Emma enjoys Frank’s company. By DDaniels. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The thought of losing herself in the crowd was appealing. She could pretend to be Frank Kelly’s best girl and not Mrs. Jonathan 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 growled. 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 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. “Whad 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 recited 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 cha?” 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. Jonathan certainly enjoyed himself, but for her, it usually started out exciting, the same way Ms. Chopin described in her book, but then Jonathan 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 Jonathan 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, Jonathan 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 … “Jonathan 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; Jonathan. 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 Jonathan, 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. A dwarf in a harlequin costume rushed toward then waving a paddle. He was going for Emma, but Frank barred his way. The little dwarf scooted around his legs and swung at her, yelling in a high pitched voice. Emma stepped backwards and felt a jet of cool air shoot between her feet, blowing her long skirt up past her waist. Frank had a stupid look on his face as he stared at her bare legs and knickers. Emma pushed her skirt back down, feeling her face burning. Frank swatted at the dwarf, but he had already ran away, on to torment others. “Dirty little creature,” she said adjusting her skirt as they walked out of the park, though she couldn’t help but smiling to herself as she remembered the look on Frank’s face. Before Emma knew it, they were off to another ride. This time they went up the Iron Tower and got a birds eye view of the surrounding parks. Then they shared cotton candy on the Ferris Wheel, and then tried their hand at a shooting gallery. All thoughts of Jonathan and if he missed her or not didn’t seem to matter as the sun began to go down. Really, she decided, what did it matter now? Even if she did decide to go back to him, she had no idea where he could be. It would take her the rest of the day to find him. Besides, she was having too much fun with Frank. This was the type of day she had wanted in the first place. And, she had to admit, it felt good feeling like she wasn’t married. She felt free. Even if it was just for a little while. A cool breeze drifted down the boardwalk. Frank got them a couple of ice cream cones. She shivered with fascination as he wolfed his down, watching his Adam’s apple bob and his mouth and tongue lick and suck away. She caught him eying hers. She offered it to him and stifled a chuckle as she watched him gobble it down. Afterward, he happily licked his fingers. She liked to see him like that—so happy and ravenous. And there was something about the way he licked that ice cream … They made their way to where a large crowd was gathering. In a giant cage, a sweaty man chased a Bengal tiger. The loud reports of his pistol and merciless crack of the whip drove the handsome beast to madness. The pistol shots were deafening and Emma covered her ears. The tiger flung itself, snorting and roaring. Its green eyes flashed, pulling back its lips to reveal sharp yellow fangs. The man cracked the whip again and fired the pistol. The beautiful beast sank down, its serpentine tail twitching, its ears swept back. Its elastic body rolled into a ball as a deep growl rumbled within its chest. Emma was certain it would leap and bury its claws into the man with the whip. In some ways she hoped it would. The man stamped his feet, let out a shout, and cracked the whip. The tiger arched its neck, showing its teeth once more, then finally, quietly, withdrew to a corner of the cage, pacified and defeated. The man turned to the crowd, breathless. Sweat dripped down his curled mustache and cascaded down his body. He raised his whip and pistol and bowed low. The crowd shouted and clapped then broke into pieces and dispersed. “Damn bastard,” Frank muttered. “Tormenting that beautiful creature. It makes my blood boil. Next time, I hope that tiger tears him limb from limb.” Emma felt sympathy for the tiger too. Stuck in that cage. The tamer forcing it to his will. She was certain the next time the tiger would prevail. She gave a shudder. The sun had dipped behind the buildings and the boardwalk was getting darker. One of the spherical electric lamps on an iron post pulsed, then brightened. Three more came on to her left and right. The lights reminded her the day was almost done. She was disappointed it would all be over soon. It seemed the day was just getting started. And here she had been thinking she wouldn’t have any fun. But that had been before she met Frank Kelly. “Coasters, hot dogs, the beach, tigers,” and 'you’ Emma wanted to say. “They have everything here!” “Sure,” Frank said. “Coney’s got every sort of amusement you can think of. It’s even got the sort polite society doesn’t favor. It just all isn’t in full view, ya see. Whiskey. Gambling. Women. It’s all there.” She had often read the works of writers scorning the life on Coney Island. A modern day Sodom and Gomorrah some called it. She hadn’t seen anything of the sort, though, all the time she had been here. “Are there really prostitutes here?” she asked. “Oh yeah, scores of them.” “Are there … brothels?” “A few. Most just sell their wares out in the open, though.” She felt sure he spoke from personal experience. Emma had never even seen a prostitute. She looked around as if she would see one in a nearby doorway. She wondered what it was like to sell oneself for money to some stranger. It sounded horrifying and fascinating at the same time. What would possess a woman to do such a thing? She heard it was out of desperation. The poor things. “But if they are out in the open,” she said carefully. “Then how do you … where do you go to …?” He gave a smile. “Oh, we just find ourselves a nice dark corner somewhere—an alleyway usually works perfectly well.” She glanced at a nearby alley and imagined Frank behind some girl humping away against a