71: Two Words

Our day at the fair was wild. I must have looked like Hugh Hefner walking around with seven gorgeous babes hanging off me. They were doing their best to embarrass me. When Rose told everyone that our first time at the fair, I'd won a little teddy bear for her, everyone wanted me to go shoot a basketball and win her a teddy bear. It was a different guy this year and I could tell that the whole set-up was different. He had only one size of teddy bear on display and it was pretty big. It was a dollar a shot and one-in won a bear.

"This is no good," I said. "The whole thing is off. I doubt if the ball will even go through the hoop. The balls are probably over-sized, too. It's rigged."

"Hey, young man. I resent that. Watch this." He tossed the ball into the air and swished it. I shook my head. I could see the hoop was smaller than regulation, but the ball had gone through. "Now step up here and win your lady a bear. Just one basket and she can have her choice of any bear in the display."

"Oh. Well, that's a problem, too," I laughed. "I have seven girlfriends." If this had been a cartoon, you would have been able to see the guy's eyes light up with dollar signs.

"All these lovely ladies are attached to you?" the barker asked. "That creates a problem. I usually limit my customers to one bear per day."

"Aww," Sam pouted. "What will the rest of us do?" Uh-oh. I could see a set-up coming and I was already getting performance anxiety.

"Tell you what I'll do," he said. He was slick. "Ten dollars and he can have as many bears as he can sink in ten shots. Now I could go broke doing this. I should charge twenty minimum because I pay way more than that for each bear. But he's kind of a little guy and I'd hate to have all you girls go home with nothing more than a wish." Rose cut him off by snapping a ten dollar bill under his nose.

"Ten shots and a bear for every one that he sinks." The guy snatched the bill and put it in his apron pocket and handed me the ball.

"Shot number one for the little man," he laughed. "Who gets the first bear?"

"I do," Rose said. Before I could set for my first embarrassment, she stepped in front of me and gave me a very not-for-public-consumption kiss. My eyes were crossed when she stepped aside. I let out my breath and shook my head, bouncing the ball. I looked over at Rose and she'd crossed her arms under her breasts and pushed them up into a mouth-watering display. I looked back at the basket and launched the ball then turned to Rose.

"That was very distracting," I started to say as the rest of the girls yelled "Swish!" Huh?

"Well, well, well," the barker said. "I lost that bet. Here's your bear. Now get lost."

"Oh, no you don't," Rose said, marching up to him. "Everybody here heard you say a bear for every shot he makes in ten. I want that blue one and Jen's is next." The guy huffed a little and handed me the ball again while he dug out the blue bear for Rose. Jen stepped in front of me and gave me a real toe-curler.

"Come on, make the shot," the dude called at us. I turned and looked at the basket then launched the ball.

"Swish!" the girls yelled.

"Red one!" Jen called. A crowd had begun to gather behind us. Apparently no one else had made the shot today.

"My turn!" Liz said, grabbing me behind the head and pulling my lips to hers and grinding into my crotch. Shit! I'd never be able to shoot around my hard-on.

"Don't worry," Rose told the barker. "Last year he only made two out of three. I got a dinky little bear. You're a much nicer carnie." She was really laying it on thick. I put the ball up and the whole crowd yelled, "Swish!"

"Yellow one!" Liz yelled. Courtney was in front of me and had her hands on my ass as she ground into me. She pushed away and yelled "Green" before I even shot. Swish again.

"I'm gonna go broke on this guy!" the barker yelled. But guys were beginning to line up behind me and each one had a ten dollar bill in his hand. "You see how easy this is? A little kid can play this game. One basket, one bear!" Suddenly the fact that I was making baskets was no longer important to him. Sam was planting a kiss on me that I'd remember for a long time.

"I wish that kiss was between my legs," she whispered to me.

"Swish!"

"Purple!"

Cassie stood in front of me.

"I'm embarrassed," she said.

"You don't have to kiss me," I whispered. "It's okay."

"Oh, I want to kiss you. I'm just trying to figure out how to keep my clothes on while I do it." The crowd around us laughed.

"How about a kiss with promise?" I asked.

"A promise to kiss me again?" I nodded. We kissed. I launched the ball. Swish! "Pink, please?" she asked the carnie.

