, but my husband’s walking around here somewhere; he’s got some. It’s, like, beyond rare. They don’t even have a name for it, they say I might be the first ever case of it. Nothing else different, I don’t have any extra toes or chromosomes or anything, just two-tone hair. School sucked. Well, that part of it. There were other reasons it didn’t.”

“School sucks all the time for me,” Denise said, looking back down at her notebook. Julie craned her head a little, not really trying to read it, but looking like she was. Denise pulled the book away.

“Sorry about that. I’m nosy. I’m sure it’s really personal stuff. Hey, if you were two when Buffy ended, that means you can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. Don’t worry; I’m a pervert, not a sicko. I didn’t come over here to hit on you. Just relax a little.” Denise suddenly felt like relaxing a little and set the book down.

“That’s ... um ... good. Thanks. Sorry, I’m working on something here.”

“That’s what it looked like. And that IS why I walked over. How’s the note coming?” Denise scooted away a bit.

“Ok, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned suicide notes. What’s going on? How did you know?”

“I was only about 80% sure until you filled in the rest just now, Denise. I didn’t say ‘suicide note’ this last time, I said ‘note.’ But to answer your question; when I saw you over there, it looked like as you were writing, heavy burdens were being lifted from you. Like, you were getting down the shit that needed to get said before you left. I know that look well.”

“You? Why would you? You’re gorgeous.”

“Wasn’t looking for that, Denise, but thank you; and don’t think for a second you’re not either. Not me, but I had a girlfriend whose life at home was such shit that I caught her writing away heavy burdens herself a couple times. My first girlfriend from around when we were your age, in fact. I see the little pink triangles and rainbows you’ve drawn on your backpack amongst the Crass and Subhumans symbols, I feel I can tell you that stuff; excellent bands, by the way. Lovely work, too. I draw a bit, myself.”

Denise turned to face Julie, eyes wide that this “Normie except for the hair” who was older than her liked girls too, but also that she knew who either of those bands were.

“Thanks. You’re into girls? You said you’ve got a husband.”

“Yep,” Julie said with a sweet smile. “Fortunately, it turns out he’s also into girls, so it works out.” Denise laughed at that. “Thing is, high school sucks, that’s its job. Double for a Purple Girl, triple for a gay or bi one. So, what’s brought this on? I’ve got guesses, but I don’t know your life, Denise. You can tell me.”

Denise sighed before speaking, realizing she could tell this woman.

“Well, it’s not as bad as your friend. There’s this girl at school, I thought she might be interested. It took me a long time to work up the nerve to say anything and when I did, she freaked out. She’s told some people. I’m worried my parents will find out.”

“And guessing by the note-writing, it won’t go over well. Well, Denise, I give a fuck about you. I don’t know if that’s what you need to hear, but it’s what my friend did, and it’s just as true now as it was for her. Things got much better for her, and if you’re not above talking to someone who wants to listen, I know they can for you. Here, it’s a little weird, but tell me something that isn’t when two Purple Girls meet.”

Julie reached into the bag and produced a pewter figurine of a dragon with purple crystals for eyes and red and white crystals scattered amongst the “treasure horde” at the dragon’s feet as it spread its wings, mouth open in a mighty roar. She handed it to Denise, who looked it over, admired it, and then tried to hand it back to Julie.

“Oh no, that’s for you,” Julie said, fishing for a pen in her purse.

“Wow, thanks,” Denise said with a real smile. “How did you know I liked dragons?”

“Purple Girls always like dragons,” Julie said without looking up, finding a pen and writing something on a card. “I’m going to write my cell number on the back of this card. I don’t want you to ever tell yourself that nobody gives a fuck or you don’t have anyone to talk to, because you’ve got to give a fuck about someone to give them a dragon. And you can call me whenever you need. If you need to have someone there when you talk to your parents, I’ll be happy to explain things to them in a way I know they’ll understand.”

She handed the card to Denise, who read the number, then flipped it over to the front.

“Julie Equals Graphic Design,” she read out loud. “Julie Equals?”

“Long story for another time, but yes, that’s my last name. I’m much happier with it than my old one.”

Denise was too stunned by the dawning realization that the weird woman who’d complimented the Sharpie-d doodles on her backpack a couple of minutes ago had been a professional artist to press the issue.

“Now, I have to ask you a couple of things, Denise. And I’m sorry about something that’s about to happen that you wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t say anything. It’s something my husband and I can do. Couple of our friends know it too. It’s hard to explain, but I could just TELL you not to kill yourself and you wouldn’t. I could tell you not to have suicidal thoughts again and it would never even cross your mind, but that won’t solve your real problem. And ... well, we DON’T really know each other that well yet, and it’s too important to take the risk that you might lie, so I WILL need to do it so I can be sure you understand the importance of telling me honestly, Denise: Do you have a plan to kill yourself?”