wall. The thought thrilled her, but terrified her. How debased he was. Never in her life would she even imagine such a thing. But wait? Didn’t she just do it right now? “Wouldn’t you be afraid of being seen? Of being caught?” she asked. “That’s half the thrill, dove.” Emma nibbled on her lip as she considered it. What if the girl in the alleyway were her? A dull hum suddenly droned from the nearby buildings. A murmur rippled from the nearby crowd as the boardwalk began to blink. Suddenly there was a collective shout as the park miraculously transformed. Emma turned in a circle, her jaw slack, as she took in the wonder. The tall white buildings had turned into fiery magical castles. Thousands—no, millions! of light bulbs set the shapely towers, palaces, and temples aglow in brilliant light. Balls of lights stretched over their heads like pearls on golden gossamer threads, trembling in the air and creating an outline on the black background of the sky. The flaming patterns mirrored themselves in the waving contours of a nearby lagoon, blending everything into molten gold. She turned to Frank. He hadn’t seem to notice the change. She had this feeling he had been watching her reaction the entire time. She slowly turned, taking it all in. “It’s so; so so.” “Isn’t it, though?” he said with a smile. She stood for awhile, unable to look away. She could feel the bulbs warm glow and could hear them hum. So many of them. Together, they created one brilliant light. She could now understand why the writers called Coney Island 'The City of Fire.’ “Why don’t we take a walk on the beach,” he said. “Now that the lights are up, people will be coming up on the boardwalk. There won’t be so many people and we can enjoy the water.” She turned back to the lights, feeling like she wouldn’t ever be able to take her eyes off their beauty. He took her hand and gave a little tug. “Don’t worry, we’ll come back to it.” As Frank predicted, the beach was now void of its mob. The dark waters rolled in, their constant waves sounding like an incoming train. Strings of light hung from nearby piers and cast the beach in a soft glow. “You should walk with your feet in it,” Frank said. He put his hands around her waist, lifted her into the air, and plopped her on an old pier piling. She let out a little whoop, thrilled at his strength, like a child being lifted by her father. She watched his head between her legs as he unlaced her shoes. She realized his head and face was so near an intimate place. It made her wonder. Had he ever given a woman a 'rub’ before? She suspected he had. Many times. She felt a tingling in her belly. He pulled off her stocking and she felt his rough hands around her ankle. He looked at her toes wiggling at him. “Nice feet ya got here,” he said giving them a gentle rub. It sent shivers up her calves, knees, thighs, and … goodness. “That feels good,” she said softly. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her off the piling. She let out another whoop as he placed her bare feet in the sand. She squished her toes in it and gave a little laugh at the sensation. They held hands as they walked along the water’s edge. The waves rolled in, bathing her ankles in the cool ocean water then rolled out again. When she looked up, beyond the piers, she could see the fantastic magic city, all afire, stretched out on either side of them, burning against the dark background of the sky, its beauty mirrored in the broad, gleaming sea. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “C'mere.” Frank swung her hand steering her about so she faced him. He put a hand around her lower back and pulled her in. Her breasts and legs flatten against him. Knowing she should push away, she put a hand on his chest. She knew what was going to happen next. Her heart beat so fast as he leaned in. Those beautiful lips moved in closer and closer. Finally, contact. Emma closed her eyes, letting him in. His lips were so soft, moist, and warm. They tasted like a sweet-salty blend of sweat and ice cream. Wonderful. Her hands came out from between them and she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her wrists dangle behind his broad shoulders. She could smell him. A little repulsive, truthfully, a strong masculine scent of sweat and musk. But when his wonderful arms pulled her in closer and his hand went up her back, rubbing her with long strokes from her shoulders down her waist line and sending shivers rippling down her spine, she didn’t mind it so much. In fact, his smell excited her. Oh! His tongue! She hadn’t expected that. Soft, and just the tip, it parted her lips then slowly licked at her. She touched it with her own. Between them, just below the ridge of her corset, she could feel him hardening against her. She suddenly felt herself burning like the city of fire. She could have stayed locked with him like that forever. Slowly, though, they pulled away. Had he pulled away first? Or had she? She looked up at him, letting her hands touch his face. She ran her fingers over his cheeks down to his lips, feeling the softness under her fingertips. How would Mrs. Chopin describe them? Lovely. Luscious. Lickable? She ran a finger down to his scar. “How did you get this?” He gave her a little shake in his arms, “That’s a love bite, dove.” “Really? A woman bit you?” Not that she blamed her. His whole face was made for kissing and biting. “More like Mickey the Turk,” he said. “We got into a tussle about a year back. Kicks like a mule and bites like a crocodile.” She gave a smile at his wit, still letting her fingers play along his lips. He was so different than Jonathan. So ill-mannered. So strong. So forward. So carefree. He gave her a squeeze. “What ya say? Wanna go on another ride?” Actually she wanted to just stay here and let him continue to kiss her, but then a couple of hooligans walked by and gave them a hoot and whistle, breaking the spell. She pushed herself away from him. “Yes, let’s.” When they returned to the piling where she had left her shoes, she found them missing. “Who would abscond with someone’s shoes?” she asked with her hands on her hips. “Somebody who really wants a pair of lady’s shoes, that’s who.” She sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” To be continued. By DDaniels for Literotica