"Can he do seven in a row? Seven bears for seven girlfriends. It's fun. It's easy. Guys, your girlfriend probably needs to kiss you in order to make the basket. Better get her warmed up."

Brenda stood in front of me. She looked at me with her lip caught between her teeth in that way that girls have of completely melting your heart.

"May I kiss you, Brian?" she asked. It was kind of funny. Yesterday she'd had her thighs wrapped around my head while I licked her and Rose kissed and played with her nipples. Still, she asked permission for a kiss and I pulled her to me. It was a sweet gentle little kiss compared to the scorchers that some of my girlfriends had laid on me. I found, if anything, that my erection was even more rigid. Swish!

"I've never had anyone make seven in a row!" the barker called. There was a heck of a crowd behind us now. "He has three more shots, but he's out of girlfriends. Can he make another?" Rose, Brenda, Cassie, and Liz peppered my face with kisses as the guy handed me a ball.

"This one's for Whitney!" Rose said.

"Who's that?" the barker asked.

"There's three more girlfriends that couldn't be with us today," she answered. It would be really embarrassing if I missed the shot for Whitney. She could probably make the shot herself. She'd be standing here in her jersey with the open armholes showing glimpses of her tiny breasts and hard pointy nipples.

"Swish!" the crowd yelled. The barker's supply of bears was beginning to run low. Jen, Courtney, and Sam closed on me and managed to get all four of us in one steamy kiss. I hugged them all to me.

"This is for Rhonda," they whispered. I smiled and launched the ball. Nine in a row. Sam collected the next bear.

"For Elaine next!" Rose shouted. No one stepped up to kiss me. I bounced the ball. "Wait, Brian," Rose said. I turned to look at the row of girls behind me. Their backs were to the rest of the crowd, but the barker was standing next to me. As soon as I looked at them, they all raised their shirts to flash me some boob. Well, me and the barker. Shit! I turned and launched the last ball. It caught on the inside of the rim and bounced up against the backboard and off.

"Damn! Elaine is going to give me a world of shit for that!" I said.

"Nine out of ten," the barker called. "Here, kid. Take another bear for the last girlfriend. I'd have paid fifty bucks to see that last display. Now who's next? Girls, don't forget to kiss that boyfriend for luck."

The next guy in line gave the barker ten and took a wild shot. We left the area carrying our bears down the midway. We heard the crowd behind at the basket go 'Aww.' I had a feeling the barker was going to come out way ahead on the day today, even giving away ten bears to us.

We decided we had to take the bears to the car after parading around the midway for half an hour. Sam and Rose each carried two bears and I had one under my arm. Whenever someone asked where we got the bears, one of the girls would respond, "Our boyfriend shot baskets for them. It was easy." Someone else would head for the hoop shoot. Well, in spite of being a little sleazy, the barker had kept the deal. I was pretty sure there wouldn't be many more bears won today.

We cut through the Commercial Building to get out to the parking lot and I heard a familiar voice.

"Brian Frost? Only you could have a trail of girls behind you like this." Miss Polly was headed over.

"Hi, Miss Polly. Uh ... these are my girlfriends."

"Seven of you? You must have bought out a toy store."

"There's ten," Rose said. "Three couldn't be here today but Brian won bears for them anyway."

"How did you 'win' these bears?"

"I ... uh ... shot baskets. And got kissed a lot."

"No. You really actually won those?" I nodded. "I was hoping to see you this week, but I'm sure what I have to say will come as an anti-climax ... so to speak. Your segments on our show have been the most commented on in our history. I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing a weekly segment this winter. We're trying to expand our audience and get more young people."

"That sounds cool," I said. "I'd have to talk about it with my parents. You know, kids our age are all in school when your show comes on."

"Yes, but you would be amazed at the new demographics we've been given. An increasing number of our viewers are newlyweds from eighteen to twenty-five years old. These young women would respond well to a young man giving them hints on how to please their husbands."

"Oh, Brian could definitely give them that," Sam giggled. I think Miss Polly actually blushed. She gave me a card and told me to call her after I was back in school and if I was interested we'd shoot a test. Wow! A weekly spot.

It was finals week at last. After I got back from visiting all the girlfriends, I was back to work at the restaurant non-stop. It seemed like Bill was pushing me in the kitchen more and more. During the Saturday prep talk, Bill called everyone to attention. He called in the serving staff and Crystal, too.