Denise suddenly realized that she couldn’t think of a reason why she would ever lie to Julie and told her truthfully “I stole a big bottle of Tylenol from the store; I was going to take them all later tonight.” She then wondered why Julie would think she might not understand the importance of not lying to Julie about that and what this “thing she could do” was.

“That’s a real bad way, Denise. That’s one of those ‘if it doesn’t work, it fucks you up for life’ ones. Give it to me. We’ll call it a trade for the dragon.” Denise nodded and took the bottle out of her backpack. Julie was right: If she’d still been thinking of doing it; that was a real bad way.

“Shit, this is a thousand pills! First off, congratulations on getting out of the store with it. Second, I should probably pretend I’m a grownup and say something about stealing being wrong, but fuck, that is impressive! I don’t even want to KNOW where you hid this thing, girl! Third, now that you’ve met another Purple Girl who cares enough to listen absolutely any time and sort of understands and wants you to let her know if these thoughts come back badly enough to trade you this ... fucking ... kids’-lunchbox-Thermos-O-Tylenol for a whole dragon; are you still planning to do it?”

Denise looked at the dragon and her card and smiled again and said “No. I’m not planning on it, anyway.” She put the dragon in her pack. Julie leaned over and hugged her and she hugged back.

“Thanks, Julie. Hey, what happened to your friend, anyway?”

“Oh, she’s still around. That’s her over there, in fact.”

Denise looked to one of the entrances to the park, where Julie was pointing, and saw people coming and going but no one in particular. She looked back to Julie in confusion. Julie shook her head no and raised her finger, indicating for Denise to look higher.

Denise looked outside the park gates at a billboard on the side of a building across the street. She looked up at the gorgeous smiling, winking woman whose face graced the billboard and read the words below her picture:

[i]Come to San Finzione! But, ah, this time, leave the kids home.[/i]

“Bullshit! You don’t know her!”

“Oh, yeah? You got a phone?” Denise nodded and pulled it out. “Here, let me dial a number for you. Don’t worry; I’ll be pushing a lot of buttons, but it’s a free call.” Julie dialed the number, put the phone on speaker, and handed it back. “When she answers, ask if it’s her.”

The call connected on the first ring.

“Yes,” asked the voice on the other end.

“Uh, er,” Denise stammered. “Is this Contessa Helena de San Fin-zee-own?”

“The ‘e’ in Finzione isn’t silent. And JULIE, YOU SKANKY COW, THIS IS MY FUCKING DIRECT LINE, GODDAMMIT! THE FUCKING PRESIDENT DOESN’T HAVE THIS NUMBER! WHEN THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO STOP GIVING IT TO STRANGERS TO PROVE YOU KNOW ME?”

“When it stops being funny, you Fucking Cunt, so never,” she managed to get out through her and Denise’s howls of laughter.

“EAT A DICK, BITCH!” Helen shouted into the phone. Before the call disconnected, they heard her say to someone in the room “I’m sorry, Your Holiness, that was a personal matter. Now, where were we?”

As the two of them continued laughing, Julie had a very intense thought about Troy and wondered what he was doing.


A couple hours later, Troy Equals was talking to someone over hot dogs at the makeshift outdoor food court that had been set up for the flea market. He was really missing Julie and was tempted to call her, but he had a conversation to keep him busy.

“Well, yeah, definitely go back and watch from the beginning with [i]An Unearthly Child[/i] when you can. Get caught up on the old stuff while waiting for the new episodes. But [i]Rose[/i] is a good introduction to the series for newcomers and also lets us fans of the old show know ‘Hey, this is the same show you loved,” His phone started playing the chorus of Dean Martin’s rendition of [i]Sunflower[/i]. Troy hit Answer and finished his statement before putting the phone to his ear and addressing Julie at the end. “He’s the same Doctor fellow who used to change from time to time. This show’s just as much for you as them. Hey, Dearest One.”

“We’ve had this talk, Math Boy. Preaching the word of Doctor Who doesn’t count as ‘helping people.’ I mean, it does a little, but not for the game.”

Troy put his hand over the phone and mouthed the words “the wife” to the man he’d been talking to. They shook hands and he grabbed the last half of his hot dog and walked away.

“We were wrapping up while we finished our dogs.” Troy’s smile widened as he looked through the crowd for Julie and the image of her nude leapt unbidden to his mind and his crotch began to signal its approval. “I’d been explaining how if he had a home office, he could deduct the expense of his daily commute as travel between job sites, and...” Julie cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, my best friend gets off on doing people’s taxes for them. Personally, I get off on his cock, and I’d like to do that now, please.” A pair of slender arms appeared around Troy’s waist and grabbed his crotch. He spun around and pressed into her, careful not to smash the hot dog he was carrying into the back of her dress. They kissed deeply for a while before Troy broke the kiss.

“Oh, hey, Julie,” he said with a lusty grin. “I was hoping that’d turn out to be you.” She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, then took the hot dog out of his hand and took a bite.

“Haven’t had anything all day,” she said with a wink. “Need to get something in me.”

“You’re giving me the first point, then?” She nodded. “Ok, I’ll go clear out the men’s room.”

“Don’t need to do that, Master. I’ve already found us the perfect place.” Troy cocked his head and raised his eyebrow. Julie laughed and took his hand, leading him through the crowd.

On the way to their destination, Julie waved to a young girl with purple hair who was waiting at the bus stop. She waved back and smiled. Julie put her hand up to her head with her thumb and pinky in a “call me” gesture. The girl nodded and they moved on, behind one of the rows of booths and tables to where some of the vendors’ vehicles had been allowed into the park in order to set up their stands and merchandise. They approached a custom van with a bright yellow, brown, & orange paint job and black bubble windows in the back. Julie opened the side door and Troy looked inside.

Tapestries of Led Zeppelin album covers hung on the walls of the van’s interior and another formed a curtain between the rear of the van and the two front seats. Troy was hit by the mingling scents of weed and patchouli permanently infused into the van’s interior as he saw that most of the back of the van was taken up by a bed covered with pillows and blankets with imprints of large boxes on them. What Troy admired most was how well-kept everything was. It looked like he’d driven the rolling tribute to a bygone culture from the year 1977 straight to the park. Julie gave a wave to the man at the figurine stand, who nodded and waved back as she led Troy inside.

“That’s John,” she told Troy. “When I asked for something, he said he had to get it out of the van. I knew anyone who drives a van and sells pewter and crystal figurines at an outdoor flea market; that van’s GOTTA be a bitchin’ 70’s Shaggin’-Waggin’, and I was right. He’s agreed to let us use it when we need it today, Master. And I need it.” Julie slipped out of her dress. Troy turned from admiring the authentic décor to admiring his best friend as she reached up and unhooked her bra.

“Did you pay him, Mistress?” Troy asked as he pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. “This is, like, an honor and a service. It wouldn’t count as giving someone money for a privilege like this, and I wouldn’t want you Doing What We Do...” Julie cut him off.

“It’s ok. I traded him a big bottle of pills for it.”

“Ok, fine, don’t tell me,” Troy said as he maneuvered his pants down around his erection. She removed her bra and flung it at him. Troy looked away from her for a moment and broke out of the lust haze in his head to notice that the side door was still open. They couldn’t be seen from the street, but John at his stand had a decent view of them. His gaze was focused on Julie pulling down and stepping out of her wet panties.

“Well, maybe we should leave him a little tip.” She looked over at John as she picked up her panties with one finger and draped them over her shoulder as if they were a jacket she’d been carrying. She smiled and made a show of “accidentally” dropping them and shrugging her shoulders as if to say “Oh well, guess they’re just lost now.”

Troy hadn’t removed his underwear yet. He bowed his head and made a gesture of doffing an invisible cap to John. He responded with a salute as Troy closed the door. Julie shoved him onto the bed and pulled his underwear off before jumping on top of him.

“Trust my Math Boy to come up with ‘hey, let’s go around helping people with their problems’ as a fun Saturday activity,” Julie said between kisses.

“Trust my Sunflower to come up with ‘hey, let’s turn it into a sexy hypno game.’” Troy replied.

“What?” Julie asked. “What’s wrong with programming each other so after every person we help, we start fantasizing about each other more and more until one of us cracks and needs the other right now?”

“Not a damn thing, Mistress. Just remember that the one who can’t take it anymore has to make sure the other cums first.”

Troy slid his arms down to her hips to push her down onto him when Julie rolled off.

“No, Master, you’re on top today. We’re in a 70s van, they only knew about missionary. It’s the rules.”


About half an hour later, the van door opened. Troy and Julie emerged dressed again except for Julie’s abandoned panties.

“We still haven’t settled on a prize, Master,” Julie said as she picked up her shopping bag. Troy smiled.

“Winner gets to even the score when we get home?”

“Love it! And you.”

The two of them walked back toward the crowd, kissed each other goodbye, and walked away in different directions.

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