"It's been a great summer," Bill started. "That means that school starts again in just a week and we are going to lose our summer intern, Brian." I was surprised when everyone applauded and wasn't sure if it was for me or because I was leaving. "Now they say that every good manager trains his replacement. That's what I've tried to do this summer. Brian has worked every station in the kitchen and you've each taught him the best way we do things at the Tally Ho. He even learned not to sniff the fresh horseradish." There was some laughter. "So one week from today, starting whenever Brian unlocks the restaurant to prepare the prime rib, he is Bill for a day. It is his final exam for his internship. Brian, it's for real. I'm not even going to be here, nor is Crystal. You are the man next Saturday. Today is your last day to watch and learn the Saturday prep. Next Saturday, Crystal and I are going on a short vacation. Courtney will be filling in for Crystal, assisted by Jennifer. Brian will be filling in for me. Everybody here will be submitting a grade for Brian based on how you feel he handled his day in the driver's seat. That won't be his final grade, but will count toward it. Now let's get to work."

Holy fucking shit! I don't think I moved for five minutes until Sophie, one of the servers, asked me to get out of her way so she could get the linens. This was not what I was expecting for a final exam.

I'd worked every Saturday all summer, so I knew the routines. Some of them still bugged me, but I wasn't going to change them. I was going to be Bill. By Friday night I was a complete wreck. Jen and Court came to my bed after I'd showered and just held me between them as I was curled up in a ball. I had three alarms set so I wouldn't sleep too late to get the Prime Rib in the oven at the restaurant. There was always a break after the meat was cooking and I'd come back to shower again after I got it in the oven.

I managed to get the meat prepared at five o'clock and set the four full roasts in their beds of rock salt in the 200 degree oven. I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as nothing catastrophic happened, like the electricity and gas all going out at once, at least the meat would be cooked. I went home and headed for the shower, joined shortly by two slightly sleepy girls. Slightly sleepy, very naked, and rubbing their soapy bodies all over mine. I felt a lot better by the time I got out of that shower.

"Oh, shit!" Courtney said, shaking her head as I served her hot chocolate. "Mom always goes in with Dad on Saturday morning to organize things for the servers and bussers. Jen, we have to be ready to go to the restaurant as soon as Brian is ready." Jennifer groaned. Anna wandered into the kitchen complaining that everyone was being too noisy for her to sleep. She was stark naked. I handed her a cup of coffee mixed with hot chocolate, pointed her back to her room and swatted her on the butt.

"Brian!" she said turning to face me.

"Go on and get dressed," I said, not looking at her. "I have to be back to work in half an hour with Jen and Court. I don't have time to get aroused looking at my mother's playmate."

"And your father's," she said haughtily. Then she giggled, pinched me on the butt, and ran back to her room to dress. It was going to be a long day.

The kitchen seemed more frantic than usual. Maybe it was because I was seeing it through new eyes. I was Bill. I had to look at everything at once and make sure it was correct. Everyone seemed a step off for some reason. One of the waitresses came into the kitchen in a huff, grabbed the linens out of the cabinet and slammed the door.

"What's up, Sophie?" I asked.

"That girl does not know what she's doing!" the waitress said. "She's numbering the tables all wrong."

"Do you know what you are supposed to do?" I asked.

"Yes. What do you think, I'm an amateur?"

"Not at all. Do what you are supposed to. If you spot someplace else you can help, please do. We're all in training here and depend on you." She looked at me and chuckled.

"Yeah. Sure. I forget. I'll help as much as I can." She headed out of the kitchen and I felt good about at least one thing.

"Brian, how finely do you want the horseradish ground?" I turned and looked at Harvey who had failed last spring to equip me properly or instruct me on the grinder. Why would he want to know how finely to grind the horseradish?

"Harvey, do you have to ask Bill every week how fine to grind the horseradish? I thought you've been doing this for a long time."

"I have. I don't need him to tell me..." He stopped, realizing what he was saying. "I thought you might want things different."

"Just do your job the way you know how to do it, Harv. I'm not going to lean over your shoulder. And I'm not taking a sniff of your horseradish." He looked at me and laughed. We went our own way. I used a temperature probe to check on the progress of the meat and headed over to the salad prep area. "Sal, do you need any help on prep?" I asked. He glanced up at me.

"Nothing's any further behind than usual. Won't get further behind if you don't bother me." Okay. I nodded and backed off. Jerry, the other grill chef, stopped me.

"Brian, you might not have noticed it, but Bill usually does a quick run-down of the numbers on the various steaks so he knows when to cut the waiters off on ordering certain cuts. I'll show you, if you'd like."

"Thanks, Jerry. How long have you worked with Bill?"

"Since the day he opened the restaurant. I love it here."

"I'm glad you are on the team. No matter how many times I observe things, there's nothing like actually being under the hat. I sort of feel like a fraud."

"Don't worry about it. Some people just have to test you. Here, you mark the numbers and I'll call them out. T-bone, 14." I was jotting down the numbers on the clipboard as fast as Jerry went through the walk-in fridge and called them out to me. When we were finished, he stomped his feet to get the chill off and turned to me again. "You won't have any problem with Cookie or me. She has her vegetables and potatoes in perfect order. If you've got a question, ask. We'll do our best to help out." I got the message and made a point of walking by Cookie, stopping for a second and just saying thanks. She smiled at me and I started cleaning the grill like Bill did after lunch.

"Brian, this is a bad rib."

"What?"

"Customer says it's not rare." Damn. One thing you can't do is put a steak on the grill and make it rarer. I looked at the cut rib and sliced a piece off. I looked at it and then ate it.

"Anybody want a piece of perfectly rare prime rib, slice some off of this baby. Carla, take me to your customer." The waitress looked at me with wide eyes and led me out into the restaurant to a table with a middle aged couple. The man was chowing down and the woman was sitting primly at her seat. I was surprised the guy was eating a whole rib by himself and was really enjoying it.

"Hi. I'm the chef. Ma'am was it you who ordered the rare rib?"

"Yes. I'm very disappointed. I wanted a rare rib and mine looked exactly like Donald's only raw. I want one that's rare." Donald glanced up at me and rolled his eyes. He dipped another bite of his rib in the horseradish and popped it into his mouth. It was fun to watch the expressions on his face change as the horseradish hit his sinuses and then dissolved into the meat in his mouth. He smiled blissfully.

"I see," I said. I was trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. "Is this a special occasion for you?"

"It's our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and I've always wanted to try a rare steak. You do have them, don't you?"

"Rare. Could you describe what kind you are interested in? Sometimes we have different ways of referring to them in the kitchen. I don't want another misunderstanding."

"A steak like from one of those Japanese Kobuke cows. You have those don't you?" Oh. Shit!

"What size steak would you like?" I asked.

"Well, not a whole cow like Donald is eating. Did you know that the proper portion of meat is about the same size as a deck of cards?"

"Oh yes. I think I understand exactly what you want now. You want Rare Beef. We misunderstood. Do you like your meat well-done or a little pink on the inside?"

"Oh a little pink is okay, but not bloody raw."

"I have a perfect cut for you. It will be my pleasure to make sure you have exactly what you want." I headed for the kitchen. Carla followed me. "It's okay, Carla. I'll deliver this one personally," I told her, shooing her back out to her customers. It looked like everyone had taken a bite out of the rib I'd left on the counter. I shouldn't have made that offer. I went straight to the walk-in and grabbed a steak. "Jerry, I'm taking a petit filet. Mark it please," I called. I took the small steak to my cutting table and grabbed some minced garlic, pepper, and salt. I rubbed the steak thoroughly and took a tenderizing mallet to it. The petit filet didn't need to be beaten with a mallet to make it tender, but it flattened the steak a bit so it was just a bit thicker than a deck of cards. And with the spices on the meat when I beat it, they were fully embedded into the flesh. I put the meat on the grill and carefully monitored the temperature. Since I'd flattened it a bit, I could cook it at a higher temperature which would sear the spices into the meat. I watched with the infrared thermometer until it was a perfect 145 degrees and pulled it from the grill. I went to Cookie and grabbed a potato and some crisp baked kale. I made my own arrangement on the dinner plate while Jerry and Cookie watched in amusement.

"Wait," Cookie said when I was about to leave. She wedged a pat of butter at an angle into the potato and garnished it with a sprig of parsley. Then she nodded at me. I marched out to the couple. The guy had made a big dent in the nearly two pounds of prime rib. His wife was waiting patiently. Carla approached to watch.